 |
| Haunted Beach House |
I've had a lot of strange encounters in my life, but this one sticks out in my memory to this day. My parents rented a seaside property from a coworker when I was twenty years old. They're from New Jersey, and the seaside is where they hang out. It was a Bricktown home. a little town featuring a private beach. Not too far from Point Pleasant or SeaSide. The residence is just across from the bay. You can have your own crabbing dock if you walk 100 feet out. Because it was on a dead-end street, it was incredibly peaceful at night.
Now, twenty-two was a difficult age for a girl. You didn't even like yourself at the time due to the extreme mood swings. However, I think the surging hormones also make you more sensitive. Before we departed, all I had been informed about the home was its location and a hazy description.
We got here around two in the morning. It was really quiet, as I mentioned. The rear of the house is where you enter. The home was constructed with its front facing the bay. The first room serves as a kind of guest room. It's a little space, about 9 by 9. In the direction of the far right wall is a passageway. The kitchen entrance is to the right, while the (single) bathroom door is to the left, a short distance away. The cellar entrance is located on the other side of the hallway, facing the bathroom door. This place was always a little bit gloomy. I only recall that there was a really dark area, but I'm not sure if it was lit.
The hallway was not very long—maybe five or seven feet. You entered the parlor or family room directly. A frame with a two-story ceiling and a rock fire place to your right. The living area was surrounded by windows, which made it feel quite airy. The covered stairway heading up was one of the room's distinctive features. You could see the doors to the three bedrooms on the second floor side by side when you stood facing the hallway. The room's left corner housed the staircase entrance, which was carved out of the wall. It was decked out with nautical or seafaring flair. It looked nice and was nicely worn.
My sister and dad immediately went inside the home and outdoors to gaze at the bay when we got there. I stayed inside by myself; I had no idea why. I was sitting in a chair with my back to the second floor when I sensed—I'm not sure what to describe it—a vibration or presence. The bedrooms were located in the far right corner of the little catwalk. The nape of my neck became hairy. Because I was so afraid, I went outdoors to be with my family. When I questioned my mother straight out whether this home was haunted, she said, "How did you know?"
Despite her high level of intelligence, my mother is open-minded about other senses. I think it runs in the family because my great-grandmother was said to be a gypsy. Mom left Germany in her mid-twenties and immigrated to America. World War II erased most of her family's history.
My mother mentioned that other guests had snapped photographs inside the home of a hazy figure that appeared on the film, but other than that, I don't recall much about my first trip. As you can see, the prior owner was a physician with expertise in cancer research. Paradoxically, his daughter was given a leukemia diagnosis. She passed away at the age of 19.
When we came back the next year, that's when the truly exciting stuff happened. I accompanied my buddy Monika and her partner on our descent. She didn't initially trust me when I told her there was anything there, though. Monika and I shared the upstairs bedroom with my parents the first night. We were giggling and cutting each other up, and it was getting late. It was midnight when we both agreed it was time for bed.
She was right next to the door, and I was inside the bed. It wasn't completely closed. Not even a few seconds after we switched off the lights, we were both groaning on the stairs. Next, our door was knocked on. We heard the door opening but could not see anything as we stared at it. Assume that when we both turned white, we decided it was time to head downstairs.
We both fell asleep after she shoved her boyfriend out of the guestroom bed. A loud hammering sound that sounded like someone was on the pipes awakened me gradually. Next, the vintage alarm clock on the refrigerator emitted loud music. It seemed as though someone was fast-flipping the knob from one side to the other as the channels changed. I was freezing, and we stayed in bed. Her partner stood up and switched it off. He never came to terms with what had transpired. I discovered it was unplugged when I walked into the kitchen that morning.
He said "no" when I inquired whether he had done it. My mother, who had heard it too, said no when I asked. My father didn't either. It was never connected.
There was a constant sense of being observed. There was nothing there when you felt a tingle in your neck and tensed your muscles. The moment I was heading to the restroom caught my attention. I would walk fast along the corridor. I felt as though I had a burden on my shoulders. I was never able to glance at the basement door. I was unable to descend the stairs, not even when my father required my assistance.
When I told my other friends about the eerie experiences at the house the next year, they weren't pleasantly surprised. It seemed empty when I stepped through the door. Nothing took place. It was still only a home, but we had a terrific time.
Once we got home, Mom told me this amazing news. The owners tidied up the cellar before we made our final descent. Many of the belongings of the previous daughter were discovered there, and they were disposed of.
How to interpret it. I'm not sure. Perhaps there was a link, given that we were about the same age when she passed away. All I can tell is that it was genuine and that it did happen.