HAUNTED APARTMENT – PART I 

AUGUST 9, 2019 

Story, illustrations and photography by Wanda Fraser

My husband and I moved to Vancouver Island about seven months ago. We’re currently renting a walk-out suite from friends who have a stunning new home with an ocean view. The house, though only five years old, holds an unsettling energy for me, despite its beauty. We’d stayed in this suite a few times before the move, during all seasons, trying to get a feel for island life before selling our home on the prairies. It was perfect—at least, it seemed that way.

Now that we’ve settled in, our friends have moved back to the prairies for a temporary three-year position, leaving us alone in the house. That’s when things started feeling… wrong.

The house itself is built around a massive black rock, which dominates the basement. To avoid the expense of blasting it out, the rock was left in place. Taking up a large portion of the basement area it feels ominous and ancient.  It’s hard not to wonder what secrets that rock might hold.

At the end of the driveway sits a decrepit cabin. Old, weathered, and covered in moss, it was once used as an office for a logging camp. Now, it just looms there, forgotten. From the moment I laid eyes on it, I found it deeply unsettling. My dog, usually calm, would become jittery whenever we passed it on our walks, pulling me toward the cabin’s door as though he sensed something I couldn’t. One morning, as I was taking pictures around the property, I snapped a shot of the cabin. When I reviewed the photos later, I zoomed in on the window—and froze. There, faint but unmistakable, was the outline of a face.

I never told our friends. I didn’t want to scare them, especially since she often stays on the property alone. But I haven’t been able to shake the image.

Below is the actual image:

Even before we moved in, I had felt uneasy in their home. It’s beautiful, yes—but from the first visit, something about it left me on edge. I didn’t mind as much when others were around, but being alone in the house became unbearable. It’s one of the reasons I rarely use the washer and dryer upstairs, even though I’m welcome to. Instead, I take our clothes to a laundromat, just to avoid being alone up there.

Once, while helping my friend with the dishes, I noticed a piece of selenite crystal propped in the kitchen window. She seemed embarrassed when I asked about it. My friend admitted that she had been experiencing something unsettling in the house and that a friend suggested the crystals. Though she wouldn’t go into detail, she revealed that they had also smudged the house. Since then, I’ve noticed similar crystals placed in every corner window of the house.

Then there are the dreams. Since moving here, they’ve become… different, vivid and disturbing. Almost every night, I dream of deceased family members—my grandmother, my parents, my sister. I never dreamt of them before we moved. Now, they’re always there, lingering in the background of my subconscious.

Over the holidays, we had family stay with us. To accommodate them, my husband and I moved upstairs to sleep while our guests used the suite. The first night upstairs, my dreams were frightening. My husband had to wake me because I was thrashing in my sleep. The second night was worse. In the dream, I was lying in bed in the master bedroom, surrounded by windows. Outside, everything was ablaze with fiery red and yellow light. These colors glowed so intensely that they silhouetted the figures—elongated people—who stood outside. They moved slowly, almost methodically, banging on the windows as if trying to break through and reach me. I woke up screaming. I’ve never had a dream that terrifying before, and it took some time for my heart to settle.

My daughter, who was visiting with us, had her own unsettling experience. She went upstairs alone to grab something from the kitchen, and when she came back, she admitted that she felt deeply uncomfortable up there. She said it was as though something was watching her, and she couldn’t wait to get back to the safety of the suite downstairs. I hadn’t told her about my own experiences, not wanting to ruin her visit.

There are other odd occurrences I haven’t yet mentioned, small things like strange noises in the walls or feeling watched when I’m alone. There have been no ghostly apparitions or voices, nothing overtly paranormal. But the weight of the atmosphere in this house—especially upstairs—has only grown since we arrived. We’ll only be here for another month or two, until our new house is finished. I hope whatever this is… doesn’t escalate in the meantime.

This story was originally published by the Ghost Story Guys Podcast – Ep. 31 Apr 17, 2018

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11