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CaptainCrunch · 10-21-2018, 08:12 PM

We had a weird experience when I was a kid growing up in Winnipeg. We lived in a older house in the suburbs. At the time it was my parents dream house.

My parents liked that weirdo style of art that you would find at a garage sale. They bought a picture of a little girl and hung it on the wall in my sisters room. One night one of my sisters started screaming and claiming that the little girl was watching her. The creepy thing is it was typical of one of those paintings where the eyes seemed to follow you.

My mom grew to hate that painting and one day she took it down and put it in the storage room in the basement.

One night and maybe my dad was trying to scare us. But he claimed he was asleep and he woke up and a little boy was standing at the foot of the bed just watching him. He thought it was me, so he got up to ask what was wrong and the little boy vanished so he got up to check on me and I was sleeping away. It creeped him out.

Then the end of the house came about 6 months later. My mom claimed to this day that she could never stay warm in the house. But they went out to a party at a neighbors place. It was the 70's so it was a late night affair. I remember my oldest sister was babysitting me and my other 2 sisters and at about 2 in the morning, she shook us awake and told us that the house was on fire, and she pushed open the bed room window and shoved us out and threw out puppy out the window and we waited for the fire fighters and our parents to get home.

The house pretty much burned to the ground. The fire started in the fuse box at the back of the basement storage room where the forgotten painting of the little girl was. Now you'd think I'd say, but the painting survived, but that would A be too dramatic for the story, and B be a uneeded fib.

Anyways we never went back to the house. My parents carted me and my sisters off to my grandma's place where I was then educated by the nuns at the catholic school for a year. My mom refused to even set foot on the lot and my bad sold it. She claimed that the house hated us. Not a ghost or a demon, but the house itself to her was a thing.

The funny thing is that I still remember that painting of that little girl with the big eyes and no smile and the plain black dress.

10-21-2018, 08:12 PM	#7
CaptainCrunch Norm! Join Date: Jun 2002 Exp:	We had a weird experience when I was a kid growing up in Winnipeg. We lived in a older house in the suburbs. At the time it was my parents dream house. My parents liked that weirdo style of art that you would find at a garage sale. They bought a picture of a little girl and hung it on the wall in my sisters room. One night one of my sisters started screaming and claiming that the little girl was watching her. The creepy thing is it was typical of one of those paintings where the eyes seemed to follow you. My mom grew to hate that painting and one day she took it down and put it in the storage room in the basement. One night and maybe my dad was trying to scare us. But he claimed he was asleep and he woke up and a little boy was standing at the foot of the bed just watching him. He thought it was me, so he got up to ask what was wrong and the little boy vanished so he got up to check on me and I was sleeping away. It creeped him out. Then the end of the house came about 6 months later. My mom claimed to this day that she could never stay warm in the house. But they went out to a party at a neighbors place. It was the 70's so it was a late night affair. I remember my oldest sister was babysitting me and my other 2 sisters and at about 2 in the morning, she shook us awake and told us that the house was on fire, and she pushed open the bed room window and shoved us out and threw out puppy out the window and we waited for the fire fighters and our parents to get home. The house pretty much burned to the ground. The fire started in the fuse box at the back of the basement storage room where the forgotten painting of the little girl was. Now you'd think I'd say, but the painting survived, but that would A be too dramatic for the story, and B be a uneeded fib. Anyways we never went back to the house. My parents carted me and my sisters off to my grandma's place where I was then educated by the nuns at the catholic school for a year. My mom refused to even set foot on the lot and my bad sold it. She claimed that the house hated us. Not a ghost or a demon, but the house itself to her was a thing. The funny thing is that I still remember that painting of that little girl with the big eyes and no smile and the plain black dress. __________________ My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!