Alright, so, last time I told you all about those buddy visits. At the end I promised to reveal other weird experiences that are, again, possibly not paranormal. But I said I'd tell about it, so I'm going to.
First off, Tiffany's house. I've never gotten the feeling that there was something dark or threatening in that place. Sometimes I notice something's a little off.
A few minor things happened, but I'm going to tell you about this one thing. There's several probable explanations for it, but maybe you guys can add in your two cents.
I don't know when this was. Probably about two years ago, when I was still in eighth grade. One night, I was spending the night at Tiffany's. Normally when I sleep there I end up laying awake for hours, just staring into the shadows and willing myself to sleep. When I did fall asleep, there were no dreams or anything, which I usually have. Not sure how that helps here, but anyway. Very early in the morning, possibly 3 or so, is when something odd occurred to me.
I still remember the terror I felt. Someone or something was after me. I was trapped. I almost remember to this day the feel of my palms slamming frantically against the walls in the dark. I still remember, as I slowly came to consciousness, my screaming... Something like: "Stop! Leave me alone! No more!" I cried for help; I tried to get out. That's when Tiffany's sleepy, bewildered voice came from out of nowhere, "What are you doing?!" as she turned her lamp on. That's when I was snapped back to the waking world. As George called out from his room, "Is everything okay in there?" I realized what had happened and crawled back into my sleeping bag, utterly embarrassed.
Everyone else seems to think it's funny. I don't. Maybe it is. But it was really weird. It's probably just me sleepwalking (which I haven't done since before Mom had died), or maybe it was somehow a terrible nightmare I might've had, but I'm sure it wasn't...
Okay, that's done and over with. Ready for Brittani's basement? Let's go.
Her mom didn't have much money, so they stayed at Britt's great-aunt's last year until about a month ago. (The awesome thing is, Britt's great-aunt was actually my childhood bus driver.) They had their "bedrooms" down in the basement, which is separated into two rooms. On one side, facing the door that leads to the garage, is where they sleep, and where the bathroom is. On the other side, just down the little hallway, is where Brittani's computer and TV were. There's a small kitchen just beyond where the computer was, and there's a door at the far end leading to a bedroom, which was barely used (and which I always got a very weird vibe from).
If I'm guessing right, I'd say there's more than one spirit living there. I know, from what I've heard, and what I've felt, that there's someone.
I'm going back about ten years. When Brittani's cousin, Lance (he goes to my school) was a kid, he always had his door open. He told Brittani that at nighttime, he'd hear footsteps, a person wandering around the kitchen and the dining room, when everyone else was asleep. As he grew up, the footsteps eventually ceased. (Much to my disappointment, really.) When Brittani told me about what Lance had said, I immediately felt prickles on the back of my neck, because whenever I went up to the kitchen there late at night, I was always instantly wary and uneasy. Not because the kitchen light was the only light on; not because everything else was dark and eerie. Believe me, I've gotten used to the dark a long time ago, and I've even gotten kind of comfortable with it, for the most part. I may get a bit paranoid while walking around my own house in the dark, but still. In that house, it was stronger. I disliked having to go upstairs late because I needed something that wasn't downstairs. It always felt as though someone was there with me. I'm getting uneasy just thinking about it.
I'm thinking that this other particular incident took place last summer. Brittani and I had horrible habits of staying up all night and sleeping in all day. So, at 2 AM one night (or morning), one of the cats, Oreo, wanted to go upstairs. Brittani obliged by getting up and walking down the hall towards the cat and the door. When she got near said door, she was startled when an unfamiliar woman's voice sounded from somewhere behind her: "I don't really like her." Alarmed, Britt quickly gathered Oreo up and hurried upstairs.
She took a few moments to gather up the courage to go back down to the basement. There was no voice this time, but when she sat back down at her computer, the table in the kitchen behind her began to creak ominously. Naturally, this scared her. (If it were me, I'd be running. Then again, like I said before, I don't like going upstairs late at night there. Wonderful place, eh?) We're thinking that the woman ghost who spoke was saying that she didn't like Oreo, who happens to be a she-cat. It might be because ghosts don't like cats. (Ah, the power of the Egyptians.)
I'm going to spare you all the other details, but let's just say that whenever I spent the night there, I never felt completely safe. It seemed to me that there was at least one threatening presence there, and it didn't seem to like me. Whenever I leave, something seems to happen to Brittani. Nothing awful, but something went on. Like one time she found a bite mark on her breast. Another, she felt something cold pressed up against her foot when I was sleeping on the couch with her. It wasn't my foot, because I had socks on. She said the thing felt really strange, like it was skin, but it was just unnaturally cold. I don't understand why the thing down there in the basement seemed to pick on Brittani whenever I'm around. Maybe it's just jealous of me?
The last time I spent the night there was the end of January. I got myself so spooked, I guess, by reading urban legends that day. I was kind of a jerk towards whoever was there; I should stop being cynical around them. That night I couldn't sleep. I got nauseous, and had Dad pick me up that morning. It honestly felt as though someone were lurking around in the darkness of the basement while I tried to sleep. And Oreo wasn't there, so she didn't come up and curl up in front of me like she usually did. (It almost seemed as though she was protecting me in the past, actually.) I'm relieved Brittani and her mom and sister don't live there anymore.
As I've said before, my half-brother Marky is a skeptic about the paranormal. I kind of doubt he's a total non-believer.
One day, he irritably told me, "Ghosts aren't real, stupid!" That night, he was laying on the couch and watching TV in the living room when he heard a crash in the garage. He didn't investigate, and the next morning Dad found that the box of Christmas ornaments had mysteriously fallen over, shattering most of the ornaments on the cold floor by the door. It's kind of funny, because the box was kept just next to the door, below the attic, which I'm constantly suspicious of.
A few days later, there was another noise in the garage. But I'm still not sure what it was.
To be honest, nothing has really happened in this house since last year. It was never the most haunted house in Oregon; it's always been fairly quiet. To me, it's kind of disappointing, yet relieving. I'm extremely fascinated with the paranormal, but if I'm not careful, I'll get petrified and paranoid all over again, and that was a long couple of months. I don't want that to happen again. Hopefully one day I can get over my fear, because the next house I'll move in to may be a lot more active than this one.