189 years ago a house was made as the primary residence of a pig farm. The land the home stood upon was a large property that would later be sold and parceled out for others to build new homes. No one had died there, that we know of, except one little boy. His death happened in the front of the house.
In the 1990s, my parents bought the house to start a family. A baby girl was on the way, (me) and their loft was too small. My parents were able to afford the haunted house -- it's in Oahu. (I live in Hawaii.)
A couple of months after moving in, my family started to fix up the house. Because it had been designated as a historical residence, my parents had to pay around $200 per month for the house. Soon our family would begin to experience strange things.
After a few months of living there, my mother and my brother were upstairs; and as my mom locked the door and played with my little brother, she heard the door shake like something was trying to go upstairs. My mother was barely frightened because she thought it was my dad-- but he was at work.
When I was born I saw a lady: a lady in red; she was red. The lady was dressed in what looked like attire from the 1800s and was staring in a mirror. "Wait," I thought. "We don’t have mirrors in this house!" In the mirror I could see myself and the lady staring at me from the mirror; her eyes were very red but blank. Was it a dream? No. It was too real.
Years later, from time to time, I would see tall, skinny shadows in the daylight, moving quickly across the rooms; but still, that didn’t make us move. Every couple of months, around 4:30 AM, upstairs, we would hear someone or something trying open a door. It was my parents who were awakened by the disturbance. They eventually learned to just ignore it.
Present Day 7/29/14
It was 4 AM, and I was asleep and so was my brother; but my parents were not. A noise came from the door. It was silent. All of a sudden, the sprit was trying to open the door, and it tried hard as it woke up my parents up with the loud clicking noise of the door knob. My dad bravely grabbed a bat and went downstairs to find the robbers (so he thought) -- but there was no one there; nothing taken and nothing left. The ghost came, then went. Silence. Our family still doesn’t know if it’s the little boy who died, but we wonder.
Note from Jen
Dear Reader, this is not a false story; many of you might think so. These events are true and I am not one who would make this up. I (and my family) have experienced the story I just told you. I have not yet moved out of this creepy house but am staying here till the end. This “thing” doesn’t scare me or my family.