True Ghost Story: ‘House of Hell’

If you’re familiar with the nosleep reddit section, then you’ve probably read some of the really creepy stories on there. The rules of the page are that the tales told need to be true, not made up, but as with everything that’s put down in ink, we can’t verify the authenticity of the writers’ words.

The story we’re sharing with you today is terrifying even though it’s simple, and it’s every single mom’s worst nightmare. Because of the simplicity of the storytelling, we chose it to share with you because it doesn’t seem fictionalized.

Prepare to be totally spooked by  1_Underdog‘s story below (the title of the story is linked to her thread if you’re interested in checking in for part 2, which is still not written but is keeping us on the edge of our seats):

House of Hell

This is a true account of the paranormal.

I moved into a unit with my two sons (aged 6yrs, 8yrs) after a divorce. In my early 30s, I’d spent several years on my own as a single mum. The unit was 3 bedrooms, modern, with my bedroom on one end of the unit. Down a tiled hallway were the boys’ rooms next to each other. We were in the unit for several months when one night my 6yr old tore into my room saying that ‘something’ kept brushing his cheek every night and he didn’t want to sleep in his room any-more. He seemed genuinely scared. I assured him that nothing could be brushing his cheek and put him back into his bed. “See, nothing in here” I showed him.

The following night he was back in my room with tears streaming down his face, all wide eyed and terrified squealing that ‘something’ was still touching him. He went straight to my jewellery box, grabbed a cross from it and held it tightly in his little fist (non churchy people, I had no idea where he worked that out from). He tapped the top of his shoulder and said that the angels had left, that this was where they normally sat. I looked at him dumbfounded as he cried. I cuddled him and put him next to me in my bed. I noticed all the hairs on his forearms were sticking up as he laid there whimpering that the man with the white face was here. He continued to stay in my bed every night, and there was no way I could get him back into his room.

Then one night, I felt it. Fingertips on my cheek. Half asleep, my eyes busted open to see nothing there in the dark, only the sensation of the fingers stroking. I froze and ripped the covers up over my head, laying there mortified, until I couldn’t take the lack of oxygen any-more. Daring to pull the covers back down, I checked my boy, sound asleep, oblivious.

A guitar strummed in my other son’s room. At this stage, I shit myself. I nervously got out of bed and walked in trepidation down the hall to his room where the moonlight entering through his window revealed he was sound asleep. I knew a freight train wouldn’t wake him, and he’d managed to sleep through the music. In his room I felt a circular heat patch through my feet coming from the tiles next to his bed. The guitar was in a corner on the opposite side of the room. Nothing there. However, the tiles everywhere else were cold throughout the house. I bolted back to my bed and didn’t sleep a wink.

The following days that passed I noticed a static electric build-up feeling in the air in all of the bedrooms. It didn’t matter that I opened all the windows day and night letting air flow through, the closeness remained. One night, trying to drift off to sleep, a huge ‘bang’ almost sent me through the roof. I scampered out of bed flicking every light on expecting to find a smashed picture frame or mirror on the ground in the lounge. Bloody nothing. I really started to feel like I was losing my mind. The fear began to escalate into extreme terror at night, as it seemed that these odd events only happened when I started relaxing into sleep.

One night I lit two candles on the side table next to my bed as my boy slept next to me. I no longer felt comfortable in the dark. I watched the flames for what seemed like half an hour as my eyelids grew heavy. When I got to the point where I was feeling completely relaxed, my eyes then shot open like dinner plates, as I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing. The two flames slowly rose together in unison. They crept skyward to around one metre high and both sat there unwavering at the same level for roughly 5 minutes. I couldn’t move. I was absolutely, utterly, completely frozen. I didn’t dare move. The flames now resembled two level swords. Gulping and swallowing at a million miles per hour for what seemed like an eternity, I then witnessed them slowly lowering back down together at the same speed, reducing back into a normal sized flame – ending with a flicker. Holy fucking snapping duck-shit. What was that?!! Catching my breath, once again, there was no way I could settle myself to go to sleep.

Over the ensuing days the static from the bedrooms filtered through-out the entire unit. The open plan kitchen was full of it. It was as though the unit was attempting to push me out of it, in a way whereby I could no longer breathe any fresh air within it. Regardless of the breeze from every opened window, the atmosphere within was so heavy and thick and particle-less. One evening the boys slept over at my mother’s so I could have some time-out. I felt uneasy without them in the house, and it was the first time I’d been alone. Night falls again and I’m in bed, waiting, anticipating, what will happen next. I left the hall light on, no darkness on this night. I felt something next to me in the bed, where my son normally would be. There was nothing but empty space there yet I could feel it. I glanced at the sheets next to me and there was an indentation.

At that point, my computer speakers let out the highest pitched frequency. They burst my eardrums at one squillion decibels, for a full couple of minutes. I placed my hands over my ears and imagined that the general public could have heard the screech forty blocks away. Then as suddenly as it started, it stopped. That was it. I was done. A total wreck by this stage, I removed my hands from my ears and shot up straight up screaming my face off. I screamed, I cried, I yelled at it to get the fuck out of my house. I leaped out of bed and checked the speakers (not plugged into the wall). At that point, I ran for my life,, straight out the back door, out the gate, sobbing and crying hysterically yet not stopping and never looking back.

I bolted two blocks to a neighbour’s house. I lost it on her doorstep and refused to go back into the house. Eventually, after calming down she walked me back to the open house. She could feel it too, in the air, all around us, yet she apologised saying that there was no way in hell she would stay there with me. (Part two soon….)

Image CreditAnastassia Volkova