10 Year-Old Ghosts

The house was brand new. We waited a whole year for it to be finalized. The kids couldn’t have been happier once we could finally moved in. Every once in a while, Harry and I would drive the kids down to see the progress on the house. They always cheered seeing the acres of free space. Their fantasies of possibilities ran wild.

While they saw a new play space, Harry and I saw a new challenge. Life in the suburbs had gotten so stale. We both grew up there. Then spent more years raising the kids there. A new scenery was desperately needed. The silence with the new house was a huge plus too.

The children unfortunately wouldn’t have other kids to play with. We thought it was okay. They never seemed interested in playing with anyone but each other. Besides, they were still attending public school. It’s not like we were devoiding them completely of their peers. Harry and I may have been moving mainly for our benefit, but we didn’t ignore the needs of our children completely.

Besides, my mom once told me I’d face real hardship one day. I figured moving out of my comfort zone would be challenging enough. It may not seem like a lot to some, but I was very timid then. I always needed someone to rely on. Someone who would catch me if I fell. Even though I wanted to be, I was never the self-reliant person my mom was. She was the strongest woman I had ever known. If I could be a fraction of the woman she was, I’d be happy with that.

The date was August 19th, 2012. That was our first day in the house. This all happened a long time ago, I know. For a while I wasn’t able to move past it. In the horror movies that end well, you see the characters move on and live happily ever after. If only that could have been the case. How could a normal human adult move on after everything that happened? When I’m done here, tell me if you think you could.

While it’s true that I’ve healed a lot since, I’m also telling my story because strange things are happening again. I don’t know what to do. I thought it was all left in the past. So, not only am I writing for some advice on how to continue, but also because if something happens I want it to be known.

The first few weeks were quiet. They were normal. We heard creeks and low hums, but it wasn’t anything wildly unusual. New house, it’s settling, we’re settling, blah blah. You know the signs, you’ve seen and heard them a million times. I had as well, being a horror genre lover. I just never thought any of it could ever happen in real life.

The first occurrence was just as minor as the rest before. One evening the kids were playing hide-and-seek. They were outside so long I had to chase them in before they got a cold. Being the energetic firecrackers that they were, they kept playing inside. They didn’t stop until the moon was floating high overhead.

After everyone winded down for the night I was giving our five-year-old, my sweet little Nancy, a bubble bath. She always loved those. She could never wait for one, especially after a long day of play. Usually she would hop right in, no questions asked. That night, however, she was different.

She stood by my side and held my hand. She wasn’t willing to get in. I asked her what was wrong. She just looked up at me and said, “There’s already someone else in there, mom.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked her, chuckling slightly to ease her mind. “Come on. Let’s get you in there.”

I carefully set her in the tub and began bathing her. My daughter, ever the growing child, always insisted I leave her alone to bathe herself. Probably just so she could feel older. I was always happy to oblige if that kept her from frowning at me. So as usual I was planning to leave her alone for a few minutes. Again she acted unlike herself.

“You can stay, mom,” she kindly told me.

“Oh, you’re giving me permission to stay?” I asked her, amused.

“Mm-hm. I feel extra yucky and need your help!” she cheerfully told me.

“Okay. If you say so.”

Looking back now, I see all the signs. I see why she was acting differently. I see the fear in her eyes. I understand she wasn’t imagining Rufus, the boy that followed her. The boy she found while playing hide-and-seek.

I didn’t pay attention back then. I did start paying attention soon after, though.

My first child, Terrence, couldn’t sleep for the life of him. This was strange because it was always harder to keep that boy awake than put to sleep. For some reason, after our move he just couldn’t sleep. Mr. Beirn, his unbearable second grade teacher, complained non-stop that Terrence would miss everything in class because he was always sleeping.

Harry and I brought Terrence to the clinic to get him checked up. The doctor found nothing wrong with him but referred melatonin anyway. It took a few weeks for Terrence to not only confess that he wasn’t really taking the pills, but also, the problem wasn’t that he couldn’t sleep. The problem was that he didn’t want to sleep.

“A lady keeps following me, mom,” he finally told me one night.

“Where? At school?”

He shook his head meekly with a frown. Then he whined, “No. In my dreams.”

“It’s just a bad dream, Terry. You’ll be okay. I promise.”

“No, mom. It’s not just one dream. She follows me into other dreams. She’s always standing in the back. Sometimes she talks to me.”

“About what?”

“About us. She says we have a nice family. She says Drew is a really good boy and someone she knows would like to have him. She said I’m a good boy too.”

“Are you sure you’re not just dreaming about me?” I asked him, smiling warmly.

“No, mom. She’s old. And she tells me things about dad.”

At the sound of an old lady, I knew right away who he was referring to. Harry’s mom. She and Terrence had always gotten along really well. It was nearly as hard on him as it was on Harry. “Oh, sweetie,” I whispered, leaning in. “Are you dreaming about grandma? I know you still miss her, but it’s nothing to worry about. She’s your guardian angel. She’s watching over you. That’s all.”

“Uh-uh,” Terrence muttered, shaking his head. “She says she wants to hurt dad. Because he hurt you.”

“Hurt me? Your dad would never hurt me. What are you talking about, sweetie?”

“Dad hurt you. When you two were younger. She said he hit you. Now she wants to hit him.”

I leaned back instantly and stared at my son like I was staring at a stranger. I looked at him in silence. Maybe he was playing around, or maybe his dad told him something, or maybe he was just tired and was spewing nonsense. But no, he didn’t say anything. He just stared back at me, confused and waiting for a response. I couldn’t afford one. The cold sweat indicated that.

How in the world did he know about that? Yes, Harry did hit me a few times when we were younger. Much younger. In our early twenties he had a drinking problem. He always told me he would quit but never could. The problem reached a fever pitch when I accused him of cheating one night when he went out one to drink and didn’t come home. Our separation came fast as family and friends knew they needed to step in and pull us apart. Obviously we got back together, and Harry cleaned himself up. That’s all history though, and we’ve never been better.

Now how in the world did Terrence know about any of that? Since he was convinced the old lady in his dreams told him that, I didn’t push farther. I just eased his mind and put him to bed. Later that night, when Harry came home, I asked if he told Terrence about those incidents. He told me no. When I told him Terrence somehow knew he assured me he would talk to our boy and figure everything out.

The next night came and he got the same answer. “It was the lady from my dream,” Terrence insisted. “Be careful, dad! She’s going to hurt you!”

The next day I was heading downstairs. That’s when I found Harry at the bottom. Blood oozed from the crack in his head. And a bone protruded from his twisted arm.

I gasped and nearly fell forward in my rush. Before I made it to the bottom, however, I saw a woman in the mirror that hung next to the staircase. She was standing in the doorway across the mirror, staring at Harry. Her innards dangled from her opened stomach. The white dress she wore was ruined completely, torn and covered in dirt and blood. And a toothy smile spread across her face.

I froze immediately. I knew I needed to check on Harry, but staring at that woman through the mirror sent alarms blaring in my head. She was just standing there, upright, perfectly normal, perfectly healthy. The wound meant nothing to her.

Then she looked at me.

Electricity shocked me back to life. In my terror I shrieked. Finally I looked at the doorway and instinctively threw the book I held.

The book fell flat with a weak puff. It landed in the doorway. Where that old woman was. She wasn’t there anymore, though.

Harry fell into a coma shortly after. One he didn’t wake up from for a long time. That meant I was alone with the kids.

While Harry was still hospitalized, it was my job as a mother to tuck in my children and assure them their father would be fine. I wasn’t lying either. I knew Harry would be fine. I just didn’t know if we would be. He was a strong man. If he could be taken out so easily, what about us?

As I was tucking in our youngest, Drew, he asked, “Mommy, can I sleep with you?”

“Why do you want to sleep with me, honey? Didn’t you tell me you really like your new room?”

“I don’t anymore.”

“Why not? There’s so much room. And you have a ceiling fan too! Isn’t that nice?”

“No, mommy. I’m scared. I hear things.”

“What do you hear?” I asked with a curious brow.

Drew stared up at me for a long time without saying a word. Even before hearing what he said, maternal instincts kicked in. Whatever it was that scared him, I knew I would do whatever it took to protect those large brown eyes that shook, that small sniffling nose, and that glossy frown. I listened carefully and sat beside him, holding his hand.

“You can tell me, honey.”

Drew looked at me for a long time, saying nothing. When I was ready to leave it at that and got up, he finally spoke up. I didn’t know what to make of it.

“Someone’s crying in the basement.”

First confusion hit me.

Someone’s crying in the basement?

Then fear.

I knew none of the kids would go down there because they found it dark and scary. They especially wouldn’t go down there that late at night. So if the crying was neither of them, who could it have been?

I felt weightless and lightheaded. For as strong as I felt a second ago, I suddenly felt weak like a twig. After what I saw with the elderly woman, and the “boy” Nancy was mentioning, I knew something was wrong. I gathered the kids and right after called the police. They never came, though. Being so far away in the city, they couldn’t justify driving out all that way because a kid thinks he’s hearing crying.

I didn’t dare leave the kids that night. We all slept in Drew’s room. If the police weren’t coming, I wanted to know for myself whether or not there really was someone crying in the basement.

Sleeping next to the vents the whole night, at first I heard nothing. Then I woke up later that night to humming. At first I thought it was one of the kids. Admittedly, I was a bit frustrated and annoyed. With all that was happening, I couldn’t help but be on edge.

Then I realized it was coming from the vents. Putting my ear to it, I could clearly hear it. I wasn’t hearing humming. I was hearing the sobbing moans of a woman.

There was a lady down there. I was sure of it. My heart jumped into my throat. I shot back, away from the vents. I knew right away it must have been that elderly woman. Dialing 911, I was stopped.

“That’s not me, darling,” an unfamiliar womanly voice said.

I jumped and turned to see Terrence. Even in the dark I could tell it was him. He was standing by the door, stiff and rigid. He was staring at me. I looked hard, trying to see his face in the darkness because I swore something was wrong with him. I said his name. Then he bolted out the door.

The loud bang of the door slamming shut behind him woke Nancy and Drew. Sleeping in bed together, they jumped into each other’s arms as I leapt back from the incredible strength Terrence showcased. You would swear that was the bang of lightning striking the house.

Slowly, I went up to the door. From the safety of the room, I called out, “Terrence?” He didn’t answer. “Terrence, come back, honey. It’s okay. I’m not angry." Still no answer. I pressed my ear against the door, thinking I heard breathing on the other side. I asked again, “Terrence?”

Suddenly, heavy bare feet on hardwood hurriedly pitter-pattered away. At first I backed up, unsure of what that was and afraid to know. Then I returned to my senses and opened the door to chase after my son.

“Nancy, watch your little brother. Lock the door behind me, too. Don’t let anyone but us in, okay. If I’m not back with your brother soon, call the police. You remember their number, right?”

“911,” my sweet little girl answered.

I smiled at her warmly and nodded. Then I faced the door and took a deep breath. I didn’t know where Terrence was. I didn’t know what happened to him. I didn’t know the house. I didn’t know what was happening.

Still, I stepped out. I knew that’s what my mom would have done. It was her courage I was channeling.

Using my phone as a flashlight, I walked through the dark since none of the lights worked. The first place I thought to check was Terrence’s room. Walking just a few steps, however, I realized my feet were wet. A thin trail of blood led from Drew’s bedroom to the first floor.

I wanted to scream for Terrence. If that was his blood, then he was in more danger than I realized. I couldn’t, though. Frightening Nancy and Drew by sounding distressed was the last thing I should have done. So instead, I remained calm and crept forward quietly and cautiously.

The shallow and swerving trail of blood looked almost like someone was dragging a wet rope, holding it just high enough to barely touch the floor. I continued following the trail. While I did, I can’t lie and say my only fear was Terrence’s well-being. A more natural fear permeated my mind.

I couldn’t help but feel eyes on me. I felt them peeking from around corners and behind furniture. I felt them looking over my shoulder. I felt them looking from up ahead.

I heard whispers too. Like a bunch of children or gossip girls, I heard them laughing and giggling. My hands shook terribly as I clutched the phone to my chest. Trembling with each step, I felt cold and exposed like frozen meat. Never in my life had I ever felt so vulnerable. Especially not in my own home, where I’m meant to feel safe.

Someone suddenly crossed in front of me in the kitchen. The figure was small and thin. Thinking it was Terrence I quickly chased after without a second thought. I ran down the stairs into the basement calling his name. In my rush I didn’t notice the trail of blood went that way too.

“Terrence,” I called at the bottom of the basement. “Terrence, are you down here, honey? It’s just me. It’s mom. Answer me, please.”

For a little bit I didn’t hear anyone. I walked deeper into the basement, still calling for Terrence. Once at the bottom I finally noticed the trail of blood again. That was when I heard someone’s voice. They sounded like they were sobbing. At first.

Moving closer, I realized they were giggling.

“Terrence?”

“No, darling. It’s just me.”

It was that same voice I heard in Drew’s room. “Who are you?” I cautiously asked. “And where’s my son?”

“Your son? Oh, the boy’s standing right behind you.” I went to turn around, but the voice stopped me immediately with a jovial tone. “But I have to say, my deepest apologies. I had a debt to repay.”

“Apologies for what? My husband?”

“No. Your children.”

My chest reverberated like a bell struck by a hammer. My face went pale from the blood draining away. After hearing those words I immediately turned around. I couldn’t get far, though. An unbelievably strong gust of wind threw me to the ground. I slid across the rough concrete, cutting open my arms. I winced and groaned.

Just then footsteps rushed up the stairs. Then I heard the screams. My heart leapt into my throat. “The kids!” No matter how hurt and defeated I was, I needed to get back up there. I pushed off the ground with my aching bones and rushed up the stairs.

At the top I met another obstacle. The door was locked shut. It didn’t matter how hard I slammed my entire body into it, or how bloody my opened knuckles became from the punches, I couldn’t get through. To no avail I shouted for Terrence to unlock the door.

Meanwhile, upstairs Nancy and Drew’s screams continued. The door to the bedroom raddled horribly. The doorknob twisted violently. On the other side someone was crying. It wasn’t Terrence. It was that damn woman crying in the basement.

“Leave my children alone!” I bellowed.

I never would have thought ghosts actually existed. I still can’t believe it. Certainly couldn’t then. But in that moment it didn’t matter what existed and what didn’t. It didn’t matter how absurd the situation was. My children needed me. They were screaming for me. Pleading for my help. What kind of mother would I be if I let any of that stop me?

Putting everything into my shoulder, I continued ramming it until the bones dislocated. Then I switched to the other. Repeatedly I slammed into it. Wild howls accompanied each impact. I was acting like a woman gone crazy. Maybe I was. But I didn’t care.

Frenzied and relentless bashing finally broke the door off its hinges. I tumbled out like a caged animal finally let free. I wasted no time, crawling on all fours before standing and bursting into a sprint. My bones creaked and a trail of blood followed behind me. My muscles ached terribly and felt as if they were tearing from the seams.

I pushed through the pain. The eyes and voices all sent shivers down my spine, but I ignored them too. Even though my deflated lungs couldn’t take it anymore, I rushed up the stairs to the second floor. At the top I saw two horrors.

I stopped. Drew’s bedroom door was wide open. Next to it, the woman with her innards spilling out stood at the top. In front of her was Terrence. He was silent and deadeyed. He just stood there, accepting of the woman’s hands on his shoulders.

“Truly a lovely family you have, darling. I never had the chance to conceive my own. Neither did she because my vision was cloudy and my anger unkempt. And the little boy always wanted a sister. Thank you dearly.”

Rage like I’ve never felt before hit me like a train. My veins popped and I screamed like I was possessed. “Get away from my children!”

Bolting up the rest of the stairs, I shoved her away from my son with all my strength. I quickly turned my attention towards Nancy and Drew. They were still like stone. I rushed in and grabbed their hands. They were cold as ice.

With everyone in hand, I led us all downstairs. At the bottom I was then met by a barricade of standing corpses. My heart stopped and I froze. Never before did my eyes bulge as much as they did then. I couldn’t believe the disgust and horror before us.

There were so many. Blankets draped over the head of some of them. Vomit-inducing wounds covered those without blankets. They were all so pale and gaunt. The image of their rigid bodies, standing upright, straight as a board, and staring at me with unblinking eyes, will never leave me. I still get the feeling that someone is standing over my shoulder to this day.

I thought the corpses were all harmless. Then their jaws dropped. Their eyebrows scrunched down. Their arms stretched out. And an indescribable moan emitted from each of their mouths.

They all lurched forward. My yelp was drowned out by their guttural moans. I thought about running back upstairs. Looking up, however, there were more coming down.

I had nowhere to go. I had no idea what to do. Tears streamed down my face as fear overwhelmed me. It was crippling. So much so that I nearly let go. I could already feel the kids’ lack of strength. They weren’t even holding onto me. They hadn’t been that entire time. They were gone.

Should I just let go too?

I was so tired. I was so weak. I was so desperate for this nightmare to end. My eyes sealed shut as I begged for something to save me.

Nothing came. There was no help. There never would be. As the ghostly hands of the dead grabbed me and my children, I went limp.

As I let time slip away…

A memory came to me.

“Remember, Michelle, motherhood isn’t easy,” mom once told me. “You won’t believe how many times I almost gave up.”

“Really?”

“Ohhhh, you bet,” she scoffed. “After your dad left everything came tumbling down. My world was ending. Because there I was with a one-year-old daughter, crying and pooping everywhere, and keeping me up late into the night. Add to that the seven days of work every week, almost 70 hours. All while trying to maintain my own health and well-being.”

I chuckled at the thought of myself going through all that and how I would fold under all the pressure. “Wow. I can’t even begin to imagine… How did you--”

“How’d I do it?” She shrugged with a smile. “There are just things in this world people need to do. As a mother it’s your duty to provide and protect your family. You don’t need to be the most capable person or the strongest. You just need to keep going. You can’t ever give up. Everyone’s relying on you. You’ll realize that someday.”

“Hopefully not under the same circumstances you had to go through.”

Mom chuckled at that. “No, baby. It’s only under those circumstances that you’ll realize it.”

“I don’t know, mom. I don’t think I could ever survive through hardship like that.”

“I didn’t think I could do it either. We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

My eyes opened. I gasped for air. Then I trudged up whatever strength I still had lying deep in me and ripped free of the imprisoning hands.

I ran us all out of the house. The car had a spare key inside so I packed the kids in and drove off into the night. I only looked back to confirm the kids were okay. Other than that, I never looked back once.

We moved out soon after, of course. It was a major pain and extremely heartbreaking after waiting so long. Everyone we knew reprimanded us for it. But none of them knew what we went through.

We eventually had the house demolished. I don’t know what kind of evil happened there, but clearly that land had some history before us. Maybe there were others who built their home there. Only to tear it down after what they saw.

Anyway, this all leads me to today. We now live in a new home. An apartment. It’s nothing fancy, but we’ve only just recently recovered financially. Soon we’ll be out of here. Who knows where we’ll go next?

That wasn’t the end, though. In the beginning I said something strange started happening again. Nothing exactly to the same extent as the events just told. Still strange, nonetheless.

As a preface, my kids never fully returned to their normal selves. Shortly after moving out, every once in a while they would stare off into the distance. Sometimes I would even overhear them talking to the air. I told myself nothing was wrong. Harry assured me of that too, but after his accident he doesn’t really remember much from the house.

For all this time though I’ve been putting off the issue. I guess I hoped everything would turn out all right in the end and truly return back to normal. That hopeful thinking ended a few days ago.

I came home from a long day of work. The kids were still at school and Harry had just left for work. I figured I’d just order takeout today and laze around.

While I sat slumped on the couch like a sloth, my phone rang. I picked it up, not thinking much, and answered. “Hello?”

“Hello.” It was a woman on the other side. “Is this Michelle Deerson?”

“Yes? Who is this?”

“Did you once live on 3145 Northern Hill Road, Millshire, Maryland?”

“Uh, who is this? Can you please answer that first?”

“Do you miss it?”

Something about her tone put me off. It sounded sinister, yet friendly. Also, possibly even a bit familiar. “Miss wha-- I don’t… I don’t under-- Look, I don’t know who you are or how you know where I lived, but--”

“You don’t miss the large house? The large field? The company?”

Even through the phone I knew this woman was smiling. “No,” I declared. “I don’t miss any of that. In fact I’m glad to be rid of it. The world is a better place without it. Now, I don’t care who you are or how you know this, but it’s not funny! Call me again and I’m calling the police. Bye!”

“You don’t miss us… darling?”

My hands went numb. My heart was in my ears, pounding away at my drums. Pulling the phone away I checked to see the caller ID. Sitting in silence afterwards and doing nothing but staring at the phone I realized… the phone was never on.

Now I ask you, what do I do? I’ve been getting more of the same phone calls. And my kids still haven’t seemed to move on from that house. Do I engage further with the calls or do I get some kind of help from a supernatural professional? I’ll do nearly anything at this point.

Whatever it is that I must do, just remember me. My name is Michelle Deerson. I am a wife and mother of three. I currently live in Burrillville, Rhode Island. I didn’t believe in the supernatural for most of my life. Now I do. If anything happens to me, if you see a picture of me or hear about me on the news or online, please refer to what I’ve written here.

Wish me luck. If anything bad happens, just know I will be well with my mom.