As I was searching something in regarding the paranormal I stumbled upon this story,hope you enjoy it as I did...
If you'd like to ask the author anything there's a link I will include. Since I am visiting this neck of the woods this summer for vacation I would love to check it out...
Link:http://chanarchive.org/4chan/x/14807/haunted-house-story
This is a true story about a house that myself and several others believe to be haunted. The events took place in the autumn of 1998. Some names have been changed or purposely omitted.
Discovery:
My neighbor was knocking at my window. It was about noon, and I had been sleeping in, avoiding high school. I woke up and headed outside, and we both got in his truck to go find somewhere to smoke weed. He ended up taking me just outside of town, to a spot where, due to the angle of the driveway against the side of a hill, was nearly invisible from the road side. At first, it looked like he was going to drive off the side of the road.
It was a gravel driveway, set against the side of the hill. The area was barren, except for a dead cherry tree that had been broken at the trunk and pushed over. At the end of the driveway, which ran in a curve along the side of the hill from the road, was a house. It was a small house, little more than a shack, and it looked like it had been abandoned. The white paint was peeling badly and the windows were so coated with grime and dust that they were opaque in the sunlight. Moss and plants grew, overflowing out of the gutters.
We stood on the end of the driveway, looking at the house, and trading pulls from a joint. I asked him about the house. He simply shrugged, telling me that it was probably abandoned and that he'd never gone inside. I shrugged as well. The house was definitely creepy, so I couldn't blame him for his lack of curiosity. I put it out of my mind for the time being.
The First Visit:
It was several weeks after the first time I had visited the house. My friends and I had been kicked out of our usual hanging spot, and we were driving around looking for a safe place to pass some time. We were all supposed to be in school, so we needed to go somewhere private until school let out.
We knew of several places. Parks, wildlife refuges, empty lots out in the country. We were wary of these places however, because they were well known, and the word on the street was that the police were savvy to our little santuaries.
That's when I had the idea. I told my friends that I knew of a place we could go. I told them that I knew about an abandoned house, set against the side of a hill in such a way that you couldn't even see the house or the driveway from the roadside. They agreed, and we drove there, out past the city limit into the hills of the country.
We stood there and stared at it for a while. My friend Chris was the one who first proposed that we go inside. Since it was the middle of the day, and none of us wanted to be branded a coward, we all agreed.
The first thing that we noticed as we approached the house was a large pile of mail on the porch. One my friends began to inspect the mail, while the rest of us headed inside. The front door was already slightly open, hanging from its hinges at a jaunty angle. There was a hole in a spot that implied that there had been a doorknob there before, but it had been removed.
The Interior:
The interior of the house was dessicated. The main room had been stripped bare, stained yellow by time and covered in dust. Large splotches of faded wallpaper stuck out here and there. The floor was covered with a filthy, short-cropped carpet except for a large scorch mark in the center of the floor. The roof above the mark was stained black with soot. The only object in the main room was a cat's litter box, which had been unused and left full with fresh litter.
There were three doors. One door hung partially open. Like the front door, it was falling off the hinges and there was a hole where a doorknob had been, now removed. This was the room that I inspected first. It was a small room. The walls had been painted pink once, but now they were almost brown. The remaining paint clung to the walls in splotches, curled at the edges. There were two windows, which were covered with old newspaper and masking tape. Set against the wall was a bookshelf that had been permanently attached to it, devoid of books, and covered in the same crispy-looking dull pink paint that covered the walls. In the opposite corner, there was a tiny bed frame, just springs and legs, rusting away. This room had belonged to a child.
The next door wasn't missing a doorknob. It was fully open and showed no signs of tampering. Inside was a twin of the child's room, except that the walls were the same as the walls in the main room. There was a crumpled sleeping bag on the floor that looked newer than the surroundings, and one of the two windows had been broken out. I looked out the broken window and saw a steep dirt embankment within arms reach. At the top of the embankment was the roadside above,,,
The Third Door:
We all congregated in the main room. Kyle, who had inspected the mail, was holding a weathered envelope that he had opened. They were mostly bills, he revealed. There were several bills sent to a female name, and a few old children's magazines sent to another female name, whose last name was different from the other. They were all dated for 1985 and 1986, and had stopped arriving in March of 1986. We surmised that the house had been abandoned since then, and that the last owners had been a woman and a child.
This was when my friend Chris told us about his hobo theory. He was convinced that a crazy, hill-country hobo was squatting in the house. It seemed plausible. The sleeping bag and fresh cat litter could have been evidence of a squatter. Chris started to get scared that the squatter would return, and urged us to leave.
There was still a third door, another room that we hadn't seen yet. I agreed to leave, but first I walked over to the door, which still had a doorknob attached, and was the only door in the house that was fully closed. I reached out to turn the knob, but it wouldn't budge. I pushed the door forward and twisted harder, but there was absolutely no give. It felt like the door had been sealed somehow, maybe from the other side.
We decided that the third room was probably a bathroom. For fear of violent hobo retribution, we left at this time.
The Second Visit:
Later that night we were bragging about our little adventure to a couple young girls we were hanging out with. They immediately seemed interested, and, being quite bored with our company, thought it would be fun to go back now that it was nighttime. Eager to impress them, we conceded.
This time, we geared up. There were six of us, two girls each carrying a flashlight, Kyle who held a lantern and a machete, Chris wielded a .357 revolver, Ben had a sort of axe made from a pipe and a circular saw blade, and myself, clutching a heavy iron tire-puller. We wanted to be ready in case there really was a potentially dangerous squatter in the house.
We pulled in to the driveway and drove all the way down, parking in front of the house. The house seemed particularly spooky in the light from the headlamps of our car. When those lights went out, it became utterly dark. It was fall, and the clouds in the sky blocked all moon or star light. We were out in the hill country, and there wasn't a street light for miles.
Haunted House Party:
We entered the house cautiously, checking for any signs of current occupation. Eventually, we worked up the courage to enter the front door. There was nobody inside.
We made ourselves at home, sitting in a half-circle around the charred spot in the middle of the main room's floor. We all cracked open beers, and started chatting. We gave the girls a short tour, and tossed around theories about what could have happened to the previous owners.
I decided that it was a good time to make a move. I took one of the girls by the hand, and told her I was going to show her the child's room. We went inside and looked around for a couple minutes as her flashlight slowly dimmed. No sooner than I had noticed it, the light completely went out. It was perfect timing, and I stepped forward to steal a kiss in the dark. Our lips met, and I reached my arm around her, slowly moving my hand down to her buttocks. Suddenly, I felt a sharp sting on my hand.
The First Escape:
More confused than anything, we rejoined the rest of our group. I told them that I thought something had bitten me. I looked down at a red welt on my hand. The rest of the group didn't take me very seriously. They all seemed a little spooked, because the second flashlight had suddenly died. Just as things were calming down, I noticed something strange.
A buzzing sound, which seemed to be getting louder and louder, was coming from underneath the floor. Then, I started hearing things buzz past me, with increasing frequency. Soon, in the dimmed light of our remaining lantern, we all saw what was causing it. The main room of the house was filling with wasps. There were dozens of them, and at that exact moment, the lantern died, and it was pitch black.
We bolted from the house, someone who had made it outside yelling to follow their voice. We made a loud exit, hurried and blind, out the front door and into the car. Adrenaline pumping, we peeled out of the driveway, on the road, and back into civilization. We stayed up late that night drinking, high on adrenaline. By the end of the night everyone was quiet, and contemplative.
The Third Visit:
My friends and I had discussed that night over and over. None of us really believed in ghosts. The lights going out could have been a coincidence. It was likely that if there were wasps living under the floor boards, we could have riled them up. Wasps aren't nocturnal creatures, but it made sense that they would swarm if disturbed. The only thing that kept pestering me was the fact that nobody had seen any wasps on our first visit.
After a while we worked up the courage to make another visit. We decided it would be best to go during the day. We armed ourselves similar to the last visit, because we had not yet ruled out hobos, and set out to the country.
This time we decided to search the exterior of the house. Behind the house there was two small buildings. The grass was overgrown around them, so we beat a path to the first of the two buildings. It looked like a toolshed, and had two large, rotted wooden doors. Without hesitating, Kyle threw them open.
The entire structure was filled to the brim with a white, cotton-like substance. It wasn't cotton, however. I immediately recognized it. This was the largest spider nest I have ever seen. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted one of them, and it was much larger than the common spiders I was used to seeing in the city. After swearing a few times, we closed the doors and moved on, more afraid of spiders now than anything else.
An Ominous Finding:
The second structure was a bit smaller than the first, and had a single dilapidated door. After seeing the toolshed I was unwilling to actually touch the door handle, so I reached out with my tire-puller to open the door. The door swung open. It was empty, except for a circular hole in the floor.
It was an outhouse. There was probably an outdoor toilet installed at one time. I stepped inside to look around, and peered down the hole out of morbid curiosity. There was a rope leading down into the hole, and it was tied off against the wall.
I pulled the rope up while the others watched, and after about twenty feet or so, something stopped it. There was something on the end of the rope that didn't quite fit through. I gave it a good tug, and it popped out. At the end of the rope, there was a bundle secured inside a black garbage bag.
I tossed it out into the grass, and Kyle took his machete and delicately began cutting it open. After cutting through the bag, he kicked it over spilling out it's contents. There were, as best as I can tell, two or three small, rotting, mummified corpses. Without taking too much time to inspect them, we decided they were probably cats.
The Decision To Quit:
After finding the cats, Kyle and Ben refused to take any further part in our investigation. We left immediately afterwards. Everyone decided that what we'd seen was truly disturbing behavior, and that there was no mundane explanation for it. Whether or not the house was haunted, somebody who was dangerously disturbed had been there before.
That night I thought about the house. I wondered what it's history was. I kept thinking about the litterbox I had seen in the main room, untouched, and filled with fresh litter. I thought about the abandoned sleeping bag, and the broken window. Had someone broken in, or had they broken out? I wondered if the tool shed was empty, or if there was something other than spiders inside.
After falling asleep, I had a dream. I saw the third door, sealed shut. As I looked upon it, the doorknob, on it's own, began turning. I woke up thinking about the door. There had been an outhouse on the property. If it wasn't a bathroom, what was behind it?
The Final Visit:
As the days passed, I kept thinking about the house, and my fears gradually lessened. On a dark night towards the end of September, I convinced Chris and another friend to visit the house once more. This time, I wanted to stay there all night. We prepared several flashlights. Also, because I was somewhat more serious this time, I arranged to have a video camera brought along.
To ensure that, unlike the previous night visit, our light sources didn't fail, we made sure that everything was fully charged and all our equipment was working soundly.
After arriving at the house, Dan refused to get out of the car. He wouldn't budge, and I didn't want to press him, so I told him he could be the getaway driver. He parked out on the road, across from the driveway, and Chris and I walked to the house from there.
An Open Door:
I was filming with the camera, which had a huge spotlight, and Chris was in front, flashlight thrust forward, and .357 at his side. AS we approached the house, we noticed that the front door was wide open. I seemed to recall that it had been mostly closed the last time we had been there, but I didn't think much of it. We climbed the few stairs on the porch, and headed in.
I started to slowly pan the camera across the main room, when I heard Chris shout something from beside me. The third door, which we thought had been sealed shut, was open! I immediately felt a chill, and directed the camera towards the third room. As soon as the spotlight on the camera started to illuminate the doorway, both of our lights died instantly. Also, at that exact moment, we heard a car horn honking in the distance.
I was frightened beyond belief, Chris and I ran as fast as we could out of the house and onto the driveway. As I cleared the porch, I heard a door slam from inside the house. The hurried trek down the driveway, across the road, and into the car seemed to take forever. We were back in town and almost back home before we calmed down and anyone even said a word.
I wasn't ready to believe that this was anything more than coincidence yet. However, there was one thing I couldn't explain. I asked my friend Dan why he had honked his horn when he did. He told me that he had been waiting for us, when he saw a woman and a little girl holding hands walk past his car and down into the driveway towards the house. The horn had been to warn us, because he was afraid we would get caught breaking into somebody's home.
Take what you will from this story. This is exactly how it happened. Dan the getaway driver, to my knowledge, had no way of knowing that the last known occupants of the house were a woman and a little girl. I will never go back to the house again, I've always been a skeptic but I can't bring myself to do it. I've tried researching the names from the bills we found in the mail, but came up with nothing. In the years that followed, I've driven by the house a few times. I always get a chill as I drive past it. It can't be seen from the road, but I know it's there.
There are a few other details I suppose...
My friends and I all decided that the scorch marks in the main room were probably from a squatter who had tried to build a fire indoors to warm himself, or perhaps an accidental fire started by candles. (We did find candlewax on the floor.)
Also, a particularly creepy sidenote, we did a little math and discovered that, if the previous owners, a woman and a girl, had dissappeared, they had been recieving mail at that address for 6 months before it stopped, ending in march. That timeline puts the the 12 year anniversary of the alleged disappearance right around the same time we were investigating the house.
I've watched the tape several times with my friends. I've never had it inspected frame by frame, but there doesn't appear to be anything out of the ordinary.
While the lights had cut out, and you can see it on the video, the camera kept rolling. You can hear the car horn in the distance, and I'm pretty sure I've isolated the sound of a door slamming, but there is lots of other noise as I was running like hell at the time.
You need some sort of tuner card and a VCR to do it. These days most people don't really bother anymore so it would probably be a pain in the ass.
>> Anonymous 07/17/11(Sun)18:54 No.8190016
bump
>> Anonymous 07/17/11(Sun)19:27 No.8190197
>>8188009
Find a college nearby with a Film Production course of some kind and a friend that simply goes to the college. The video editing room should have converters for VCR, mini-cassette and DVDs.
The one near me does so I hope other video editing rooms do.
>> OP 07/17/11(Sun)22:32 No.8191545
File1310956347.jpg-(12 KB, 480x360, 1.jpg)
shameless self-bump
I figured that since this is OC that I spent over 9000 hours on and I won't be reposting I'd bump for 24 hrs to let everyone read it.
After re-reading it myself I have to say that my friends and I were kind of cowardly. Every time something happened we NOPE'd the fuck out of there immediately.
Whether or not you believe in ghosts you have to admit that we encountered some creepy shit. How do you think you'd stand up in those circumstances?
>> Anonymous 07/17/11(Sun)23:09 No.8191810
Taking a gun into a haunted house. I understand wanting protection from derelicts but I can see a gun in that situation causing nothing but legal headaches for the guy that fires it.
>> Anonymous 07/17/11(Sun)23:39 No.8192011
This is some creepy shit! You mind me asking where about this place is?
Normally I would agree, but at the time I was glad we had it. There are lots of urban legends surrounding the countryside where I live. I know of at least three that involve murderous vagrants.
And also a couple that involve dead animals in garbage bags. I left that detail out of the story. Part of the reason the bag of dead cats we found freaked my friends out so much. (cont)
>>8192011
It's in Oregon, out in the hills of the Willamette valley.
>> OP 07/18/11(Mon)00:20 No.8192378
>>8192229 (cont)
The Story of Psycho's Point:
Psycho's Point was a place people used to go to hang out and drink beside a bon fire. They still probably go there, but I haven't been for many years. The exact location is a sharp turn in an old gravel mining road that borders a cliff that juts out onto a wide portion of the Willamette river.
The story ends with murder. A pizza delivery girl was found slain at the location now known as Psycho's Point. That much is verifiable. I've heard the story retold, and the details vary a lot about why she was there, and if she was abducted or not. The murder is always the same, and one other detail about the area.
As the story goes, the police had dubbed the murderer the 'Psyco Killer', because nearby they found an old utility shed that they believed he had been living in, and outside, tied to the branches of trees, were dozens of black plastic garbage bags, each one containing some dead species of wildlife.
>> OP 07/18/11(Mon)00:55 No.8192681
File1310964944.jpg-(163 KB, 1019x502, Psychos.jpg)
>>8192229
Psycho's Point
I also looked for the house on google maps, but the entire property has been cleared and it looks like someone built a brand new house there.
>> OP 07/18/11(Mon)01:28 No.8192956
File1310966932.jpg-(145 KB, 603x707, psychos2.jpg)
>>8192378
And here's the utility shack that he was allegedly living in.
I've been to the shack before, and it's been sealed up with cement. The roof has partially collapsed from a heavy branch that fell, and still remains there.
>> Anonymous 07/18/11(Mon)01:47 No.8193112
bump
>> Spiderman 07/18/11(Mon)02:08 No.8193271
alot of questions.
> Are you still interested in the paranormal/do you study it?
> Any freaky dreams following the experience?
> Would you be so kind as to try and get that casette online? <3
>> Spiderman 07/18/11(Mon)02:16 No.8193344
bump
>> Anonymous 07/18/11(Mon)02:32 No.8193448
>>8193271
> Are you still interested in the paranormal/do you study it?
I've never taken any courses or anything. I've watched for UFOs, I've hunted bigfoot who supposedly makes appearances in my area, I've gone to haunted houses.
I'm a skeptic at heart, and none of it really ever pans out, but it's an exciting activity for a group of people to partake in.
> Any freaky dreams following the experience?
Nothing I believe to be out of the ordinary. The house would sometimes appear in dreams from now and then, and the setting of the dream turns ominous. The same thing happens with other things too though, I get nightmares from watching creepy movies.
>> Would you be so kind as to try and get that casette online? <3
I'm thinking about asking if they have any equipment at my city library. Also, if I can track down the original camera or one like it, I think I can transfer using a video out port on the camera.
>> Anonymous 07/18/11(Mon)02:39 No.8193510
One of the best OCs I've read in a long time. Good on you sir.
>> SlenderMaggie 07/18/11(Mon)02:42 No.8193534
My god this is amazing. OP, I love you.
>> Anonymous 07/18/11(Mon)03:45 No.8193976
All I have to say is thank you OP. Fantastic story that leaves me wishing I'd been there with you to see it myself. good shit.
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