READERS TALES
The House on Balsam Road
(NOTE: The
following story happened on March, 1983, in Pfafftown, North Carolina.)
Moving day was an exciting time
for me. I was a curious twelve-year-old, and I could hardly wait to run
upstairs to my new room or explore the various buildings that were on the
property. I knew right away that there was something special about this old
farmhouse, but I had no idea about the unusual experiences with which my
family and I would encounter here.
According to the old man who lived across the street from this house, it was
once a log cabin. The farmhouse dated back about a hundred years or so, give
or take. His family once owned the home, and he had grown up here. Although
its appearance had changed over the years with the addition of a kitchen and
bathroom, the house still maintained its rustic charm. The outside logs had
been covered with blue siding; however, the original tin roof still remained.
The inside of the house was warm and inviting with thick walls covering the
logs beneath. There were two rooms upstairs. My brother had the smaller room
while my sister and I got the big one. I was amazed by the immense space
within our room. The fireplace, which had been blocked off, was another
interesting feature as were the wooden floors, which for some unknown reason
seemed to always remain cold. In front of the fireplace and above the
downstairs oilstove, there was a hole cut into the floor. This is what
provided most of the heat in the house. There was an old, dirt cellar outside
the back porch. I never liked going down in the cellar because it was dark and
creepy. Next to the house was a smaller dwelling which my mother had fixed up.
She added a guest room inside and a wood-working shop. Out back there was a
huge barn, a garage, and an outbuilding that was used for storage. The
property had one of the biggest yards I had ever seen and was surrounded by
woods. This was definitely the perfect place for my siblings and me to scamper
about.
I'm not sure how long we were there before the strange events began to take
place, but I do remember being scared yet somewhat intrigued by the bizarre
happenings. At times you could hear scuffling coming from the upstairs and
footsteps could be heard trudging up or down the stairs. Strangely enough,
however, no one would be in there. I recall feeling as if I was not alone,
even when I was. There were many occasions when the air in my room would
suddenly become very cold, and at times I could smell a foul odor. I was often
afraid to go to sleep at night because of the noises. My half of the bedroom
wall was carefully covered with pictures almost like a collage. I was very
impressed by the outcome after all of the hard work I had put into it. Then
one day while I was on my bed reading and listening to the radio, a sudden
burst of cool air came from out of nowhere and literally blew most of my
pictures from the wall. The windows were not opened, and I did not have a fan
so I was extremely unsettled by this event. At the same time, however, I was
quite angry. I recall yelling at whatever it was that responsible and demanded
it to go away.
There were other occasions when my mother would hear something moving around
upstairs in my room. She even went up there to make sure that I hadn't skipped
school, but there was no one there. My brother always listened to the rock
station on his radio. Without warning, the stations would suddenly change by
their own accord, usually to opera. At other times, the back door would open
and shut by itself. One night my best friend and I decided to play around with
the ouija board. We tried to find out who or what was in this house. While we
were asking questions, we became stunned by the fact that something was indeed
present and would actually move the dial around without our help. Although the
two of us were terrified, we continued to ask questions but were abruptly
stopped by the sound of a loud crash and squealing tires coming from outside.
Since the house was situated close to the road, we jumped up to see if someone
had wrecked in front of our home; but to our amazement, there was nothing. The
ouija board was quickly put away after that.
Being the inquisitive child that I was, the storage building behind the house
offered exciting treasures. I found a box filled with lots of interesting
things inside, including some old, get-well cards. Of course, I couldn't help
but wonder if someone here had succumbed to an illness and their spirit was
presently residing in our home. I really never knew exactly if this was the
case or not. I was only a kid after all; how was I supposed to find these
things out?
My mother experienced a rather frightening occurrence one night while the rest
of us were away visiting relatives. She kept hearing unusual noises, and the
back door kept opening. She became concerned when our dog actually began
barking and attacked the door. Something was definitely present even though my
mother never saw anyone. After awhile, however, these strange events became
quite familiar to us. We were never hurt by anything. We were often just
aggravated. I had even gotten to the point where I would sit and talk to this
unknown being. Whenever the room grew colder, I knew something was in there
with me. Looking back on it now, it seems almost amusing. As a kid, I never
gave much thought to ghosts or spirits; however, after living in that house, I
soon became a believer.
-Nikki Phipps.
