As we get closer to Halloween, people love hearing a good ghost story. I guarantee this story will get the hairs on your neck sticking up. Especially considering it really happened.

Growing up I was deathly afraid of vampires. The thought of something biting my neck and sucking my blood and soul freaked me out every night before bed. I would often sleep with blankets wrapped around my whole body thinking that if a vampire came in my room, he'd turn around not being able to bite my neck. When ever anything freaked me out, I always assumed it was vampires. I remember my sister Sara always crying to my parents that our house was haunted, I didn't know much about ghosts, but I did think it was vampires.

My sisters and I are all grown up, and haven't lived in this house in a good ten to fifteen years. When ever we talk about it being haunted, my sister Sara refuses to tell any stories. My sister Sara will freak out, yell, and change the subject. She has always refused to speak of her experiences in this house. I could never understand why. I've had quite a few paranormal experiences, but nothing ever to bad to the point where I refuse to speak about it. However, last night she decided to be brave and send over an account of the scariest night of her life. These are her words, not mine:

“After this show ends its time for bed.” My mother would announce. “Maybe can we stay up a little longer?” I would always beg. The answer was the same. “No.” Bed time for me was something I always dreaded. Not because I was 8-years-old and wanted to stay up much later than a typically 8-year-old would. But, for what was waiting for me on the second story of this white house.

Of course, I would play with my dolls in bed until my eyes grew heavy. I’d fall asleep only to awake at the same time as I did every night - 2:59A.M. Some may call 3A.M. the ‘dead hour’ but before I get to the worst night of my life, I would like to explain events leading up to it.

Legend has it that when a demon is in your presence they will do anything in their power to manipulate the living. For example, they will take figure of loved ones or disguise themselves with the voices you hear every day. “Sara! Come down stairs. We are playing Sega.” I would occasionally hear when I would be awakened. My parents loved to play a golf game on our Sega Geneses. The lights would be on and a glow of the television would reflect against the wall. I would make my way down the stairs to only be filled with confusion to where my parents were. I heard laughter. I heard my mother calling me. The lights are on. Where were my parents? I would walk to my parent’s bedroom only to find them sound asleep. Panic and fear filled me. I had to muster up some courage to ask if I could sleep in their bed for the remainder of the night.

My name would always be called. Whoever had this hold on me knew I would fall for it every time – without fail. They would even go as far as making it sound like the garage door was opening and the sound of my parent’ car engine roar on in to where I would hear my little brother yell for me to come help with the groceries. Again, I would open the door to find a dark garage filled with everything but my family.

There would be times where I would always see a black figure in the corner of my eye. I would turn to see what it could be and it would always disappear. Sometimes, this black figure would seem to be running passed you. I never caught it. It was always just the black figure playing with my mind.

It seemed like everyone in my family was oblivious to this. The only person that would understand my fear was my sister Heather. We would on occasion get locked in our rooms, the bathroom, and any room in the house. We would scream and scream for someone to let us out but no one could hear us – except each other. When I would be awakened at night my television would turn all the way up to the highest of volumes. Heather would tell me that it was my remote so every night when that happened I would smack my remote and frantically turn down my television only to quickly leap out of bed turn on my light and rush down the hall towards my sister’s room to ask if I could sleep in her room tonight. Heather knew it was not my remote.

The nights leading up to this night were events I cannot explain; the first night lead to me being half asleep with what I believe a woman asking me to wake up. She kept pulling my arm. “Wake up Sara. Wake up.” She said so sweetly. My heavy eyes managed to sneak a peek and notice my door slightly shut. I always kept my door open. My light was on and my television was down low. I fell asleep with the lights off. “Wake up Sara. Wake up.” She continued to beg me to wake up but I fell back to sleep before I could see what she wanted. The next night, I was awakened at my same time with the television on high. I turned it down but didn’t jump out of bed to turn on the light. Instead, I stayed in bed brave and tried to go back to sleep. Minutes later, I heard my Barbie doll house accessories start to move around. It sounded like as if a young child was playing with my Barbie’s. I was too afraid to open my eyes, so, I laid there in fear listening to this child laugh and play with my toys. I begged myself to just fall back asleep.

The nights following were getting worse. The night before everything happened I was awakened. This time not by the television or what seemed to be sweet spirit. I was awakened by a heavy presence sitting on the edge of my bed. This presence was not friendly. I refused to open my eyes and pretended to be sound asleep. This presence then began lifting me up. I was above my bed. The sounds in my room became chaotic. My heart was beating out of my chest. I believe I passed right out from fear. The next thing I remember is my mother waking me up to get ready for school.

The school day passed and yet again it was time for bed. My heavy eyes would fall asleep to be awakened at 3:00A.M. My television was at the highest volume it could be. Slapping my remote, nothing seemed to turn this television down. I leaped out of bed to turn on my light with my heart racing. I manually turned down my television. I felt uncomfortable. I felt someone watching me. I sat in my bed with blankets to my neck. The decisions of what to do next were playing back and forth in my mind. “I need to go to Heather’s room.” “I am too afraid. No. Sara, you need to go in Heather’s room.” I would try and give myself some confidence to just walk down the hall into my sister’s room.

I managed to gain some confidence. I quickly turned off my television, grabbed my stuffed animal and dragged my blanket. I flung over the end of my bed into the hallway. I felt like someone was standing in front of me blocking me from entering my sister’s room. The floor always creaked as you walked on it. I began my short journey to my sister’s room only to be stopped. I couldn’t move my blanket. It was stuck on something. I turned around and it was lying in the open. I tugged harder and harder. It was as if someone was stepping on it making it impossible for me to bring with me. Dark laughter erupted. With all my tiny might, I yanked the blanket free and dashed into my sister’s room. “Heather, can I please sleep in here tonight?”

I tried to get comfy on her couch. “I need to get out of this room.” I kept saying to myself. It felt like there was someone staring at me straight in my face. This presence was causing extreme fear. I was so uncomfortable. I could not shake this feeling. I gathered my belongings and ran out of my sister’s room across the hall to my brother’s. I jumped in his bed with the fear of someone grabbing me from underneath. I turned my brother’s small television on and snuggled close. For a small second I felt at peace. That feeling was quickly interrupted with all of his toys going everywhere. The toys that could speak were speaking. Toys were moving erratically across his room. I began to sob. The presence was now on the edge of the bed. Children’s voices where singing. Dark laughter erupted. I cried myself to sleep. The presence lingered until the sun came up.

That night happened over ten years ago yet it still haunts my dreams once in a while. Of course I have encountered other paranormal experience since then but nothing to that extreme. Just writing about this is making me uncomfortable. I always think if I talk about my experience or even bring it up whatever caused me that fear will know and come after me. Crazy as it sounds; I truly believe it will happen. I also do not like talking about it because it makes me extremely vulnerable. “There are no such things as ghosts Sara.” I beg to differ. I bet that presence still lingers and will change your mind. It’s changed my life. I dare you.......

(Story by Sara Wheeler)

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