138 East Oakland Avenue
Columbus, OH, USA

Haunted

So, during my sophomore year of college, I found myself dwelling in a haunted house just off Ohio State's campus. Erected sometime between 1900 and 1920, the dwelling had remained vacant for an extended period, a glaring red flag I foolishly disregarded. At that time, I shared the space with three other students, all deeply entrenched in various forms of substance abuse. While I partook in smoking weed, I abstained from other drugs. Additionally, my devout beliefs led me to ritually anoint and pray over my living quarters—a practice rooted in my Ghanaian heritage, where stories of sprites and protective rituals abound.

The inaugural night in the house set the tone for the series of inexplicable occurrences that followed. Attempting to rest in my upstairs room, which lacked insulation and featured a mysteriously sealed door, I was besieged by the cacophony of objects being hurled around the house. The commotion persisted throughout the night, depriving me of much-needed rest, yet come morning, everything appeared undisturbed, adding to the eerie atmosphere.

Further contributing to the house's unsettling aura were its peculiar characteristics. The front door and bathroom door had a propensity to slam shut with alarming force, often startling inhabitants with their intensity. Stepping into the bathroom felt like walking into a trap, as the door would inexplicably slam shut behind you.

On another occasion, as I showered upstairs while expecting a friend's visit, I was unnerved by the sound of movement downstairs. Sensing a looming presence behind me upon exiting the shower, I experienced a chilling sensation of being watched. However, upon investigation, I found myself alone in the house.

During a shared moment of repose with a roommate in the living room, we both witnessed an inexplicable figure moving about in an adjacent room before vanishing into thin air. Another instance found me alone in the house, only to be startled by a voice calling my name from the basement—a desolate, unnerving space that we collectively avoided.

The final three episodes are perhaps the most unsettling. One night, while alone on a Sunday, I was jolted awake by a mysterious noise emanating from one of the bathrooms. Terrified, I remained in my room until morning, opting to stay on campus until my roommates returned, convinced something sinister lurked within the house.

Another incident occurred during a screening of "The Conjuring," a questionable choice given the house's haunted reputation. As strange knocking persisted, we resorted to anointing every door with oil and offering prayers outside, effectively silencing the eerie noises. However, the house's unsettling atmosphere persisted, marked by strange odors, disappearing belongings, and inexplicable electrical malfunctions.

With my nerves frayed and unable to endure the mounting dread, I sought refuge elsewhere, moving in with my coach. Even after vacating the premises, the lingering sense of unease followed me, heightening my sensitivity to every unexplained sound.

As the semester drew to a close, I returned to retrieve my belongings, accompanied by a friend. A visit to the house, fueled by a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, culminated in a spine-chilling encounter in an empty room adjacent to mine. Upon switching off the fan, the room plunged into darkness, prompting nervous laughter. However, our amusement turned to horror as the sound of children's laughter echoed from behind the sealed door in my room—a chilling reminder of the house's haunted past.

In conclusion, every detail I've shared is rooted in truth and personal experience. These encounters left a lasting impact, heightening my sensitivity to unexplained phenomena and instilling a sense of apprehension that lingered long after I left the house. Reflecting on these events, I believe the prolonged vacancy of the house allowed a malevolent presence to take hold, exacerbated by the drug-fueled energies of my former housemates.