My House
I can't begin toexpress how glad I am to have found this site. I have beeninterested in the paranormal since I was a kid; I'm now 25. I'veposted one or two stories already and I have to say that I'm gladto get some of these things off of my back. Telling people you'veseen a ghost is, unfortunately, not too socially acceptable. Mywife believes me (she's had some experiences of her own) and sheremarked that I seem to attract a lot of supernatural experiences.I've had more than a few strange things happen to me, so maybeshe's right. But I digress. My interest (and experience) in theparanormal really began when I was about four years old. That'swhen we moved into a haunted house. Here's the story:
The house my family moved into used to be a small schoolhouse onthe outskirts of a small city in Wisconsin, called Stevens Point.My mom went to school there when she was a kid. My dad bought itand remodeled it into a home. My mom told me that when she wentto school there were always stories about ghosts moving aroundthe schoolhouse. She didn't experience anything than and shesuspects that most of the stories were just the typical 'hauntedschool' tales.
There was one strange thing that happened during that time. OneMonday morning, the janitor was working in the basement and henoticed a patch of floor where brand new cement had just beenpoured. Now, no one had any idea why this new cement was there.No one had authorized it and no one had poured it. In short, noone had any clue why it was there. Then a report came in to theschool that one night over the weekend, a car was seen in thedriveway/parking lot of the school. None of the people who sawthe car recognized it and no one saw it come or leave. It wasthen that the District Attorney, the Chief of Police and the townchairman decided to dig out the concrete and find out what wasunder it. I guess the feeling was that maybe someone of somethingwas buried under there. So the new concrete was dug out and thedirt underneath was also removed. They dug down to the watertable (it wasn't that far; 4 feet) without finding much ofanything. They couldn't go any further than that because thesides of the hole kept caving in. To this day no one knows whopoured the concrete or why. Whoever did it would have had to chipapart and break the cement that was already there, then fill itall back in with new stuff. I know that this actually happenedbecause my grandmother saved the newspaper clipping about it.I've seen it and read it. So, to continue.....
A little while after my dad fixed it up and we moved in, we beganhearing noises. It would sound like a baby crying somewhere inthe house. It wouldn't be loud, but if the TV and radio were off,you could hear it clearly. It would cry and then take a breathand then cry and take a breath; it sounded exactly like a cryingbaby would sound. My sister and I shared a room upstairs, and wewould hear it at night sometimes. When we yelled for our parents,they would come in, but the crying would have stopped by then.They didn't hear it at first and they thought we were justgoofing around.
A little later, my older cousin was babysitting my sister and Ione night. We were all sitting in the living room at night whenthe crying started. My cousin asked us what it was and if we werepulling a trick; we didn't know and we weren't. We told her thatwe heard it sometimes too. She started to look around the house,with us tagging along. No matter where we went in the house, thecrying would always sound like it was somewhere else. We werevery, very scared. We all waited up until my parents came homeand then my cousin told them she would never stay in the houseagain. They asked what was wrong and she told them about thecrying. It was then that they started to believe us. Apparently,they each had been hearing something themselves, but they thoughtit was their imagination.
This crying went on every now and then for the entire time thatwe lived in the house (almost 6 years.) No one had any idea whatit was. My dad would go looking for it and he would never findanything; it would always appear to come from somewhere else inthe house. Eventually he gave up. Nothing else ever happened, andwe got used to it. No one liked it, and no one liked to staythere alone, but we figured that whatever it was, it wasn't goingto hurt us.
I've told this story to several people and they've all tried topunch holes in it. 'Maybe it was a cat or kitten or other animalstuck in a wall and crying to get out.' Maybe, but I don't thinkit would last for over 5 years like that. 'Maybe it was a bobcat.'They were seen around the town and their cries sound like a giantcat meowing, but again I don't think it would last 5 years. AndI've subsequently heard the cry of a bobcat and I know that thecrying in our house didn't sound like that. 'Maybe it was a bunchof kids playing pranks on you.' Again, the fact that it continuedfor 5 years pretty much shoots down that idea. I don't think thattoo many kids had the patience to continue it for that long.Besides, it always sounded the same and you could never tellwhere it was coming from. I don't think kids could do that either.
I don't know what it was. I've heard a saying that goes somethinglike this, 'Eliminate what it isn't, and what you're left with iswhat it is.' That's a hell of a paraphrase, but it makes itspoint. I've eliminated every natural explanation I know of.Therefore, what I'm left with is an unnatural one.