I suppose I should start by supplying a bit about myself. Being only 20 years old, I completely understand why some of you won't even try to take me seriously and there's absolutely nothing I could say that would change your mind. For those of you who are willing to listen and give me a chance, I'd be incredibly grateful because I'm starting to wonder if what I've been dealing with is a little bit more than a playful ghost.
For most of our lives my brother and I lived with our grandmother, Ginger, at her house in Kelso, Washington. The house was built in 1900 and has 3 bedrooms, 2 of which are upstairs on the opposite side of the loft. The downstairs living room was poorly lit, though the house had a very open and bright kitchen with a backyard big enough for 3-4 little kids to run around and not have to worry about knocking each other over. Anyway, my grandma has always believed in ghosts and warned my brother and I about them all the time. She made certain we stayed far away from Oiuja boards because she was worried we'd get ourselves into trouble.
My father, who grew up in that same house, had so many stories of unexplained happenings. One such story takes place when he was a few years younger than me. He'd been in his room when he heard something that sounded like a kid running up the stairs. The house was creaky even then, so to keep yourself from being scared you memorized the different sounds the place made when different people were walking or running around the house.
Dad didn't think anything of it because his cousin Lil' Dave was staying over at the time. He sat in his room, waiting for his cousin to bang on the door and attempt to convince him to go play, but the noise never came. Getting impatient, he opened the door and was shocked to see no one there. Decided his cousin probably intended to scare him, he went into the other upstairs bedroom, but discovered Dave wasn't there either. Dad went back to his room, and no sooner had he shut the door then he heard what he said sounded like chains rattling on the other side. My father does not believe in ghosts and so opened the door, believing it to be the chain hanging on the doorframe. When he looked to the right, he remembered the chain had been taken off because he himself had locked his sister in the room multiple times.
Why'd I tell you that story? Because approximately 8 years later a picture taken of my little brother standing in front of the house revealed a young boy next to him in a cloth diaper with chains and shackles hanging off his wrist and ankles.
My mom, who'd taken the picture, asked grandma what to do and grandma insisted on burning it - she believed it would keep my brother safe. Because of that, my little brother was watched constantly for fear of something terrible happening to him - and so I wasn't watched at all.
I've always been the girl who knew things before they ever came to pass - little things, such as the phone ringing before it ever did or answering my brother's question before he ever even came home from school to ask it, to knowing the time and date of my grandmother's death. So when I began sleeping upstairs in my grandparents' room on the floor, I believed the adults I saw walking in and out of the room were merely a picture from something that hadn't happened yet. My grandma thought I was just waking in the middle of the night and so thought nothing of it, until I started talking to them - and the way I carried on it was apparent they answered back. My mother asked her if I was talking to myself in my sleep, but when grandma took a picture one night and the room was flooded with orbs of some sort she never questioned grandma again. I myself have no memory of the photo or the conversations, but they scared my grandma enough that she no longer let me sleep in the room, forcing me to stay in the loft.
Eventually, my grandma became too frail to walk up and down the stairs and so slept in the downstairs bedroom, while my grandpa continued to sleep upstairs. While sleeping in the loft I soon forgot about the adults in the room due to waking up at 3:00 every morning. I'd stay up until about 4:15 and then I'd fall back to sleep, never knowing what woke me up. It was during one of those time I decided to get up and sleep in grandpa's room because I was frightened, but when I looked in there was a shadow at the end of his bed. I thought it was a trick of the light until it turned to me and all I could focus on were the bright red eyes that refused to let me go.
I don't remember the rest of that night, but I do remember that I started seeing strange things everywhere. A horrible car accident that no one else notices, or a man being hit by a car while riding his bike with no one paying the slightest attention. Occasionally I'd notice someone else would see it too, but they never appeared as shocked as I was - but that was because they'd be seeing it for much longer.
My grandfather got very sick and moved out soon after, and grandma decided it was safe enough for me to take his bedroom. By that point I'd forgotten about the shadow and woke up in the middle of the night like I always did. I pushed myself up to get out of bed and get some water when I noticed a girl my age sitting at the edge of the bed and facing away from me. I'd become accustomed to seeing ghosts at that point and so asked who she was. She never answered, so I got up to get some water anyway and saw her face on the way. I don't remember any of her features, but I did remember the red eyes I'd seen so long ago. I closed my eyes and begged her to go away because I didn't know what else to do, and when I opened my eyes she was gone.
My mom and dad got a trailer and my brother and I finally moved in with them and I was excited to no longer stay at that house, yet I discovered it no longer mattered. The seemingly harmless ghosts that I'd already seen were replaced by dark masses that rarely had a defined shape but always made me feel cold and angry. My parents grew worried and so we moved again, but they never left.
My grandmother was diagnosed with cancer and so we began visiting her again. On one such occasion she began talking of the ghosts in her house. She said to not worry because they wouldn't hurt you but I told her she was wrong. No sooner had I said it then the sliding door that led upstairs went flying open, the coat stand that was held in place by a block of cement tipped over and knocked the lamp by my grandma over, which hit her in the head. The front door we were all sitting next to slammed open and the screen behind it flipped open so hard it hit wall. We never talked about ghosts again, because my grandma no longer believed that was all it was.
My grandma is gone now and my parents are divorced. My mom, brother and I all live in an apartment in downtown Longview, Washington and I'm still visited by that girl - though she isn't the one that worries me. She's never touched me and a few years ago I decided she couldn't. But in the last few years there's been something else and it CAN.
It first appeared when I was at an open mic night getting ready to perform. I was sitting in the front row of the auditorium waiting for my turn, when there was a cold breeze that hit the back of my shoulders. There are 4 doors to the auditorium, but all of them are horribly noisy no matter how carefully you shut them - and none of them led outside, which is the only way a breeze THAT cold could have come in. I looked behind me to see if there was someone there but there wasn't, and a few moments after I turned around the girl next to me ended up sitting in the next row because a chunk of hair on the back of my neck was lifted up and moved over my shoulder.
I've been out of high school for almost 2 years and things have only gotten worse. I'm always cold and there are days that I don't remember anything. That probably sounds like a typical young adult but I DO NOT party. I'm not ashamed to admit I'm a prude, and the idea of drug use and alcohol honestly scares me.
There are a lot of other instances but I don't want to sound any more foolish than I already do. I know this site is for stories, but my life has become one big ghost story, with a hundred little ones woven within. It's stupid, but I'm scared and I want to figure out what is going on and how do I fix it. I don't know if it's real but even my dad has noticed strange things happen around me, like things sliding across the table and smashing into a wall.
My friends who worry they live in a haunted house refuse to have me over because the last time I went somewhere that was haunted things only got worse the entire time I stayed. I'm scared and I found this site because it was recommended by a friend. She said there were people that have dealt with this before on here or might know someone who has and can help me.
You can decide it's fake and that's fine, but if there's anyone who's experienced this or something even CLOSE to this then please. I'll post more stories, but I think it's important to get this whole "back story" out of the way.