The Old Farm House

This is just one of my experiences in the old farm house I used to live in when I was younger.

When I was in high school, my family and I lived in an old farmhouse a few miles up the road from where I live now. The house was built in the early 1900's and was heated with an old wood stove in the kitchen and a wood stove in the living room. It originally consisted of just the living room, room outside the bathroom, kitchen, and attic. The attic was more like a huge open room that was accessible by a set of closed off stairs in the kitchen. Later on, they added a whole other half that included a downstairs room, a foyer, and stairs to two rooms upstairs. When we moved in, my brother had dibs on the room upstairs on the new half and I was stuck with the attic. The 2nd room upstairs on the other side of the house was used for storage and my parents had the bedroom downstairs. The attic was dark, had one small window, the floor sagged a bit, and the walls on the far side from the entry had plywood hung which was used to cover the windows that were there before. I know because I had peaked behind them and the frames were there but they had been bricked up behind the plywood (keep that pictured in your mind). I also found it weird that in the farthest, darkest corner of that attic, there was a large dark stain on the floor. When I tried to clean it up, it sort of flaked off and it was rusty colored. I could never get it out so I just covered it with a rug. 

One night, I was up really late watching TV in my attic room. Everyone had gone to bed earlier that evening. Keep in mind, my bed is placed right next to the wall with the plywood. After turning my TV off and laying there to go to sleep, I heard something moving around from the other side of the wall and bumping against the wall next to my bed. I thought it was maybe an animal or something. It got louder and it sounded like things were moving around. I started wondering if my brother was still up and possibly going through the storage room (it was just on the other side of that wall). I banged on the wall hoping he could hear me and stop so I could go to sleep. I heard three slow knocks in return, the kind that sound just a little too odd to have come from the living. So, I get up, go down the stairs and head to the other side of the house. Now, most people would've got on the nope train and not investigated, but my curiosity always gets the better of me. No lights are on upstairs or downstairs. Parents are asleep, dogs are asleep, and I proceed with caution up the stairs. As chicken as my brother is, he would have all the lights on to see what he was doing if he was going through things. I go up the stairs and look in my brother's room and see him sleeping in the bed. I call him and he doesn't wake up. He's sound asleep. I look in the storage room, no one there and boxes are opened. I've had some people stay over at the house before and tell me they can't come over to the house anymore but won't say why. 

That's the only time something knocked. However, my parents moved to the house next door when I was 19 and I stayed at the farmhouse and picked up paying the rent. I wanted to live on my own and move out but momma and the landlord told me to just stay in that house instead of moving somewhere out of town. Occasionally I would hear footsteps above my room (I stayed in my parents room so the room above mine would have been my brothers room). Sometimes you could hear like something heavy was being dragged across the floor. The dragging though I was more afraid of it being a snake. The first night my ex stayed the night with me, the next morning he said he didn't know how I slept through the night. I asked him what he meant and he said all night it sounded like someone was dragging a body across the floor and like someone was going through stuff upstairs. He said it was so loud it kept him up all night. I guess I had just gotten used to it. Momma didn't talk much about what it was while we lived there. After I moved, she said it was a woman and a man that used to live there and she had seen the woman. Years later, my mother in law told me she used to look after the woman that lived in the house. She was blind and her husband had passed away before her in the house. 

Her name was Goldie.





Next Story:    Night Terrors-Part I

The Woods of Goshen

For those of you who have heard of Goshen, you all've heard about Goshen cemetery and how it's supposedly haunted, I'm sure. If not, and for those who aren't familiar with the local spot, gather 'round and I'll tell you not only the tellings that have been told to me, but of my own story.
I call them 'tellings' because they are not really stories, they're just happenings.

Most people around here know of Goshen cemetery. 'Around here' is Goshen, NC which is on the Person County, Granville County line in North Carolina. So, between Roxboro and Oxford. It's a few miles up the road from my house. You take a left at the crossroads and it's down there a ways. I won't tell you exactly where it's at because there ain't a need to go getting into trouble and disturbing the dead. Anyway, Goshen cemetery is a place where teens used to go (and maybe still do) on Halloween night to get drunk and have a gathering because it's supposedly haunted *rolls eyes*. Now, I'm here to tell you, I do not condone getting drunk in graveyards and trashing the place, which is what a lot of people have done in the past.

Goshen cemetery is just an old cemetery off the main road that is full of sunken graves and deceased folks who just want to rest peacefully. It is not haunted and there is nothing strange about an old cemetery off in the woods. There's plenty of them around here in these woods. What strikes me as odd is the old church across the road from the cemetery. Old, decrepit, and abandoned, it sits back off the road about 2 miles through the thick, dark and knotted woods. It's got an ominous vibe with a tinge of sorrow like a woman who's been badly scorned and taking her unjust reprieve alone how she wants it, and it's best you not disturb her. It's not bodily harm she threatens, but a kind of harm on your soul if you come too close. You look up the path from the road, and you can hear the warning being whispered from behind you "you'd be wise to move on". If you so happen to ignore that warning, you better watch your step, because there are uncovered wells that trail down several hundred feet. You fall in one of those, you'll surely not come out. Older folks that have made it out to the church and want to tell you will tell you it used to be a dare when they were younger. The dare was to spend the night in the church to see if they would make it through the night with all of the weird noises and risk of being chased out by the woman in the woods. She's got a fire in her wide, crazed eyes and a blood-curdling cry that will make the burliest men run home whimpering and snotting all over themselves. Others say it's something inhuman and demonic. There's a lot of older folks who know the story, but they don't go around jaw-flappin' about it. For the ones that do speak up, you can see the fear in their eyes at the word Goshen like they're in a different time, reliving their nightmare all over again. From hearing my step dad talk, back in the day, it was an old church in which the cemetery was apart of. Most of the people who are buried in the cemetery are black as the community back in the day used to include many black Americans, and they used to own most of the land around there, at least from what I was told.

Well, back when I was younger, a friend of mine and I were bored one night and decided to go down that dark and gloomy road out to the cemetery. The main road itself just gave off an eerie vibe that made you pray you didn't break down anywhere close to there, especially at night. I'd hate to lose a hound dog over there and have to go track down some stubborn-assed dog because he won't come out of the woods! My friend had apparently never been out there before, and his eyes lit up when I mentioned going. Well, we went down the main road looking for the path to the cemetery. I knew it was just before the power lines and across the road from the old metal gate where the path to the church lies. For the life of me, I couldn't find it. I had been out there when I was in high school with a group of friends, just taking pictures and such, you know, nothing rowdy, but I couldn't find it now. It was dark. It was the kind of dark that you didn't want to get caught up in even with familiars. No stars. No cars. No house lights. No nothing. Just us, the car, the headlights, the road, and those...woods. So, I pulled off the road and onto the shoulder, and I turned the car off while I called a friend who was with me that night back in high school. I had the windows down as there's no air conditioning in my car and my friend was hanging his head out of the window looking. I was on the phone asking my friend the way and she didn't remember, but I kept hearing branches snapping and twigs popping in the woods and it sounded like it was getting closer. My phone started to break up and I couldn't hear my friend anymore. My phone cut off and the signal went out. Oh great! My friend says he heard something and we both went silent to listen. It's dead quiet. It's a kind of still and quiet that only comes before something bad happens. The kind of quiet when you could have heard a gnat fart. It was eerie and you just know all of the critters in the woods had high tailed it out of there. They knew what was up. Then, as we were listening, a few feet back in those dead silent, dark, and menacing woods we heard the most heart-wrenching cry I had ever heard in my relatively short life, and it was running straight for us. Now, I have heard some crazy noises in my life that will make you pee your pants. I hunt the woods around the area so, I'm used to noises in the woods, and I have a very good ear for those different noises. Ever heard a bobcat? They sound exactly like a baby crying. Rabbit cries are loud, obnoxious, and a little heartbreaking. Fox calls and cries are haunting and the vixen calls sound like a woman screaming. Owl noises are relaxing to me, but not so for everyone. It wasn't an owl, fox, coyote, bobcat, mountain lion, rabbit, etcetera. I had been coon hunting plenty of times and never heard such a terrifying sound as the one I heard while sitting in the car that night on the side of the road. And for those of you who aren't familiar with coon hunting, it's usually done at night, in the woods with just you, a friend or two if you're lucky, your dog(s), and a head lamp (nowadays they have GPS systems they use to track dogs). This was something I've never heard in my life and it was coming toward the car at an alarming rate. Even more so, it didn't sound like it was on the ground. You could hear branches snapping, but no leaves crunching, no foot falls, no treading, nothing like that. I was so struck with a paralyzing fear that it hurt to move my hands and arms to turn the car on. I couldn't start the car fast enough. I was fumbling with the keys. Stupid hands wouldn't work right and whatever it was, it was getting louder and closer. I was in a panic trying to start the car. I finally got the car to start and we flew away from there like a bat out of Hell. I never went back down there at night, and never again have I gone looking for the cemetery or the church. Funny thing is, out of curiosity, I did some researching a few days later and found out that the old bridge right near there is the same old bridge on which a woman died in a car accident. I didn't know of that bit at the time, and I wonder if that was her in the woods that night and if she's the same woman haunting the old church. Sounds kind of fitting to me, but I'm not stopping back down there to find out. I don't advise anyone to go down there looking for trouble either. You just might find what you're looking for...






Next Story:
The Old Farm House on the Hill

Not So New

Certain colors, objects, smells, and places take me back to childhood places and I feel like I'm home again. That is why I chose my blog graphic. The colors of the chalkboard remind me of the show I used to watch when I was a kid called Hey Arnold. I used to watch that everyday after school. Now, my daughter watches that show and I watch it with her. It gives me that comfortable, familiar feeling.

I've never really been partial to talking about my "feelings". I don't even like the term "feelings". I prefer not to talk, mostly. I just don't have a lot to say on certain things until I'm ready to talk about them. I mainly keep deep thoughts to myself. I feel I can reflect better and articulate my thoughts more in my head than out loud. So, I decided to type them out on here. To be honest, an old fashioned notebook would suffice. However, every time I go to put the pen to paper, I get bored and the awkwardness starts to seep in. Typing is much quicker and easier for me. But, enough explaining and babbling on about typing versus writing.
I am tired.
I'm not just tired, but TIRED. This world has been so chaotic that I am not convinced that there are many good things that come from everyone being here. Why are we even here? What is the purpose of a soul? Just to die? If we are here to help each other, what are we helping each other to accomplish? I look at how things used to be when I was a kid and I look at them now and the differences are overwhelming. Things are not what they used to be and I see more negativity than anything. More violence, more anger, more greed, and more unjust doings. I have little faith in the justice system, and I have little faith in my fellow man.
Right now, the entire east coast is experiencing a gas shortage due to the pipeline in Alabama leaking. People are fighting over gas, literally fighting over gas. It is outrageous. The shortages haven't even hit us hard yet and people are fist fighting at the pumps. Is that not surreal? It's ridiculous, and it's terrifying that people are so petty and crazy.
I hear on the news that kids are shooting each other and beating each other up for fun. I am terrified for my daughter. I want to keep her safe and locked away from all of the people out there because I am afraid someone will hurt her for fun. I don't trust people anymore (not that I ever have before, but now I really have a reason not to trust anyone).
I wonder if the people of generations before felt the same way in their 30's as I do now. They look back on their previous years and said "things aren't what they used to be," and they would mourn for our future generations and the memories of their generation.
I am not sure if things will change for the better or for the worse. I hope they change for the better.

I remember when things were exciting. Being outdoors on a crisp, cool, overcast day in fall. The trees were already displaying their showy autumn hues of orange, reds, and yellows. Riding in the backseat of your mom's Ford escort listening to Paula Cole on the way home from school. There was nothing to worry about except making sure that you did what your mom asked you to do. That was it. No bills, no kids of your own, no cruel intentions of other people, no future to really think about. We were just living in the moment. What I wouldn't give to be a kid again. But, I guess I can't have it all. I was naive as most kids are. Maybe the world has always been so dark and I didn't start to wake up until high school when I became less naive and more skeptical.
You always see posts on Facebook and hear about how people should stop worrying about the future or the past and live in the present. That's fine and dandy if you don't have any kids to worry about and aren't middle class or poor. There are bills to pay and work to be done that have you constantly worrying about the future.

I think certain things have happened in my life that have allowed me to wander away from my true self. I don't know who I am anymore, so I wander around looking for a purpose. Lots of people are like that. And no, it has nothing to do with religion. It has to do with a sense of belonging. Life is crazy. That's all I can spout out right now. I'm sure I'll have some sort of crazy dream as I usually do every night, but I look forward to my dreams as they help me escape from this world to a world that's not so scary for me.