Haunted House – Part One

Back in the fall of 1980, my step-father passed away and left me the house I was born in and grew up in, located in a little village in upstate NY, called Smyrna.  At the time, we lived about 30 miles away and couldn’t decide if we wanted to give up the house we were in and move into it or not.  During the winter of ’80 and ’81, we would go and spend weekends in the house and noticed nothing unusual.  This house is one of the oldest houses in the village, dating back to around 1850.  It was once used as a rooming house for migrant workers that came to the area to pick hops.  There were 2 bedrooms upstairs, one being a normal sized room, the other being a very long room, with an attic off the long room. 

In the spring of 1981, we decided to move into the house, as it was closer to all our family and old friends.  At the time, my 2 sons were 9 and 11 years old and made new friends and settled in quickly.  The boys shared a room in our old house and wanted to have their own rooms, so the younger one wanted the small bedroom and the older one wanted the long room.  We had a small bedroom downstairs.  It should be noted that my biological father died in the bathroom of the house when I was about 11 years old, but we thought nothing of it at the time.  I didn’t have any photos of him at that time and was very sorry about that, and the fact that my kids never got to meet him.

Shortly after we moved in, my younger son started telling me someone was in his room and he could hear them talking, but couldn’t understand what they were saying.  I didn’t really pay much attention to what he was telling me, as children have good imaginations.  One day I was upstairs cleaning the 2 bedrooms.  There was no one else in the house that day, when I suddenly could hear a group of people talking very quietly, but couldn’t hear what they were saying.  They seemed to be saying the same thing over and over.  This was in the middle of winter, with all the windows closed, no TV on, no radio on, etc.  The voices were coming from one side of his room where the closet was located.  It sounded like one woman and at least 2 men talking down low.  I immediately went back downstairs. 

In this room was where the kids had their Atari hooked up to a TV and they would take their friends up there to play games.  Over the course of a few years, several of their friends had heard the voices and refused to stay up there alone if my kids came downstairs to get snacks or even answer the door for other friends.  

One day they came home from school and my younger son asked me who the man was up in his room looking out the window at him.  I told him no one was there with me and no one is upstairs.  They both insisted that a man was looking out the upstairs bedroom window when they were heading to the front door.  We all went upstairs to look and, of course, found no one there.  This started happening at least once or twice a week after that.  My younger son moved into the bedroom with his older brother and refused to sleep in his room after that.   

It wasn’t until about 3 years later when my aunt was moving that she found a box of old photos taken in the 50’s and 60’s.  She gave me a few old pictures of my father that she thought I would like.  I took them home and showed them to my kids and my younger son jumped up and started yelling at me that this was the man who’s been looking out the window at him.  The man was even wearing the same clothes that he had on in one of the pictures.  My older son totally agreed with his brother.  I then explained to them if this was true, then they had no reason to fear him as he was their true grandfather and he was a very gentle, loving person and would never hurt them.  After that, we all relaxed a little bit.  We still heard the voices on and off, and they were still saying the same thing over and over, but we never did find out what they were saying.  The kids all still used the buddy system to play the video games in that room, but things kind of quieted down.   For a while….     

Great story.  Sad you lost your father at such a young age.

Atleast  you know your dad has seen his grandsons and they him.