Post #260304 by Cammo on Wed, Oct 11, 2006 10:54 PM

The Haunted Farmhouse
Part 1

My brother lived in a haunted farmhouse for three years. My whole family can identify with anybody who's been through that kind of weirdness, cripes, we never believed in ghosts until that dang house.

My brother was a newly married young dude with a wife and a little 1 year old girl. He needed to rent a place and found the cheapest place in all of St. Catharines, Ontario Canada to be this farmhouse way out in the middle of nowhere. The only thing for miles around was an old barn next door. The house didn't look like other farmhouses, which usually look cozy and prosperous. This looked grey and cold. It was a two story job that had been done over in the early '70s with that hard rock-like exterior panelling. It had a huge pear tree out front that he'd get buckets of pears from and we'd have pear pie all summer.

But something was wrong from the very first day.

The real estate guy wanted my brother to see the place really fast, right away at lunch if possible. Mark (my bro) asked his friend Ken if he wanted to come out with him to visit the place. He was excited about seeing it, and wanted to explore with Ken. A farmhouse just sounded too cool.

The three of them got out there at about 12:30 that day. The place was really impressive to a young father, there was a cornfield out back (a Cornfield! Superb!) and tons of room. Why was it such a low price? my brother asked.

"Oh, it's just hard to rent these places. You wanna sign we can get you in here next week." he smiled.

At that moment, Ken found the root cellar. Almost all Canadian houses have root cellers, just like the one they hide out in "Wizard of Oz" when the big cyclone comes their way. They used to stack the coal down there for the furnaces. Ken found this little door open, and walked in. There wasn't an electric light anywhere, but there was some dim sunlight coming through some small slit-windows around the edge of the room. It was dusty and damp down there, but Ken loved the idea of finding some kind of old chest or maybe some photos or something in a corner. He looked around, it was fun.

Then the door closed. Wham.

At first Ken thought Mark had closed it on him as a joke. He walked up to the door and pushed on it. It wouldn't open. He put his shoulder up to it and pushed hard. It wouldn't budge. Not a bit.

Now Ken is a big guy, six-four, muscles, a big afro of bright red hair and a thick red mustache. He hit the door again and it didn't even creak. Then he tried fooling around with the handle, but there was no catch on the inside, which was weird because that's usually where they are, y'know? He looked at the door again, then he felt something behind him. Whatever it was, just the feeling of it was so scary he couldn't look around but just started yelling as loud as he could.

"Get me the F*** OUT OF HERE!" he screamed.

Mark and the real estate guy heard him, they came up to the door and tried to open it too. No dice. They yelled back and forth at each other, Mark yelling at him to look around for a bolt that had to be holding the door closed, because they couldn't find anything outside. Ken, inside, could feel something behind him, and it was getting closer. His hands were all sweaty now, he was shivering with cold, and he kept pushing and feeling around the inside, screaming at my brother to get an ax and rip the damn door down right NOW!

Then the door opened. Real slow, creeeeak. Nobody was pushing it.

Ken RAN OUT. "What the F*** are you guys DOING!" he yelled.

"What do you mean, we aren't doing anything. What are you talking about?" Mark said. Ken was standing on the other side of the yard now, away from the cellar, but they could see he was pale and shivering.

They all looked at the door. There was no catch or bolt of any kind on either side. It just opened and closed like a garden gate.

My brother, for that matter nobody even then realized that place was haunted by a very angry ghost. He rented the place.

That's where the real trouble started.