Haunted house in the mountains

Sheila looking into the house.

Sheila looking into the house.

I once lived in a truly haunted house.  I had always kind of believed in ghosts before living in the house but after moving out, I was a true believer.

The house was located in a little mountain village just north of Colorado Springs. The little village had one small grocery store, a Post Office, a Pub and a fancy restaurant.  That was it.  The houses were hidden in the trees on winding, little, treacherous, graveled roads.  I think there may have been street signs, but they were not readily apparent, even in the bright light of day.  And God help anyone attempting to navigate those roads at night, there were no street lights.  The light of the moon was it.

My Dad had come over from the Midwest to help me hunt for a new house.  My previous lease was up, my roommate was moving on and I needed a new place to live.  We happened upon the house, quite by accident, and the minute I laid eyes on it, I knew I had to live there.  It was a sprawling shingled cottage with the original leaded windows.  It was nestled among the Aspens and the fir trees on a small cul-de-sac. It was set back from the street, down some steps, hidden away.

The living room was enormous and the wall to the East had a massive picture window overlooking a bluff and a mesa in the distance.  The bathroom was tiny, certainly not the size of the bathrooms today.    In the middle of the house, as you walked to the back, an old iron stove stood in the original kitchen.  The previous owners, I suspect, had added on the dining room, which was more of a sunroom, and built a large kitchen further back in the house.  The bedroom also had a large picture window as well as French doors that lead out to the garden.

The kitchen

The kitchen

It was a quaint house, and I loved it.  My two dogs and I moved in and set about tidying it up (Well, I tidied, they explored).  The renters before had not been kind to the house, they hadn’t appreciated its hidden personality.  I painted the walls, and scrubbed and waxed the large plank wood floors until they shined.  I cleaned the bathroom, replaced the wallpaper.  My dogs and I happily rattled around in the home.  It was a good place for all of us.

When we had first moved in, the very first night we slept there, before the furniture was delivered – we slept on the floor in the cavernous living room.  The dogs and I huddled together.  There was a strange feeling in the house, kind of oppressive – almost like the air was so heavy I couldn’t completely inhale or exhale.  I shrugged it off as being a new house, a new environment.  But I could tell the dogs weren’t completely comfortable with the situation either, they were restless, and stuck by my side all night.

Over the following months, we became accustomed to the idiosyncrasies of the house.  The floors creaked and groaned.  The house readjusted itself in the deep, dark hours of the night.  But it wasn’t until my friend Al, came to house sit and watch the dogs, that the strangeness really began.  I can’t remember where I had to go, but I was gone for several weeks, it may have been one of my training sessions with the Air Force.

I would check in with Al every couple of nights to see how things were going.  One night, however, he called me in a total panic and said things were happening – inexplicable things.  He was sitting in the living room with the dogs at his side and heard footsteps in the bedroom.  At first he thought it was the dogs, because being both very large dogs, they did sound like fully grown people when they walked across the wood floors.  But it wasn’t the dogs, because they were on the rug by his side.  Al had considered going to investigate but had chosen not to, as the people in horror movies who look for sounds in haunted houses never fare well.  So, he stuck it out on the sofa.

But then the voices began, low rumbly voices, also coming from the bedroom.  The dogs heard the voices too and their hackles went up and they both looked pointedly down the hallway which led to the darkened bedroom.  Al being the sensible fellow that he was, decided to stay on the sofa for the night and figure out what was going in the morning. Those creating the activity in the house had other plans for him.  Just as he was falling asleep, under his quilt on the sofa, the huge framed picture of the three cows flew off the wall and landed on the floor, with a crashing sound that echoed endlessly through the house. Al bolted for the guest bedroom directly off the living room, the dogs were right behind him, and that is where they stayed until the morning.

It was that crashing of the glass on the floor, from the picture falling, which seemed to open up a portal.  After that, the glass door knobs began to turn in the evening, footsteps could be heard in hallway, and flitting images of shadows could be seen out of the corner of the eye.  This may sound odd, but I just chalked all of this up to the age of the home, the area in which it was located and the history that it must have seen.  This nonchalant attitude quickly changed one very eventful night.

I had gone to bed relatively early, the dogs were ensconced in their beds, and I in mine.  I was trying, rather maturely I might add, to get a good night’s sleep before having to work the early morning shift.  The lights were off, and the filtered moonlight shining through the trees just outside the window shone into the room.  The dogs heard the noise before I did, because in unison they both lifted their heads and stared directly at the door.  I heard the noise of the doorknob too, but for some reason, this time it scared me to death.  I heard the door open slowly, and footsteps of someone as they entered the room.  I had been lying in bed, with my back towards the door.  I felt someone standing directly over me, I could feel icy cold breath as whoever it was, stood there and looked at me.  I don’t think in all my life, I have ever felt such fear.  It was fear that clamped around my heart and completely and utterly paralyzed me.  I was so afraid that if I made one small move, it would be over.  The dogs made a whimpering sound and cowered in their beds.  I must have fallen asleep, because I awoke in the morning in the same position.

Things went downhill after that.  I was so attuned to the sounds, every unusual noise made me jump.  The dogs became nervous and I really think the constant anxiety started taking a toll on their health.  The final event came the day I was in the kitchen preparing lunch.  I had been piddling around, the dogs close on my heels (in hopes of little morsels of food fortuitously landing on the floor for their consumption) and I walked towards the dining room to put the plate on the table.

The dining room

The dining room

I sensed movement by the old iron stove to my left and looked up.  Standing there by the stove, staring directly into my eyes, was a man.  He wore a wide-brimmed black felt hat on his head, pulled down so just his dark eyes peered out from under the brim.  He had a white shirt with a high preacher’s collar on, over that a black knee length jacket, black pants and boots.  We both stared at each other, and then, he sneered.  His upper lip came up ever so slightly over his teeth, his eyes narrowed into slits and then….he was gone.  Even today, writing about the full-bodied apparition by the stove, the hair on my arms still stands up and I feel an overwhelming sense of dread.  And this all happened over twenty years ago.

Needless to say, I moved out of that house very shortly after that.  The owner of the house decided he wanted to move back in, and I gladly moved before my lease was up.  I never did tell him about the events that occurred in that house.  I hope he is doing okay.

14 replies »

  1. Oh my goodness! That would have freaked me out. I can’t believe it. How did you ever fall asleep that night with that cold breath coming down onto you? So scary and I feel for your friend who had the picture fall and head the steps. He got a lot more than he bargained for too. I imagine the owner would have known about it. Glad you moved. I can’t imagine what would have continued there if you had stayed!

    • Funny thing is, when I moved all of my stuff out of there (I only moved up the mountain a bit), I came back down at dusk to do some final tidying up and make sure everything was clean. It was near dusk (dusk comes very quickly when you live in the mountains) and I was by myself. The dogs weren’t with me. I am puttering around the house, checking drawers and closets, and then it became dark. And the feeling that fell over that house was so horrible and frightening it was unbearable. I think the dogs must have kept everything at bay, but without them I could tell I was fair game. I ran out of that house. Had to come back the next day in the light of the morning, with my Great Dane. I don’t think she was very happy about going back either, she just stood by the front door, looking out. Very creepy, still gives me the chills just thinking about it!!!!

      • Thank goodness you had the dogs with you the majority of the time. What a frightening place. I wonder if that this the intention; to make it scary so you want to leave?

      • I think that is the intention. There was an old ice house down at the end of the property and the dogs would stand outside the old wooden door and bark and growl. Needless to say I never went in there. But definitely whatever was in the house, didn’t seem like they wanted to share.

  2. I thought I had commented on this post but I guess I only clicked like…my husband doesn’t believe in anything being haunted …probably because he’s never experienced anything of the sorts in real life…I haven’t either but I am not about to challenge that.

    • My husband doesn’t either, but I am working on making him a believer. I almost have him convinced we have a Shadow Man who stands in a corner in our hallway.

  3. I went to visit an aunt once, and inquired why my (2) cousins (both boys) were sleeping on the floor in her room. She indicated they had beds in the attic, but they refuse to sleep there. They insisted someone / something was living up there. I actually asked if the boys wanted to try again, and I’d sleep there too. (I was younger by a couple of years) – they both exclaimed “NO!” The eldest (14) looked at me and said “You really don’t want to sleep up there.”

    They have lived in many places. They were never believers UNTIL they moved into that house. Again, you don’t truly believe until it happens to you! And both teen boys, who would never want to be called sissies, were fine with being teased scaredy-cats! Yup. We are. We’ll take the floor.

    • That was such a creepy house when all the furniture was moved out. I loved the house itself, but you just never knew what was going to happen

      Must have been something really scary in the attic for your cousins to behave that way. Did they ever elaborate on what it was?

      • Yes, I’m sure the house was creepy. My cousins WOULD NOT elaborate. You could see they got the heeby -jeebies just thinking about it and acted like if they spoke of it, the thing would come down stairs. I was on edge, because I could clearly see they were.

      • I would have been very nervous, probably petrified especially because they were even too scared to speak of it. Makes you wonder what they saw or experienced.

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