When I was born, I lived with my dad, mom and grandma in my grandma's house in Chowchilla, CA. This town is notorious for gangs, shootings, and plenty of "crazies" as the locals called them. This story is not about them, but I figured I should establish that first. I will be writing in this account of several experiences, some of which were simply relayed to me as I was too young when they happened to clearly remember them now.
I was roughly three or four months old when this happened to me. My dad and mom were outside in the carport, smoking. They had a baby monitor to keep track of me, because I was asleep in the house in their bedroom in my crib. My dad told me that the baby monitor was silent, when suddenly both him and my mom heard someone speaking in some sort of demonic tongue. My dad rushed inside to threaten whatever intruder was in the room, but found no one there. He heard muffled cries from where I was in the crib and ran to check on me. I was suffocating. I was wearing a beanie because that room never really got warm, and the beanie was pulled over my mouth and nose and was being held there forcefully. I was wearing little mittens, and at that age did not have the strength to pull that beanie down so hard, and with the mittens on couldn't even grasp anything properly. My dad says he wrenched the beanie off of my head and I started breathing erratically, finally able to breathe after being slowly suffocated for an unknown amount of time.
When I was a little older, maybe three and a half or close to 4, I began to speak and play with an unseen person in the house. At first this was chalked up to an imaginary friend, but that changed when my grandma, dad, and mom saw her briefly when she and I were playing peekaboo. This girl was not much older than I was at the time, she was maybe around six or seven years old. To this day I can still remember exactly how she looked. She was a small girl, with curly blonde hair, wearing a long yellow dress that was embroidered with little red roses all over it. I remember her being sweet, but she got upset when I played with my younger brother and not her. When I was nearly five years old, my mom, brother and I moved away to Kansas, because my dad was arrested for domestic violence against my mom. For several years, I lived away from my grandma's home, living in Kansas and Missouri, before finally moving back to stay with my dad, grandma and brother again, while my mom stayed in Kansas trying to better herself.
For the first few months back in the home I had almost forgotten the little ghost girl, until one night when suddenly I remembered her name and all the memories came flooding back. Her name had been Sarah. I started to see her again after that, but she didn't talk to me or play with me. At first I figured it was because I was older now, but I was only around 8 years old. I finally figured out that she was mad at me for leaving her alone for several years. I spent several hours talking to the air trying to explain to her what had happened, but I never got a response and I honestly don't even know if she was listening. But, some time after that she appeared to other people in the house.
I had a step-sister who was about four or five at the time, and she slept on the couch in the living room. She was small, with straight blond hair. I was in the kitchen one night and I heard my dad angrily yell at my little sister to "get the f*ck back to bed." Curious, I looked to the living room and saw my sister passed out on the couch, just like she had been for hours. I went down the hall to tell this to my dad, fully aware that he would probably yell at me, and he just had this shocked look on his face. He was staring into the empty laundry room, that had the washer and dryer and some clothes but nothing else. My dad whispered to me "I saw her", and when I replied with a confused look, my dad explained how he had seen a little blonde girl run from the bathroom (one side of the hall) to the laundry room (just opposite of the bathroom) from where he was sitting in his room at the end of the hall. He said he yelled, thinking it was my sister, and had gotten up to punish her, but when he looked in the laundry room where the girl had ran, there had been no one there. My dad said he remembered that I used to play games with a little girl when I was younger, who looked just the same as what he had saw. My dad went back to bed and we didn't talk about the incident for a long time.
I was about ten when some sort of spirit decided to take residence in my bedroom, bothering me and disrupting my things often. I had a ceiling fan that I couldn't get to turn on, and one of those light fixtures with exposed bulbs with a kind of flower shaped glass case around them that didn't close. My dad was very abusive, so I spent a lot of time in my bedroom with the door locked, eating cereal straight out of the box. When I did leave my room, I always turned off my light and shut the door, even if I was only leaving for a moment. One day, I left my room to grab a new box of cereal out of the cupboard. I was walking back to my room, and I heard nothing out of the ordinary, but noticed that the light was shining from under the door. I thought this was odd, but it wasn't nearly as odd as what I saw when I opened the door. I saw my fan on at full speed, shaking the light fixture, I saw that the glass around one of the bulbs was smashed off and in three pieces on the ground, but the bulb was untouched. All four of the bulbs were on, even though I had believed one of them to be out. I immediately ran to get my dad and he cleaned up the glass and turned everything off.
That house was just recently left by my grandma who moved away, and I don't know if it's been bought yet, but as far as I know that light fixture is still broken.
A different time, I had bought a kit to make "shrinky-dinks" which involved coloring large drawings on wax paper and then baking the paper so that you had little charms that were shrunk. Since I had that kit, and generally left my room a mess, I had a large stack of wax paper sheets on my desk. One night I was staying up late reading a book (I have insomnia and am now medicated for it) when suddenly the stack of papers flies off of the desk and briefly around my room before scattering. Truth being told this scared the shiat out of me, but I was used to being abused and threatened so I didn't scream but merely gasped with shock. My window had been shut for a long time, because the screen was missing, and my fan wasn't on. I thought maybe it was the heater or air conditioning, but neither of those gave off strong enough blasts to do what happened that night.
About a month later, I was exiting my room when a mason jar full of pencils and pens and paintbrushes flew past my head and broke against the door frame beside me. That time I did scream, but I was the only one home, since my grandma was at church and my dad was off doing god knows what, and my little brother and sister were at my (at the time) stepmoms house. I also had two experiences of what I thought was sleep paralysis while sleeping in that room, but I don't know what really happened, or if it was even real.
This will be the last story for now, but I will write about more of my experiences at some point. When I was around four, before me and my mom and brother moved away, I slept most nights in a small bed in my mom and dad's room next to their bed. I woke up one night, sobbing, to find my dad next to me trying to wake me up, saying I had been having a nightmare. The problem was resolved and that night I slept in the bed with my parents. The next morning when we awoke, we found above my little bed on the ground three deep gashes in the wall, as if something had tried to claw at it. It frightened my parents and me greatly. We tried several times to get rid of the gashes, plastering over them, painting over them, putting posters over top of them. But, they always came back. The plaster was always just not where the gashes were, no matter how many coats of paint we put we could always see the gashes, and every poster we tacked or nailed over it was found on the ground hours later with the nails or tacks beside it.
When I returned to the house after living in Kansas and Missouri, around four years later, the gashes still remained in the wall. A few months later, my grandma had the house renovated, so we had to stay in a rental house for a couple months one summer. When we went back to the house we found the gashes to be gone, and we were relieved. Then, we were told that that entire wall was removed and replaced, and we were no longer relieved. It took completely removing the wall to get rid of those horrible gashes.