My childhood home has always been a bit creepy. There was really no reason for it to feel that way, really. The house was a new build on a large plot of land that would eventually grow into a small subdivision. My family built our home in the winter of 1995 in a tiny, but growing, town. The only thing we knew about the land was that there once used to be a glass factory there before it became an empty plot of land. The history goes there was an explosion inside the factory, but it happened in the middle of the night when no one was on shift. There were no reported deaths. This would explain why we would find chunks of glass EVERYWHERE in the neighborhood.
It could not explain, however, the reason behind all the paranormal experiences that have occurred in the house.
This first story is the earliest memory of my paranormal encounters. My sister and mother always would tell stories, but this was my first personal account. In 2007, my mother and father separated and I was currently living with my mother in our house. I was upstairs playing with my neighbor in my bedroom, which was located above the garage and kitchen. All of our rooms were close together so it was easy to hear when people came and went, where they were in the house, and if someone was cooking in the kitchen or watching TV in the living room.
At the time, we were alone in the house.
It was after school, mother was at work, and my sister was at a friend’s house. We were playing with my hamster, Bob, in his running ball. Out of nowhere, I heard a very familiar voice say my name. Not JUST my name, but my nickname that only my close family would call me. The tone was also unsettling. It sounded like my father shouted my nickname up the stairs in a scolding manner. I turn my head to my friend and ask, “ Did you hear that too?” She reluctantly said yes.
A little back story on my father… As a child, my father and I did not have that idealized father-daughter relationship, per say, there was no favoritism, nor getting away with anything just because I was the baby of the family. Whenever he disciplined me, it was very harsh and stern. There would be times I’d be at the top of the stairs and he would lean over the railing at the base of the stairs and yell my nickname, ‘Renee’ for which I was probably in trouble for something when that happened. So there was no mistaking the voice we heard that day.
After my friend and I heard “Renee!!” being yelled up the stairs, we gathered ourselves together and I walked out my door, down the short hallway. My hair was standing on end, heart was racing, because I knew we were alone – but something in me was hoping my father was somehow standing at the bottom of the stairs, even with the knowledge I had not seen him, nor talked to him, in months. I peered around the corner that was to my left and looked down the stairwell.
Alas, no one was there.
I called out to see if someone was home, despite me knowing even if someone was home, it was only going to be my mother or my sister — not a man. With no response to me, I simply walked back to my bedroom and resumed playing with my friend.
I never told this story to my family until later. That’s when the stories from my mother and sister unraveled. They’ve been having paranormal experiences ever since they could remember. I guess it was about time my experiences began. And boy, did they.