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The Graveyard House
(NOTE: The following is the third of four tales sent in by latoya. the other 3 are titled Scared Witless, Babysitting Spooks, and Strange Feelings...)
Late in 1995, my husband and I moved into his family’s house in Paulsboro, a small town in South (New) Jersey. It was a pretty old house, made before the turn of the century.
Next to the house, was an old graveyard, with dates going back to the sixteen hundreds. The story my husband and his family gave me was that the graveyard used to be where the house is, and it had been moved over for the house to be built. The stonewall around the graveyard are the stones of a church that used to stand where the graveyard is now. I used to think they were all joking, or just telling an old tale, but I confirmed with a historian, that in the very least, the graveyard is where a church used to stand, and the stonewall is that of the church. So where was the graveyard when the church was standing? I’m still looking into that.
Before I go on, another thing I should point out, is that behind the house, in the back yard, several animals are buried there. Monkeys, tarantulas, cats, dogs, birds, and who knows what else. I never liked being out there late at night, I always felt like I had several eyes peering at me through the darkness.
Long before I got married, there were a few times I was left alone in the house. My husband’s sister’s bedroom door would slam shut. I would open it, and it would shut again. Sometimes when I would try to open it, it wouldn’t open right away. It was like playing tug of war. I would hear wood creaking in parts of the house, and I would always feel like someone was breathing down my neck. I would rush outside and sit out there until someone came home.
I later found out that the house had a ghost, and the tug of war with the door was just another game it liked to play.
When my husband and I moved in, the feeling of someone breathing down my neck never ceased. At night, I hated to be the last one up the stairs, because that meant turning out all of the lights downstairs first. The darkness seemed to chase me up the stairs. I felt that if I would have stood in the pitch-blackness too long, it would have engulfed me, something would have come out of the darkness.
In the living room, on the very top of the elaborate entertainment center they had, perched an old, ugly, stone gargoyle. When alone downstairs, I always had the feeling it was staring at me. I always imagined it would suddenly come to life and take flight and attack me. My in-laws still have that gargoyle, and even though they have moved out of that house, I still don’t like to be left alone at night, with the stone creature.
While living in the house, I heard many ghost stories, which wasn’t helping my state of mind. Everyone had seen this ghost but me, and I didn’t want to, but I knew I’d eventually have my own story to tell. One night while sitting in the living room, a scratching sound could be heard in the basement. I knew the basement was already creepy, and it had a well in it…I didn’t wait around to see what the scratching sound was. Realistically, it could have been an animal, but senses and experience told me I wouldn’t be so fortunate.
The house was built like a maze. It had two sets of stairs, one in the front of the house, one in the back. Three people could walk from room to room without ever seeing each other. There was a nook, a dining room, the kitchen, and of course the living room. Sometimes, I always felt as if I were walking through the maze, and there was always someone walking on the other side, even though no one else would be home. I would sometimes glimpse shadows out of the corner of my eye, going through another doorway.
In the living room, on the floor, was a streak, which looked like it could have been a ray of sunlight. At first, that’s exactly what I thought it was, but during the day, if the shades were all drawn, and no light came in from outside, that streak was still there, bright as always. Then I thought maybe it was just a discoloring in the floorboard. Closer examination proved me wrong. I later said something to my husband, and he said “It’s always there. It’s not a reflection, it’s not a pale spot on the floor, and it’s just a weird thing that is always THERE.”
I was so happy when we finally moved out of that house. When I first married my husband, we thought about how we would love to inherit the house later down the road. Now, I hope that never comes to be…
-latoya.
