I have had a little bit of a hard time writing about my upstairs experience. Some of this comes from the fact that one of my stories was stolen and posted on another website. However, I am discovering that it seems it is very common for that to happen from "our" website here. In the end, I decided I didn't want to let it stop me.
The upstairs of the house was all mine. As a teenager that's a beautiful thing. Especially when I had to share a room with my sister for as long as I could remember. I was the oldest, but my brother was born when I was almost three, and I would guess that's when she and I started sharing. If you have followed my other stories, there was a really large closet or storage area my dad built into a bathroom at the top of the stairs on the right. Then you had to go left and make another sharp left turn to walk along kind of like a hall (so the stairs would have been to your left in the hall area if you were facing the bedroom). At this hall area you could see the stairs and a little bit of the main floor area if you looked over the side of a built in bookcase to keep anyone from falling over the edge. There were also two rooms upstairs connected by a door. In the first room area, I just put my large antique dresser and a few other odds and ends. It was a small space not even big enough for a bed (except maybe a twin size). I used all the bookshelf space as I was an avid reader. In my main large bedroom area I had my bed, stereo, phone, and a desk. The closet to store clothes was also in this area.
The upstairs was weird but never particularly scary. I only had one experience that unnerved me. First, no animal in that house was willing to be upstairs. I have talked about the animals of our house before not wanting to be in certain areas of the house, and the upstairs was no exception. I would bring the little dog, Weenie upstairs for company and she would leave me. A couple of times I "trapped" her with me by closing the door between the two room areas so she had to stay with me. She just looked sad. She'd sit facing the door and pretty much ignore me. This made me sad. I am an animal lover, and she was supposed to be my dog, but didn't want to spend time with me if I was upstairs. I would end up opening the door and she'd run all the way to the stairs. The way she ran to those stairs was very similar to how she ran to the stairs when she was trying to leave the basement, except she'd never look back at me and she'd just go to the main level. None of the cats were willing to sleep upstairs either.
So here's one thing that happened to me. At night I'd be ready to go to bed, in bed with the light off. I kept a nightlight on because without it, it was almost like there was no windows in the room. There were, but no light was coming in and I have never been a total blackness person. We are talking total blackness as in you can't see your hand in front of your face black. I'd feel an animal jump on the bed and walk around like they were looking for a comfortable spot. I would look to see who had decided to join me and there was no animal. This happened repeatedly. Many times even after I looked for the animal it still felt like one was walking on the bed anyway. It got to a point I stopped looking for an animal and referred to it as "Ghost Cat." Ghost Cat joined me numerous nights.
I had "warm spots" that made no sense. This only happened a couple times. I came upstairs to get ready for something and there'd be a spot that looked like someone was sitting on my bed. I always made my bed. There was a dip in it. The first time I just stood there watching it. After a few minutes of nothing I rushed over and touched the area. It was warm as if someone had been there. There was also a floral type scent that accompanied it. I can't say what kind of floral scent, just that it reminded me of flowers. The next time it happened, I sat next to the spot. It was warm again with the same floral scent.
Next, my radio was a source of interest. I worked really hard one summer and with one of my last paychecks bought a CD player. This was a big deal as CDs were becoming all the rage, and it felt like everyone had one but me. I am a huge music fan so every morning I had the radio on. When school started that fall, I turned off the radio I would make it all the way to the top of the stairs and the radio came back on. Figuring I somehow didn't get the button pushed all the way I returned to the room, turned it off. I walked back and got almost to the top of the stairs before it came back on. I went back to turn the radio off. I stood in front of the radio watching the little red power light fade out, I walked away, to the top of the stairs and the radio was back on. I turned it off and said, "I am going to be late. We can listen to music later." The radio stayed off. That happened more than once. It always ended if I mentioned listening to the music later. Eventually that did stop, and I didn't have to say we'd listen to music later. Maybe whatever it was knew we'd listen more later. I also think of this when I think of the main level and the odd thing I had happen with my daughter's toy in the crib. I would have considered it an electrical thing, but when I mentioned it to my dad saying we needed an electrician he reminded me the electrical had been completely redone when we moved in as it was out-of-date according to inspectors.
Then I'd hear footsteps coming upstairs at night. I always figured it was my dad coming upstairs to use the bathroom. It made no sense as the downstairs bedroom would be closer for him, but he told me he preferred the upstairs bathroom so I figured maybe he was coming to use it. I never heard the bathroom door close, never heard a flush. I got up once and from the doorway I could see the bathroom door - no one was there. I stopped checking after a while. I went through a bad case of insomnia once. My insomnia consisted of me waking up at exactly 3 a.m. I would eventually just get up because experience taught me that I would lay there until 6 a.m. And not sleep. This is the one unnerving time I had. I was up, I remember laying on the floor, listening to music and either writing or drawing. The footsteps come up the stairs. I thought maybe it was my dad (he sometimes had insomnia too), and I figured he heard me up because my room was directly above theirs. The footsteps got to the top, and went back down. If you read about the basement, this is very similar to what happened in the basement. Then they came back up, and went back down. I hoped it was the dog. I didn't turn on the light in the second half of the room, but I got to the doorway and watched. I would have seen someone's head if they were coming up those stairs. No head, but to the top and back down. I rushed over and looked down the side of the bookcase to see if maybe it was Weenie. No small dog. I ran back to my doorway because the footsteps were on the way back up. Nothing ever appeared. I shut the door in between the two rooms. That bothered me.
Final comment on the upstairs: my dad mentioned more than once, "Anything rolling around your room upstairs during the day?" Confused, I say, "Not that I know of. Why?" He replied, "Well I could have sworn someone was walking around up there. I even went up there, but no one was there." This happened more than once. He told me he'd been up to my room as he'd heard footsteps. If someone was upstairs walking around you knew it. He never found anyone. I even had it happen to me a couple of times when I was home alone and expected to find a pet. Nothing was ever there. That concludes what happened in my teenage home. I do have more stories, but they will focus on a different house.