Ok, I guess I'll stick my neck out here. So far, lots of comments, few stories . . .
I went to school at SFA. Right after leaving (a journalism major), I landed a job at a small daily paper in Henderson, Texas. In newspapering, you have to pay your dues so doing a stint in this small town was the beginning of all that.
Anyway, I get married to a babe I was seeing at SFA and we rent a house not far from downtown Henderson. It was an old house, built before 1900 but was in great shape considering the age and had lots of neat little things about it, such as a "booth" built in the kitchen where two people could share breakfast.
Anyway, the house was so old I couldn't open any of the windows. They were painted and rusted shut.
Almost immediately after we move in, our relationship starts heading south. Three months later, we're separated. Keep in mind, I'm a rookie journalist working 12 hr days, so I'm not at that house as much.
So she leaves and it's just me and the dog left behind. Not sure why, but I start spending more time at the house with him. Not a week after she's gone, I hear a door open in the house while my dog and I are watching Letterman in another room. I investigate, find nothing, and write it off. An hour later, a window crashes shut. This alarms me because I know they don't open. I investigate, find nothing, and a little later I'm able to write it off.
I go to bed, hear footsteps across the floor. I investigate, find nothing, go back to bed.
At this point, I'm still not really bothered. But my dog is changing, becoming more timid and less friendly. Seems to be worried all the time. Won't go in some rooms in the house, can't understand why.
I find shades closed that I've opened. Doors continue to shut in the night, as well as windows that I can't open.
I start spending time investigating the ownership of the house. Turns out, a couple once lived there in the 1915-1925 era and the wife ended up killing the husband for fooling around. She killed him in that house.
That was the only death I could find that actually happened in that house, although I had heard that a battle once took place there at that location between Indians and Texas settlers.
Needless to say, I didn't live there much longer. Secured an apartment and moved as soon as I could. The wife came back and things got back to normal a month or so later. The dog took some time before he returned to his happy self. The wife and I had many conversations about that house after we reconciled. Strange stuff.
You have to be careful about buying homes, I guess. I have a friend who sleeps in a bed that his father died of a heart attack in. That's kind weird.
This post was edited on 6/8 10:12 PM by SirHornsalot