When I was younger, I lived in another country. I moved to the United States to live with my dad when I was five. My sister and I were instantly pulled into the world of the supernatural and certainly were what you would call obsessed. When I look back on it now I can trace our obsession to the constant drool of ghost stories coming out of my uncle's mouth at that time. Our grandpa was also very intent on scaring us to death. Naturally we honored what they told us.
After a while we tired of ghost stories and convinced ourselves that there was a presence in our rented apartment. Of course there was nothing there... At the time. We grew obsessed with trying to talk this "spirit" and tried all forms of communication with this thing. We set up sticky notes with questions about the ghost. We even attempted a seance at one time or another. We used our mom's tape recorder to try and capture any sounds in our room. Nothing came out of these tests.
After a while we got tired of ghost hunting and, as children, focused on various other things. During the last few months that I lived in the apartment (my parents bought a house and so we were moving) strange things started happening. I can't quite place what was happening but during those months I slept less, ate less and experienced nightmares like I never imagined.
My parents have attributed this to the anxiety of leaving a place you have lived in for so long, but somehow I doubt it. I felt something in that house and of course it was like nothing I had felt before. My cat acted strange also, so I know that it was something slightly more worrisome than moving anxiety.
I left something there... All my years of poking into whatever other world I believed there was. I left it in that house and maybe... Just maybe part of it followed me... This is a true story, not something I made up.