As a little kid I lived in a 100 year old house in outskirts of a small town in the Midwest. I honestly loved living there, and I made a lot of friends. When I was in fifth grade my parents decided to sell the house and move away. That’s when it all started.
When I was in fifth grade there was a slight recession on real estate and it took over a year to find a buyer. In that time I was plagued with nightmares. Like any kid I had nightmares before. But once I heard news we were moving, I had nightmares worse than ever before. They were always of this old man and old lady. I remember the old lady vividly. She was very tall and thin. She worn a wedding gown or some kind of white dress with a veil always covering her face, but I’ll never forget her face. She was wrinkled and had bushy grey eyebrows. Her eyes were piercing and her complexion gaunt. Her nose curved downward into a hook. The old man didn’t occur in as many nightmares. He usually wore overalls and was short and tubby.
At first their presence in my nightmares were ominous. I could have been dreaming about running through a field with my dog when there she would be, standing there. As time went by the dreams got more aggressive, and even repetitive. I remember vividly a dream wear I was pushed out of the window of our third story attic. Of all the dreams I had this one the most. To spare the details of those dreams.. things happened to me that any other 10 year old boy couldn’t imagine in his most sadistic and perverted dreams.
I complained about these dreams to my mom and dad and they at first dismissed them. Until I would wake up with bruises and cuts in awkward places around my body. Then I saw a doctor.
The doctor concluded that my wounds were self inflected. I had no memory and still have no memory of cutting myself or giving myself bruises. Eventually these nightmares got so frequent and terrifying that I was afraid to sleep and would stay up days at a time.
Eventually the house sold and we began and I’ll never forget the day I moved out. Everything was in boxes and was being carried out to our car. I was making one final sweep upstairs while everyone scurried to get out the door. I went into the attic of our old 100 year house and scanned the room for anything left behind until out of the corner of my eye, camouflaged into the side of the wall was an old fashioned chest. I pulled it out from the rafters and onto the walk way in front of the window where I could see. I opened it up and inside were various mementos. One of which was an old black and white photograph of an old couple. One short pudgy man, and one tall gaunt woman with a hooked nose... Under the photograph: a worn old wedding dress. I stood up and a terrifying feeling of déjà vu overwhelmed me because I was standing in the same spot where I was thrown out of the window in my dreams. Behind me was the window and I stood up. A shiver went down my spine as if there was someone behind me. There was a silence. Then I bolted down the stairs to rendezvous with my family. The photograph still in my hand.
11 years later I went back to my hometown for a visit. I had thought about that couple for some time on and off. It being the best ghost story any I knew ever heard. (With a few exaggerations from time to time) but what happened was true and now I was determined to know more. After 11 years I still had the photograph. I took to to the town library with the hopes of finding any records of previous owners of the house or who those people were. I was in luck.
This old couple owned the house from 1900s-1950s. Supposedly, from a death certificate they had a son who died at 6 years old from a fall. From the third story. From the window. They never had another child. From another death certificate, the old lady died of starvation -in the attic.
Perhaps she was wearing her old wedding gown when she died.
Perhaps all the evil things that happened to me in my nightmares was simply them begging me not to leave.
From the library I went to visit that house. I knocked on the door and explained how I had been feeling nostalgic and was just passing by. To my surprise they invited me in briefly. Apparently they had been renovating and wanted someone to see their progress. I was happy to see the changes.
As bizzare as it might seem, the house was built without a bathroom in it and when we lived their my dad renovated a bedroom to be a full bath. Coincidently, the access to the attic is through the bathroom. So of course when I asked to use the bathroom, I made one final trip to the attic alone.
There were some new items being stored. But not much had changed. At first I couldn’t find the old chest, yet there it was. I pulled it out again and opened it. Everything was in its place. I took the old photo from my pocket and placed it back in the chest, closed it, and left.