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The house my friend lived in

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#1 jasdevi5012



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Posted 24 May 2016 - 11:56 AM

This story takes place around the summer through the winter of 2013 to 2014. I don't remember the exact dates unfortunately, or else I could have further proven that I encountered something at this location. I haven't posted it before now because I only recently found this website and don't really visit it this often. I decided to share this story though because it does fall under the category of "Personal Encounters".


As I previously mentioned in another thread, I have a strange companion that's been following me around. Its a black cat that seems to change height and sometimes even color that I can only see out of the corner of my eye. I named him Gabriel at a young age and I often communicate with him without knowing it, though often I can sense him. I won't go into huge detail here since I already did it elsewhere (General Forum, "Am I Weird?" thread if you absolutely have to read it). As someone said there, he seems to be my "spiritual friend", however this particular story isn't completely about him, though as always he is involved.


One of my friends had just finished high school (having to take summer classes while raising the baby she'd had while attending school) and had moved in with her biological father. The house seemed run down, in a run down neighborhood, and it was small. Incredibly small. It would be the perfect size for one or two, maybe three college students to live there while attending classes at the campus down the street. One of the things I noticed instantly was the fact that tracks ran under the house. They were trolley tracks, from when the town used trolleys to get people places faster when buses weren't really a thing. A great big, abandoned brick and metal building behind it had a sign that just vaguely read "Trolley" station on it. 


The tracks didn't really surprise me. The town I live in has both an air force base and also countless train tracks running over roads. Most of them aren't in use anymore, but this place used to be a booming cattle town as well as a military base. Its filed under a "small town" but it obviously isn't with all the things that go on. Anyway, the tracks didn't really surprise me, though they did make me feel uneasy. I suppose its perfectly reasonable to believe that things could have happened on the job, accidents on the tracks or even inside, that could have cost people their lives, but I brushed it off at first.


That was, until I went inside. The living room wasn't bad, just felt cramped. The kitchen had an uneasy feeling, but I refused to go into the basement. Gabriel kept standing in front of the door anytime that I walked by, as if challenging something down there. The "basement" as they called it (really just a room slightly lower than the kitchen level) had been turned into a bedroom for her father. One of the rooms, the one facing the street, was my friend and her baby's bedroom. The last bedroom which was down the tiny hallway had a window facing the trolley station, full of things that couldn't be stored elsewhere around the house, and I hated that room. 


I found in that room scratches along all the walls, and one day I decided to use a comparison. I held my hand up close to them and found that they were just wider than my hand, probably a man's hand that had caused these dark furrows on the wall. The wall was covered in a thick layer of pain, which made me wonder how long it would take someone to actually carve such deep scratches into the wall with their fingernails alone. They were definitely in the correct places to be the fingers of a human hand, and there were three sets on the walls, one of each except for the one closest to the window as if this person didn't want to get close to it. Each of the sets had two marks, one for both hands, and they were just within my reach if I had lifted both arms. 


Often in this room I would see something flash past the window, someone running past the blinds. As I looked though I realized that whoever or whatever it was had appeared to be running, and there was nothing but a track overgrown with cactus plants. No one in their right mind would run through a patch of those, and even if they had, they would have at least been slowed by the sheer density of the plants. As I looked out the window, I saw the old Trolley building, and it looked like a group of about four men were gathered around one window staring out at me. I never looked up all the way to meet their eyes. Gabriel went running out of the room as fast as possible and I followed.


Then there was my friend's room. It was small, cramped like the rest of the house, but she was a completely goth wiccan (that doesn't mean she worships the devil by the way. How can she worship something she doesn't believe in? She worships nature power basically) who wanted to pain the room gray. She also had us add black and red splatters and hand prints all over the room. That didn't really creep me out. I thought it would be a nice touch to a haunted house, and my friend just loves this kind of thing. She was already upset since she had decided to have the baby and gotten kicked out by her grandfather (who she'd lived with for years) since she decided to not have an abortion, so we decided to go ahead and paint the room the way she wanted us to paint it.


This friend has known about Gabriel for years, and she had always seemed really interested in something. She already wasn't liking the house much because she'd seen how I was reacting to things, and she knew Gabriel was making me want to leave this house. She began mentioning to me that she was surprised I wouldn't go by the closet to paint, and I realized she was right. I refused to go by the closet, leaving the wall the same ugly yellow color it had been before we had painted it. I didn't know why, but I didn't like that closet. She finished painting the room over there and after the horrible smell of drying paint was gone, I was basically moved in for the weekend to keep her company since her dad was out working and wouldn't be back for a while. He was a truck driver and was currently driving cross country.


During the day everything seemed pretty calm, but I couldn't sleep during the night. I've never gotten to sleep easily, so it didn't really surprise me. But I heard what sounded like something scratching on the door. It wasn't the dog, which was my first reaction. The giant black lab liked to wander the house and stare at corners and such, and with the room painted so darkly I couldn't really see her. As I started to get up to open the door for her though, I found the dog practically leaping on me to push me back down onto the bed. She wasn't growling, but I could see her snarling and on edge, just staring at the door. I'd never seen that sweet little dog so ready to tear something apart. She was a rescue who was terrified of everything. You stepping on a creaking floorboard would send her yelping into a corner, and this behavior had happened before we'd ever brought her to this house. Needless to say, I wasn't expecting to see her like this. My friend and her baby didn't wake up. The noise was too quiet for anyone else to here. I just remember whispering for the noise to be quiet and it did. The dog didn't relax for a long while though.


I managed to get back to sleep, and when I woke up again, I noticed Gabriel pacing in front of the closet out of the corner of my eye. The door was open, and I realized how odd that was. For one, heavy boxes of various items had been laid against it on the outside because we hadn't finished packing everything away, and for another that door was heavy. It opened swinging outwards to the rest of the room and was made of solid wood. It took a lot to close and open it, and it almost always seemed to snag on part of the carpet since the floor was uneven. The dog was practically in my lap at this point. I just felt scared, and decided to turn on the radio app on my phone to distract myself. Static was the only thing I got, as well as strange whispered voices. I noticed a shadow step out of the closet itself, only to be chased back into it by Gabriel. He seemed to be calling me over, so I closed the door, pushed the boxes back in front of it, and proceeded to just go back to sleep. 


Nothing else happened while I was there that time, though in the morning we found the door had marks on it matching the other room's, and the boxes had been thrown across the room some time during the night without waking me somehow. My friend wanted to know why I hadn't let the dog in, and why I'd moved the boxes all over the place, knowing I was a light sleeper and tended to be one to pull pranks. I pointed out that I had a badly sprained wrist at the time and couldn't have moved the boxes without waking her, and that the dog had been practically sleeping on top of her during the night. I told her how uneasy Gabriel seemed and she immediately went to work trying to figure out what was going on. After the weekend ended I was glad to leave.


She was still my friend though, and we visited often. Each time, I noticed that things seemed to move without explanation when I wasn't looking, and the dog refused to pass a certain point in the hallway every day. I also was becoming increasingly unnerved about the fact that the "basement" was getting psychically darker, no matter how many lights were on inside of it. My friend explained that her dad was what she called an "energy vampire", and he fed off of negative energy. Beings who also fed off of that energy continued to follow the trail like bread crumbs to the room where all of it seemed to be stored. Gabriel kept me as far away from that room as possible. 


There were more scratch marks around the house, nearly over my head, and the door looked like it had taken a serious beating. I wasn't scared to hang around the closet and even go inside it anymore. All of those "negative beings" had seemed to migrate to the other room and were content to stay there. I even got up the nerve to visit the other room where the window faced the Trolley station. I didn't see the strange men over in the window anymore. I didn't see anything else that seemed to be even remotely like them or the shape I'd seen dash by the window. In the direction of the room where all the negative energy was stored I realized. My friend said there was a portal leading to the realm of the dead in the closet, and she'd closed it.


Her dad moved out, apparently not liking his daughter cramping his style. Almost all of the negative energy seemed content to follow him out, though one being apparently remained and liked to slam cabinet doors, torture the poor dog and me, as well as scratch increasingly louder on the doors and walls. Sometimes it even threw things across the room, though the activity almost seemed to grow less violent as I walked in. My friend could only assume it was because it was afraid of Gabriel or something. With this apparent portal closed, my friend moved out of the house with her fiance, taking the dog and her baby with her. Everything was moved out of the house and I was glad to never see that place again.


My friend and her fiance moved recently to Oklahoma. The father, as much as we're aware, has moved to Canada since he has about thirteen different states with warrants out for his arrest for abuse of controlled substances as well as charges of theft. The last time I saw that house the room had been repainted and the scratches had been removed. Nothing followed any of us out of that house, but the land owner can't get anyone else to move into that house for more than a month.

#2 Cryscat


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Posted 03 August 2016 - 07:03 PM

Good story! thanks for posting

Don't take life too seriously, no one ever gets out alive.

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