Part 1: http://ift.tt/2gNpfC4
This story takes place in a town about 15 miles away from the location of the house in my first story. My great-step-grandmother (does that even make sense?) had a neighbor that needed a caregiver.. And when someone needs taking care of, I’m the go to gal! We will call this woman H.
H had a history with all of my step-family (mom, grandmother, great-grandmother). They’d had a rocky relationship as neighbors, due to the strange behavior of H’s husband, we will call him L.
When H and L first got married they moved to my hometown and bought a grocery store. That store was L’s pride and joy. Most days L would go to the store and make sure everything was going smoothly, and H would stay home and sew or tend to her garden. L would come home and he and H would have dinner together every single evening. After they ate, they would sit out on their patio and have a glass of wine. They were truly in love.. A genuinely happy couple.
After about 15 years of owning the store, L’s father got very sick and they ended up selling the business and moving a few towns over to care for him. They rented out their home so they could keep it until they were able to move back.
My family members moved in next door about a month after the tenants moved into H’s house.
When they were in the process of moving into the house, my stepmom went to introduce herself to the neighbors, and find out if they had any kids for her to play with. She knocked on the door, and a man answered. He only opened the door a crack, just enough for him to peek out and say “You’d better get out of here, little girl. There's nobody here for you.”
They didn’t really ever see their neighbors. It’s not like they saw them coming in and out of the house, they literally never went outside. Ever. People would come and go from the house at all hours of the day and night, but out of everybody, they never saw the man or woman that lived there, unless they had the blinds open.
The tenants lived in that house for 5 years, until H and L were ready to return to their home. I don’t know if L’s father recovered from his illness, or if he passed, but I don’t think that really matters here.
About a month after they returned home, things started changing. L and H stopped having their nightly glass of wine. L started yelling at his wife loud enough for all of the neighbors to hear. My stepmom had a few friends over when she was around 10 or 11 years old, and L came out onto his porch and began to scold the girls for “acting like children.” L was no longer a nice neighbor, and he sure as hell didn’t sound like a loving husband. He would leave home in the middle of the night and return before the sun came up.. He just wasn’t the same.
L passed away in his late 60’s.
Fast forward to January, 2015. H is returning home from a rehabilitation center after pulling a fridge onto herself when she was home alone. I just can’t figure out how a 4’6, 75 pound little old lady could manage to do that.. But that’s what happened. So, she needed a caregiver.. So, they called me.
I worked the second shift after H came home. I was informed that she had followed her other employee around with a hammer, screaming, “DON’T YOU TOUCH ME WITH THOSE FILTHY DAMN HANDS!” for most of the eight hour shift. I then prepared myself for the very worst, or at least, what I thought would be the worst.
I showed up for my shift at 4:00 pm. H instantly calmed down when the first caregiver left. She told me that she hated having people standing over her shoulder at all times, and I explained to her that my job was to keep her safe, not happy. She respected me after that, even though she still treated the other caregivers like they were monsters. Anyway, my first shift went perfectly fine. I helped her get into bed around 8:30 pm, and she slept through the night. My shift was over at 8:00 am.
My step-grandma worked the next night shift. She quit the next morning. I assumed that she quit because something happened between her and H. After all, H and L were mean to her as a child, and H hated my step-grandma’s mother, who she loathed. I didn’t think much of it.
I worked the next day, and this is where odd things began to happen. I went to the restroom while H was napping, and when I came out, she was outside. She was crying and telling me that L had been yelling at her and she was just trying to get away from him. I calmly told her it must have been a dream, and after a bit of coaxing I finally got her to come outside. (this was in the Pacific Northwest IN JANUARY and she was wearing just a thin nightgown! That in itself is crazy.)
She came inside and I cooked a late lunch. This tiny woman could eat like no one else I’d ever seen! After she finished her meal she asked me to help her down to the basement so that she could do some cross stitch. I didn’t see any harm in that, so I took her downstairs and told her to please stay down there while I cleaned up the kitchen. She told me that she would holler for me if she needed me.
About 20 minutes later I went to check on her, and before I got to the bottom of the stairs I heard her talking. I paused for a second to listen, but I think she knew I was there because she stopped talking mid sentence. I went the rest of the way down the stairs, and H said, “don’t you mind me, I’m just visiting with some old ghosts,” and chuckled. The person working that night called in sick, so I stayed with H overnight. We baked cookies together, played a card game, watched an episode of a strange japanese game show that she had recorded on VHS (??) and then i helped her get ready and get into bed.
I went to bed about an hour after H did, and that’s when I heard the voice. H’s room was across the hallway from the caregiver room, so you could pretty much hear any noise that came from inside her bedroom. I heard a man talking. That couldn’t be right.. It was just H and me in the house. Then I heard H speak, but it sounded off. I got up and crept over to her bedroom door as quietly as I could. After standing there for a couple of minutes and not hearing anything, I assumed I was imaging it. After all, I had been through a lot when I worked for M, so I couldn’t trust my imagination.
I went back to bed, and eventually dozed into a lame excuse of a slumber. I woke up at about 11:00 pm to a scratching noise coming from the closet. It wasn’t loud, so I assumed it was a mouse or some other small rodent. I rolled over to go back to sleep, but then I heard it again. Just tiny scratches, but they were in a pattern. Scratch, scratch, scratch, pause, scratch scratch scratch, pause, etc.
I hopped my ass up out of bed real quick and turned on the light. The scratching had stopped. I yanked the closet door open and hopped back as fast as I could. As I had expected, the only thing in the closet was my overnight bag that my dad had brought me when I found out I would be staying. I pulled the desk chair over to the closet and I climbed onto it to look onto the top shelf of the closet. All that was up there was a polaroid photo of a couple, they looked to be mid-twenties, and the photo appeared to have been taking in the 80’s.
Little did I know I would learn a lot from this photo later on. It just seemed off. The photo was of a man and a woman sitting on a couch, the man smiling with his arm around the woman, and the woman slumped down a bit looking quite uncomfortable in the situation. This couple turned out to be the tenants that rented the house when H and L were away caring for L’s sick father.
I was still standing on the chair looking at the photo when I heard the voice again from across the hall. It was clearly a man’s voice, very deep, and very angry sounding.. But it wasn’t speaking in a language that I could understand. It didn’t even sound like it was speaking any language at all, kind of just making strange noises. H spoke back to whatever it was in there. She was begging it to leave, not to scare away her guest. The voice didn’t reply, and I heard her get out of her bed. I moved the chair as quickly as I could and closed the closet door.
H came out of her bedroom and told me that she was going to use the restroom. I asked her if everything was okay, and she responded, “Oh, you heard that? That’s just L. He thinks I’m okay to take care of myself. He doesn’t like that people are always at the house.”
I responded “L passed away years ago. You remember that, right?”
“Of course I remember my own husband’s death! What do you think I am?! Just a senile old hag?!”
“No, H, I’m just.. Not quite sure how L was just in your bedroom speaking to you. I’m sorry.”
“Just because he’s dead.. That doesn’t mean he left! He’s still here. He doesn’t like all of these people coming and going. He says it interrupts his plan.”
“His plan?”
“Yes, his plan to take me home.”
Those words made me more uncomfortable than anything else I’ve ever heard. I tried to shrug it off, and I walked H back to her room. I waited as she climbed into bed. She looked over at me once she was lying down, and whispered, “Please, don’t let him scare you off. I like you.” I smiled and nodded at her, told her goodnight, and closed the door. It was then that I realized I was shaking pretty fiercely.
I went to the kitchen to get some water, turning on every light as I went along. I opened up my laptop on the kitchen counter and decided to do a google search on L. I didn’t find much information about him that I didn’t already know. Then it dawned on me. I should look up the people that rented this house.
They were strange people. The man had written a book, it had the title How to Cleanse Your Wife of Evil .. but that wasn’t the strangest thing. They had moved to Louisiana in the mid 90’s, and he ended up murdering his wife, and committing suicide. He “couldn’t cleanse her of all of her evil.” That was the most unsettling thing I had ever read. I called my stepmom and asked her if she knew anything about this.
She told me she had no clue what had even happened to those weirdos when they left. Her mom had helped clean up the house before H and L returned. They found all sorts of creepy shit. Books on exorcisms, demonic symbols drawn on papers that they found in drawers, crosses everywhere, and photo after photo of the wife. She said that there was only one photo of the man that had answered the door when she knocked as a little girl. It was a photo of him and his wife on the couch, he was smiling with his arm around her, and she was slumped over. Unconscious.
I realized, this was the picture I had seen earlier. That gave me chills. I told my stepmom something incredibly wrong was going on. H swears that L is talking to her, and I heard the voice too. After finding out all that I had just learned I was ready to get the hell out of that house. It was 2:00 in the morning. My shift only had six more hours. I told my stepmom I would wait out the rest of the shift, and I more than likely wouldn’t come back to this job.
I turned on the TV in the living room and left all of the lights on. I was watching reruns of Friends, and I must have dozed off. I woke up at about 3:45 to a man’s voice. It wasn’t in H’s room this time, it was right next to me. It may as well have been speaking directly into my ear. I screamed and ran out to my car.
I called my boss and told him that I had a family emergency and I needed to leave. He said he would be there in five minutes, and I told him I would wait in my car so I could leave quickly when he got there.
I never went back to H’s house after that. My great-step-grandmother brought me my things that I left there.
When I asked my step-grandma why she quit so abruptly, she told me exactly what I was expecting. She had heard the voice, too. Just writing this gives me chills.
I’m no expert on this stuff, but I do have a theory. I don’t think that L was ever communicating with H from the other side. I strongly believe that it was that evil man, or some entity that he had let into the house when he was renting it. Think about it, L and H were such a happy couple. They were still the same when they returned from L’s father’s. It was about a month after they got home that things changed. I believe that something evil had gotten to him, and made him mean.
I don’t think that H pulled that refrigerator onto herself. How could she? And, she swore up and down that it wasn’t her.
Someone was trying to take her home.
H passed away in January of 2016. She fell down the basement stairs.
Submitted December 19, 2016 at 08:28AM by MR_FLIC http://ift.tt/2h0qUYr nosleep
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