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It didn't seem to matter where I lived, the ghosts always followed me. They even followed me on visits, travels, and vacations. I didn't actually have to move for them to go along with me. It wasn't until I was much older that I learned how to ground myself, and that I could carry a talisman, in order to help me keep spirits away, or at least be able to leave them behind. I really think that they followed me, that I brought them to each place I found them at. I didn't think like that back then, but I truly believe it now. It's amazing the things you learn as you grow older and wiser.
Now I am getting closer to 40, and the ghosts that follow me don't scare me anymore. I am used to them now. They aren't like many of the evil ghosts that clung to me as a child. I wanted to tell you all about all of the ghosts and evil things I encountered, but none of us have time for all of that. I will tell you the beginning of my story because I think it's just as scary as any Amityville Horror you can imagine.
Let me start by introducing myself. My name is Ivy Rose. I have lived in many homes over the past few decades. It seems like each home had something supernatural residing within it but maybe it was just me. I started getting into witchcraft when I was 13, knew I was a pagan when I was 30, and left that behind at one time too. I've been a Christian, gone to church, but none of that seemed to matter when it came to the spirits that were tormenting me in life.
I often wondered if maybe my beliefs and my openness to the occult drew these things to me, but that's foolish. Maybe it was the dabbling that brought the evil, the things I did before I knew better, knew how to be safe when I practiced magic. That's more likely.
Then again, maybe I was just an imaginative kid. My mom let me read about ghosts and unicorns, maybe it was just my fantastical imagination taking over and creating alternate realities in my mind. Can imagination move objects from one room to another? Can it turn on and off appliances without human hands? If you take the time to read this story of a haunted girl, you just might believe in ghosts too.
Before the Evil House
I am going to start this story with myself at the age of 13. It was three years prior to that, in 1987, when we moved into the house by the post office, but it was the first year when I actually started recording the events that were happening to me, and around me. I grew up in a small town in the thumb of Michigan. It was one of those places where everyone knows each other, and no one is afraid of sticking their nose in your business where it doesn't belong. This was the third house we'd lived in, in Harbor Beach, but it was the first in which I realized that the things that were happening to me were paranormal and that they weren't normal things or things I was imagining. This wasn't, however, the first house in which I experienced strange occurrences. The house prior to this one, located on the other end of town, is where my haunted life started.
I don't remember the very first house we lived in, in this small town, I was too young to retain those memories. However, that second house on the corner of South Huron Avenue and Court Street is where this story really begins. That house is no longer there, long ago torn down, as many years have gone by since all of these things happened. I hadn't yet started keeping track of my experiences so I am telling you what I can remember. I wasn't even a teenager yet and I had absolutely no understanding of the events that surrounded me and these things that were happening to me.
My haunting started with my dreams. But they weren't just your average dreams, these were dreams that actually physically crossed over into reality. Have you ever dreamed something and woke up to that dream actually playing out? I don't mean a continuation of the dream or a dream within in a dream, but what happened in your dream having appeared to have actually happened to you? Not a premonition either, something else, something more physical than mental.
The first dream I had was in relation to a crack in the wall that was next to where my arm was when I slept in my bed at night. In my dream there was a furry creature of some sort, I don't what it was but always thought it was a groundhog of some sort (and continued to have a fear of them into adulthood). The animal came out of that hole in the wall, and it bit my arm. I screamed myself awake only to find red marks, like two specks of a rash, right where the animal had bitten me in my dream. The was no blood, there were no puncture marks. It was just two red spots, and my arm was very sore and tender in that area (like it would be if something had really bitten me). The fact is that this dream couldn't possibly be real because that crack in the wall didn't have enough space for anything to be in it and it was sealed off by the wood boards in the wall.
The next dream I had was about our house being on fire. I was trapped in my room, my bedroom was on the home's second floor. In my dream, I broke the bedroom window and grabbed for a tree branch in order to climb out of the burning house. The pain of the burning flames woke me up. When I was awake I noticed there was a red burn-like mark on my right arm in the shape of the tree branch that stood outside my window. It was painful to the touch and even felt warm.
There was a third dream in this strange series of dreams, but it is one that I forgot. Had I known to record them at that time it would have been interesting to look back on. At the time of the dreams, it was only about a year before we would move into the evil house. I was under ten years old at the time.
In that house, I had many nightmares where I tried to scream but couldn't. It seemed to be a theme. I was pretty grateful when we moved from that little house, but that feeling wouldn't last very long.