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Usually summer seemed to weaken the entities. Somehow I forgot that middle one almost all together, the first one bits and pieces, but the last one stands out like yesterday. Not feeling any better even though lovely summer was here, I tried to be cheerful, I always had HOPE.

John had a best friend Joey who came by a lot. They were always together. We kind of adopted him in the family. His mother worked at the Academy in town which was the old Sacred Heart Hospital that my grandma worked at. The only reason this came up is because we told him about our stupid house possessing its own agenda, and he said his mom says the Academy is haunted. (It wasn't until recently I asked my grandma about it in who verified that it is- If anyone is interested in those stories I will post them, just ask).

Joey didn't necessarily believe that our house was haunted but he's atheist and doesn't believe in anything. (Joey if you're out there reading this I'm crediting you here with your name for your request!) So for the most part we couldn't convince Joe that our house was haunted and the basement for the boys became their haven. It was cooler down there anyway. The TV was there so the boys basically lived down there. I wasn't so brave, only when they were around would I venture down there.

Our basement had the most eeriest occasions of them all. There were mold and dart holes all over the walls. The back bedroom had an evil presence living in there. When you came down the basement stairs, you had to round to the left. Fast left were the bar, and an open room, well beyond that room was a big open space. But if you turned left around the bar would take you to a tiny hall. To the right was the storage room with the water heater. Directly across the tiny hall was the bathroom, and if you took another left farther back in the tiny hall you would come to the creepy bedroom. In that tiny hall space was under the stairs where the washer and dryer were kept.

One day my grandma came over and demanded the washing machine. (Don't ask I don't recall.) Mom wasn't home so grandma had to call over our uncle to get the stupid washer. My uncle refused to come over and my grandma refused to go in the basement without our uncle. So she sat in the living room the entire afternoon talking about herbs and spices. Yes crazy family, I know. What that was all about we have no idea. Of course we didn't like our basement, but didn't realize no one else did either. As I recall mom's parties no one would go in the basement. We had a fridge down there full of jarred pickles she made. The bar had refreshments but still no one would go down there except John who raided the pickles.

One night it was extremely hot upstairs. Forgetting all about my fears of the basement or at least trying to put them aside to stay cool, I wanted to sleep down there. I'd been positive since all the family surroundings with the TV, the fridge, John and Joeys living area that it'd be ok to try napping down there. John must have been at Joey's house because he wasn't home. I ventured down there with my sleeping bag and pillow. I lay down on the couch tired. It was so cool down there almost chilling cold. I saw the back of my eye lids and it was so dark down there that it almost seemed too dark.

I remember I was dozing off when all of a sudden I felt eyes. I felt strange eyes. They were staring at me almost as if I were intruding their turf. For a moment I lay there frozen to move. I didn't want to look, but I knew I wouldn't sleep with whatever was watching me. I peeked and couldn't see anything it was so dark, but I knew exactly where the eyes were. Right in that open way from the tiny hall next to the bar. Here's what I concluded before my brain could react. Whatever was 'living' in that back bedroom came out to see me. Whatever it was did not like me, nor did I like it. It was the most terrifying feeling I'd had since living there. If there would've been a dim source of any light, I'd pass out from fright from what I'd see. It still sends chills down my bones to this day. Something was there and it did not want me there. It did not take me long before my feet were tripping over each other racing up the stairs to get out of that basement! I didn't even go to my room, I ran straight to mom's.

In that short time I was downstairs I was freezing cold. All the heat penetrating from upstairs was welcoming from the ice box downstairs. Mom was usually a heavy sleeper so I tried telling her the incident but it didn't register until morning. I camped out on her floor; praying whatever was in that house wasn't going to follow me to that floor. I don't recall that it did. My fear for that basement remained- of course.

Not long after that is when we started hearing it. The knocking. There was a banging in the wall on mom's side of the house. It kind of sounded like an echo bouncing off the walls. It started out over there and then it started knocking as far as the kitchen wall. It never seemed to go any farther though. It never knocked on my side of the house. The living room was a great target for its repeated noise. Joey the Mr. Nonbeliever of all things got to hear it as well.

He never denied not hearing it but he also never gave it any credit either. As far as I'm concerned we never paid much attention to it either, perhaps that's why it kept it up so we would pay attention to it. We were so oblivious to the weird stuff that this wasn't anything out of the ordinary. That knocking became a revolution of the haunting memory of the haunted house. It was like a drum in the back of our minds the persistent constant knock.

Mom's boyfriend Randy called one night and said he was leaving the Minneapolis airport and would be back around midnight or so. John took the call and repeated the message. Now our phone was having a mind of its own too. Randy never showed up that night. He never showed up in our lives again. Mother blamed us for that phone call for a long time after that, John or I had sent him a message never to return. Yeah people disappear all the time, but not much later she would have a phone episode herself.

Mom had two part time jobs. At this point she was working for our aunt at a gas station plus helping grandma out at the nursing home. She had been scheduled into work early one morning at the nursing home. She took the call the night before for her to go in that morning. She remembers the conversation with the woman at the nursing home. All seemed fine and the next morning she showed up at work. When she got there the lady asked her why she was there. Mom said, "You called me last night and told me to come in this morning." Mom said that woman looked confused when she replied, "I never called you." Now mom responded and said, "I took your call, we had a conversation last night. You told me about your son and daughter and a few other things while we chatted. I know it was you and you asked me to be here. If you didn't call me, who did?" The lady was flabbergasted and said, "I'm sorry Barb, I never called you so I don't know who you talked to last night." Mom didn't want to believe it but she had realized that our phone lines were just as abnormal as the rest of the house. It was then she also realized that we didn't send Randy away.

Another time one of her attorneys called the house and later told my mother that someone had answered the phone and said that everyone was dead and the people didn't live there anymore. Who knows who that was because once again none of us were home. Our home was just getting to strange...

My brother John and I were getting more paranoid and freaked out of our own house. As dumb as it may sound but we spent a lot of nights and I mean many nights on mom's bedroom floor to sleep. We couldn't even tolerate being in our rooms alone anymore. As old as I was this was ridiculous, but I couldn't handle whatever was there. We talked about moving, we talked about relocating, and we even stayed at grandmas! Our grandma wasn't much help though she kicked us out and sent us back home. Our same grandma who sold our trailer when we were little and had no place to go. Everything was just insane!

A typical night John and I were in our sleeping bags on mom's floor; a huge bang erupted from the basement and shook the whole house. It sounded like an explosion. We all jarred and asked, "What was that?!" But frozen to our spots, none of us dared to check out the problem. Maybe that was dumb and it probably was but fear seemed to be a key holder in there. Of course we were visited by the knocking at night in there, but oh well, beats sleeping by yourself!

Our mother was very restless and grew tired of the knocking. That is one thing that she could not deal with. John and I drowned it out. Sometimes we'd talk to it and tell it to shut up, but mom just went hysterical. It got so loud that it practically shook the walls. One evening she was on the phone with her friend and it knocked so loud that she screamed and asked Becky if she could hear the knocking, and she said yes. It sounded like the window was going to break it was that loud. Indeed it was a very disturbing rapping. It went as far as travels too!

I'd gone to my dads that weekend and John stayed home with mom. I couldn't sleep while I was there because that knocking was following me, echoing me in my head. It was everywhere! I thought it was there or maybe I just assumed it was there. How could it be at dads some 15 miles away? But there it was. Back home mom and John were testing it out and finally giving it some attention. The rapping took five knocks. So they knocked five times back on the kitchen table and it did another series of raps. That was enough for them that they stopped. Mother of course hated it so that spooked her out more. Meanwhile I'm at dads zoning in my sleep trying to escape the echoes. Then I hear funeral music playing ever so lightly. Then I see my body below me as I'm rising closer and closer to the ceiling. Thank god I was dreaming! Or at least I thought I was...

Summer was over. School had started again and the second day of school I was gravely ill. That same dang fever was there. My mother was as sick of my illnesses and distraught as a mother of what to do with her child. I'd seen every doctor none of them knew the problem. We'd all seen a psychiatrist and unraveled our tales of that spooky house. Most just looked at us and offered us some medication. I was seriously dealing with something I couldn't see! As all of us were.

I can recall one of those first few days I hadn't gone to school. I was reading a book in my room around 9 in the morning. (The exact book- Haunted Heartland, bizarre right?) I felt those eyes staring at me from the doorway. I looked up and said to them, "I know you're here. What you want I have no idea." I got up and turned up the heat because that's when it turned cold. I don't recall ever feeling those eyes in a quiet matter the last couple months we resided.

When it gets colder is always when things were at its worse. It grew closer to Halloween. Mom was talking about marriage again with a new guy.

This particular Sunday night mom was not in a good mood. I couldn't sleep. She was ranting out about how John and I were keeping her from her happiness. We didn't understand this because it wasn't like it was mom talking anyway. John had gone to bed and her new boyfriend was staying there. We got into an argument and she didn't want to deal with me anymore, grabbed a knife from the kitchen and whipped it across the counter telling me to go ahead and use it since I tempted it so many times before. I was burning inside. I recall walking to the dumb basement.

I was on fire and didn't know what to do. Everyone was in bed and here I was with this mad destruction in hand not knowing what exactly was going on in my own mind or around me. I sat on the washer (yeah the stupid washer grandma never took) and stared at the ceiling. All at once with one swipe I cut my throat but mom handed me a dull blade. It didn't do anything except leave a red mark. At that point, I got off that washer and walked up stairs. I knew I wasn't going to kill myself nor did I want to hurt anyone else. I was very well awake of all these events almost like I was on a high drug but I didn't take anything.

These next few moments went by fast. I walked into my brother's bedroom and made sure he was asleep. And of course he wasn't but he was acting like he was. The hall adjoining mom and John's room was not long. I left Johns room and with one plunging stab that dull knife went into mom's bedroom door. The whole house would be in chaos. I wouldn't know I left in the drizzling rain. I tried calling my dad from a pay phone but he's never home. He probably wouldn't have saved me anyway. I had to get away from that crazy house! I spent a long time out in the rain until I realized I had no where to go. It was October, cold and raining and I was in a tee shirt. My only choice was back home. They'd all calmed down by then. The police had already been there.

Mom told me to get in the car. I was more then happy wherever she was going to take me. She took me to Luther Hospital and left me there, for a week! I didn't care; I just wanted to be away from everything there. That was the best vacation I'd gotten. That's sad when that's your only sanity away from the madness.

We never talked about that incident. It's like it never happened while we lived there. I'm sure they weren't themselves either but none of them had that warped possession like I did. It definitely wasn't me! I don't remember half that stuff in that house but that night I do remember. I know I was tired of it all too, as much as mom was tired of the knocking, John tired of not being heard, I was tired of living the whole shebang of what the house was doing. The evil presences tuned them out and tuned into me. I realize that now and knew it then but couldn't prove it.

Around Christmas John and I bought an Ouija board. We didn't know how to work it and claimed the dang thing didn't work so we stuffed it under my bed. Mom didn't know about it, she'd kill us if she did. There it sat and right before Christmas the Chippewa Judge ordered my brother and I to live at our dads. No surprise huh? At the time we were upset about it but it happened for a reason. Mom got married at the same time and was moving to another county. Our last residential stay at the house was at Christmas. Her new husband and we had the tree up and none of us were happy. We were worn out from that house. We took our pictures and it'd be the last recording of that place.

Day after Christmas our older brother and our dad came and got me and John. That weekend mom packed to move. John and I walked away from everything, taking nothing. Mom was so weak and worn out that she couldn't pack. Her husband and his friends loaded it all up for her or she would've just left it there she's said. That last night they spent there, they slept in my bedroom. It must have been the last bed in the house or maybe they wanted to see what exactly the problem in there was for me.

She says after me and John left the house that the knocking stopped. Also in the middle of the night the back door opened by itself one last time, for in the morning it was wide open. Maybe the ghosts walked out too. She said she was shaking all day that last day trying to hurry to get out of there. Like something was going to jump out at her and attack or whatever the deal was it wasn't good. Once the last moving truck was loaded they never looked back.

I think about that house that final day when it sat alone and how it must have not reached its goal when all the survivors inside made it out, not in the directions we wanted to go, but alive with one breath left recalling that something there had taken the life out of us. And it took years to recover healthily for any of us.

What a story right? I'll be the first to tell you that! It happened though. We couldn't ignore the fact that it did. Just when we thought it might have been our imaginations or that maybe we were just angry with life, there were the pictures. She finally got them developed after all that time. There were numerous orbs in a lot of pictures. There were full body ghosts in some of the pictures.

Most of the pictures with John were cut off half way down his body with the top part being completely black. In one particular where it cut John's top half off you can see the outline of a man in the back part of the picture. He had a white outline to him. That was the spookiest picture for me, gave me all the proof I needed! And that last Christmas we had, there is a little man posing next to our Christmas tree just living it up! At least he might have been having some fun, we sure didn't. There were other odd pictures, too many to name. All that proof, yet the most proving point of those pictures was the ones with John and me looking like zombies or ghosts ourselves. Sounds like it came straight out of Hollywood right? Well these weren't quite superficial. We never remembered ourselves being that ugly or scary. My face was white as a sheet in most of those pictures. You can see the lines coming right through me as if I were a living skeleton. My eyes were bulging out of my head and I actually looked like I'd been run over by a truck. My brother looked almost the same. Mom appeared to be somewhat normal, but what was normal back then? Out of all of us, we all vouched for that I was the scariest! And here I am telling you about it.

It's been almost 15 years since we been in that house. Just a couple years ago my mom finally got over its after effects. That's a long time! I'd been dealing with it most my life, and John is yet as well.

I wrote the current renters/owners of the house and had a conversation with a man there in 2003. He was actually helpful about it. He claims nothing out of the ordinary is there now. Maybe there isn't. That doesn't surprise me at all. He also asked why we never had the place blessed. We were so out of it back then and didn't want to actually face it that it never became an option.

Like I said, 15 years is a long time and for the most part its history. John has a lot of dealing left to do. It's been two years since he's talked to me from his last freak out. He is angry about a lot of things. John won't talk to me to this day and I'm actually glad he doesn't. All through our lives we've gotten along, but why all this now?

I probably never would have rehearsed this story if everything were ok. With my brother it appears it never will be. The ghosts of that place are gone out of our lives. The pictures are there for a reminder only when stumbled upon. They are locked away. A good place for the whole shebang.

UPDATE: About a year ago I drove past that house. It's behind Woo's Pagoda restaurant so the back road is easier to access then the highway. As I drove down the street I saw something white hovering near the garage by the driveway. I thought it were the tenants with laundry hanging it to dry. But as I neared the place it was dead silent with activity, no one was there! Then it got put in the back of my mind- 'they' are still there. They will always be there. Perhaps reminding me, as if I need one!