As far as I can recall I have always have had experiences with the paranormal. My mother blames herself, saying that I inherited from her. Whatever the case may be, at a young age I became fully aware of another world. A world full of disembodied voices, invisible guests (or intruders?) and more. To be honest, I don't care for it and I usually try my best to ignore such things to my full ability. Unfortunately when something wants you to notice it, you will notice it.
As I said, in the past I have had experiences with the paranormal. But it wasn't until we moved out of our old house into a much newer one, that I started to get the full blunt of the activity in our home. It started off nice enough. The house felt safe and welcoming. From living in a previous house with a very angry, uninviting aura, this was a very nice start. When I had finally moved into my own room I made a loud, vocal agreement with the house and anything else that, we could all live together peacefully and requested that we just try our best. And for a time, it worked out well. I was sleeping well, I was calm and I felt wanted and safe.
Time changes everything and so did the house and it's demeanour. I would start waking up in the middle of the night with very strange, eerie feelings. A feeling of someone or something watching me. A feeling I simply couldn't ignore. It got to the point where I would move out of the room and find another spot to sleep in the house just to avoid it. It started to get more and more often and the feelings started to get more and more intense. It got to the point were I was sleeping on the couch in the family room more often then my own room. My mother at one point questioned me to why I was sleeping on the couch, when I explained to her the reason why, she only responded with silence.
Of course living in a house you shared with spirits, there were classic signs you could almost always expect to hear or see. You'd misplace car keys and other small trinkets and later find them in a place you searched a thousand times. You would hear invisible footsteps walking across the floor, or on occasion the stereo in the work room being turned on with the volume set to full blast. The stereo got to be such a problem that my step father started leaving it unplugged when it wasn't in use, which seemed to quickly bring a stop to it's unobserved usages.
One of the worst problems that plagued me early on was my bedroom door. It would open and close on it's own. On occasion I would have someone knock on my door, only to find no one behind it when I answered and opened my door. It got to be such a bother that I would actually lock my door when I went to sleep in my room. One night, the door obviously tried to open itself. Upon finding the door locked, my visitor angrily shook the doorknob and stomped off. From there on in, things started to get worse.
It started off very gradual. Every once and awhile (maybe once a month?) I would wake up, screaming. I would be instilled with an irrational fear, as if someone had filled my brain with liquid fear and then shook me up. Often times I would wake up screaming, jump from my bed and run out of my bedroom. Often times, I would end up sleeping in another room after such events. Sometimes nights on end would go by before I would be able to brave my room again. It slowly started to get worse. Not only was I waking up terrified more and more often, but I would start to wake up with bloody scratches on my face or body. And things only escalated from there.
Suddenly I wasn't sleeping anymore when the terror would strike me. I would be sitting down, watching TV and suddenly I could feel this dark cloud over me, creeping over me, getting ready to strike. I could feel this almost mental attack come over me like a wave and then, suddenly without warning the fear would strike me. I would literally be stuck with a wave of irrational, uncontrollable fear. I would run from room to room. And the fear didn't even stop from my bedroom, it now started to follow me from other rooms. Soon enough, I was no longer safe in any part of my home from it.
It got so bad, that for a while I would sleep at a friend's house for a few days, even a week. And I would be fine. And I would start to get my faith back, thinking I would be able to handle it. And it would happen all over again, and again and again. Finally on one faithful day I had enough and was sick of it. I was sitting in my room watching TV when I felt the same odd, horrible dark feeling start to creep over me. I stood up and clenched my fists and concentrated as hard as I had ever done in the past. I looked about my room and shouted "No more! This is enough! This is my home, not yours! And I will not be forced from it!" I was surprised to find that the dark shadowy feeling begin to at once recede from my person. That one single victory gave me the confidence to fight on.
For a while I would have, what I thought of, as almost an attack on my own personal being happen. And each time I would stand my ground. I was forcing myself to sleep in my room and forcing myself to face the fear that would occasionally rear its ugly head. And for a time, things gradually got better... Better before they suddenly took a huge turn for the worst...
Suddenly activity started to kick up and happen more and more often. And it wasn't just happening regularly. It was targeting one and only one person, me. Not only were the fear strikes coming back and harder then ever, but worse yet, a horrible odour seemed to have penetrated into my room. The stench would come from out of nowhere, last awhile and then dissipate. I often sought the source of the offensive smell, only to discover there was no real origin to where the smell was coming from. Banging started to emit from the wall spaces that covered both sides of my rooms. Often I would wake up in the middle of the night due to the sounds of someone scraping their fingernails across the insides of my walls, or a fist banging on my door.
Finally one night, which was the most awful night I could remember, I had gotten up to use the bathroom and get a drink. Everything had gone fine until I went back to my room. I had barely crawled back into my bed and closed my eyes when I heard a raspy, angry voice shout into my ears "...Jeremy!...". I jumped out of bed and looked around. At first I thought it was my stepfather yelling for me, I quickly checked, but noticed the house was dark and silent. I remember seeing the clock in the kitchen reading 3:00 AM.
Things continued like this up until I graduated from high school in 2004 and moved to my friend's house in Oklahoma. The second I took leave of the foul house and its invisible residents I felt better. I never woke up screaming in the middle of the dark again. I never experienced any of these problems again after moving from my mother's home in Michigan. Years later when I finally moved back up north I was at my mother's house talking to her about the past and what had happened to me.
She apologized to me. She was fully aware that I was having problems. And further more, she knew whatever it was that still marched the floors in the house wasn't a nice or warm creature. She had admitted to not liking the upstairs and avoiding it as much as possible simply because whatever it was that haunted the house, enjoyed that part of the house the most. My room had been abandoned when I moved from it, used mostly for junk. No one dared to try to claim it as their own, even though it was the biggest bedroom in the house. But I was informed that each and every single night, the door would open, slam shut and you could hear something restless walk about the second floor of the house. Some nights it got so bad my mother had to get up and shout for it to stop, which it would, normally.
Finally one night my girlfriend had to stay over at my mother's house. She stayed on the first floor and slept on the couch. Things were fine for a while, until everyone went to bed and the house got silent and dark. And then, like clock work, it started. The door to my room upstairs would open, slam closed and then someone or something would walk from my room, down stairs into the kitchen and throw what sounded like keys on the table. This happened all night and it deeply disturbed my girlfriend. When I came by to pick her up the next day, she told me her tale almost with tears in her eyes. I felt awful; I was hoping that she wouldn't have to meet the resident creature in my mother's home.
To this day I still think about the hellish time I spent in that house and the trouble whatever it was, caused me. I don't know what I did to cause it to target me or to dislike me so much, but for a time, I felt like I almost did battle with someone or something. As far as I am concerned, no person, dead or alive would act the way that creature treated me and I'll always consider it a beast.