When I was nine years old, my family and I moved out into the country at an old ranch. It was a beautiful location, with eleven acres of land, a two story farm house, a large barn that was converted into a shed, and a stable house that my father eventually converted into an office.The Ranch was at the top of a hill at the end of a dead-end dirt road. Our closest neighbor was a cornfield.
We'd been told by the man who sold it to us, and who had previously owned it, that it was built in the seventies and was in need of only minor repairs. We bought the place having no idea what was in store for us.
Minor repairs. Huh.
I know for a fact now that we were scammed into buying a home that was probably built half a century earlier than we were told. There were no proper records of the home, as it was built by a farmer who owned the land and decided to move locations. It's supsected it was built during the Depression-- not in the seventies-- and the farmer died in the house due to cancer.
But during my stay their I never once experienced an old farmer walking through our house.
The "experiences" I had at the house atop the hill could be written off as either haunted or happen-stance. But I've been haunted by whatever it was that happened their since we were forced to leave after the house began to fall apart. I'm posting this here to get an opinion from unbiased people.
So let me explain what happened there.
One of the first things I should like to point out about the Ranch was the "Alice Door" as we called it. My sister and I shared a conjoined closet from both of our rooms. It was a walk-in with plenty of space. At the back of the closet was a tiny door, about three feet high, that lead into the attic. The closet gave us the creeps, and we started to refer to the door at the back as the "Alice Door" because it reminded us of the door Alice had to shrink to get through.
Often I would walk into my room and the door to my closet would be open. I never kept it open, as I hated seeing the Alice Door beyond it. My sister showed me it was suction whenever I opened my bedroom door. But then one day I had left my bedroom door and when I entered, the closet door slowly creaked open half-way. I went to close it, and saw that the Alice Door at the back was wide open. It stayed firmly shut at all times, because both me and my sister never had the guts to get that close to it, let alone open it.
The night after this happened I had a dream where a small girl was sitting in my closet, wearing a peach colored dress, soaking wet and crying for her mother. I was freaked out, as you might've guessed. I didn't tell anyone but my sister, because I didn't want to scare my little brother, and I certainly wasn't going to be believed by my parents.
Later in the spring we learned that the house (although it was built on top of a hill, and geographically it seems almost impossible) flooded in the unfinished basement. On further inspection of the ground around our house, we learned that the limestone bedrock gave way to an underground stream that ran underneath our house.
The flooding would get so bad, that my father's office (what used to be the stable) would be under two feet of water at some points in the spring.
Not long after our experiences with the Alice Door, we started to hear "Alice". We named her because of the door, and I was convinced my dream was of Alice. We'd hear giggling when we were about to go to bed at night, or creaking on the stairs. It was mostly noises, some of which could be associated to just an old house. But sometimes I'd find my toys rearranged if I left them out and left the room. It wasn't like they were neatly put back. Just sometimes I a different order than I would remember, as if someone had played with them.
This was the common activity for the duration of the years I stayed at the Ranch.
For the next three to four years, I remember a lot of flooding of the basement, a lot of creepy instances, the feeling of being watched, and things of that sort.
During my stay at the Ranch, my whole family experienced a feeling of unease and forboding. In some ways, to me it feels like that feeling was what added to the stress on my parent's marriage.
Then the place started to fall apart. Ceilings began caving in, the flooding was worst than ever, and the whole house seemed to be on the verge of collapsing. We left to live someplace safer and returned to attempt to fix things up. But as we made repairs and moved back into the house, another ceiling would collapse, the electrical would fail, and we'd find animals living in the walls.
The place was old, and falling apart, I know that. But somehow I can't get rid of the feeling that there was something more going on there.
We left the place, gave it back to the bank because of how bad it was falling apart, and to my knowledge it now stands vacant on top of the hill.
I don't know what happened there, but whatever it changed my life. It tore my family apart and drove us away. Whether it was just a bad house, or a haunting is beyond me.
I'd love to know what you think happened to me and my family at our ranch. I know this isn't a lot to go off of, and if you'd like more information about actual expreinces, please just say so. I didn't know how much I should put up here (this is my first "ghost story").
Thanks to anyone who may be able to help me.
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