For several years I lived in the country with my family, and then my dad wanted to move to town so we did. The house that we moved into was a big one. It had 3 floors, but the third floor was off limits, my sister and I soon found out why.
One day my parents were and work and my big brother was at a friend's house that left my big sister and I home alone. We started hearing tap-tap-tap from the third floor. We didn't think much about it until we heard music and walking around. We left the house until my step mom came home.
The next day when it was just Ashley and I at home again, I looked at her and said let's go to the third floor. So we did. Tons of old news papers clothes and something told me to go to the comer where lay a bloody blanket. Ashley was on the other side of the third floor and someone slapped me HARD. So hard that I fell. I ran out of the room.
That night I slept in the basement and I had no fingernails and I woke up with scratches all over my stomach and back. That happened every night and I was scared so I went back upstairs and it still happened but I had NO fingernails and where the scratches were on my back I couldn't reach so what was it? A Demon a poltergeist of something else?
I never went back to that house on Martin Street ever again!