It was a haunted house that I was dared to go into in my youth that jet-propelled me into exploring all aspects of the paranormal and not just the Fae & Unicorns. I know the house is privately owned so I won't say the name of the house in case this page should become indexed by Google and any locals of the old mansion find it. We had driven by the old place numerous times during my lifetime and having grown up in a large city there were many places with haunted tales and this one always had something romantic and tragic about it. The *** Mansion was a local legend. It sat vacant for over twenty years and looking back it really should have been destroyed, actually I wouldn't be surprised if by now it is since I've been gone from that area for quite some time now. The original owners were slaughtered in their sleep in the mid-1800s. From that point their children took turns owning the mansion and it eventually fell into the hands of their extremely superstitious great-granddaughter who refused to live in the home and also refused to sell it for fear her ancestors would curse her soul. Instead their great-granddaughter paid for cleaning and repairs once in awhile, certainly not enough to keep the mansion in its rightful glory. My insatiable desire to see the travesty for myself prompted me to talk my meek, jelly-spined friend (who was originally among those who dared me) into joining me inside the house. I didn't expect that my friend would actually make it inside the house. The front door lock, if you could call it that, was rusty and didn’t pose any threat to my crooked bobby pins. I fiddled with it and after ten minutes of childish vigor the lock popped and I pushed the door open.

As the door creaked a gust of wind blew dust and sticky cobwebs over the threshold. My friend, in true form, screamed and ran off but I stood motionless in the doorway. The pit of my stomach was in a knot and my heart raced a million beats a minute but I swallowed the lump of fear in my throat and took one step over the threshold. I could see the gust of wind was brought on by the broken windows in the veranda doors towards the back of the house. I reasoned with myself it was merely a cross breeze and walked into the foyer. I nervously looked around. The house was practically empty save a few sticks of furniture here and there. For the most part nature had made the Mansion its permanent residence along with a few furry rodents and hairy spiders. I felt my nerves tighten and my lips sucked themselves into a purse as I reviewed the staircase. It was a beautiful piece of carpentry but a bit advantageous to trust as a means to the upstairs. I drew in a deep breath and put a skittish hand on the banister. One small and light step at a time I ascended the staircase.

The house smelled of hundred-year-old dust and it had an odd, chemical smell. I said a quick prayer with every step that I wouldn’t fall through to the surely insect-infested underside of the staircase. When I reached the top of the stairs I said a thank-you prayer and looked down both sides of the hallway. I didn’t know which room was the source of the grisly tale so I decided to start with the furthest door and work my way down. The wood floor sounded solid but the oriental runner over it was badly worn and in many spots there was a hole rubbed straight through. I began to feel sorry for the home and its contents, it was such a waste of classic architecture and timeless beauty. I felt a bit relieved none of the doors were shut. The anticipation of opening a door to reveal a horrific, blood bath of memories would have paralyzed me with fear. At the least I was comforted I would be spared the suspense.

The first doorway framed a purple room. It was small, square, and empty. A stray pile of leaves was huddled in the furthest corner under a window. They rattled softly as the wind leaked around the decrepit window and tickled the stale air around it. My nervous eyes twitched back and forth to be assured there wasn’t anything in the room I’d missed. Satisfied I was sure I walked to the next doorway and stuck my blonde head in. It was wallpapered with a nursery décor. There was a white bassinet in the corner and the presence of it made my imagination run wild. As I stepped towards it my mind raced with every kind of horror that might lie within. Flashes of a blue baby, rotting corpses, demons and every nightmarish twist in between caused me pace to slow to a crawl as I approached the dust-ridden bassinet. As I peered over the edge, my joints and muscles locked in preparation for the worst scare; my heart and body sighed as it was revealed there was nothing in the bassinet at all.

I poked around in the closet through empty, cardboard, shoeboxes and felt around the highest shelf with my hands and found nothing of interest. I started to feel a bit discouraged not having proved the tale of haunted mystery but the lack of paranormal activity strengthened my courage and I was a bit braver as I walked into the next room. It was a pretty color, a cross between rose and mauve. It had a window seat that was upholstered in a garden print. I gently sat on the bench and the seat jostled and dropped underneath me. I sprung to my feet in surprise and fright. I shut my eyes and calmed myself when I realized it had supplied termites with food for years and there was no ulterior motive for its crumbling under pressure.

The bathroom looked as though it had originally been a closet. It was narrow and long. It would have been impossible for two people to move comfortably around in it. The toilet, bathtub and sink looked out of place, obviously an addition once interior plumbing became a normal fact of life. I sucked up all my bravery and stepped in front of the thick mirror that hung over the sink. I half expected some kind of apparition to appear behind me. I fantasized some kind of Vincent Price scare to pop up and scare the life out of me. I waited with bated breath for some kind of ghostly occurrence but after a few minutes it was apparent nothing was going to happen.

As I stepped from the bathroom I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Nothing tangible or even with a form, but something and it made my body lock, breathing stop and heart pound. It was something, but it was nothing. I almost contemplated running for the front door when I convinced myself it truly could have been a trick of my peripheral vision. There were two rooms left at the end of the hall and I couldn’t wait to see there was nothing and be rid of it.

The room on the right was robin egg blue. It was a jovial color and it made me feel a bit excited. It was an unusual and beautiful color for a room. There weren’t any identifying marks left to tell what kind of room it had been or whose room. I wandered around the room for a few minutes, waiting for something to happen. I sucked in and bit my lips gently, tapping my foot on the bare floor. I washed the fronts of my teeth with my tongue, a gesture of nerves posing as brave, and let my eyes roam in a clockwork pattern. Nothing happened and I ventured to the last room.

It was all white and vacant of any furniture. There was something odd about the room and it took me two trips around the room before it occurred to me that this was the only room where Mother Nature had not staked a claim. There weren’t any cobwebs, leaves, dirt, and the floors weren’t stained with years worth of grime. The absence of time sent a shockwave of icy, cold fear straight from my feet through my spine to my head. My head snapped to the left, then to the right and excruciatingly slowly behind me fully expecting a ghost to have materialized behind my back. After a few moments of inactivity I reasoned that perhaps the great-granddaughter took extra care of this room.

On the far wall I saw what looked to be red roses painted about the height of where a headboard would be. I started for the wall and as I grew closer I realized they were red splashes, but not meant to be in the shape of anything at all. With every step closer more splashes appeared. The reality of what was manifesting made my stomach turned inside-out, black dots appeared in my vision and a burning sensation surged through my consciousness; I knew if I didn't calm down I was going to pass out. My skin pimpled and I tried not to hyperventilate. I shut my eyes and without thought I tilted my head back and opened my eyes to see long stripes of the red splashes on the ceiling.

I tried to scream but the grip of fear was as deep as my soul and strangled even the slightest human reaction. My knees wanted to buckle but could only bend and my head began to bob up and down without my control. I was in the middle of fear-induced seizure I could not control. The bloodbath I’d anticipated had started and as quickly as the splashes began they diminished and after a few horrifying minutes the entire scene had played itself out. I was petrified and thankful to be alive. I had a renewed sense of self and despite my every urge to run I stood, silently and calmly, in the middle of the room. I started to wonder why I hadn’t seen anything but the red splashes. It was obvious to me it was blood but there hadn’t been any ghostly images or shrieks of horror, just evidence of what was one of the town’s most historical and brutal murders. The tales of the house all described the bedroom as a sea of blood. The two were ripped apart by what was thought to be a serrated blade and what was left in their bodies drained and pooled on the floor beneath them, the house leaned and the blood ran from the bed under the door and into the hallway. Where a house member later discovered the gruesome scene.

I timidly looked around me and in a fit of confusion and shock I outloud, "What?". I recovered from the harrowing experience and began to feel a twinge of disappointment I hadn’t experienced any kind of contact with the departed couple. I looked around the room a few moments longer then made her way out of the house. My friend was actually waiting for me far, far at the end of the property-line and I re-told the events to her but not having experienced it herself she was mildly amused. When we got back to the larger group of friends I re-told the events and a few of them agreed to go back with me. I won't lie, I was terrified at the thought of going back, but it was out of my control, it was something that had to be done. As bone-chilling as it was to actually experience it at the same time it felt unfinished to me.

We re-visited the mansion 3 times and the last time we'd gone we noticed that more of the furniture that was left in the house was missing and so were some of the light fixtures. We didn't know who was taking the items and we were more concerned for our safety amongst the living if it was vandals breaking into the house and they found us as assaulted us or worse... most of the time it's the living that are the ones to worry about, not the dead.

The spirits of the family members and the couple who were slain never materialized and they weren't haunting the house. It was the intense and irrevertable energy of what happened there that remained and continued to manifest itself over and over. It was an event with such an outrageous amount of energy it took permanent residence in the room. Having been there I understood fully why the great-granddaughter was apprehensive to do anything with it. She was obviously sensitive to spirits & paranormal energy. We moved away from the area and perhaps if we had continued to live there I would have gone back again but truly I think the paranormal energy was what was haunting the house and that's not unusual.

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