A few summers ago, I went to visit my aunt in Mississippi. She had just bought a Victorian home and wanted me to help decorate the place. A few days into my stay, I noticed a few things that seemed odd to me. As I slept, I would have horrible nightmares – nightmares about me getting hurt or my aunt being killed. When I woke, pictures that I had hung on the wall the day before were knocked off. These pictures were on the other side of the room, but the glass managed to get into my bed and cut me as I slept. I went to check on my aunt. She had left a note on the counter that she had gone out to buy groceries and would be home shortly.
When my aunt arrived, she noticed the cuts on my arms and legs and asked me what happened. When I told her about my dream and of the pictures, she seemed scared. She told me about the history of the place – or what the man that sold the house to her had told her. Way back before the house had been built, it is said that a young Indian was celebrating becoming a man. The ceremony required him to drain the blood of a deer, take the first sip, and pass the cup around. He took the first sip, but he couldn’t stop drinking the blood! He went crazy, killing everyone in the village. Cutting them open and drinking their blood. After he had finished burying all of his tribe, he killed himself.
Years later, the house had been built on top of this burial ground. The man who built the house and his wife were eating their meal prepared by their slave cooks. The wife noticed the way her husband was looking at this servant girl. She was young and beautiful, and the wife knew what the husband was thinking. Two weeks later that servant came up missing. Then two more servants vanished. When the wife confronted her husband about where his servants were running to, he lashed out at her. He tied her to a chair and forced her to watch him rape a servant girl. He then killed the girl and his wife. Then he shot himself in the head. The point in telling you that is to get back to my terrifying story.
Later in the week, my cousin came in. She was my other aunt’s daughter. She and I shared a room, because she was five years old and didn’t like to sleep alone. That night, my cousin woke me up talking to someone. I just laid there and waited to see if she was dreaming. She then sat up in the bed and asked someone why they had a rope around their neck. I freaked out and turned on the light, but my cousin kept talking. She looked at me and said, “LeAnn, why does that woman have a rope on her neck, and why does she look so sad?” I told her that I couldn’t see anyone and that she was imagining things. She got angry with me and insisted there was a woman standing right beside me. When she said that, I got chills. I looked but saw nothing. Then she said, “She doesn’t seem happy with you at all. She looks very angry. Maybe we should go get auntie.” I stood there in silence, not knowing what to say or do. Then, out of nowhere, the dresser behind me got knocked over! I screamed and told my cousin to come out of the room. When I did, she turned white and told me that she was scared. She said that the woman told her that I was going to die. I grabbed her hand and pulled her out into the dark hallway. As soon as we got into the hallway, my cousin started screaming and pointing in front of us. I asked her what she saw, but she didn’t answer. I searched for the light switch and turned the light on. When I did, the light bulb went out. But, in that quick little flash, I saw what my baby cousin had seen. A man, an Indian, was standing there with what looked to be a stone knife.
I picked up my cousin and ran right into him. I had no other choice. There was no other way out. By that time, I am crying uncontrollably. When I get to my aunt’s room on the bottom floor, we told her we needed to leave and that we had seen things. But she had to see for herself. She told us to follow her and to point out what we saw. She grabbed a camera and coaxed my cousin up the stair case. She was crying and kept saying, “Auntie, I’m scared. That bad man is going to get me.” My cousin pointed down the hallway, and my aunt began her picture raid. She took pictures of everything. When she got to the room I was staying in, she began again, picture after picture. She then took pictures of every room in the house. We went back to her room and got the car keys. When we got outside, she began taking more pictures. We went through four disposable cameras. When we got the film developed, in every picture but one there were orbs faces. In the pictures of my aunt’s room, the crucifix on her wall was hanging upside down, and under it, you could see the blood spot where the man had shot himself.
My aunt moved out, and now there is supposed to be a TV show on that house and its history on the sci-fi channel.