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The Haunted Steps

October 31, 2019

Maybe I should have talked to the house before we bought it. It was nothing to look at and badly in need of fixing up. Back in the 70s it was a steal. It was in a nice neighborhood, but the quality of homes made a dramatic drop nearing the end of the street, including the house we bought.
My husband Jack was quite the handyman, so it would be nothing to fix up this house. Or so I thought. We moved in–my husband, myself, a toddler and a nine-month old baby. We were barely settled when the car accident happened. Now there was no money and Jack could not physically do the work.
Maybe the house did not like being annoyed by a baby’s lusty midnight cries or my toddler’s rambunctious playing. Houses are inanimate and have no feelings, but I think that old house did not like us and it wanted us gone.
A staircase sat directly in the middle of the house and ran from the first floor to the second, and another staircase went from the second to the third floor. There was a door at the bottom and top of that staircase. We stored a few things on the third floor, but did not use it for anything at first. I kept the bottom door closed so exploring toddlers would be safe.
It took us a few years before we could start remodeling. Our bedrooms were on the second floor on the same side of the hall. There was a glass paneled door separating the two rooms. The front room on the other side of the hall was made into a living room and the other room was a junk room. A place to put things until the rooms got finished on the first floor. We still had to use the downstairs kitchen, bathroom, and laundry room.
One evening after the kids were in bed and fast asleep, I was sitting in the living room on the second floor. The sofa was up against the stairway wall. I heard soft steps going down the stairs.
My heartbeat kicked up a notch. Who was coming down from the third floor? Jack was at work and the boys were sleeping. The steps were slow and light, which sounded like they belonged to a young woman. I stopped reading and got up to take a look, saying a prayer as I headed to the door.
They stopped when they reached the bottom. There was a brief pause and then I heard them go back up. I was too scared to open the door. I never heard them during the day, only after dark. Whoever was walking up and down the stairs continued all the years we lived there. The steps never changed, just slowly going up and down, up and down. Another oddity was that I always heard them coming down first then going up. I don’t know if that meant anything or not. Truly, I did not want to know.
When my sons got older and had friends sleep over they heard the steps walking up and down the stairs also. I sometimes thought they stayed over just so they could brag about taking the dare.
The house had an interesting history. It was built in the early 1900s as a stagecoach stop and eventually became a house of ill repute. I never learned if someone was murdered in the house or if one of the working girls died there.
We lived in the house for nearly twenty years, but it never got remodeled the way we wanted. I don’t think the ghost wanted any changes made to her house. My sons told me that the people who bought it said they heard the footsteps also. Many years later we were visiting family and decided to drive by our old house. They had painted the outside and redid the yard, but we never stopped to visit or go inside.
Maybe one of the working girls was trying to find a way out.

Happy Halloween!

From → Everyday Life

  1. Spooky story! Happy Halloween!

  2. True story? Very creepy if so!

  3. It is a true story. I prayed a lot while living there.

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