Essay on Haunted House
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Sample Essay on Haunted House
A little while ago, my family moved from Pennsylvania to a house in Maryland. The house was on a hill and very secluded from the rest of the town. It was perched upon the very top of a hill and had a black gate guarding it. When we moved, the previous owners had given us some background history on the house. They told us that over 30 years ago a baby had been born in my parents’ room, and that there had also been a death in the house, but forgot to tell us where.
The house was large, beautiful, but naturally very noisy. The stairs creaked loudly when we walked up them, and the air leaked through the parched wood of the floorboards, walls, and windows making an eerie whistling sound. The house was very hollow, so there was a lot of echoing. My room was all the way downstairs though, so I didn’t have to worry about that as much. Other than that, the house seemed like the average Victorian house in Venoiro County.
By the time I moved out of the house, I had my share of strange occurrences. After about a year of living in that house, I had found out that it wasn’t as normal as I had first suspected. I’m pretty sure there were at least 10 ghosts living in that house. Each of them had very unusual habits. While my dad was working he sometimes liked to listen to the radio, obviously so did the ghosts. Sometimes we would be woken in the middle of the night by loud blasts of music from the radio in the office if my dad had forgotten to unplug the radio before going to bed. Or when we’d come back to the house after being on a vacation we’d find the radio to be on. But that was only one of the peculiar habits the ghosts had.
Not only was the radio always being turned on, but the toilets would flush randomly, the sinks would turn on, and alarm clocks would go off at any given time. My dog Casey would go crazy barking at nothing sometimes, but when my mother would turn on the lights, she would stop. None of us knew what to think of these events, so we just tried to ignore them most of the time. Although we never admitted it, I knew that we all figured that ghosts were the cause of the chaos in our house.
For years my youngest brother Marshall had lived in the large room in the tower. By the time he turned 9 he told us he didn’t want to live there anymore because he didn’t feel comfortable. I assumed that the reason for his discomfort had been the fact that he felt isolated from the rest of the family. With this is mind I took the opportunity to move into the new room, since I really enjoyed having my privacy.
The first night I slept in that room, the cold drafts from the windows told me I should have brought an extra blanket. It felt even weirder in the tower room than any other room in the house. I woke up several times at night barely able to breathe, with my blankets wrapped tightly around me. I would see shadows lurking outside out of the corner of my eye, but whenever I would look directly at them, they would disappear. My brother used to tell me that at night whenever he would get up to go to the bathroom or put on a sweatshirt he would fell somebody poking at his sides, now I knew what he was talking about.
So that’s how the first few nights in my new room went. I decided to try a few more nights before I said anything to my parents. So the next night I sleep with layers of long sleeved shirts on and only a small blanket to avoid being woken up wrapped tightly in my blankets and being unable to breathe. I unplugged all the appliances in my room so that they could not miraculously turn on at night, and I put down all the shades so the shadows outside wouldn’t disturb me. Although I had done everything I could I was still awoken early in the morning. I’m not sure what made me wake up, but once I did I couldn’t fall back asleep.
I walked down the creaking steps grasping the railing firmly to make sure I didn’t fall. I flicked the light switch on and tiptoed toward the cabinet with the tea ingredients. Once I had made myself some tea I quickly clambered toward the dining table to drink. My family had gotten the recipe for the tea from the people who used to live in the house. They said it had been an old recipe of their grandmothers.
I drank the first cup of tea briskly and decided to make some more. I was just about to pour in the last ingredient, when I felt something as cool as ice rest on my shoulder; it sent chills through me. Just to the right of me was an old ghastly woman with short white hair and wrinkling face. She had a friendly smile and reached out to grab the teacup. Her brittle fingernails scraped against the back of my hand. She was dressed in old Victorian period clothing, and had yellow teeth. She also had a locket on which had been engraved the initials JRS.
I quickly ran up the stairs and into my room to try and fall asleep. I don’t remember what happened afterwards, but when I awoke in the morning I still had scratches on the back of my hand from the woman’s fingernails. I ran down the stairs from the tower to find my mother and Marshall at the dining table having cereal, and my father sweeping something up on the other side of the room. When I asked him what he was sweeping up, he told me that he had found one of our teacups shattered on the floor this morning. After I heard this I told my whole family what had happened with me last night.
They made me tell them every little thing that I remembered from last night. We ended up writing to the local newspaper about our house. A few weeks after the newspaper had been published we received a call from the former owners of the house. They gave us some pretty interesting information. Many people had died in the house, they said, and that was probably the reasoning behind the appliances seeming to have minds of their own. The woman, they said, whom I had seen that night was their grandmother, she had died in the kitchen over 50 years ago of a heart attack. They knew it was their grandmother when they read the part in the story about the locket initialing JRS, because they said she never took that locket off. It had been her mother’s, whose name was Jane Renee Smith. When a ghost expert got a hold of my story he told me that the reason her ghost had showed up was most likely because ghosts tend to show up when you are doing something that was considered their responsibility. In this case, the grandmother still thought that the making of the tea was still her responsibility. About 5 months after we got the reasons for the story straight, our house was sold. We didn’t tell the new owners of our experiences, we figured it’d be better if they found out about them for themselves.