The old homeplace started out as a simple four room farmhouse with an attic type upstairs. It had porches in both front and back, with part of the back porch having been turned into a "smokehouse". The floor plan was simple, coming in through the front door was the living room, to your right was the master bedroom. The attic sat on top of these two rooms, with the L-shaped staircase coming out into the living room. The kitchen and dining room abutted these two rooms, with a door from the living room leading to the kitchen. As you entered the kitchen, to your left was the dining room door and in the far end of the kitchen was a door going to the back porch.
I started living here when I was six following my real parents' divorce, so the year would be 1961. All the kids slept upstairs, except the oldest which slept in a makeshift bedroom in the dining room. The dining room was probably the most haunted room in the house. First I will tell you what I can attest to.
The room had an eeriness about it that would strike terror in us kids. It was like there was something in there that absolutely hated you. Although nothing ever bothered us, we would run past the doorway. This could have all been in our heads but the coldness of the room wasn't. We actually used the room for a refrigator. We had a milk cow, so we had plenty of milk and butter and we kept it in this room to keep from spoiling, even in the hottest part of summer. You could hear crashing noises coming from the room and when you checked nothing would be out of place.
At other times you could hear crashes and when you checked the honey cans would be scattered all over the floor. The door had a habit of locking from the inside. The "lock" we had was an old fashioned turn latch, like you found on outhouse doors. You could wait awhile and go back, the door would be unlocked. These I witnessed with my own eyes.
The following events I can't attest to, I wasn't there but I can attest to the honesty of the ones that were. I believe it to be true. This incident happened in the mid to late fifties. It was Christmas Eve and the family had all gathered in to spend the holidays together. They were all in the kitchen laughing and talking when one of them went to get something from the dining room and the door was locked. Everyone was accounted for, so Pete, one of the son-in-laws, put his shoulder to the door and forced it open, knocking the latch off in the floor. They got what they wanted and Pete nailed the latch back in place so tight that he couldn't turn it. He laughed and said something to the effect that he would like to see it (he called it a name) lock it now.
No sooner than he pulled the door to, it latched again. He forced it open again and this time he nailed the latch with two 16 penny nails, side by side-making it impossible for the latch to turn. When he closed the door - it latched. Just when he was about to force the door for the third time, it sounded like all hell broke loose in the dining room. It sounded like something was tearing the room apart. Pete started to go in the room but Mom and Dad stopped him, telling him to wait until "it" settled down.
When things got quite about ten minutes later, he started to force the door open but decided to check it first. He pushed on the door and it opened as easy as pie. He walked in and nothing was out of place except the latch to the door was laying clear across the room. The two nails that held it in place was twisted together like you would twist electrical wiring. Nothing else happened that night and the room was quite for a long time thereafter.
More to follow...