Lately, I’ve been borderline obsessed with all things paranormal. ‘Tis the season, right? These days, I’ve been listening to as many ghost stories as possible, and I’ve been instigating all my friends into telling their own tales. Some of them have told me spirits seem to follow them; others tell me they’ve seen horrible creatures. As eager as I am to hear about their experiences with the other world, nothing’s really happened to me. Except this one time…
I used to volunteer at an old Victorian house on the weekends. I’d give tours and talk about the family that settled there in the 1850s. Most of the time, it was such a pleasant place to be–I loved looking into the parlor, with its plush carpets and spindly, delicate furniture. I would meander through the kitchen, wondering at the china cups and rough wooden bowls. And the bedrooms were full of old treasures, like a Bible worked in jewels on the cover and homemade dolls.
But sometimes I wanted nothing more than to get out.
I knew I was being watched by someone upstairs. Whoever it was would stare down at me while I sat in the front doorway waiting for visitors. At the end of my shift, when I had to close all the blinds in the house, I scurried through the upstairs rooms as fast as I could–because I didn’t feel welcome. I never liked to go up there and only did it when I was leading a tour or closing up.
Once, when I was trying to get into the house, I unlocked the door and pushed to get in. No matter how hard I pushed, I couldn’t get it open. Well, it’s over a hundred years old, so I was just a little frustrated with the antique hinges. But when I finally did manage to pry it open, the door SLAMMED back at me with a bang.
After that, I got the idea that I needed to say hello before I tried entering the house. That seemed to keep the peace.
Talking to other volunteers, I learned that my experiences weren’t unusual. They’d tell me they heard knocking and footsteps, or the rooms would suddenly go cold. In fact, some had much worse to say. One volunteer’s tour was interrupted by a woman who had to leave–she said someone was screaming at her from upstairs.
After one summer, I was done. I’ve never gone back to visit.
What about you? Do you have any good ghost stories?
Hat: old, Urban Outfitters
Dress: old, ModCloth
Tights: old, ModCloth
Shoes: old, Restricted
Bag: old, ModCloth