This story takes place in St. Louis, Missouri, my hometown. I still reside in St. Louis, but I no longer live in the house where I grew up. My parents still live there and claim that the house is no longer haunted ever since it was blessed. From what I remember, it was definitely haunted. There had been many incidents, but one that I vividly remember took place when I was about 13 years old.
I have a younger brother named Carlos, and at the time he was ten. My mother was a janitor at an elementary school, and earlier that day, she had brought home a very large bucket of crayons. Carlos and I spent the rest of the day coloring in our room. It was about 9pm and my father said it was time for bed. Carlos and I shared a very small room with bunk beds. He got the bottom bunk and I got the top. We didn't feel like going to bed, so I took a handful of crayons and climbed to the top bunk and started throwing them at my brother who was lying on the bottom bunk. He would throw some back at me. We were laughing loud and we got really rowdy, so my father stormed into the bedroom and said, " What the heck are you kids doing?! Clean up these crayons and get your a**es to bed now!"
Quickly we cleaned up all of the crayons and threw them back in the bucket. My little brother and I feared our father. We were so afraid of him that we slept in the same bunk on the bottom. We passed out and at about midnight my brother woke me up.
He said, "Jasmin I am scared, look out the door down the steps..." Our bedroom door was right in front of the steps that lead to the downstairs' reception/lobby area. I looked down the steps and the light in the lobby was flicking on and off in a pattern. The switch was loud since it was one of those switches that make a loud click when you flick it. We could see the switch flicking up and down from our bedroom, but no one was flicking it. We both grew very frightened. I told him to ignore it and it was probably defected. I didn't want him to be scared, but I knew I was really scared. I turned away from the steps and fell asleep.
Later that night, Carlos woke me up again. He said, "Jasmin wake up, I am scared..." I awoke and our bedroom door was now closed and it was pitch black in our room. Carlos said "Listen, it sounds like crayons hitting the walls..." I listened for a few seconds and that is exactly what it sounded like. I was very afraid, so I pulled out a flashlight that we kept under the bed. I turned it on, looked around the room, and saw nothing. No crayons flying against the walls and saw nothing out of the ordinary.
We continued to listen and the noise never stopped. Finally, we fell asleep. When we woke up the next morning, to our surprise the crayons were all out of the bucket and all over the floor. There were crayon markings on the wall, as if someone threw crayons at the walls and left little dotted markings. We were terrified.
We cleaned up the crayons and threw them away. We told everyone in the house what had happened, but Carlos and I were the youngest of all the children and everyone thought we were immature. They believed we made the whole story up.
Years later I brought the story up to my older brothers and sisters and they believed me since it was years later and I was still claiming the story to be true.
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