I have been digging through my past and I have insisted on submitting my memorable ghost experiences to this website. My intention is to have a record of the past stuff so that I can write about the future stuff with comfort and ease.
Last year I tried to write down every single ghostly or just spooky experience I had but it got to be too overwhelming. I won't be doing that with this site. I won't be telling you guys about how I often see out of place colors and shadows, or that I often see someone standing nearby for a split second. I won't be posting every time I get a cold chill or I feel incapable of going into a room or space just because it feels off. I won't be doing all that, it happens too much and that would get crazy.
On the other hand though, there are places in which a lot of things have occurred and because they're in my history, I feel the need to share about some of these places. Willow Park Apartments is one of them. My mom and I lived there for several years. Before that, we used to move around a lot but we had settled there for a little while. Next to the apartment area, there used to be abandoned forts. I heard they were also converted into apartments but I haven't been there in years.
Don't get the wrong impression. Willow Park was a nice place to live. I have a lot of fond memories there. I won't say which building we lived in or any of that. Just know that's it a decent place with lots of kids around and my mom and I lived there for a while.
I mentioned the forts because that was my favorite place to go ride my bike. That's the first place I had spotted wild foxes and sat in a field filled with dandelions. It was a little spooky over there because the buildings were unoccupied and not all of them were boarded up. Sometimes you would swear you saw someone watching you from a window and other times you would swear you saw a door move when you know that they were chained shut. The first building at the end of the street was especially bad about that, particularly the big door at the back of the building. It was creepy but it wasn't enough to drive off a lonely preteen that thought the brick buildings were pretty even if they were imposing.
It was little things that happened there. It was spooky for all the right reasons. Sure, I saw shadows and doors move, but there was also that abandoned factor. There was this sense that people weren't supposed to be there anymore, that they weren't allowed in. It was dangerous inside and perfectly peaceful outside. It was the kind of place all kids romanticize as being haunted and yet it was my favorite place to go.
My home and my apartment building were entirely different. There were lots of people living there and always lots of kids to talk to or play with. I only remember one bully being particularly unfriendly out of the whole lot. Everyone else was all right. I lived on the ground floor and the apartment next to mine never had long term tenants. No one really lived there for long, which my childhood best friend and I thought was strange because people generally stayed a while after they moved into Willow Park.
The main experience I would like to mention in the building itself actually happened on the third floor. I lived on the first and my best friend lived on the second. The hallways were long and they always smelled like laundry (due to the multi-level laundry rooms). There were times when I would roam the halls, but the third floor was always kind of scary. I always chalked it up to the fact that I didn't know anyone that lived on the top floor. It was also because the lights had a tendency to flicker up there and the middle part of the hall smelled like stale cigarettes all the time.
I would push myself to go up to the third floor on occasion as a thrill. Sometimes I would get to the door at the top of the stairwell and chicken out. Sometimes I would run down the hall and pat myself on the back for not being a scaredy cat (even though I truly was). I stopped challenging myself to go up there after I found a noose hanging from the ceiling, next to a light that was flickering so it could have been mistaken for a strobe light. I admit, someone could have put it up there as a scare, but it really swayed me to stay away from the third floor.
I would often hear second hand things around my apartment area from other kids. I had three friends that swore up and down that they saw a "little blue boy" in the closet at in a mutual friend's apartment. I don't think I ever entirely bought that. I hadn't ever seen a blue little boy for myself.
What I saw was in my own apartment. Unless I had company, I didn't sleep in my own room the entire time I lived there. I was always too scared to sleep in there because I constantly felt like something was out to get me. That feeling didn't necessarily go away if I slept elsewhere, but at least I wasn't all alone.
In my room, I would see a silhouette of a very tall man in my closet. I used to see him in my mom's closet too or I would see a hand reaching out. In there, I could just hide under the covers against my mother's sleeping form. She wouldn't let anything bad happen to me. Alone, it was just this shape and myself in a semi-dark room with only piles of toys between us. I couldn't bear it. I used to hear scraping sounds coming from the closet walls and I always felt like I was being watched. I can't recall a time that I was in my room alone and didn't feel on edge.
I felt the same way if I was alone in my mom's room or in the bathroom. I avoided being down the hall that connected the rooms together if I could help it at all. My safe place was in the living room. That was where I tended to stay. It wasn't uncommon to see smoke in the hallway, shadows peeking out of doorways, or hear unexplained noises on the other side of our two bedroom apartment. I think the living room felt safe because I had a sliding glass door that I could run out of if I felt like I was in danger.
While the fact that I would often see a bit of red outside my shower curtain, despite the lack of red in our bathroom's motif, comes to my mind a lot. The most memorable experience to happen at that apartment area was when I had my childhood best friend stay overnight for the evening. My mom was still at work and it had gotten dark out when we had finally settled in. She didn't like staying in my room so we had cots set up in the living room while we waited for my mom to get home.
We were watching TV and chitchatting about who knows what when all of the sudden we heard a sharp "BANG" come from my bathroom. It is really hard to describe this sound. The best that I've ever been able to come up with has been that it sounded like someone grabbed a thick, porcelain plate and slammed it down into the tub basin. My friend and I went directly into the kitchen and grabbed the first knives we could find, which happened to be steak knives.
Alone, I probably would have peed a little, but I was with a friend. What was more was that I was with a friend that was two years younger than me in my house, so I put on a brave face. I held that knife clenched in my fist and cautiously walked to the bathroom. I peeked in and I didn't find anything askew. Everything was as I had left it that morning. The shower curtain was open. There was nothing on the ground and nothing had been knocked over.
We fled to the living room and waited for my mom to come home. My friend was so shaken up that she ended up going back to her apartment before we even had a chance to try to get some sleep. I certainly couldn't blame her for not wanting to stay after that.
I know this sounds like a story about two little girls with wild imaginations. For instance, that sound could have come from upstairs or from the neighbors that shared the wall with the bathroom. The latter wasn't possible. The apartment next to mine was vacant at that time and had been for a few months. As for the upstairs neighbors, they were quiet people. I was rarely even aware that they were up there. There is a chance that it was them, but I doubt it. It sounded like something had smashed and clanged around in my bathtub.
A lot of little things happened at that apartment area. I was frequently uncomfortable in my own home and I was very happy when we left. I regret being so happy about it now because I ended up missing the place once I was gone. I especially miss that fort area. If they have turned them all into apartments, I hope the people that live there are happy ones. That place could use some happiness.