My story starts in 1983, the year I was born in Des Plaines, Illinois. My parents and my older brother had previously lived in a two-flat, but with a new baby, they decided they needed more space. House hunting was difficult for them, because money was tight, and they always seemed to get outbid on the property they wanted. When they pulled up to the house right off of the Wolf Rd. Circle, they thought it was too good to be true. It was a brick ranch, with wood floors, and all of the space our young family would need.
There were schools within walking distance and a couple of parks too, they thought there was no way we would be able to place a successful bid on this one without a fight. It seems the property had been on the market for 7 years and no one had stayed there very long. My parents were ecstatic, and immediately placed a bid, and bought the house.
Everything was pretty normal, and no one seemed to notice anything odd, little noises were just the foundation settling, right? The day I was christened, my parents invited everyone over for a party, and to see the new house. We had moved in a month or two before so this was the first opportunity for the family to check it out. My aunt walked up the steps, and as soon as she set one foot in our entry way, not even saying hello, looked at my mother and said, “I will not go in your basement, and will not go in your attic.” My mom thought it was strange but just brushed it off.
While we were living in the house, things seemed to escalate. The kitchen was always about 20 degrees colder than the rest of the house, even on the hottest summer days. There were constant footsteps down the hallways that were noticeable because of the wood floors.
One day my Godmother and my mom were hanging out in the house and watching me. They heard the footsteps coming down the hallway, and me being a one year old heard them too. You could follow where they were coming from, and as soon as they approached where the doorway was I started screaming and crying at the top of my lungs. Needless to say, they picked me up and ran out of the house as quickly as they could.
We didn’t go back until my dad was home from work. Another weird thing that occurred regularly was that we had storm windows in the basement that had shutters on the basement walls that were locked from the inside. There was no wind that would come from the window wells, but they would bang at random times.
Everyone in my immediate family was injured while living in the house. My brother, who was 8-9 at the time was playing on our living room floor, when out of nowhere my mom hears a scream. She walks in to find the fireplace mantle on top of him. He of course couldn’t have pryed it off the wall, and it was about 15 feet away from the fireplace. He said it flew off the wall onto him.
My dad was hanging up artwork in a hallway one day, and said the hammer flew back and hit him above the eye. He had to go to the hospital and still has 2 scars above his eye from where the sharp points on the opposite end of the hammer hit him. My mom also said an unseen force pushed her off the deck and she broke her wrist.
I was the only one to see the ghost, but I cannot recall anything, even though this is my very first childhood memory. I was about 3 at the time and my dad asked me to get him a pop from the fridge. I remember mundane details like the socks he was wearing and my point-of-view while walking down the hallway. I reached the fridge, grabbed a pop, and turned around to head back to the other room.
When I did, I screamed and that’s all I remember. My parents found me lying on the kitchen floor, and when they woke me I didn’t remember what happened. I’m 25 years old now, and I try to remember, but I still can’t. I’ve thought about going to a hypnotist to bring the memory back, but I’m too afraid.
My parents had been in the house a while now, and got friendly with the neighbors. After a while they started asking about the house and our experiences with it. They then mentioned that they knew the house wasn’t “right”. It had been vacant for a long time, and whenever anyone moved in, they wouldn’t last too long. They told my parents that an older couple had lived there and the husband was a salesman that would travel frequently. His wife, Pearl, had some medical ailment and was confined to a wheelchair.
One time when the husband went out of town, Pearl died in the kitchen and no one knew until the husband came home a week or two later. The husband must have known that even after death, Pearl stayed in the house because even though he moved out, he paid for the house to be kept up and the heating and air conditioning to run for the 7 years it was vacant.
My mom went to a psychic around this time with some girlfriends, and they all had a reading. After she was done giving my mom a reading about life children, job, future, etc. She said, “I know you didn’t come here to find out about this, you really want to know who is in your house.” Finally, someone offered to help. She told my mom to go back into the house and tell Pearl that she was welcome to stay if she would leave us alone, but if she wanted to cause trouble she would have to leave. After that my mom had the house blessed, and nothing happened again. We lived there another 2 years before we moved. I live in a suburb about 40 minutes away now, but every time I pass that house I always wonder if she is still there.