AM I LIVING IN A HAUNTED HOUSE?

I lay in bed reading a horror book when I see movement from the corner of my eye coming from the other side of the closed curtain. I slowly lower my book, my mind screaming at me not to. There is a shadow floating on the right side of my window. At first, I thought it was the shadow of the flag, flapping in the wind, but quickly realized this is no flag. I stare at the shadow as it moves up, then to the left, then down, then to the right before repeating the cycle again.

      “What the heck is it?” I mutter.

      The shadow changes shape repeatedly until it stops, and now resembles the head of a dragon. At first, my curiosity piques, but then an unexplainable fear overtakes my senses, and I am on the verge of leaping out of bed. Whatever is distracting me does not bring peace my way, but a terror that will affect my lifetime. I thank God the curtain remains closed, for I do not care to see what is producing that shadow for I had a feeling it will cause my sanity to leave me. Yet there seems to be an unknown force pulling me to the curtains. The shadow floats by my window for eternity haunting me. I cannot pull my eyes from this shadow. Thankfully, it eventually dissipates, and I can relax. A weight lifts from my body, and the fear dissipates. I get up from the bed wondering if I should go over to the window and throw open the curtains or exit the room.

      “Restroom break,” I say to myself as I open the door and walk down the hallway to the bathroom.

      This is the first eerie episode I had encountered in this house I recently occupied. A one-story home with a garage, living room, dining room, kitchen, laundry room, three bedrooms, and one and a half bathrooms. No talk of evil spirits by the past owners, but would they honestly say such to me, for they did not look like such fools? They were the first occupants when the house came into existence, and all went well for them. That is what they say to the ignorant future owner.

      For the next week, I did my best to explain the bizarre episode. At first, a floating balloon entangled by the pole of the flag. But I never saw a balloon changing shapes by itself. My imagination tends to run wild, especially when I am reading a book. Could this be my imagination at work?

      I purchased a couple of small dogs to keep me company not long after. Not intimidating to the human world, but hopefully toward the ones from the beyond. It made me feel much better to have another living being in my house.

      A month went by when the next episode took place in my house.

      “Get out of there!” I call out to Bingo, the mischievous one, who is trying to get into the fireplace for I have thrown the covering to the bacon into the place.

      As I went back to the recliner, I thought I heard a noise come from the back door. I stop in my tracks and listen for a time, but only hear Bingo moving about. I look around, not seeing Ringo so possibly him. The dog’s food and water dish are in the laundry room, close to the back door so very will possible so thought nothing of the matter as I go over to sit, and back to the book on the crusades. Not long after I started reading, I heard the noise again. It sounded like something tapping on the door, then tapping the floor, then back to tapping the door. I sat there for about a minute, listening to the episode.

      “Ringo!” I called out.

      The tapping stopped.

      “What is that dog doing?”

      I get ready to walk around the corner and into the kitchen to the laundry room, when I hear a distinct sound that stops me in my tracks. The sounds of a heavy boot walking from the laundry room toward where I am. I look around, trying to find something to use as a weapon. I see the small baseball bat lying next to the chair. I quickly grabbed the bat as the steps came closer. I raise it up, ready for the intruder to come around the corner. If the intruder has a gun, my life will end, but I will get in a good swing or two, I hope. I continue to wait as the footsteps cross the kitchen floor but seems to be taking too long to appear in front of me. I stand there, not sure what to do. The steps stop and the anxiety goes up for is the intruder going to appear or do I go to it. I ponder if I should call out, but it would more than likely come out as a squeak so kept my mouth shut. Perspiration covers my body as fear grips me. I stand for who knows how long, trying to decide what to do. Decision abruptly comes forth as I step forward toward the kitchen, with the bat raised to swing. I near the entrance to the kitchen, wondering if I should jump out or peek around the corner.

      “Just get it over with,” I thought.

      I leaped out, prepared to swing, but there was no one there. Instead, Ringo looked up at me. I looked toward the laundry room, seeing no movement.

      “There is no way you could have made those sounds,” I said to Ringo.

      Ringo walked past me into the living room, leaving me to confront the intruder.

      I meandered through the kitchen toward the laundry room, preparing for the intruder to leap out. But when I entered the laundry room, there was no one there. I checked the doorknob, locked.

      “What could have created those noises?” I muttered.

      There was only one other place I had not checked out, and that was past the laundry room and into the bathroom. The room only had a sink and a toilet, so there was no space for the perpetrator to hide.

      I walked to the bathroom, seeing no one in the room. I went over to the window and saw it latched shut.

      “Nothing,” I said.

      I turned around and was about to leave the bathroom when I heard the footsteps again. They started on the other side of the kitchen, coming toward me, but my eyesight saw nothing. I grabbed the doorknob and slammed the door shut as the steps entered the laundry room. I quickly locked the door as the steps came up to the door and stopped. I had the bat raised, ready for whatever tried to break in. If I still had my sanity, I would realize the bat would do nothing to my invisible terror.

      “What am I experiencing?” I thought. “Too much horror I’m taking in that is bringing madness upon me.”

      I am not a believer in ghosts, but is this what I am encountering?

      “Am I living in a haunted house?” I mutter.

      As I mutter the words, I hear the tapping on the floor, then on the back door, then back to the floor. This went on for a time before it stopped. Then the footsteps started up again, heading to the other end of the kitchen, ending. I slowly opened the door, seeing there was no one around.

      “I need to get out of this area.”

      I rushed toward the living room, at one moment feeling quite cold, but soon I was in the living room by the fireplace.

      Both dogs lay on the couch, looking at me.

      “What is your problem?” I can imagine them saying.

      I went over to the coffee table and grabbed the remote control.

      “Put on some sound and hopefully that will calm me down.”

       I turned on the television and turned up the volume. I did not want to hear the footsteps and the tapping.

        Part of me wanted to leave the house, to never return. The other half thinking whatever was creating the noise was not causing me any harm.

           “Just freaking me out,” I muttered. “But not freaking my dogs out?”

           I sat down in my chair with the bat nearby, knowing the bat was useless against a ghost, but it was reassuring to have it near me, anyway.

           The rest of the night I sat in the chair watching the tube, then dozed off to wake up an hour later wondering if the ghost was still around.

           “There is no way I’m going in that kitchen.”

           I eventually dozed off again, waking up off and on throughout the night.

           My day at work was miserable due to lack of sleep. I spent the entire time contemplating on what I should do. I could move out, but then I would end up losing much money and wind up in an apartment, which I do not want to do. I could go to a church and have a priest bless the house. I could have a psychic or ghost hunter come in, or just live with it and get over my fears. If harm did not come my way, then I should be okay. But what about my sanity?

           “It could make it an interesting home life,” I muttered.

           My life was dull overall, so the reason I read so much of the fantastical. Living this kind of life in my house might be interesting. Of course, part of me screaming I was insane to have such thoughts.

            It came to me living at the house, encountering footsteps once a month and little odd things happening. At first, scared, but eventually I became numb. Soon I was like my dogs, and just enjoyed the roof over my head, no matter how bizarre it was to live under it.