I’m Sophia, and the house I grew up in was my grandparents’ old manor in the serene town of Willowwood. I spent a significant portion of my early years living there with my mother, and while many memories from that house hold a special place in my heart, some still send shivers down my spine.
I was around seven years old when the first peculiar incident unfolded. During that period, I had opted to sleep in my mother’s room because my own room had started to feel unsettling. One night, as I lay in bed, I suddenly opened my eyes to find myself staring at the dimly lit bedroom wall. The room was quiet, but an eerie creaking sound emanated from the bathroom door, which stood just across from my mother’s room. My mom was a light sleeper, so I gently nudged her shoulder to draw her attention to the strange noise. She stirred awake, and together, we tiptoed into the bathroom.
What confounded me was that the bathroom door, which I distinctly remembered being tightly closed before we went to bed, was now wide open. My mother’s startled expression mirrored my own. She tried to rationalize it, suggesting it might have been a gust of wind, but I knew that couldn’t be the case because the bathroom window was always sealed shut. We returned to bed, both unsure of how to interpret this eerie encounter.
As time went by, our lives in that house were marked by more unsettling occurrences. Mysterious orbs would manifest in every photograph taken inside the house, as if spectral entities sought to make their presence known. Our dog would frequently bark persistently at the walk-in closet while we sat at the computer desk, as though sensing something beyond our perception. Then there was the night I awoke to a faint figure of a young boy standing in the corner of my room, near the closet. He gazed at me, slowly approached my bed, and then abruptly collapsed onto the floor, vanishing right before my eyes.
Throughout my life, I had been aware that our house was constructed on the grounds of an old estate connected to the Willowwood battlegrounds. It was a place where wounded soldiers had once sought refuge and recuperation. Despite the eerie encounters, my affection for the house remained unwavering, and I continued to visit my grandparents there. The spirits that seemed to linger within its walls did not deter me; instead, they became an integral part of the memories that shaped my childhood.