Personal Experiences: Kristal

Location: Southern New Brunswick, Canada

Log: 

When I was five and my mother was pregnant with my brother Patrick, they decided to buy the 150 year old house outback of our current rented home.  With 4 bedrooms it seemed like the perfect place to grow their family. I remember being really excited about it as well.

It didn't turn out quite the way we planned.

I am not sure what happened to deter my parents (since I was so young), but they ended up completely closing off all of the upstairs.  3 Bedrooms up there were then unusable and mainly used as storage.  They kept the door shut at all times.  I ended up in the one bedroom downstairs while my parents slept in the living room.

I never thought anything of this when I was younger - or even when I was living there.  But now it seems really strange.

As a child, I did venture up the stairs with my friends upon occasion. It always had a creepy vibe to it and there was always a fight over who would be the last one down the stairs.  It always felt as though their was a presence on the very top just standing there, staring at you.


Then, if you were alone in the house, you could always hear shuffling and moving upstairs.  This happened almost without fail to numerous people throughout the years.  My brother and a few of our adult neighbors would never venture into our house by themselves.


Once when I was a pre-teen and Patrick was six or seven our parents tried to move us upstairs to the bedrooms.  This was the first time they attempted to use the upstairs.  Patrick refused outright and moved into the bedroom downstairs while I moved into the smaller one upstairs.  There was no door on the bedroom and I could always feel someone watching me.  I ended up putting up a blanket, but I still had the strange feelings.  Every night my dog would sleep in the entryway or on my bed.  In the morning, I would run down the stairs as fast as I could.


We cleared out the medium-sized upstairs room with a door, and I moved into that when I was sixteen.  I had my Dad put a lock on it so I could feel safer (even though it wouldn't have stopped anything anyway).  When the door was closed, I felt safe.  It was, strangely, the one place in the house I felt completely normal. It was my haven.  My dog continued to sleep outside the door.


Over the years, the sounds, feelings and sensations I felt in the house I grew up in made me into a believer.  Although I never contacted the spirit (who we believe is Andrew, the builder of the house) I know he/she was there with us.  It never did us any harm except to freak us out a little once in a while and change the channel on the television.


So, I grew up in a haunted house and I am a believer.  What's your story?  Let us know!