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A Full House |
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Submitted By Cynthia Parker In the early fall of 1997, I considered myself to be the luckiest renter in the world. I was a divorced mother with a teenage son and money was tight. I found a perfect home for us. A beautiful 3 bedroom brick with a garage on 2 lots with massive old trees everywhere. It was in the older part of our rural town just outside of Nashville, Tennessee. The owners were an elderly couple that purchased the home as an investment. They were only asking me $300 a month which was an unheard of bargain to say the least. It had been almost 20 years since the inside of the house had anything done to it, all except the bathroom. The sink and toilet were original to the house. There was only a tub, a new one, but no shower. At the time I did think that was a little off, but that seemed like a small thing, so it was only a passing thought. When the big day arrived, all of our friends were there to help. Some were working only on the outside. Weeds and shrubs had taken over most of the yard, almost completely covering the windows. One day and lots of friends made a tremendous difference. You could actually see the house from the road. At one time, someone had attempted to landscape, but it had long ago been forgotten. I quickly started the process to paint the walls, in the entire house. That is when I knew something wasn’t quite right. After all, I was not a stranger to the paranormal. I had paranormal experiences throughout my childhood. As I got older, I had tried to ignore the experiences in fear others would think I was crazy. During the first few weeks, I noticed things would just seem to disappear. Odd things. Tooth brushes, silverware mainly. I started to feel a presence in the house. Sometimes it was stronger than others. I didn’t see them, just felt we weren’t alone. The scariest night of my life happened less than 2 months after we moved in. We came home from a high school football game one Friday night. I had just climbed into bed and turned my light off when my son, Jeremy came running into my room, leaping into my bed. He pulled the covers up over his had and screamed at me that I could not make him get out of my bed. I was shocked for someone his age to be acting like this. It was totally out of character for him. I turned on the light and tried to talk to him, but he wasn’t going to talk about it. I went into his room to inspect the situation. I found nothing visible. The only thing odd was that it was extremely cold in there. I checked the windows, but they were closed. The house had storm windows and they were closed as well. I pulled the door shut and returned to my room. I told him he could sleep with me and we would discuss it in the morning. I turned off the light again. I was concerned. When he was only 2 years old, he would talk to relatives that had died years before his birth. As he got older, like me, he pretended he didn’t see or hear things anymore. If we both knew something was going on it couldn’t be our minds playing tricks on us could it? About that time, the bed started to move. Just a little at first. We promised each other that we weren’t doing it. Then we felt the bed actually move up off the floor. That was it, I couldn’t be brave anymore. We ran, we ran fast. I grabbed my purse off the table by the front door on the way out. Once inside my car, I couldn’t believe it. I was in a tee shirt with a teenage boy in boxers, driving like a crazy person to my mother’s house thirty miles away. She was scared to death when she saw us half naked on her front porch that late at night. I made her go and get us some clothes the next day. Enough to last a week. I planned to move out and quick! Two major problems stood in my way. An airtight lease and no money. I was forced to go back alone. My brave son decided he would stay at his father's for awhile. I walked through the house and talked to thin air. Explaining how I was trying to bring back the beauty of this house and make it a home. I pleaded with this spirit to live there with us in harmony. Respect us and we would do the same. Pull a stunt like that again and I would seek help in getting it removed. We were able to have a normal life for about four months. Then, kids stopped spending the night. My house had always been the hangout. It just stopped all of a sudden. One day I asked my son why. He told me that whenever anyone would spend the night, they would see someone, or something would touch them. Sometimes, the boys would see things move around. My son had decided to not say anything to me, because he didn’t want to frighten me. He spent half of his time at his father's since he only lived three blocks away. When he was with his father, I stayed at my office late working. I was concerned, but after all, I had made a deal with a spirit. We needed to have another talk. Again, things settled down. Two months passed without one incident. I called one of my best friends that lived over an hour away. The county fair was in town and I knew her kids and mine would enjoy it. We planned for them to come up on Friday night, and stay all weekend. About 30 minutes before they arrived, a bad electrical storm hit town. Lightning hit my air conditioner. Great! Company coming and I had no air conditioning. This was not great at all. The storm passed, my friends arrived and we hit the fair wide open, mud and all. We had a great time. We arrived back at my house and gathered in the living room. Jonathan was 12 years old and as big if not bigger than my 12 year old son Jeremy. They had fallen asleep in the living room while we were all talking. Teresia and I decided to go to bed since it was almost midnight. Jeremy’s room had twin beds so I put Teresia and her 14 year old daughter Katrina in there. I made sure they had everything they needed and said our goodnights. I turned off their bedroom light and stepped across the hall into the bathroom. Before I could even get the door closed, I heard screams from their room. I ran back in to find something most unusual. My son’s dresser drawers were all open. All 12 drawers. Everything that had been inside of them was now laying on top of Katrina and Teresia still neatly folded. The boys were still asleep in the living room. No one else was in the house. I put the things back into the drawers and they slept in my room. I slept in Jeremy’s room. Alone, with the light on. Over the next two years, things would continue to happen. I learned that it was very predictable. Strangers were not wanted in the bedrooms. No arguing at all or there would be chaos for weeks. I would still see lights go off and on, doors open and close, feel the cold air and feel the air get thick. I learned to accept it. We were living in harmony at last. My Mother performed volunteer work at the local food bank. There, she met Alice, a nurse who was her age. She was also a psychic. I invited her over to lunch one day. I told Mother to not say anything about my house. I wanted to see if she could tell me something I didn’t already know. I was watching for them, so I saw them pull into my drive. Alice got out of the car and started talking. It took me a minute to realize it wasn’t my Mother or me she was speaking to. I wasn’t close enough to know what she was saying, so I pretended to act like it was nothing. We all came in and sat at the dining room table and enjoyed our lunch, not really talking about anything at all. I cleared away the table and refilled our glasses of lemonade. Alice asked me how long I had lived there. I told her. I told her I knew there was a spirit in my house. She laughed at me. She said “No, honey. There is not “a” spirit in your house. It’s like grand central station in here.” I found out that the original family that built my house was an older couple. This was their dream house, and they built it across the street from their daughter and her family. Very shortly after they moved in, the man found out he had cancer and died. A short time later, his wife, not being able to bear her life without him, killed herself in my bathroom. Her bedroom was the one I used. She placed a rope around her neck and the shower rod. She shot herself. In case the bullet didn’t kill her, the hanging would. Their daughter sold the property to my landlords, the very sweet elderly couple. They rented to a family that fell in love with the property. A nice family that I know, who had a young daughter. When returning home from a basketball game, also her first date, the car she was in was struck by a drunk driver. She was killed instantly. (Her room was our guest room we never used.) Then there was another family. They had a teenage soon. Everyone said he was a very troubled young man. The parents fought a lot and he couldn’t stand it. He, too, killed himself. Where else? The bathroom. Same way as the older woman. The homeowners removed the shower so nobody else could do that. If that wasn’t enough, I found out that many, many years ago, this had been sacred hunting grounds by Native Americans. There was an attack by another tribe, killing one young man. He stayed there guarding the land and property . He liked no one, according to Alice. There were also several children there as well. Just playing really. I learned a lot from Alice that I later was able to confirm. Every bit of it. Right down to the native American attack. My yard did sit right next to the river on a bluff. Quite a beautiful site before progress came along, I’m sure. She told me that my son and I are called "sensitives". So was my father and his mother. Not every place I go is haunted. Sometimes, they are drawn to us. I realized that day I’m not crazy and I need to use this when I can as a gift to help them. I lived in that house another year. I loved it there. We had all learned to live in harmony. I knew their names and I spoke to them from time to time. When I moved out, the owners sold the property to a local church for an office. I moved away, but often think of the years I lived there. I made attempts to talk the spirits into going toward the light. I don’t know if they all went or not. I hope so. Everyone thought I was crazy for staying there after my lease was up. I just kept renewing it year after year. Living there taught me a lot. I wasn’t crazy all of my life just because I had paranormal experiences, I am just sensitive to it. I have learned to not run from anything, but search out the truth. My parents used to say “It’s not the dead that will hurt you, it’s the living” and “The only thing to fear is fear itself”. They were right. |
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