Date Submitted:  Sun, 25 Jul 1999

Submitted By:

Type of Submission:  The Stairs

You will have to excuse my attitude toward this haunting. I was young and to me it seemed completely normal. I didn't tell anyone for the 2 years we lived in the house because as a child I didn't talk.

When we moved into the house in Virginia it had been empty for a couple of years at the least. From the first time I tried to walk up the stairs to see which bedroom would be mine and I realized I couldn't. I had to run. It is that feeling that someone was chasing you and you have to run. Your instinct takes over. I tried to walk on the stairs while we lived there because of my mom's endless call of "Don't run in the house!" But somewhere around the 4th or 5th step I would be running again. It only grabbed my ankles once and I fell going up the stairs. Then one time I ran into the bathroom because the feeling was exceptionally strong. I closed, leaned on and locked the door. A movement I had mastered thanks to the ghost. But it didn't close or lock because something was pushing back. This went on for about 20 seconds until I screamed "You're gonna have to try harder than that!" and got the door shut and locked.

I was told by neighborhood kids that there had been a murder in the house but I just figured it was townies trying to scare the new kid. I was told that there was blood all over the carpets but my parents replaced the carpets before we moved in. Even after all that happened I refused to tell any of my friends because they loved scaring me with the story in the first place.

I really don't know what was in that house that chased me day after day for two years. All I know is that it was still there even after the house burned (except for the stairs of course)! and we rebuilt. It made my older sister fall down the stairs four times while holding onto the handrail. Plus my sister is one of those people who just isn't clumsy. You know a tap, ballet, jazz, flag core, kind of person. There was also a feeling that would come into my room and I would go and sleep on the bathroom floor many nights a week to escape it. I never saw anything as I can remember. I didn't tell anyone for three years after we moved out and then only my mom.

 - Return to the Personal Experiences Page -