|Quote, originally posted by schtebie »|
share that story!
ok, since you asked...
In 2000 my family moved from a building along Memorial Drive in Cambridge, MA, to this little house on Grove St. (if you live in the area, you can go check it out from the outside; I don't want to give the exact address, but from all the descriptions you'll be able to find it exactly). Grove St. is the dividing line between Cambridge (Harvard, MIT, a few clubs) and Belmont (old people, houses, a CVS). It's a little out of the way, and I was pissed as hell when my parents decided to take it because it totally removed me from all my friends. There was one bus that went out there, and it was erratic. Royal pain.
So anyway, I was pretty upset about this. They were like "no, you'll love it! It's a nice little place!" The main reason that they rented it was that it belonged to a woman who went to the same church as them. They found about 8 houses that were nicer, cheaper and located more conveniently but they were trying to make a bigger impression on the congregation, who ultimately ended up shunning them anyway. Since I didn't have any choice but to live there, I decided to go ahead and check the place out. They drove my friend Owen and I there and we immedeately discovered that there was a local fixture they hadn't told us about: Belmont Cemetary, which was right across the street. Yippee!
We walked in and immedeately something didn't feel right. It's not like a ghost groped me or anything exotic like that, it just felt like a funeral home or something. It was very somber, and it had this stillness to it that felt, well, dead. There was no air circulating, and it was scary quiet. It seemed like sound just kind of vanished into the place.
I was fortunate enough to get a room that was as far from the cemetary as possible. I didn't like the fact that in my sister's room, if you looked out the window and looked out over the hedges, you could see this mountain of headstones. She never opened her blinds up.
Not long after we move in we discover something else wonderful about the area: the intersection we're at is the most dangerous intersection in the entire city, or cities, as it may be. Neither Cambridge nor Belmont wanted to take responsibility for it and as such, the one stop sign there was faded almost down to its bare metal and behind some trees. It was a 3-way stop; across the street from me was a big park, and you had Grove intercepting Huron Ave (you can mapquest it if you wanna see) right out in front. The lines in the street were faded, and it was an abnormally large intersection, and someone on Grove making a left onto Huron would fly through at 60 or so mph (no stoplights or signs anywhere) and then there would be someone making a left from Huron to Grove and they'd be doing about the same and then BAM! Head on collision. There were two fatilities there in that year. The first week we were there, there was a woman in an 80's Camry who slammed into some guy in an 80's Camry and we heard the crash (it was me and my younger sisters and girlfriend) and about 10 seconds later, this lady with flame red hair who looks like a goofy kindergarten teacher runs through our door screaming "OH MY GOD! I KILLED HIM!! OH MY GOD!" My g/f and sister calmed her down and I ran outside with my cell to dial 911 and yup, that dude was dead...
After we'd come to grips with this, we found out another interesting tidbit. Our back yard became a treeline that separated the house from the Fresh Pond golf course and the pond itself. About 7 months before we moved in, a few jocks from Belmont high got smashed at a party nearby and decided they'd go to the gold course and get up to typical high school football team hijinks. One of them got up on a large, mossy rock in the backyard, for whatever reason, and since it had rained and the rock was wet, slipped and knocked himself out. His friends laughed at him for being a dumbass and then left to go be cool. Well, their friend was laying face down in a puddle and died sometime inbetween, so they left him there and bolted; the previous residents found him the next day.
So to recap, so far, we have a cemetary across the street, the intersection that Satan designed, and a backyard that kills football players. But now onto the actual substance behind the creepiness...
Not long after we moved in, I started thinking something was up. I would leave the house and walk a mile to the supermarket when I was home alone and when I came back, things would be rearranged. I constantly felt like there were people looking at me; a few times when I'd go from one room to another, I'd stop suddenly because I felt like there was someone walking into the room and I was about to walk into them. It wasn't just me, either; I didn't want to talk about it to anyone because I didn't want to seem nuts or like I was overdramatizing, instead opting for "this place blows." Unprovoked, my sister one night was saying "uuuugh, I hate this place, I feel like someone keeps following me and staring at me." My little sister Mary, who was abot 3 at the time, would say things about "creepy people" watching her play, and stuff like that. My friend Owen would come over and be totally freaked out; he ultimately quit coming over because he couldn't stand the place. My girlfriend, it was the same deal; she never came over because the place weirded her out too much, and my mom even started saying that she didn't like it.
The really obvious stuff started happening after about a month of living there. I have a pretty sweet Aiwa MD/CD/Cassette shelf system that is 100% fully digital. I would listen to lighter bands like Cake, and nothing would happen. Then one day I was playing Tool really loudly while sitting on my bed drawing, when all of a sudden, the volume goes down. I was like "what the hell?" and turned it back up, and then sure enough, it went back down. I thought the remote was screwing it up so I put it under my pillow and then got up to physically change it, and when I got back on my bed, it went down again. So I grabbed the remote and turned it back up, and it was like that for about 30 seconds, then it turned off. I turne dit back on, and as soon as the song started, it shut off again. I thought the thing was screwed up, but later that night, when I put it on the NPR station, it was just fine.
A few days later I was playing GT2 on my playstation, and had it up pretty loud, and then suddenly, the volume on the TV goes down. I turned it back up and, you guessed it, the PSX turns off, and it audibly clicks when it does so, like someone pushed the button.
I took the stereo to my g/f's house and there were no issues, and so, we called an electrician, and he checked the outlets and said there were no problems. But whenever I started listening to music in my room it would shut off. I was starting to get pissed, and had no idea what was going on. Then one night I was noodling on guitar, and my amp, which is a solid-state Vox and has a switch you must actually flick to turn on or off, switches off in the middle of playing. I went over and the switch was thrown. I turned it back on, and sat there watching the amp, and it didn't turn back off. So I got back up and started to walk away. Click. Amp goes off again.
The next day I woke up and played guitar, and there were no problems. I put my guitar back on its stand, then left to go get some groceries. When I came back and went into my room, my amp had been knocked over, and my guitar, which I loved and always was insanely gentle with, looked as though it had been thrown clear across the room. It had hit the wall and left a mark on it and the finish was dented and scratched. I was really pissed off, and went through the house; no, my bratty sister wasn't home, nor was anyone else. I had been thinking "ghost" for awhile but now was pretty sure of it and yelled "I DON'T KNOW WHO THE F--K YOU ARE BUT GET THE HELL OUT MY HOUSE, DAMN IT! QUIT MESSING WITH MY STUFF! JUST F--KING GO!" and went to go put my guitar back.
That night, when I was in bed, I shut the lights off to go to sleep, and after a few minutes, I heard what sounded like a male voice chuckling. I thought it was my parents in their bedroom, but it would happen again every few moments, and it kept getting closer, until it was right in my ear practically. There was obviously no one in my room, but it felt like there was someone in there.
A few nights later, again when going to sleep, there was no laughing, but, I saw these shadows swirling in the center of my room. I was groggy, so I figured to myself maybe I was just tired. So I blinked and kept looking, but it didn't go away. It became sharper, until there were three distinct shapes that were moving around. I sat there kind of petrified, and then a car went by; when the lights shone into my room, the shadows didn't go away, and I could see them much better. I turned on the light by my bed, and it was kind of funny; when you're a kid, you always figure that when you turn the lights on the monsters and ghosts go away, but they didn't. They just kept moving around my room, like they were just chillin andhaving a peek at things. Eventually they all kind of disappeared, and I spent the night on the couch in the living room.
Then I started having dreams. I started having dreams where I was being bludgeoned and stabbed and couldn't fight back, and that whoever was doing it to me was much larger than me. I kept having the same dream over and over, and I also kept having dreams where this girl would appear. It would be a dream where I was in Cambridge or back in Seattle, and it'd be nowadays, and all of a sudden there would be this girl who was dressed like she was out of the 20's. She would just stare at me with this blank expression. I'd ask her if she was okay and I'd talk with her briefly; her name was Allison, her parents were from Ireland, and she would tell me weird things, like how I was getting better at driving (I didn't have my liscence, but I played GT2 a lot), or that dinner had looked good. In one of my dreams, I saw her with my ex-girl friend, Tami, and they were walking by. I looked over at them and they both just stared back. I found out about a week later that Tami had died.
I've never had her in a dream since I left the place (the girl, that is). My mom started complaining about having nightmares, too, and started seeing a psychiatrist because of it, they were that bad. One evening my family was in the living/dining room, and we had this big window that overlooked the treeline and pond. My sister Lydia, who was 12 at the time, went "oh my good, look at that!" and my mom went over, and said something similar. I walked up to the window and there was this red spere moving through the trees. I though maybe it was a reflection from the LED on our speakers, which were against the opposite wall, but it as it moved, it cast a glow on the trees around it, and it would dissapear behind trees as it moved. It moved over to the rock in the backyard and then kind of fizzled out.
The place kept getting more and more forboding, and weirder stuff kept happening. I was talking to my girlfriend on the phone and left it on the couch to go use the bathroom, and when I came back she was talking, gonig "huh? who is this?" She said that she heard someone whisperig into the phonel that it was actually a discernable voice, and she couldn't recognize anything. Another time, she said that it sounded like there were a few people chanting, it sounded like they were going "OH-ME, OH-ME, OH-ME" over and over until I picked it back up and went "hey."
The last truly horrifying experience was one night, at about 2am, I was on the computer in the living room. The wall had a big mirror on it for some reason that spanned the entire wall; it was pretty stupid looking. I was typing, and I started seeing the black shapes again out of the corner of my eye. When I went to look, there was nothing. I tried to ignore it, and kept typing. Then all of as sudden I felt like there was, I don't really know how to describe it, it was kind of like that feeling of adrenaline you get in your spine when you get excited, but it was around me instead of in me. Then there was a "thud" that you could feel, like something heavy hit the ground behind me, and then, you got the sensation and felt the motion of something being dragged away. My sister's bedroom had a door into the garage, and she always left her door open a crack at night, and the door moved open like there was something pushing it. I just kept sitting there, and it felt like someone walked by me toward the kitchen, and then I heard steps goin from the hall into my bedroom. I was curious, but not that scared, and stood up to go check it out. I walked into the kitched and what happened from there is difficult to describe, but, it ended in me running screaming from the house and across the street to the park, where I sat until almost daybreak.
I f--king hate that house. needless to say we didn't renew our lease. I spent most of the nights thereafter at friend's places or my g/f's place (it was only a month or so anyway).
I don't want to actually come out and say it was haunted because I don't want to sound like a kook, and I'm not especially into the occult or paranormal stuff (I was when I was a kid, and every now & then I flip through a UFO book at a Barnes & Noble for kicks, but I'm not into it at all). But I probably sound enough like a kook anyway now, so what the hell... if there was ever a place that was haunted, that was it.