Allow me to share another unsettling experience, distinct from my Haunted Hotel encounter. Picture this—a stormy Friday night around 8:30 pm. I was 16, home alone while my parents and siblings were away. Though I’d had ghostly occurrences in this house before, this one topped them all.
Seated in the living room, watching TV, I suddenly heard the sound of the sink turning on. It echoed as if someone was washing dishes. I glanced into the kitchen, only to find the dirty dishes undisturbed. Assuming it was my imagination, I retreated to my room. But an unsettling feeling persisted—like eyes watching me.
Creaks echoed as if my door were being opened. I checked, but no one was there. In my mirror’s reflection, an outline of a little boy emerged. My old teddy bear, discovered in the house when I moved in, levitated, and a voice demanded, “I want my dolly.” Anger resonated. Petrified, I fled to the kitchen, dialed my mom’s cell, but she didn’t answer. I was consumed by terror.
I sought refuge beneath my bed until my mom returned. Astonished to find me there, I recounted my ordeal—my teddy’s bizarre flight and a ghostly sighting. Concerned, my mom took me to a doctor, fearing I’d lost my mind. To our relief, the doctor acknowledged my experience as real and advised blessing the house.
We heeded the advice, yet the eerie occurrences lingered. Blessing, it seemed, wasn’t enough to quell the haunting presence that persisted.