After I finished my degree in University, I accepted a job as a high school teacher in a small town of 90 people in south-western Saskatchewan, Canada. As you can imagine, housing options were scarce and there were only two options for rentals.
The first was a basement suite that turned out to be quite normal. The second, however, was an old, run down house. I didn't know anything about the house or it's owners at the time. But a nice older woman who owned the house offered to show me it. I took one look at the house and almost left immediately. It gave me the creeps just looking at it, but I decided that I was just being silly and since my boyfriend was planning on moving in with me, a house would give us more room than the basement suite.
As we walked around the house, which was quite small, the lady happily told me about the house being owned by her uncle who spent many happy years there and about the town and surrounding area. The entire time I was in that house, I was on edge. The house was one level and basically in a straight line. You walked into the entryway and small kitchen, then through a short hallway into a small living room. There were two bedrooms and a bathroom to the right along the hallway and living room. Basically, you could look through the front door and see the other end of the house.
There was a small attic and small basement/cellar underneath the living room, which was part of the original house. The kitchen/enterway had been as add-on. The woman showed me the basement that was a simple cement room with a dirt floor and an old, stone well in the middle. The well was covered up with a big stone circle. I mean, it was like someone took a picture of the well in the movie "The Ring" and stuck it down there.
Then she showed me the attic. There wasn't enough room for us both to go up, so she told me to climb the small staircase and look inside. There wasn't even enough room to stand in the attic. It was more of a crawl space and the floor was covered in rocks. I stuck my head into the attic and immediately got this overwhelming feeling of dread. Something in my head was screaming "get out of here, NOW"! So I climbed back down quickly and the woman insisted I take a better look since I was only up there a couple of seconds. I flat out refused and we moved on.
I thanked the woman for showing me the house and told her I would be in touch. I jumped in my car and drove away. As I looked back at the house, I clearly saw the face of a man in the attic window, glaring at me. Of course, I rented the basement suite instead.
After I started my job at the school, the principal asked me what place I planned to rent. When I told her it was the basement suite, she breathed a sigh of relief and said "Oh good! I didn't want to tell you before, because I didn't want to sway your decision, but that house is terribly haunted". She then went on to tell me the real story of the house. The woman's uncle did, indeed, live there, but his time there was anything but happy. He was known to be mentally disturbed and ended up in an argument with his wife. She allegedly ran from the house in fear, chased by her husband who held a shot gun. He caught up with her and shot her dead. He then returned to the house and took his own life.
She then told me stories of people who had lived there or visited the house. Apparently, the house had been rented many times, but the renters never stayed long. There were stories of the roof leaking blood onto the floor and terrible, deafening screams being heard by people in the home. And, the face in the attic window was seen by so many people, that it was just a common acceptance.
During my second year in that town, another young man was hired by the school and, unfortunately for him, there were no other housing options at the time. So he moved into the house. He never shared any stories about his time there, and ignored any questions asked about it being haunted. But I had my own experience with the house when he lived there.
I am an avid baker and knew how lonely the small town could be when you first move there, so I baked him a pie to welcome him to the town. I took the pie to his house one night around sun set. When I got to the house, the inside was dark, but I could see the TV was on in the living room. So I went to the front door only to find it partially open. I knocked on the door and called John's name. There was no answer, but I thought I saw something moving. I squinted my eyes and looked closer. I saw, what I thought was some fabric moving near the edge of the far bedroom door. Then a head poked out around the door frame and quickly hid behind it again. There was someone hiding in the bedroom and taking quick peeks at me around the corner. Thinking it was John, I was confused by his behaviour. I called "John?" again and started to push the front door open further. It was then that the black figure stepped completely out of the bedroom. It was the shadow of a man, I couldn't make out his features as it was too dark, but the one thing I did see immediately, was the shot gun in his hand.
I dropped the pie and ran, through the dark, straight to my home. When I got home I locked the door and immediately broke down crying. I couldn't even explain to my boyfriend what had happened because I was hysterical. When John got home and found the smashed pie just outside his door, he was confused and started asking around. I found out he wasn't even home when I came. He was at the school preparing for the upcoming year. I made up some story about a spider scaring me and how I felt silly about dropping the pie.