San Bernardino House
When I was around 8 years old - in the early 70's - my parents moved my family to a rental house in San Bernardino, California from another local town. It had probably been built in the 1950's or 60's and was a two-story tract home on the end of a culdesac with the usual yard, garage and close proximity to its neighboring homes.
At first all seemed well, it was in good condition and not unlike the house I had lived in until then. We all had our own rooms and my eldest brother (then a senior in high school) took possession of the very large room and bath on top of the garage. It would have normally been a rec or family room but now it was turned into a very hip teenaged boys room, complete with stereo and strobe light (this was the 70's remember...). This room was separated from the rest of the house by a long stairway from the kitchen area to the top of the garage. The rest of the bedrooms were on the other side of the kitchen and living room and down a long hallway.
My mother noticed the first signs of trouble when our very large dog did not want to come inside the house after we had been living there only a short while. He was raised indoors and a very spoiled house dog who slept on our beds. He also wasn't afraid of much and absolutely a guardian to house and child alike. Soon afterwards a cold spot developed in the hallway near our bedrooms, at first just a drop in temperature but becoming almost a physical barrier that one had to push through to get down the hall.
In time my brothers upstairs bedroom began to take on a positively creepy aura. My mother commented that she had discovered some tiny white insect that she had never seen before living in the carpet. She said they hopped away from her whenever she vacuumed the carpet. They never appeared in the rest of the house, which had typical southern California wall-to-wall carpeting. One weekend while my brother was away a little girl stayed over with me for a slumber party. We were allowed to sleep in the very cool teenagers upstairs bedroom (where it was such a huge privilege to be allowed in and where we could giggle all night and not keep the family awake!) We were tucked into bed but found that we could not sleep. Instead of girlful mirth we lay there in apprehension over the little attached bathroom. My mother must have sensed this for after awhile she came up and asked if we'd like to sleep downstairs. We both nodded and shot out of there like young deer on the run!
My brother eventually stopped sleeping in that room. He was a high school football captain, well over six-feet tall and powerfully built, well capable of taking care of himself. In addition he was a very intelligent young man and I never remember him having an outburst about anything. Late one night my father heard music coming from the upstairs stereo and went to the foot of the stair. He said that he saw someone standing near the top of the tall, narrow (and fairly dark, if I remember correctly) stairway. Assuming it was his oldest son he gave the order for the music to be turned down and everyone to get into bed (with two teens in the house that order was issued on a regular basis.) The figure retreated up the stair and the music was turned down or off. On his way back to his own room my father passed his son asleep on the sofa with a blanket and pillow. He hadn't been able to sleep up there for some time and there was no one else up there.
We moved shortly thereafter, after renting it for less than a year. We had occasion to drive past the house in question on several occasions thereafter - to visit old neighbors or out of morbid curiosity - but that house was always "For Rent by Owner". This is the true account as best I can remember it.