The Tooth Fairy

Sometimes, I forget our house is haunted. And then, always, something reminds me.

We're full swing into the holidays, and just celebrated Thanksgiving at home with our family yesterday. Which means that our house is still somewhat spotless.  (Aside from the kitchen. For the love of God, stay out of the kitchen.) Which means that it's easy to spot something out of place.  

Tonight, the boys and I went out to pick up dinner. We were gone about ten minutes, and the house was empty. When we came home, I walked into the living room and found a pillow in the middle of the living room floor. Not just any pillow, but a small "Tooth Fairy" pillow that we only get out when one of the kids loses a tooth. (And that hasn't happened in months.) I keep that pillow in my dresser drawer, in my bedroom, where it's been since this past summer. How it got into the living room, I have no idea.

I looked around the house for anything else amiss, and saw one of my picture frames in my bookcase tipped over. When I went to stand it back up, I found a dollar bill and a baseball card sitting on top of it. Those things also DEFINITELY were not there before, as the bookcase was just dusted yesterday.  It's too cold to be leaving windows open 'round these parts, so it's not like the wind was blowing stuff around.

I tell you all of this calmly, but I swear on all things holy, if one of the boys loses a tooth tonight (nobody has any loose), I will motherf'n freak out. That's all for now.  

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!  

With a Bang

Things have been pretty quiet around the house as of late, but last night, our haunting came back with a bang. Quite literally.

Around 3:30 in the morning, the entire house was awakened by a loud “crash” coming from my son’s room upstairs. Then another. Then another. Then several more. Then I listened in horror to what sounded like him falling down the stairs.

I was paralyzed with fear, which was definitely not a good reaction to have, but hey, it was 3:30 in the morning and I was woken from a dead sleep. I began yelling for my son, who, thank God, didn’t fall down the stairs. He ran down them. He came flying into my room saying, “I’m okay, I’m okay, I just got really scared.”

We all took a few minutes to catch our breath, and then he explained that things started falling all over his room, which (understandably) freaked him out. He spent the remainder of the night on the couch downstairs, and this morning (after the sun came up) went back up to his room to check things out. On his floor were his phone from his nightstand, his TV controller which was on his bed, a video game controller that was on his entertainment center, and three action figures that were on display on a shelf in the hall.  We’re talking multiple items from multiple rooms here, people.  Apparently Bobby didn’t want us to sleep last night. Sounds like he just wanted to play.

Hatchet

So, my son found this in our yard today. Well, not in our yard, but in our driveway. The same driveway we are in and out of a bazillion times a day. If you know where we live, you know that we're not in a neighborhood. It's not like somebody walking by could have dropped it in our yard by accident. Where it came from is anyone's guess. All I know is that for as proud as my son is of his newfound treasure, I am equally freaked out.

3:31 A.M.

Recently, the hubs and I acquired some hand-me-down bedroom furniture. I was excited, because A.) I would finally get to have a “grown up” looking bedroom, and 2.) it had a very “country” feel to it. At long last, our bedroom was able to join the country/funky/antiquey theme the rest of our house has going. So we bought new bedding and rearranged everything. I even got one of those antique pitcher and bowl stands, which creeps people out, but I love it.

As I’ve noticed pretty much every time we make changes to the house, it seemed to rile up the spirits. With our bed in a different position, we now face the bedroom door, out into the middle room. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen “someone” standing in the doorway to our bedroom. Always very briefly, and it’s gone before I’m even really sure I saw it, but it still weirds me out.

A couple of weeks ago now, my younger son was spending the night at a friend’s, so the teenager had the entire upstairs to himself, which he was very excited about. Around 2:00 in the morning, he came running down to my room. He said he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and then something slammed on the ground right outside his bedroom door. He said it was so loud, he thought it was me or his step-dad coming up to check on him. When he realized nobody was there, he freaked out.

Last week, my older son was at a friend’s, so only my youngest was home. He was asleep in bed with me, and my husband (bless his heart) was out on the couch. In the middle of the night, I woke up from a very strange/scary dream. (I don’t remember it now, but I did at the time.) I didn’t move or make any noise, just kind of laid there with my eyes open, trying to calm myself down. A few seconds later, my son sat straight up in bed and started reaching around like he was looking for something, mumbling incoherently. Just as he laid back down, I heard my husband get up from the couch and go walking through the middle room. At 3:31 am, all three of us woke up, completely on our own. That’s weird, right? I stayed up for a while, waiting and watching for something to happen, but nothing did. Still, it was pretty odd.

A couple of nights later, we were getting ready to go to bed, and my husband went into the kitchen and turned off the light. He said as he turned it off, he felt the sensation of someone covering his eyes with their hands. He said he couldn’t see anything, and could actually feel the hands covering his eyes. That night, he said he woke up very suddenly in the middle of the night. He looked at his phone. It was 3:31 am.

So, all of this is going on, and I can still say that it’s been a really long time since I’ve been genuinely scared in my own home. Until last night.

Last night, I passed OUT.  Fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow. Which means that, naturally, I woke up a couple hours later and was wide awake. I got a glass of water, went to the bathroom, put on actual pajamas, and crawled back into bed. My dog, Sophie, wanted to join me.  She scratched frantically on the side of the bed a few times, using both paws. Scratch-scratch-scratch-scratch-scratch! I told her to go get in her own bed, and the scratching stopped. Then about a minute later, I heard (and felt) it again. Scratch…scratch…scratch. This time it was much slower. But I still heard it just the same, and felt the sheet tugging under my hand. I rolled over to swat at Sophie, but she wasn’t there. She was across the room, in her bed. I got up. Freaked out. Turned on the TV. Then tried to go back to sleep.

I tossed and turned for a few hours, then was awoken again by Sophie scratching on the bed. Scratch-scratch-scratch-scratch-scratch-scratch!  I told her to go away, praying that what came next wouldn’t happen again. But it did. Scratch…scratch…scratch. The sound was slow and deliberate. The pull of the sheets under my hand was undeniable  And Sophie was across the room, in her own bed. I had this overwhelming feeling that I had to get out of my room. So I grabbed my pillow and my phone and did exactly that. My head was killing me and I felt sick to my stomach. I settled on the couch for what little bit of sleeping time I still had left. I looked at the clock. 3:31 am.



Cuddle Time

Hope you all had an awesome 4th of July weekend! We were busy, busy, busy- starting with the fireworks we attend every year on 4th of July Eve (otherwise known as July 3rd.)

On the 3rd, I got out of work, came home, and decided to take a short nap before we got ready to go watch the fireworks with friends.

I laid down on the couch, closed my eyes, and began to drift instantly. Over the next hour and a half, I slept and awoke in erratic intervals, all while my husband ran his fingers through my hair, which he often does when we're cuddling on the couch, or lying in bed together watching TV.

I woke up for the final time when the dogs began barking like crazy, at the sound of a truck in the driveway. My husband's truck. He'd left to go to the store before I even fell asleep. He wasn't beside me on the couch the entire time. And he definitely wasn't running his fingers through my hair. Apparently, nobody was...

Vintage

When we first moved into our home, we knew very little about its history. Built in the '20s, then bought in the 90's by my landlord from "The W Family." I was always under the impression that the house had only been owned by two families. All of the evidence found by historical researchers supported this, as there is no evidence of anyone owning it prior to the W family.

Months ago, I was contacted by the son of the W family, who grew up in this house. He shared some wonderful history with me, including that his family owned the house for nearly 40 years- but they were not the original owners. His family, he believed, bought the house from "The N Family." I believed him, but was confused- there was no record of this family in any historical records on the house.

So imagine my surprise when I was contacted by a member of the N family a couple months back! As it turns out, his family DID live in the house, only for about four or five years in the early 1950's. So they weren't the original owners either. Who knows how many families have lived here?! He shared some beautiful photos with me- of our house when what is now the master bedroom was the living room, the front porch that used to stretch the width of the house, and the vacant, wooded lot that houses the abandoned barn back when it was a wide open corn field. Absolutely LOVE them, and had to share!

Our house back before the addition, when it had a front porch, 1950's.

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The vacant, wooded lot with the creepy barn was once a corn field!  See the chicken coop in the background?

The massive, five lane highway that is busy 24/7 was once a quiet, two lane country road!

Bad Apple

In taking my family's story public, I've received some pretty interesting emails over the past couple of years- emails from paranormal investigation teams wanting to visit our house; emails from prior owners/tenants of the house, dating all the way back to the early 1950's; even an email from a production company interested in featuring our story on a reality show.

A couple months back, I was contacted by the lead investigator of a paranormal team that wanted to investigate our house. I'd kind of closed the door on the whole investigation thing, as we've done it several times, but he was very...enthusiastic...so I agreed.

He brought his team out for an investigation, and the night went well- lots of evidence and experiences. A few weeks later, I was contacted again by the lead investigator, who wanted to collaborate on some different projects. The first was a presentation at a local historical society- he wanted me to join his group and speak about what it's like to live in a haunted house. So I took an evening out of my busy schedule and went, just for the heck of it.

My failed attempt at a selfie with the crowd before my speech.
Can you see the fear in my eyes?! (I hate public speaking.)

Following the presentation was another project- a documentary being made by film students about the paranormal investigation team. They wanted our house to be a part of the documentary. Sounded like a cool venture, so I agreed.  

We took an evening off from baseball and missed one of my son's games to stay home and conduct interviews. The following week, we stashed the dogs and the kids at various houses, skipped baseball again, and spent an entire day readying our house for the film crew and paranormal investigation team to arrive. Throughout the day, I attempted to contact the lead investigator to find out when everyone would be arriving- he'd previously given me a window of between 7:30pm and 9pm. He was unreachable. So imagine my surprise when the film crew arrived just after 6:00pm, WHILE I WAS IN THE SHOWER. Needless to say, I was none too thrilled. The last thing you want to be when you're preparing yourself to be filmed for an evening is rushed or stressed. And I was both.  

After a lot of hurrying around while the film crew mulled about outside, and still with no contact from the lead investigator, we eventually got it together. The film crew came in and began setting up, and my blood pressure began to lower. The investigation team arrived, and the lead investigator was full of apologies and excuses. We were good to go, right?

The film crew setting up.

Wrong. Within the first half hour of the paranormal investigation team arriving, I started to realize that there was something very wrong with the lead investigator. He was stumbling around, slurring his words, spilling food on the floor, passing out in the middle of conversations. He repeatedly claimed he was just tired, but I wasn't born yesterday, therefore I wasn't buying it.

As the night progressed, things got worse. His team covered for him as best they could- trying to get him to sit the investigation out, making excuses for him, etc. Being the stubborn guy that he is, he was his own worst enemy. He insisted on taking a film crew around the house while he "investigated."  

The highlight of the evening was when he came and sat on the couch beside me, and began asking me questions that made no sense and saying things I couldn't understand. He would pass out for several minutes at a time, then pick the conversation back up right where he'd left off. All the while, there was a camera just inches from his face, recording footage that was more appropriate for an episode of Intervention than a Ghost Hunters knock-off.

My husband's patience wore thin, and he went and got the other members of the team and asked them to remove their leader from the premises. They were understandably mortified, and tried their best to get him out of the house with the slight bit of dignity he had left. But he would have none of it. He argued, resisted, and caused a huge scene, all in front of the cameras. Finally, his partner was able to get him to agree to go home. We took a break, regrouped, and then resumed the investigation.

The team members that remained were professional, kind, and beyond apologetic. But there was just no recovering from the nightmare their boss had created. After a few hours of filming, they called it a night and headed home.

The next day, I received a couple of rambling voicemails from the lead investigator, apologizing and making all sorts of excuses. I'd already allowed him to waste so much of my time, I had no intention of letting him waste anymore. But then he sent me a written message that I simply couldn't ignore.  

In the message, he admitted to being on prescription medication during the investigation, but then proceeded to blame his team members for the majority of the things that went wrong that night. He blamed on them things that I personally witnessed him do, as well as things that never even happened in the first place- these people who tried so hard to cover for him, protect him, and fill in for him while he was high as a kite. None of them had a bad word to say about him, but he had nothing but bad things to say about them.

He was apparently unaware that I have a "no bullshit" policy, so he was surprised when I promptly set him straight. We haven't spoken since. I reached out to one of the members of his team to ask about the documentary, and she continued to apologize and make excuses for him until I set some facts straight for her. Seems he makes a habit out of lying to and manipulating others, and she was under some major misconceptions about what went on that night, as was the rest of his team. Once I informed her of what actually went on inside the house with him and the film crew while she and the rest of the team were outside scrambling to do his job for him, things really began to come together- for both of us.

On top of everything else, I found out that this "expert" had taken it upon himself to begin trying to recruit teams to come investigate my house, and was going to charge them a fee and keep half. Without my permission or authorization, he staked some sort of claim on our property and our story, and was trying to use my family to turn a profit and boost his reputation. Furious is not even the word.

It's my understanding that the group has disbanded since that catastrophe of a night, as he continues to try to lie his way out of it and misplace blame. The unfortunate thing is that some of his team members actually bought his lies and sided with him. But I suppose nothing can be done about those who refuse to see what's right in front of them.  

As for the documentary? Between the footage that was completely unusable due to the lead investigator's altered state, and the fact that the investigation that followed his departure was pretty much a complete mess because of his actions earlier in the evening, despite how hard his group tried to pull it back together- the portion of the documentary featuring our home and our story was left on the cutting room floor.  

All that time. All that inconvenience. All that drama. It was all for nothing. But one good thing did come of it, I suppose- I learned a very important lesson. I need to be more selective of the messages I respond to and the people I let in, because not everyone has my family's best interest at heart in all of this. Some people are only out for themselves- motivated by greed and the chance for exposure.  I guess in every bunch, there's bound to be at least one bad apple. If nothing else, I'm thankful for that reminder, I suppose.

Mom, I'm Scared...

Those are the words that woke me up this morning. My son was standing beside my bed, his eyes wide. He'd been upstairs (by himself) getting ready for school, when he heard the sound of a child's laughter in his brother's room, which is right next to his.  Then, according to him, something loud crashed to the ground.

I heard none of this happen. But yesterday, when I was home alone, I heard a loud crash upstairs. I called my husband and told him that either a tree had fallen on the house, or one of the boys' TVs fell to the floor.

My husband investigated both yesterday and this morning, and found nothing that would have caused such a loud "crashing" noise.

A Night With The Others

A couple of weeks ago, I was contacted by a local paranormal investigation team that was interested in investigating the house. We've already had four investigations, so I thought- eh, what's one more? Been there, done it, got the t-shirt. Actually, I don't have a t-shirt. I should really get myself one of those. Anyway...

On April 26, 2014, close to a dozen paranormal investigators descended upon our haunted abode with trunks full of all kinds of crazy equipment. We didn't even make it through the tour of the house before they began having what investigators call "personal experiences" (evidence of the paranormal that they saw and felt for themselves.)

While we are still waiting for the official evidence review, there was some craziness that went on during the investigation. I was able to catch a couple of things on video! And since I now know how to download videos from Facebook to Youtube (yaaaay!), I can share what I caught with all of you.

The first video is of "the flashlight trick." One of the investigators placed a MagLite flashlight on the bench in the middle room of the house, which was otherwise empty. He then explained to the spirits that they could twist the flashlight to turn it on to answer questions, then twist it again to turn it back off.

The video turned out like crap, but you can see the light shine on the wall a couple of times in response to questions. After that, the video stopped picking up the flashes, which was crazy, because they were lighting up the entire room. But you can hear the investigator's responses to the light continuing to be turned on and off.

WATCH THE FLASHLIGHT TRICK HERE:

The second video is of a K-II meter going off. A K-II meter detects electromagnetic fields, or EMFs. In the paranormal community, it is believed that all spirits produce electromagnetic fields, which can be manipulated at will by the spirits. So the theory is that a spirit can use a K-II meter to communicate or make their presence known.  All evening, there was a K-II meter lying on the couch, with no result. Then our puppy, Opie, jumped up on the couch, and the K-II meter started going crazy. The video, once again, is crappy quality. But. You CAN see the lights going off on the meter and hear it chirping and beeping, if you look and listen really closely.   To me, the creepiest part is when the investigator asks the spirit to pet Opie. Opie instantly lays down and stays there, as if someone is in fact petting him.

WATCH THE K-II METER GO OFF HERE:      

Needless to say, it was a crazy night. I can't wait until we get all of the evidence and see what else the investigators found. A big thank you to Gary, Kim, and their team for coming out, and we look forward to working with them in the future.

Oh, and just because this whole downloading videos from Facebook to Youtube thing is new to me, I thought I'd share one other video, one I talked about before but was not able to post due to my lack of tech savvy-ness. Here is the video taken from last summer of the light in the middle room of our house turning itself on and off:

ENJOY!

The Heebie Jeebies

One benefit of living in a haunted house is that I've become kind of hard to rattle. Even when scary things happen, I don't really get scared anymore.
I'm kind of like, "Oookay, here we go again." And if we have company over when something happens, and they're getting freaked out...well...I actually kind of love that. Super amusing.

Anyway, my point is- my house doesn't scare me hardly ever anymore. Last night, however, I was up well past one in the morning, just because. When I finally went to bed, the bedroom lights were still on. I went into my closet, which is a large, walk-in closet (and I believe used to be a bedroom once upon a time) and turned the light off. The second that light was off and the closet was pitch black, I was TERRIFIED. Like, goose bumps, heart racing, fighting the urge to scream terrified. And I have no idea why.  

I'm still on crutches (yes, still) so running was out of the question. Instead, I hobbled my way back into the bedroom as quickly as I could, but the feeling didn't leave me. I felt like something (someone?) was following me. I hurried into the middle room, then the kitchen, as quickly as I could, turning every light on along the way. It took me a good five minutes to calm down.

I didn't see anything, didn't hear anything, but I definitely felt it. And whatever "it" was, was horrifying.

In other news, I never told y'all about the scratches, did I? Probably not. I think I kept it to myself because I thought I'd found a logical explanation for them, but now I'm not so sure.

So, here goes- shortly after I had my accident, which was nearly three months ago now, I started noticing scratches on my left arm. Not just a couple small ones, but several long, deep, wide scratches between my elbow and my wrist, on both the inside and outside of my arm.

Here's the thing- I was literally doing absolutely nothing with my life at that time due to my injury. I was glued to my couch, pretty much 24 hours a day. There was no explanation for where these scratches were coming from, but they just kept coming. I thought it was weird, but then decided that somehow the velcro on the brace on my leg must have been causing it, even though I had no idea how.

Now- it's my other arm.  And instead of scratches, it's bruises. I bruise pretty easily, so I don't think anything of it when I find a random bruise (especially on my leg), but these are different. I have three large, deep, distinct bruises on my right arm, all below the elbow, just like the scratches were. One on the outside of my forearm, one on the inside of my forearm, and one on the back of my hand. I have no clue where they came from. I'm still a total cripple. While I'm slightly more active than I was three months ago, I'm certainly not active enough to be getting all banged up like this. I've got no clue where the bruises (or the scratches, for that matter) came from.

Maybe I should ask whoever or whatever is inhabiting my closet, waiting for me to shut the lights off so they can scare the bejesus out of me. Maybe they know.

A Haunted Life

Exactly two years ago today, our family got the keys to our haunted house. It's been a crazy past couple of years, so I thought I'd take some of the best excerpts and create a little video. (Please don't ask me how long it took me- the answer is waaaaay too long. I'm really not tech savvy at all.)  Anyway, enjoy!

They're Baaaack

We live in a busy world. Sometimes we go weeks, even months, without talking to some of our closest friends and family members. When we do get a chance to catch up, the questions are always the same. How's the family? How's work? And, in our case, "has anything new happened in your  house lately?" Might sound like an odd question, but I imagine it's pretty standard when you live in a haunted house.

For months, my answer to that question was the same. "Nothing." As I explained in my blog post last month, things around the house have been quiet for quite some time. I've even been home 24/7 for the past month now due to an unfortunate slip and fall that's left me a temporary invalid, and I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary. And trust me, I've been paying close attention. How many horror movies start out with someone injured and stuck at home alone with nothing better to do than let their mind run wild? At least a few, right?

Anyway, my point...just when I was starting to think we'd been abandoned by "the others" for good, last night happened. Last night, I had a bout of insomnia with a wicked underlying migraine. I was up well past 6:30 in the morning. And during that time, I realized something. Our spirits haven't gone anywhere. They just save their shenanigans for the middle of the night. (And apparently we've gotten so used to them, we sleep right through them now.)

Picture this: it's 3:30 in the morning, it's pitch black outside, and the house is silent except for two things: the sound of coyotes howling from the woods out back (that's the new thing in our neighborhood these days, and it's creepy as hell) and a mysterious clunking/banging sound coming from upstairs. It's not easy for me to get around these days, what with the crutches and the leg brace that goes from the top of my thigh to the bottom of my ankle, so I listened for about a half hour to banging, followed by footsteps, followed by more banging. Earlier in the night, a little after midnight, my oldest son's alarm clock started going off, even though it was turned off.  I didn't think much of it at the time, but given the events that followed, I have to wonder now.

A little before 4, I sent my husband upstairs to investigate. His youngest son was awake, but insisted he hadn't been awake for long. Was he the one responsible for all the racket?  Or was the racket responsible for waking him up  I was more inclined to believe the former, until about an hour later. I heard a noise that at first sounded like a semi or loud diesel truck idling in our driveway. It went on long enough and was loud enough that I eventually got up and hobbled my way into the kitchen.  

Once I reached the kitchen, I realized that the sound wasn't coming from outside. I checked the refrigerator, the sink, the oven, before realizing that the sound was coming from inside the walls. I still don't know exactly what it was, but it sounded like the pipes were shaking and vibrating- not just a little bit, but enough to bust right through the walls. 

After a few minutes, it stopped, and gave way to another noise. The sound of water spilling all over the floor upstairs. It was very distinct and unmistakable. I made my way to the bottom of the stairs to make sure I wasn't imagining things. Not only did I hear water spilling everywhere, I also heard the TV in the boys' room blaring. I hurried (as fast as a one-legged cripple on crutches can hurry) to my bedroom and woke up my husband.

"The kids are awake with the TV on at 5 in the morning, and the toilet or the sink in the bathroom up there is overflowing and water's spilling everywhere. You need to get up." The hubs jumped out of bed and made his way up the stairs. I returned to my makeshift non-sleeping zone on the couch. After a few minutes, he returned.

"Well?" I asked.  

"The kids are asleep, there are no TVs on and there's no water on the floor anywhere," he said. So.  That happened. (And may I just remind you that coyotes were yipping and howling outside our windows the ENTIRE time.) Needless to say, I didn't fall asleep until after daylight broke.

A Haunting Update

Jumpin' Jehoshaphat!  (What does that even mean, btw?)  It's been almost three months since I've updated the blog.  Whaaaat?!  First and foremost, let me say- sorry!  The holidays are crazy for the C fam- that's the best excuse I can come up with. 

Anyway- here's what's been going on:  NOT A WHOLE LOT.  I'm not sure whether it's because there really hasn't been much activity in the house lately, or because we blame pretty much everything, including global warming, on our new puppy these days.  Meet Opie.

 

Isn't he cute?  He's also a holy terror.  Which means we're not as likely to notice strange noises or things disappering or being moved as we once were. 

I was thinking today, when I realized how long it's been since I've posted anything, about how much things have changed.  We've been in our haunted house nearly two years now.  Within the first six months, I found a dead bat in my living room, a chipmunk swimming in my toilet, and a rabid mouse in the drawer under my oven- chewed right through a wall to get into the house!  Since then, nothing. 

There were smoke detectors being set off all hours of the day and night, footprints on the floor, things flying and breaking and moving and slamming- so much craziness, it felt like living in a movie.  Now?  Just a noise or movement out of the corner of one's eye or a creepy feeling now and then. 

Maybe it was all just a show of force when we first moved in.  Or maybe they got sick of us bugging them back (a la, the four paranormal investigations in a year's time) and decided to leave us alone in hopes that we'd return the favor.  Either way, I dare say peace has come to the C Fam abode.  Here are some updates I've been meaning to share, but just haven't had time:

Fourth Investigation: The findings from our fourth paranormal investigation didn't turn up any evidence aside from the experiences we had during the investigation (which are documented in my last post.)  At this time, we don't have any further investigations planned.  But who knows?  That could always change...

History Lesson:  A couple months back, I got an email from one of the former owners of the house.  His family owned/lived in the house for nearly fifty years until selling it to my landlord.  He found out we were digging into the history of the house, and wanted to share some information with me. 

First and foremost, my "haunted farmhouse" isn't really a farmhouse at all.  Just a house.  In the 1800s, it was part of a plot of farmland.  The original farmhouse still stands, and is our next door neighbor to the west of us, on the other side of the abandoned lot.  In the early 1900s, the land was divided up into several properties- a small one with the original house and barn, an empty lot with a barn where shetland ponies were raised (now the abandoned barn), our property, and our next door neighbor to the east 's property.  What we call the "chicken coop" was part of that farm, and is the oldest structure on our property.  (Which may explain why it's the most haunted.)

His family did not build the house, as I'd always believed.  It was owned by at least one other family before his family bought it in the 1950's.  We've not been able to find any history on that family, or anyone who lived in the house prior to his family buying it.

He had no idea why the house might be haunted, and didn't have a lot of personal experiences to share.  He did say that the abandoned barn out back always gave him the creeps, and told me about a time when he was maybe 11 or 12, the first time he was allowed to stay home alone.  It was winter, and it was snowing.  He was in the house by himself, and heard footsteps outside, crunching in the snow, all around the house.  He was (understandably) terrified, and thought someone was trying to break in.  When he went outside the next morning to look- no footprints, just fresh snow.

Halloween Haunting:  When you live in a haunted house, Halloween parties are pretty much obligatory.  We had a houseful of "amateur ghost hunters" mulling around all night.  Here's one photo that was snapped in the basement by my friend Tena.  Some people claim to see the shadow of a face right in the middle of the picture.  Do you see it?

 

That's pretty much all I've got for ya right now.  I truly can't recall the last real "incident" we've had.  But I'll be sure to keep everyone posted.  In the mean time....no news is good news.  Right?