All through my life I have been very “sensitive” to paranormal phenomena. As a very young child (2-4 yrs old), I would play outside and hear my name being called from the woods around Red House Hill. I always insisted that I played with “people” in the woods. My mom and even later me, agreed that it was just my imagination.
When I was five years old we moved to an old house in Hurricane. It was a very strange house, my bedroom had one window on the right side, and a boarded up window on the adjoining wall. In the hallway outside my door there was a heating/air conditioning vent, with three little stairs leading down (no one could ever fit down there). My grandmothers room was centered in the middle of the house, with two doors and no windows. The front door that we never used had no doorknob, only a dead bolt you had to use a key to unlock from the inside or out. In addition to a normal semi creepy basement, and also another basement under the garage with stone slabs extending from three of the walls. Let me tell you, it was definitely a stereotypical haunted house.
For years we all saw things and never told one another. About a week before we moved out we were sitting outside telling stories, and we all started admitting to things we had seen. On more than one occasion my brother, nephew, nieces, and I had all seen a woman in a white nightgown. Sometimes standing in front of a wall fixing her hair in an invisible mirror, and many times running down the stairs and across the lawn with her hair flying back behind her.
When I was about nine, I had hidden some stickers and other “top secret” things underneath my mattress. I came around the corner towards my bedroom door and saw a boy with dusty blond hair kneeling next to my bed and lifting up the dust ruffle. I yelled “HEY!” and he looked up startled and dropped the fabric. Without thinking much more about it I ran to tell my mother that my brother (who was also blond) was in my room going through my stuff. She looked perplexed for a moment and told me that my brother was spending the night at a friends house about 15 miles away. Needless to say I slept in my parents room for a few nights.
We have many other stories of dolls moving on their own volition, dolls with stationary or painted on eyes blinking at us. Until I was almost 13 years old, every night I would stuff all of my dolls and stuffed animals into the closet and close it tight.
Finally, a year before we moved out, my Father died. The night before the funeral, I couldn’t bear to sleep on the other side of the house away from my mother, but also didn’t think she would want me sleeping in her bed. So, I decided to sleep on the couch, which was better than nothing. Just as I was settling down to sleep, I felt a presence in the room; then came the sound of someone settling into the arm chair beside me and sighing softly. I knew from that moment on then my Daddy was watching over me.
Even after moving out of that house, I have experience many paranormal things…