The Final Battle Pt. 2

The angry ghost stood over me, menace in his eyes. Before he could plunge down with his knife into my exposed back, the kids screamed from upstairs. The knocking started up again, and this time it sounded like they were using heavier objects than just their toy blocks. The ghost looked over his shoulder, and I used that to my advantage. I picked up the cutting board and scrambled to my feet. He turned back to me, and I swung the heavy wood board at him. He'd manipulated it, so it was real to him. Or at least that's what I told myself. The board went through him, but I could swear I saw him wince as it did. In any case, he disappeared.

I dropped the cutting board and gathered the three knives as I zipped upstairs. I burst into my room to see the boys lying dead on the floor. I saw no sign of the angry ghost, but I could feel in the air that he was there. Before I took another step in, I saw the blocks spelled out two words of sorts: U RITE. You're right. The last conscious thought about fighting the ghost I'd had had been with the cutting board. The kids were telling me the knives would work because the ghost had used them. I smiled and yelled something about how I was there or he was in trouble or whatever. I thought it was a witty action star thing to say, but I guess it wasn't since I don't even remember now.

The ghost appeared, and everything was over in seconds.

I flung a knife at him, and though it didn't hit him, he flinched away from it. I threw the second, and this one got him, though I believe it was a handle hit. It stunned him for a second, and I took that chance to leap at him and stab him repeatedly. It was probably the strangest sensation I've ever had: my knife went right through him, but he screamed in silent agony while silvery-red blood gushed from his shimmering body. He dropped his ghostly knife, and instead of clattering to the floor, it simply disappeared. He fell to his knees, and I took the opportunity to slit my knife across his throat. I again felt no resistance from his flesh, but the wound opened as if he had actually been cut. Instead of falling, he vanished.

It felt like a windstorm blasted through the house. It lasted less than a second and nothing but me was disturbed, but when it was done, I knew the supernatural presence in the house was gone. The kids and their blocks were nowhere to be seen, either, and though I expected to hear a goodbye knock, none came. And I haven't heard any since.

Though it's all done, I doubt ghosts are gone from my life for good. This house is now clean, and I like to think I helped send the boys to heaven or wherever you like to believe good spirits go when they pass on. The angry ghost should be in whatever hell realm exists. That thought helps me sleep at night.

So this is the last post of my blog, Weird Happenings. At least for now. And don't be afraid to keep checking here every so often. Whenever something strange in my life happens that I can't explain by normal means, I'll be sure to post here. So I guess I'll talk to you later.

The Final Battle, Pt. 1

Sorry it's taken me so long to write this. Two reasons: first, I wanted to wait a full week to make sure there really was nothing left in the house (as far as I can tell, that's true), and second, I plain didn't want to think about ghosts anymore. At least for awhile. I'm over that now. For the most part, anyway.

I walked into the house last Wednesday, and the angry ghost didn't waste any time. As soon as I opened the door, a frigid blast of air hit me, and dread radiated out of the house. I had no idea how to fight a ghost, but I knew right now I had to try my best. Sure, last week I fought it--sort of, anyway--and I like to think I won, but obviously it didn't leave. Unless I slammed the door and didn't go back until everyone else got home, though, I'd have to improvise something.

And improvise I did.

I leapt into the house and was greeted by a roar that ricocheted through my skull so much that I thought I'd pass out. I managed to stay conscious and looked around to get my bearings. Other than my breath, I saw nothing out of the ordinary. With the freezing temperature in an otherwise warm day, I knew it was around me.

Last week I had the idea that I could somehow hurt the ghost with physical blows, and that had worked to a certain extent. This time I knew that wasn't the case. I knew it wasn't a psychic battle, not totally anyway, since he could hurt me physically, but I knew I needed to find a gameplan soon or I'd be toast.

The ghost fired the first shot. My backpack lifted off my shoulders and hit me hard in the back of the head. Not enough to knock me down or anything, but enough for me to see that the ghost was ready for action. I still couldn't see him, which put me at a disadvantage, but somehow I knew that he wouldn't cause me much damage without his visual form. Don't ask me how I knew this (or anything about the situation) but I did.

As I stood waiting, daring the ghost to make the next move, I heard not only thumping from upstairs, but also the cries of children. I knew the boys were on my side. If I could get up there, they might be able to help me enough to win this war. At the very least, I hoped they could at least give me hints on how to hurt the angry ghost.

I dashed for the stairs, but as I neared them, vertigo overtook me, and as the world spun, I found myself on the way to the kitchen. As soon as I entered, everything stabilized, and I watched the silverware drawer open. Three steak knives rose out, and they flung themselves at me. I moved quick to avoid them and slipped on the linoleum floor, spilling myself hard but safe under the head-high projectiles. The knives clattered on the ground, but they wriggled there. I skittered to my feet, expecting them to rise again. Instead, as I watched them, the heavy wood cutting board on the counter flew and hit me in the back with such force that it took my breath away. I fell again, and that's when he appeared at the entrance of the kitchen. He brandished his ghostly butcher knife which I knew would cut me just as easily as a real knife. As he advanced on me, all I could do was stare at him.

It's Over

It's over. He's gone. I beat him. I'll explain everything when I'm not so damn tired.

The Note

Somethings coming. I can feel it. Everything has been quiet since Wednesday, but this time I'm not fooled into thinking everything's gone away. He's building enough force to use against me, I have no doubt. And what am I doing to combat it? Nothing. Not one damn thing. I may just be a fifteen year old kid, but I'm not afraid of this ghostly coward. I haven't been afraid of him since I read his little murder/suicide note. I only read it once, but it was so short that it was easy to burn into my memory.

"Goodbye cruel world." Yeah, not a real original opening, buddy. Maybe if you'd been a better father, a better human being, you wouldn't have been put in that situation where you thought you had no way out.

"I can no longer stand to live in a world where everyone hates me. My wife left me with these two little brats, my boss goes out of his way to humiliate me in front of everyone, and even my neighbors turn the other way when they see me." I'm sure they did all of that just to spite you for no good reason, right? I'm sorry, but if there's that much hate for you out there, you did something to deserve it. Just by calling his kids, who seem like decent little blokes to me, little brats proves this guy wasn't a real winner.

"This world no longer deserves me, and I'm going to make sure it doesn't deserve my boys, either. See you all in hell." Great. I don't mind that this guy chose to off himself--not like it was a great loss--but this coward had to go take out his frustrations on his kids before he did himself in. What a man, huh? I'm glad he's still around because I want my chance at smacking him around some for his boys.

Anyway, like I said, nothing has happened since Wednesday, but I can feel the storm coming. It seems everything big has happened when I'm home alone, which only seems to happen on Wednesdays after school, so I'm sort of guessing that's when he's going to attack. I'll be ready. I'm not really sure at the moment, but I'll think of something. I'll keep you updated.

Murder/Suicide

My computer problems stopped after I posted the last blog entry. In fact, it all stopped. The kids weren't even knocking. As weird as it sounds, at first my room was harder to be in when they weren't there. I'd grown so used to them and the sounds. The silence was deafening, as the saying goes.

This was the rest of Sunday, all of Monday, all of Tuesday, and this morning before school. I have to admit that I had more trouble sleeping with the knocking gone than when it was there. By Tuesday night it was all sort of feeling like a dream, and by Wednesday, I was looking forward to actually being alone in the house after school, which really hadn't happened since before the ghosts had shown up. As soon as I put my key in the lock, though, I knew something strange was up.

I pushed the door open and found myself in a different house. The floorplan was the same, but the furniture, decorations, and even the carpeting were different. It was all old--not old like junky, but old like from a different era.

I stepped inside but didn't feel like I was in the moment. I don't know how to describe it, but it felt like I was watching a 3D movie or something from inside the screen. It was just little things like the shag carpeting didn't feel like it should have under my feet. Actually it felt exactly like the carpet I've been used to walking on for the past three years since it was installed. I guessed that if I walked towards our couch, which was just empty space from what I could tell, I'd actually bump into it.

I heard someone banging around in the kitchen, so I went to investigate. The angry ghost sat at the kitchen table--or rather a kitchen table as I'd never seen that one before--with a can of beer in his hand and probably eight or nine empties strewn about him on both the table and floor. He was scrawling something on a pad of paper, and tears flowed down his cheeks.

The thumps started from upstairs, the ones I knew at once were the kids upstairs. In fact, I had the most peculiar sense that they were doing exactly as I had during that dream when I was throwing blocks against the wall. I turned to the man, terror flowing through my veins, and shouted at him. "No, mister, leave them alone!"

He didn't hear me. I knew he wouldn't, but I had to try anyway. He finished up both his beer and his note (his suicide note--I knew it to be true), stood up, and grabbed a knife off of the counter. I stood in front of him to block his way, but he walked right through me. I contemplated following him, but I already knew the grizzly outcome. Instead I bent down and read the note. Just as I guessed (I knew), it was his "goodbye world" note. Before I could do anything else, the world blurred and I found myself standing in my family's kitchen--the one I knew so well. I'm still not too sure what the hell happened.

Ghost Firewall

I've tried posting a couple of times since Wednesday, but he hasn't let me. I don't know how he does it, but he doesn't want to be known by anyone but me. I don't know why. The only reason I know this is true is because the kids told me when I asked. It's still only a "yes/no" conversation, but it's better than nothing. They want to help me, and they can get to him, so I'm not arguing. They're distracting him right now, which is the only way I'm able to be doing this blog entry. I can surf the Internet just fine, but I just can't post on here without help. I just hope the kids can keep him occupied until I hit the publish post button.

Not a lot has happened since Wednesday. I didn't notice the angry ghost at all until Friday night. I'd gone out with a couple of friends to see a movie, and when I got back, he was standing in my room. I tried ignoring him, but that didn't work--he kept staring at me, and I felt the air get heavier and heavier. I would have charged him again, but I didn't want my family to hear. Finally I told him to leave, and he did. I asked the kids if he was afraid of me and the blocks knocked against the wall twice. I had no clue why he'd listened to me, but I couldn't think of any yes/no questions that would have answered it.

As soon as I got on my blog page, he came back and stabbed my computer with his knife. I don't know what I expected, but I got the not responding page. Every other site worked, so I don't know what the heck he did, or how it was even possible. Not that most of this seems possible. Same thing happened on Saturday, not just once, but three times. I took a swing at him to keep him at bay, but my fist went through him and couldn't stop the knife. After that I'd asked the kids if they could keep him busy while I posted, and though the single knock of confirmation seemed hesitant (I know, I know--now I'm not only communicating with knocks on my wall, but I'm judging the emotions of the answer, too), I knew they could do it. So far so good. I'm going to end right now so they can get away from him. Hopefully you'll see this.

Mom handled me with kid gloves last night, as the saying goes. My dad must've layed into me good behind my back. She didn't come out and say anything, but I could tell what was going on. She was always in my corner, but she had her doubts about this. Having her think I screamed out last week, the night I got the scratch on my throat, didn't help. Though she was careful to not bring anything about it up, I could tell she though I was going insane. Great.

I don't think my hurt feelings about all of this helped when I came home from school. The heavy air assaulted me the second I opened the door. Instead of feeling beat down, though, I lashed out. I slammed the door and screamed at the ghost to leave me alone. I don't remember everything that spilled out of me, but I'm sure I'd have made my mom and sisters blush.

I saw the blur at the bottom of the steps, and without thinking, I charged and swung my backpack at it. Just as I would up, the blur solidified into the angry ghost. It sidestepped my attack and lunged at me with its knife, its mouth twisting into words I couldn't hear. My backpack had me off balance, but I did manage to avoid the knife and kick at the ghost with my trailing foot.

Everything happened so fast I'm having a hard time explaining it even to myself. My foot must have moved right through him. My whole body went numb with cold, starting at my foot and moving up, except for a spot in the middle of my back, which heated up like it was on fire. I tumbled to the ground and rolled into a position to attack again, but it was gone. The heavy feeling in the air left, too.

I walked up to my room to do my homework, no longer afraid. I'd confronted the ghost and he ran away, not me. I felt better than I had in weeks. I even said hello to the kids, though I didn't see them. The knocks proved they were there.

As I started my homework, I felt what first was a tickling on my back, and then a bit of a sting. I put my hand over the sensitive spot and flet some lumpy tracks, like scratches. I lifted my shirt and looked in the mirror. A short message had been etched into my back, and though it looked backwards in the reflection, it was still easy enough to figure out: U DIE.

Before today it would have scared me. Now, though, after fighting the ghost, if just pissed me off. "Is that the best you can do?" I yelled.

The knock came twice, our previous agreement for "No." Didn't matter, and as I write this, it still doesn't. This damn ghost isn't going to scare me anymore. Now it's on. It's on like Donkey Kong.

All Alone

Dad caught me on the couch this morning. Yesterday morning I'd set the alarm on my cell phone early enough that I got up to bed before anyone saw me down there. This morning, though, Dad must've needed to get to work early. He woke me up about five minutes before my alarm would have. This whole time I didn't know why I wasn't telling my family what I was experiencing. I guess it was just a general feeling of embarrassment, that they wouldn't understand.

And Dad came through big time. He yelled at me in a whisper so as not to wake anyone else up. He yelled that I was too old to believe in such nonsense. He yelled that I watched too many scary movies. He yelled that my friends were horrible influences on me, though to be honest I don't think he has any clue as to who my friends actually are. He finished by ordering me to my room and saying he'd talk to Mom about this.

When I got to my room, the kids greeted me with smiles before disappearing. Their knocks continued as I lay down. I was so pissed at the moment that I didn't bother setting my alarm. I figured I'd never fall asleep, though if I did, I didn't care if I missed school. Mom would probably get me up in time anyway.

Dad is a salesman, and a good one at that. I'm sure by tonight he'd sell mom, and probably my sisters, that I was making up stories. I hadn't wanted to tell anyone about the hauntings, but it was nice to know the option was there. Now it was gone. I now knew I had to go through this alone.

The Dream

I had a dream last night. I know, I know, how often have you heard that? But I don't think this was a regular dream. I think the ghosts actually invaded my subconscious and made me watch their little show. Even though I felt a bit violated, I at least now know a bit of the history of what happened.

I don't remember what, if anything, I was dreaming about before it started. All I remember was sitting on the floor of my room. I couldn't decide why it was so different, as it felt right to me. I wanted to look around to figure it out, but I couldn't focus. I had toys to play with. The small wooden blocks were my favorite. I built little towers and delighted when they toppled down.

My brother had fun with the blocks, too. I looked over at him and knew he belonged. I both knew him and didn't and wanted a good look, but the blocks wouldn't be ignored. I built them up, they toppled down, and some struck the wall. The thumping sound captured my imagination. My brother's, too, by the looks of it. I picked up a block and tossed it at the wall. My brother and I smiled at each other. He picked up the next block and hurled it at the wall. We both squealed, though as far as I could tell, we didn't make a sound.

This went on for a few minutes, and neither of us showed any signs of slowing down. The bedroom door banged open, and the angry ghost, who made my mind flash to "Dad," burst into the room. My brother and I opened our mouths and belted out screams, though no noise registered with me. The angry ghost, though at this moment I knew he wasn't a ghost, brandished a large butcher knife. He slashed at my brother, who fell back in a spray of blood. He then lunged at me, and that's when I woke up.

Needless to say I didn't spend much time in my room today. I could only guess I now knew why the kids are here. An abrupt end tends to trap spirits. Now, as I type this, I check my door every time I hear a knocking on the wall just to be sure the angry ghost doesn't burst in. I really might sleep on the couch downstairs tonight.

A Scream in the Night

I awoke to a howl of pain this morning. Early morning that felt like the middle of the night. Three-thirty. I leapt out of bed and hit the lights. With my heart beating a hundred miles an hour, I scanned my room but found nothing.

My mom burst into my room. "What's wrong?" she asked, her eyes full of fear.

"You heard that?" I asked. That was the first time anyone else had mentioned anything about these hauntings.

"Of course I heard it. You screamed loud enough."

"It wasn't me," I said. "It woke me up, too."

She looked at me, worry etched on her face, until her eyes went wide. "You neck. Look at the scratches." She came over and ran her hand across my throat. "Did you do that?"

I shook my head. I had no idea what she was talking about. "I didn't do anything. I was sound asleep and the scream jolted me out of bed."

She pulled me to the mirror above my dresser and pointed. A long red scratch ran from ear to ear across my throat. I hadn't felt anything, but now that I saw it, it stung. Mom must've realized by my reaction that I was just as shocked as her. She frowned and said, "You had a nightmare and scratched yourself. We'll check it in the morning to make sure it's not infected or anything."

She gave me a kiss on the cheek and told me to try and get some sleep. As soon as she left, a heavy feeling of dread washed over me. The evil man flashed into view at the foot of my bed. He was there and gone in only a second, maybe two, but in that time I saw the crazy look in his eyes and a large knife covered in what looked to be fresh blood. If he'd been staring at me, I wouldn't have stayed in my room, but his attention was focused on the spot where I usually saw the kids. When he vanished, so did the wave of depressing air. The adrenaline coursing through me abated, and I fell into bed and slept until my alarm went off.

Mom offered to let me stay home from school today, but I didn't want to be alone in the house. Not today, anyway. Weak, I know, but that's how I felt. Thankfully other than the knocks I'd grown so accustomed to, the rest of the day has been quiet.

The Angry Ghost

I felt it as soon as I came home from school today. That feeling--presence--that I wasn't alone. Last week I thought maybe someone had come home early, but I knew that wasn't the case today. The house felt angry, and at the time I might even have said evil. I'm not so sure, hours later, that I'm willing to back off that thought. I'll say it again. It felt evil.

I closed the front door and found myself in a cold spot. Goosebumps exploded all over my body, and my hair stood on end. I dropped my backpack and scanned the front room, expecting the man's figure to appear. He didn't. Not at first.

I grabbed my backpack and hurried to the kitchen. Before I made it, a cloud of smoke or gas or something popped up in front of me. I contemplated charging through it, but decided that probably wasn't the brightest of ideas. I changed course and sprinted towards the steps. Something blew past me; it felt like a person, but since I couldn't see anything, I'd say it was a breeze. As soon as I started my ascent of the stairs, I saw him at the top, staring down at me with a blank expression on his face. He looked exactly like I remembered, down to the trickle of blood on his neck. The anger--the evil--radiated down from him.

I didn't know what to do. The cloud by the kitchen had likely been him, and if I retreated back that way, what's to say he wouldn't charge past me again? Plus he'd likely be within arms-length. I glanced to the front door, which was closer than the kitchen, and wondered if I could make it out before he caught me. I decided that was the best option, but before I had to go through with it, the knocking sounded from my room. The ghost noticed, too. He turned towards my room, a scowl etched on his face. A few more knocks sounded forth, and he vanished. With him the angry, evil feeling left as well.

I almost told my family about it, but by the time everyone got home, it felt unreal, too much like a lucid dream. Everyone came home so grouchy with their own problems that I didn't bother. A few minutes ago, the knocking came back, but this time, instead of feeling anxious or indifferent, I actually felt a bit comforted. Funny how things work.

Interactive Knocks

I've woken up the past three mornings to those kids playing blocks in my bedroom. I still hear the thumps of the blocks up against the wall at all hours, but it's only in the morning right after I've opened my eyes that I see them. I don't believe they're remnants from a dream or anything like that, though I'm sure there are some out there that would argue with me.

I still feel a strange, unfriendly vibe in the house. My only guess is it comes from the man I saw last Wednesday after school. It doesn't come from the two boys. Other than my initial shock of seeing them, they haven't thrown off a feeling--be it good or bad--at all. I'd guess they were a residual haunting--like a recording--except when I sit up in bed, they look right at me and disappear. The man, though, looked creepy, especially with the blood dripping from his head. Unless there is another ghost in the house, I'm attributing it to him.

I'm feeling my life is spinning out of control when I can say that the last two days have been same ol'-same ol'. But it's true. This is as good a time as any to recount what happened that night that that made me want to start this blog.

I'd just lay down to bed when I made an off-hand remark of, "Are you going to knock all night?" I was immediately answered with a sharp knock. Now, a couple of weeks later, I'm guessing it was one of the kids throwing a block against the wall, but I can't be certain. I then asked something along the lines of, "Should I be afraid of you?" A few seconds later came two knocks. I asked if one was yes and two was no, and one sharp knock sounded. Just to be sure I asked if we were on Planet Earth, and I got another single knock. Silly, I know, but it was the best question I could come up with on the spur of the moment.

Right after that answer, the air in my room grew heavy, so much so that I had trouble breathing. That oppressive atmosphere lasted only seconds, but it left me gasping for breath. Once I got myself under control, I asked the presence if it was still there, but I got no answer. I tried a few more times, but still nothing. I almost got up and went downstairs to the living room to sleep on the couch, but I forced myself to brave it out. Nothing else happened that night. The knocking returned sometime after midnight, but it wouldn't interact with me anymore. That night got my attention in a big way, and I knew I needed to keep track of my experiences for all to see.

A Couple of Kids

There are kids in my room. I think they are the ones making the knocking noises. I woke up to the knocking this morning, but I'm so used to it I almost just rolled over and went back to sleep. I opened my eyes as I shifted in bed and saw two translucent kids on the floor by the wall. I lay still and watched them play with some toy blocks. Every so often one of them would pick up a block and toss it against the wall, making the thumping noise I'd grown so accustomed to.

As I lay watching, I ran through a mental checklist to make sure I was actually awake. Though I could see right through the kids, their physical details were still clear. Both looked to be four or five years old, and they were clearly brothers. I thought they might even be twins, but not the identical kind. Both had short blond hair--one curly, while the other straight--and both wore blue overalls with no shirt underneath.

Once I was certain I wasn't still asleep, I sat up. Both kids looked at me for the first time and disappeared. If that wasn't strange enough, their blocks remained on the ground for a second or two longer before they, too, vanished. I sat there for a few minutes getting a feel for the room. It didn't feel any different than it had every other day of my life. I wasn't freaked out or anything, but I went downstairs in a hurry. It seemed the right thing to do.

I thought the reason I started this blog was because of the man I saw on Wednesday. Now I'm guessing it was these two kids instead. Either way it's because of ghosts. I have no doubt about that now. Unless something big happens between now and my next post, I'll tell what happened on that Thursday night.

Just My Imagination?

I'd been in denial the weekend before I started this blog. I see that now. I told myself I was seeing and hearing things that weren't there, that my imagination was running wild. Most everything I saw was out of the corner of my eye. How easy is that to blow out of proportion? I couldn't put an explanation on anything I heard, so it was simple to chalk up to the house settling or whatever.

That's all that happened that weekend, too, but there was more to it, and that's what sent my spidey senses tingling. I'd walk through the house and it felt like someone was watching me. It wasn't like my sisters were playing a game of spy with me as bait or anything. For one thing, I knew exactly where they were practically every time I got the feeling, and for another, they were too old to be doing that. That's not me saying that, but my sisters--Dana acts like the grown-up college girl around the house, and Zoe is in that phase where getting caught acting immature is the worst thing ever. It also wasn't my parents for the same reason that I knew where they were, but also that they're the type that would come right out and confront me if something was bothering them. They wouldn't waste time spying.

I realize me saying I felt like I was being watched sounds both vague and paranoid. I also felt cold spots all weekend unlike I'd ever felt in the house before, so that added to it. Don't forget I was still seeing the unexplained shadows and hearing the knocks. All of it added up to freaking me out, but I still convinced myself that I was imagining it all.

I casually brought up haunted houses to my sisters, just to see their reactions. Maybe they were experiencing all the same stuff but hadn't said anything. Dana gave me the eye roll she always used when she thought I said something stupid. Zoe went the opposite direction and gushed about how cool she thought ghosts and haunted houses were, and how much she wished we didn't live in such a boring house. There was no way she'd call our house boring if she felt just a fraction of what I had. Right then I decided that something wasn't going on, that something was wrong with me. I didn't think I was crazy or anything, but I figured I was making too much out of normal everyday things. Just because I couldn't explain what was happening didn't mean there wasn't an easy explanation.

As the weekdays came and rolled through, nothing changed except my attitude. I kept seeing, hearing, and feeling things, but I alternated between ignoring them and trying to figure out what the cause was. Neither proved successful. Thursday night was the breaking point, the reason I decided that maybe it wasn't all in my head. Unless all hell breaks loose in the next day or two, I'll explain in the next post.

Back in the present, things have been quiet here since Wednesday afternoon, but I keep waiting for the ghost to come back. I can still sense its presence, but I haven't heard or seen anything. It's like it's waiting for the perfect time to make itself known again, and that has me a bit worried. I'll keep you updated.

The Apparition

I almost changed the name of this blog from Weird Happenings to My House is Haunted. I was pretty sure it was when I started this last Friday, but now there's no doubt. I'd been hoping to build up to this with all the strange stuff that led up to last Friday, but I can't hold today in any longer.

On Wednesday afternoons I get home an hour or so before anyone else. Today, though, when I came in the front door, I could sense someone else was home. I didn't think anything of it; I figured one of my sisters had come home early. I wandered towards the kitchen for a snack and yelled that I was home. No one answered, but I felt someone behind me. I turned, expecting to see Dana or Zoe coming towards me with an iPod on. Instead a man stood halfway between the front door and kitchen, just a few feet from me. I got goosebumps all over my body and felt a frigid blast of cold air assault me.

The man stood about six feet tall, not too much bigger than me. He had shaggy brown hair that looked to be matted down with something wet and sticky. Something red ran down the side of his neck. Blood? Looked like it, but he didn't seem to be in any pain. He threw off a bad vibe, and my first thought was that I'd walked in on a burglary attempt. But then he winked at me, grinned, and disappeared. A minute or two later, the air rose back to a normal temperature.

I don't know how long I stood there replaying the scene in my mind. That had been a ghost, right? I mean, what else could it be? First I had to keep myself from screaming and rushing out of the house, but when I got a hold of myself, I settled down. I did sort of wimp out and stay in the kitchen to do my homework instead of going to my room, but other than that I wasn't really bothered.

As I'm up here typing this, though, I'm not feeling as calm, even though nothing's happened in the hours since. I keep thinking about that apparition and what it did. It grinned and winked. Nothing sinister about that. But you didn't see its grin. I gives me the creeps. A few minutes ago I realized my goosebumps still haven't gone away. I doubt I'll be getting much sleep tonight.

The Shadow Period

The next couple of nights were quiet. That's not to say nothing happened, it just wasn't in my room. The morning after I'd heard the voice saying my name, I had to drag myself out of bed. If that Language Arts project hadn't been so important to my grade, I might have played sick and stayed home from school.

As I stumbled from my room to the bathroom, out of the corner of my eye I caught a shadow at the end of the hall near the stairs. When I turned my attention that way, I expected to hear one of my sisters either running up or down the stairs. Instead I saw nothing.

The same thing happened on the way back to my room. At the time I shook my head and laughed. I was overly tired and jumped at shadows, right? Now I'm not so sure, but then that was a perfectly plausible explanation. I figured the voice in my room was caused by me being in a half-sleep state, so the shadows were just as easily dismissed.

On the way to the stairs, I saw the shadow again, this time head-on. By the time I both noticed and comprehended what it was, it was gone. It hadn't moved or anything else. It didn't fade or anything like that. One second it was right there in front of me, and the next second it was gone. I'm not sure how I knew, but it had been the shadow of a man. Not me, of course, as I hadn't stopped walking until it was gone. My thoughts turned to Dad, but he never came up here in the morning. I took a minute or so to check all around the area, but I couldn't see any source of light that would have caused it. When I went down for breakfast, I found out Dad had left for work early, and hadn't been home for the past half-hour. The hair on the back of my neck stood up when I heard that.

I consider the rest of that school week the shadow period. Every time I turned around, no matter what part of the house I was in, it seemed I caught a glimpse of a shadow out of the corner of my eye. I didn't see any more shadows head-on, but I saw enough glimpses of them to know something weird was going on. That weekend, it got revved up a notch.

Introduction

In my haste to start talking about my experiences yesterday, I neglected to introduce myself. At first I didn't want to do this. I wanted this blog to not be about me, but only my weird happenings. I decided that I played a part in these hauntings, or whatever they are, so you should probably know who I am.

My name is Jason Bellows. I'm 16 years old, and I live with my mom and dad, my older sister, Dana, and my younger sister, Zoe. We live in Yorba Linda, California, but I'm not going to go into any more detail than that. Our house is two stories, but not huge or anything. Upstairs there are two bedrooms, mine and my sisters', and a pretty good sized bathroom we share. Downstairs has my parents' master bedroom and another room we use as a spare TV room in case not everyone wants to watch the same thing. There's also the living room and kitchen, of course.

I bring up the entire house because I've started noticing weird happenings in whichever room I'm in. As far as I can tell, I'm the only one experiencing this stuff, so I'm not sure if I'm crazy or what. I'll get to all that later. For now I'll tell you what happened last week that really got me wondering.

It was sometime around midnight, and I'd only crawled into bed a few minutes before. I had a big project due the next day for my Language Arts class, and it'd taken longer than I thought it would. I'd finished, and I was right between that wired-from-work state and exhaustion when I lay down to sleep. The knocking, of course, chose that moment to start.

"Shut up!" I yelled in a whisper voice, and to my surprise, it did. I lay there for a few minutes, ready for more knocks to come, but after a little bit, I relaxed. That was when I heard something say my name, plain as day, as if someone were standing next to my bed. I sat up and looked around, but there was no one. You might think that maybe my parents had been talking downstairs and their voices had carried up through the vents or something, but I know that can't be the case. First, why would I just hear my name and nothing else? Second, I've lived in this house my whole life--heck, I've lived in this room my whole life--and I've never heard voices carry into here. No, something had been in here with me.

I got up and checked all around my room. I even made sure my computer, iPod, and stereo system were all off. I couldn't find anything that would have said my name, even if it had just been a coincidence. I climbed back into bed and turned off the light, and the voice came back. This time is said, "Good night, Jason." Let me tell you, it wasn't a very good night after that. I think I fell asleep a few hours later, but it wasn't restful, that's for sure. Though I was awake, the voice didn't come back. That night, anyway.

It Started With Some Knocks

I'm starting this blog because something strange is going on. I want to say my house is haunted, but I know from watching shows like Ghost Hunters that most of that stuff can be disproved. I'm going to keep notes here in case it really is anything supernatural. At least I'll have a list of things that have happened, and maybe someone out in cyberspace can tell me what's going on.

I thought at first my sisters were messing with me since our rooms share a wall. One night a few weeks back I'd hear a sharp knock on the wall every so often. The next morning I asked them what they were doing. Both said they had no idea what I was talking about. When they said that, my thoughts immediately jumped to the idea that they were trying to put one over on me. Not that it was something they usually tried, but practical jokes aren't unheard of in my family.

The next night the knocking started again. I snuck over to my sisters' room to catch them in the act. It was just after two in the morning, so I tiptoed. No need to alert anyone, especially my mom and dad, that I was out of bed. I stood in front of their door for a minute until I heard another knock from my room. As quiet and quick as I could, I pushed their door open. Both were sound asleep in their beds on the wall opposite the one we shared. There was no way either of them could have done it, and a glance around gave me no other explanations.

Two days later I found myself home alone. I snuck into my sisters' room to try and find something that might occasionally thump against the wall. No luck. I double checked my room and still had no answers. My best guess was that it was probably pipes or the house settling or something like that. Over the next few nights I pretty much got used to the occasional knock. It wasn't until the middle of the next week--about a week and a half ago--that I realized it probably wasn't something mundane. That's the reason I'm starting this blog. I'll get more into what happened in my next post.