(Digging around the archive of my personal Tumblr page, I found this short post that I had made a few years back and I thought that it was worth sharing on this blog.)

Whenever I drive past the abandoned building where I remember having my first recognizable supernatural experience, I feel as though whatever is in there knows that I am near and follows me for a brief moment down the road. 

I can feel the hairs on the back of my body pull away from me and on the warmest of nights, I still feel the temperature of the air around me lower. These, of course, are all sensations that no one with me ever notices. 

More specifically, I always feel as if it is in the back seat of my vehicle when I drive by alone, just watching me for whatever length of time it feels appropriate (a moment that typically lasts no longer than forty seconds to a minute). My skin seems to tighten around my elbows and groin and I become extremely anxious because I fear looking into my rear view mirror. It’s as if I believe with the utmost certainty (in fact, I know) that she is there in the back seat watching me, still holding the grudge made nearly six years ago when I entered the building with two friends who I no longer speak to (our falling out I still partially blame on whatever taint we brought back from that place with us).

I just wait in those most unnerving of moments, feeling as if my name is merely moments away from being uttered. I know she knows it. I know that summer we first entered the building, she (or part of her) followed me home, just watching me from the back seat of my vehicle. 

And then, as quickly as it manifests, the sensation disappears entirely, vanishing like a breath in the air of winter. It usually takes my heart another minute or two to slow to a normal or comfortable rate.

I don’t know if it’s the idea of it remembering that I do not live too far away or the thought of it waiting for me to return to the darkness of that building that bothers me most. All I know is that in the moments that she is sitting behind me, her long dead eyes fixated on the back of my head, my hands grip tightly to the wheel as I wait to hear that scream that she made in the darkness of the building when first we met.

I think I am discomforted most by the silence of those moments though, an ambiance as dead as the inside of that building…or her. 

Thank you very much. I appreciate it.

I’m happy you enjoyed them. Sorry for just now seeing this if you sent it awhile ago, by the way.

This is my Ouija board. Myself and a few other individuals crafted it two summers ago. The board itself was the shelf in the hallway closet of an abandoned house not far from my own home where a handicapped child lived before he passed away and was buried at the back of the property. The text on the board was colored in with a paint that was made from my own blood and the ashes of a burned down house where myself and others have heard indescribable noises and seen strange shadows moving amidst the ruins on more than one occasion.

This building was a church that was closed and then was soon after reopened as an abortion clinic years later.

Eventually, the abortion clinic was closed down and now the building sits at the back of a park and only one room of it is used as storage for the park’s landscaping gear. The rest of the church is boarded up and abandoned.

I will eventually be posting a story about some experiences my friends and I have had inside this building.

haha Thank you so much. I love hearing that kind of stuff. I saw your reblog before this message, so I already had sent you a thank you. But again, thanks very much. I’m in the process of putting together a book with about fifteen other stories. I’ll keep everyone updated on the progress of that as it happens.

That’s the best compliment anyone could ever give me about these. Thank you very much.

I had only been in there once before. The length of time could not have exceeded ten minutes in duration, but it felt as though I had endured a lifetime of suffering and misery.

The house sat at the back of a park, swallowed by a forest that had encroached upon the lawn and kept the sunlight from touching the rotting shambles of the wooden structure with its moss covered roof. That night was my first time seeing the house. I had no idea what awaited us inside when we prepared to enter.

Devin had climbed through the basement window first. It was about a seven foot drop from the narrow ground level window to the damp, concrete floor. We weren’t sure if we were going to see or even experience anything there (not that those things are ever guaranteed in any way, even at the most active of spots), but the morbid aesthetics of the house itself had intrigued us. Robby decided to wait outside in the running vehicle and keep watch while Devin and I checked the place out to see if it was of any interest to us.

We were moving quickly, ignoring many details on that first visit. This was undoubtedly due to two reasons. The first was because we wanted to quickly check the house over and then leave so that Robby wasn’t left alone outside for too long. The other was because of a sheer sense of panic that we felt from the moment we entered. It wasn’t just the strange noises the house made as we moved through it (seeming as if it were breathing slowly and deeply); it was the choking, impenetrable darkness that filled the narrow hallways and rooms with low ceilings. Not a single ray of light from the moon shone into the building. Every single window and door leading to the outside was boarded up with long bolts drive through the thick wood and into the framework of the house. The only way inside was the basement window we had dropped in through and with that being seven feet above an unscalable wall, we were not going to be able to go back out the way we came in. We were panicking because we realized that we were trapped inside the house, enveloped in an unimaginable blackness.

We headed for the stairs and moved through the house with an almost frantic nature. The walls of most of the rooms on the first floor were covered in unsettling etchings and drawings of faces. They seemed to be the result of a distorted perception of the human face. Either that, or they were depicting figures I’d rather not contemplate.

Devin and I moved up another set of stairs to the second floor of the house. Here, we encountered the first bits of light to be seen since we’d climbed inside. There were three rooms that the upper landing led towards. One of them appeared to be the master bedroom and was of no particular interest to us. It was bare and the only window within was boarded up. The other two rooms, however, have been the cause of much distress and sleeplessness in my life since.

The two rooms were on the right side of the landing. We entered the leftmost room first after leaving the master bedroom. One of the light sources was coming from inside of it. A single window within was unobscured and a faint luminescent glow covered the inside. Before looking over the entire room, I walked to the open window and looked out. There was no ledge and it was about a twenty foot drop to the ground below. I turned back toward Devin in dismay and noticed that he was looking up at the ceiling, his attention fixated on something just above me. I looked up as well and realized what had caught his attention.

Against the white ceiling, the dark brown stains could be seen in the moonlight without the aid of the flashlight. The stains were a series of streaks and thick specks in a circular shape. We knew at that moment what the stains may have been, but our attentions slowly shifted towards the corner of the ceiling. There was a hole in the tile and some papers had been hastily stuffed halfway inside. I walked toward the hole and removed the paper, holding them up as Devin pointed the flashlight towards them. They were a child’s drawings. Each paper was a separate drawing, covered in stains and badly deteriorated after spending so much time collecting dust and moisture as they remained hidden in the ceiling for so long.

I lowered the papers and looked around at the décor and size of the room. It was then that I realized that this was a child’s room, its ceiling covered in streaks of dark brown stains that caused me to shudder at the thought and speculation of their origin.

We were growing more uneasy, even with the darkness temporarily broken by the moonlight. I needed to find a way out. We moved out of the child’s room and into the room beside it. I will never be able to forget the layout of that den of terror.

Similar to the adjacent room, there were two windows, one of them unobscured, the other one leading to the ledge above the front porch and boarded up. This room’s ceiling and walls were covered in the same dark brown stains. But unlike the other room, messages in crude handwriting had been left upon the walls. We stood in the darkness, shining the single flashlight around the room and reading the words scrawled and carved into the wallpaper beneath the dark brown stains.

God, bless this house.

Thou shall not kill.

God save us.

May this forever remain his prison.

We stood paralyzed for a moment reading the statements and prayers. At that moment, I knew something unspeakable had occurred in that house, a memory long since forgotten and left to fester in the darkness behind those walls.

Though I knew the attempt would be futile, I quickly moved toward the window to look for another means of escape. The window looked out over the side of the house and I noticed that two well aged trees were growing side by side in the center of the overgrown lawn as I approached the ledge. It was at that moment, standing before the window that I looked down and read a poem carved into the windowsill.

“Standing by the window,
the glass beneath your feet.
Can you see it,
the bodies beneath the trees?”

It was short and comprised of only a few simple words, but it invoked something in me that I, to this day, still do not quite understand. Whatever the intention of those words may have been, I stared out the window and into the dark woods surrounding the house and I was afraid. As simply as one can describe their weaknesses or vulnerabilities, I was trapped inside that decrepit building with a darkness unbearable, and I was afraid.

I suddenly panicked. I ran for the boarded window leading to the ledge above the porch and I began attempting to kick it out. After failing to do so, I turned to Devin and simply said “we need to get out of this house.”

This was the first time either of us had acknowledged our fear or uneasiness and at that moment, we not only knew that something was horribly wrong with the house, but we knew that the other felt it as well.

We ran back for the stairs, not wishing to spend another minute inside that place. When we returned to the first floor, we double checked all the windows and doors again, finding that there indeed was no way out of the building on that floor. While we were searching, I had become overwhelmed with a sudden anxiety of the upper floor of the house. I could feel that there was not only something up there, but that it was angry and that it would soon descend the stairs and follow after us.

Frantically, I hurried Devin into the basement and shut the door behind us. We ran down the steps and continued to search for a way out. Again, we found that the only opening was the window we’d climbed in through and that it was going to be impossible to climb back out through it.

There was one boarded up door down there on a side of the house where the land dipped and the basement was above ground. We’d noticed it when we first entered the house and it then became the fixation of our desperation. In our state of fear, we began to kick and shove our bodies violently at it, hoping that the wood was old and weak enough to tear away from the bolts and come off. We began to use objects we found lying around the basement to pry the door loose.

However it may be, I could feel an energy in the house and I knew it was now on the floor right above us. We needed to get out of that house at that moment because I knew that at any second, it would be moving toward the door that lead to the basement.

Whatever luck we had brought into that foul place with us that night, the impossible happened and the door gave on one side, giving us a way out. We scrambled through the narrow hole and ran as fast as we could for the car. Climbing inside with Robby, I started the vehicle and we drove off down the road running beside the house and out of the park.

Explaining everything to Robby much later that night after the catching of our breath allowed us to speak, he told us that we had not been inside the house for more than ten minutes. In my mind, I still remember it as an eternity.

It was about two weeks later that we had returned to the house. There were too many unanswered questions in my mind. I wanted to know why someone had gone to the trouble of making sure no one could enter this house that was sitting alone in the woods and rotting in obscurity. I wanted to know what inside that house was so evil that someone didn’t want it to even exist, that someone couldn’t stomach the idea of it even being there alone behind boarded windows in the dark and attempted to bless the house (the room) and cleanse it of whatever blasphemy it held.

We parked in the same spot as last time and walked up toward the house, each of us carrying a flashlight (as opposed to just one of us). This time, a more sizeable group would be entering the building as well. It was Robby, Garrett, Devin, Kyle, and me.

We immediately went to the basement door entrance that we had frantically exited through on our previous visit and as we expected, it had not been touched and still remained partially open. We climbed inside and I used the opportunity to use my light and look around the basement and take better note of the house’s details that time. As soon as he stepped inside, Robby noticed that a row of pillows were neatly lined up against the base of a nearby wall. In the center of all these pillows was the same sickly brown stain that covered the ceilings and walls of the upper rooms.

I also noticed that several pieces of paper were littering the basement floor. I picked one up and shined my light on it. Robby and I read the paper simultaneously. At the top of the page was the Department of Health’s name. All the papers said the same thing. They described how the house had been sealed up by the Department of Health, yet it gave no mention of why.

Being further intrigued by all the new unanswered questions we had, we preceded to move upstairs and examine the first floor of the house. We stepped over the rubble filling the hallways and entered what must have been the living room. Kyle, Robby and Garrett were just as unsettled by the faces upon the walls as I had been when first seeing them.

Again, we examined all the windows and doors and noted that not only had bolts been driven through the thick sheets of wood and into the framework of the house, but they had also been bent so that they could not be pulled back out. Whatever happened there, someone had tried to ensure that no one would ever be able to get back inside.

“Come on guys, let’s check the upstairs,” Devin suddenly said in a hushed voice. He moved towards the steps and as he did so, the silence was broken. The floorboards at the top of the stairs creaked as something up there stepped away from them. Devin jumped away from the steps and we all tensed up. Whatever energy we had previously encountered, it was wasting no time in making its presence be known to us on that second visit.

Gathering our courage and going against our better judgment, we all ascended the stairs. After quickly searching the master bedroom and child’s bedroom, we moved into the room with the writing upon its walls. Even seeing the room a second time did not cause the effect of horror I felt to lesson for me. With all our lights illuminating the walls of the room, I managed to notice more writing and prayers I hadn’t noticed the first time. After everyone read everything (including that damnable poem on the windowsill) and agreed that they too could discern some form of negative energy, we all returned to the living room on the first floor and prepared to make contact.

We chose the corner of the living room that was near the staircase and because of that, we were directly below the room with the writing. We turned off all our lights but one and slowly formed a circle, the corner we stood nearest being at my back. We all joined hands and then we turned out our last light.

And there we were, hands joined as we stood in that darkness immeasurable. I suddenly felt the same terror I had felt the first time I entered the house. My heart began to race as all though I was surrounded by others and holding their hands, I felt entirely alone in a sea of blackness. I attempted to remain calm and I lowered my head. We all remained still as I began to speak loud enough for not just the others to hear, but for the entire house to hear as well.

“Is there something else here with us,” I asked as the words clumsily fell from my mouth. The house remained eerily silent and all we could hear was our breathing.

“If there is something else here with us, please let your presence be known.” Again, I heard nothing else save for the quickened beating of my own heart. The air felt strangely colder as I raised my voice and spoke again.

“I repeat; if there is something else that is here with us, please let your presence be known.” And there it was. As discernible as our breathing, as real as the beating of my own heart, something in the room above us moved against the floor and we could all hear it. The others holding my hands suddenly tightened their grip as we heard whatever it was walk across the floorboards. I raised my head (as the others must have done) and listened.

It had stopped moving. One of us turned on one of the flashlights and we all looked at one another. Our eyes were all widened and we had all moved in closer together. Demanding the light to be turned off, we were all immersed in shadow again and I continued to speak.

“Did something happen here? Did something bad happen in this house?” The footsteps returned and this time, they were louder. We could clearly hear what sounded like someone walking around in the room above us. Knowing that I now had the thing’s attention, I continued to speak. Stupidly, I asked too specific of a question as if I expected a clear answer in return.

“What happened here?” The thing upstairs continued to move.

“Was someone hurt here?” This time, the movement upstairs intensified. Whatever it was above us, it sounded as though it were pacing around the room.

“Was someone raped here?” The movement continued to get louder and louder. We all were clenching each other’s hands tightly as I raised my voice.

“Was someone murdered here?” As soon as I finished the last word, the thing stomped on the floor loudly. At that point, I can’t remember what I said next, but I began to pray to myself quietly. Whatever was upstairs, it was now sprinting around the room. My voice got louder and my prayer became audible.

In the darkness, the steps could be heard leaving the room and suddenly something stomped down the old steps and into the living room. Before I could even react, the air pressure around me seemed to change and in that moment, I felt a single leathery finger run down the back of my right ear. I screamed in sudden fear and broke the circle, letting go of my friends’ hands and falling into the corner of the room.

Someone immediately turned on their flashlight and pointed it at me. I must have looked like a terrified wreck, my arms wrapped around me as I attempted to protect myself from anymore physical contact.

“Nick, what happened?”

“Something fucking touched me, man. It touched my fucking ear.” Everyone now feeling as fearful as I, we took the moment to notice that the house was now silent again. Whatever I had called upon, it was now completely silent.

Knowing that whatever we heard was not truly gone, we quickly rejoined hands (this time leaving the lights on) and attempted to protect ourselves by properly ending contact and closing the circle. I said the few words there were and then after I finished, we all let go of each others’ hands and we hastily moved towards the basement. Without another word, we quickly climbed through the broken basement door and moved toward the car. Just as before, we left in a hurry that night.

Kyle, Devin, and Garrett all swore they would never return to that house. Years later, I attempted to enter the house again with Robby and our friend Courtney. We stepped inside the basement and when we realized it was only going to be the three of us alone in that house, we quickly stepped back outside and left the property. I have never again attempted to enter that place. And even if I were again given the opportunity, I still wouldn’t go back inside.

Something corrupt touched me that night, something evil that I should have left well enough alone behind boarded up windows to rot in the darkness of that house. I shudder to think what will happen should the house ever be demolished.

Very soon. I promise. I write my stories by hand in notebooks first, so it takes me a little longer to put them all back into my computer. I’m going to be spending all night getting my next story ready, so hopefully I’ll have one posted tomorrow night. Thanks so much for the excitement and support.

I felt a little on edge for two reasons that night. One reason was because of a heated argument in Jordan’s apartment prior to us leaving that resulted in the group taking two separate vehicles to avoid one another for a little while. The other was that the site was located in the woods at the back of a park off of a main road. Both of these things contributed heavily to my uneasiness because it not only meant that we were going to have to illegally park our vehicles in the parking lot after dark, but we were also going to be parking two vehicles which would undoubtedly make us easier to be seen from the road.

Regardless, I had been interested in the place for quite some time and my curiosity had gotten the best of me as well as everyone else. I think the drive to the park had eased everyone’s nerves because when all of us had stepped out of the vehicles and onto the wet pavement, there didn’t seem to be any more sense of animosity. Miller and Garrett lit up their cigarettes, the orange incandescence slightly lighting their faces in the dark. Jordan stood beside me with his brother Cary, listening attentively as I gave the back-story (the somewhat vague back-story that lacked specific details) of the place.

From what I knew (after the tiniest of research), there actually wasn’t much to the story aside from vagueness. All I knew about the place was from what others had spoken of online or in stories I’d been told. What I did know was that supposedly (and I hate suppositions) in the woods behind the park, there were a series of trails that ran deep into state land that was supposed to be “haunted” (I hate that word, so from here on out, I’ll refer to the action of “haunting” as inhabiting or possessing). Inhabiting the trails were two entities that were clearly discernible as two young girls. The stories of the place included various accounts of people seeing these girls running beside them while walking down the trails, hearing their nearly inaudible voices as they communicated between one another. Many other people also mentioned the feeling of their hands being touched if they let them hang at their sides.

The trails wind through several acres of dense woodland and some theories are that the girls’ alterior motive is to help individuals who may have become lost find their way out of the woods. I, myself, didn’t and still don’t pretend to understand the motives or conscious will of the dead and I believe hypothesizing such things can lead to one losing track of the goal (that goal being what some people refer to as “ghosting hunting,” or establishing contact).

There was another entity there as well, however, that seemed to be mentioned in every underlying portion of each story I had heard about the place and that was a mentioning of something more malicious than little girls attempting to redirect the lost; there was something there that would in visits following throw rocks, smack branches against trees, knock over and destroy vegetation as it ran after, and vocally make aware to us its presence in one way or another.

After everyone in the group aside from myself had lit at least one cigarette and flung the butt into the nearby grass as they finished, I had wrapped up giving to the best of my knowledge what the back story of the park was.

Splitting into two groups, Garret, Cary and I headed towards the back of the trails while Miller and Jordan remained near the front as they attempted to capture something on Jordan’s digital camera. It was while we were gone that they captured two images that unnerved them enough to cause them to head back to Jordan’s vehicle and wait for us while we were gone.

Cary, Garrett and I moved slowly through the dreamscape of labyrinthine trails. It had been a very warm spring day so when the slight drizzle that approached that night lowered the temperature, a thick fog filled the trails (though we did not feel the rain because the dirt paths that wound through the woods were covered by a canopy treetops above). The fog, being lighter in hue than the darkness, lit the moonless night and created and eerie, dreamlike atmosphere that surrounded the trails as we headed further and further into the woods.

All the while, I couldn’t help but feel that the place was extremely familiar to me. Every turn I could anticipate and every dip I knew was approaching. I don’t claim to possess clairvoyance or anything of the like. The place, oddly enough, just seemed strangely familiar to me. There came a point, though, where my familiarity with the woods that I had never been to began to make Garrett and Cary as uncomfortable as it had made me.

We came to a portion of the trail where a tree trunk had fallen off its base, but with its top resting against another tree, it leaned diagonally over the trail, its base firmly planted into the soil on the side of the path. The sight of this caused me to immediately stop walking and stare intensely at the tree trunk and its position. Garrett and Cary, who were walking behind me, stopped as abruptly as I. Putting his hand on my shoulder, Garrett spoke with slight trepidation in his voice.

“You ok, Nick?” I remained still, feeling almost drowsy. I felt like (I knew)I had seen this before. How that could be empirically possible, I have no idea. All I knew at that moment was what laid ahead of us, in some way or another. The sudden overpowering déjà vu gave me a great feeling of nauseousness and I couldn’t convince myself to move forward.

“I’ve been here before, guys. I don’t know if it was a dream or what, but I’ve been here before.” While Garrett was trying to nudge me to continue, I remained with my feet planted and turned to the others.

“I don’t know where, but this path opens up. And I don’t know what, but there’s something up ahead and it’s waiting there for us.” The words poured from my mouth as the feelings came to me. They tensed my body as I said them. Even after having been made just as uneasy as myself, the two eventually talked it into me and we continued forward.

No more than fifty yards ahead, the path did open up entirely. It was a clearing in a circular shape about seventy five yards in diameter surrounded entirely by thick woods. In the center of the clearing grew a collection of about five or six trees in a tight little circle. The clearing opened up the skies above and we noticed that the clouds had broken. All three of us stood there looking up towards the sky when we heard it. It was a sound that I, to this day, can recall as well as the tone of my own voice and the memory of it frightens me to this day just as much as it did the moment we heard it.

In a thicket of grass to our left, we suddenly heard the scream of a woman. I knew it was not only I who could hear it because at the moment I looked down from the sky, Garrett and Cary had tensed up and were staring in the same direction. The scream was horrendously loud and broke the dominating silence that until that moment had not left us since we entered the park. At least half a mile away from the vehicles and in the middle of the woods, it was just us and whatever that scream was coming from, thirty feet to our left and slowly standing up. All of this I noted in a matter of microseconds before, what seemed almost instantaneously, Cary screamed obscenities at the top of his lungs and turned to run blindly through the woods and back to the cars. Garrett and I turned and ran in fear after him.

We ran for what must have been no less than five minutes, hearts beating too fast, our breathing growing louder and louder. Our focusing on finding our way back through the maze of forest had quickly degenerated to just stumbling in one direction through the woods, tripping over logs and underbrush as we went. After running a good half of the way, we all stopped to catch our breath. I think that at that moment, we all felt safe (to an extent, at least). All three of us were hunched over, hands on our knees. No one said a word until Cary looked up and pointed, his eyes widening noticeably. Garrett and I turned suddenly and looked back down the trail behind us.

The fog lifted as it strode after us. Robed in white cloth, moving too quickly for me to gather specific details, something was running down the path after us. All three of us seeing this turned and ran as quickly as possible, screaming as we did so. Having only the lights of the parking lot to guide us, we ran across winding trails and through thickets of trees until we finally stumbled out of the woods and onto the slick pavement. Whatever it was, it must have turned around because nothing followed us out of the darkness.

Jordan and Miller got out of the car and quickly came up to us, eager to find out what had happened. After explaining, Jordan then sent Miller back to the vehicle, telling us that we might be interested in something they had to show us. Bringing back the camera, Miller handed it to Jordan and sparked up another cigarette as Jordan turned it on. Still catching our breath as he handed it to us, Jordan showed me the display screen of the camera.

Before discussing what it was he had to show us, I must discuss two facts. The first is that fog doesn’t travel in little streams. It encompasses an entire area. The second is that there is a discernible difference between the characteristics of fog and smoke (color, texture, thickness, etc.).

The first picture Jordan showed us was taken as he walked behind Miller. In the picture, Miller was standing about thirty feet up the path with his back towards Jordan, completely enshrouded in smoke. Miller then explained that at the instant the picture was taken, he felt a sudden cold draft of air in the middle of the muggy night.

Immediately after they had taken this picture, Jordan said that he had seen something moving to their left. Jordan took a picture in that direction and what was captured was the second photograph he had to show me. In the woods on the side of the trail was a large cloud of smoke and in the cloud stood as clear as day with her head bowed, a little girl.