So I grew up in East Texas until I was sixteen, most of those 16 years were in one house. I had experiences in this house as did everyone in my family. Yet, for some reason we rarely talked about it until we moved out of the house. To be fair, much of my area of East Texas has activity. Usually the many small roads would eventually end up at a small cemetery. I don't want to info dump, so I guess I will start with the first incident that my nana considers a "cute story". However, I find a touch unnerving listening to it as an adult. My nana, aunt, and husband lived with us for a few years growing up in this house. At the time, I was an only child and my nana's room would eventually become my bedroom after she moved out of the house. However, at the time she had her bed there and if you have seen these bed frames before it was the one with the shelves and mirror inlay built in. They were pretty popular in the 90's-early 2000's. Well, the way she tells it is that I was sitting on her bed with a few cookies on a plate, and am chattering to the mirror. This was normal for me, my mom also had a closet door with a mirror attached to it. I didn't have imaginary friends that followed me around, I had "mirror friends". Any how, apparently I settled down and got somewhat serious with my conversation. I told the mirror "I will share my cookies with you, but I wont share my nana,". And yes, this sounds like a cute story. However, after my experiences in the house I do not feel this is as innocent as it sounds. The other portion of this story I will put in this post is something that I distinctively remember because it happened several times a week. It also has never happened again, since I moved out of the house. Once again, same bedroom but now my most recent memories of this are of age six to the time I moved out at sixteen. Much of the time I lived there, I believed I was crazy half of the time. The other half I truly believed was things in the house. When I would try to sleep at night, there were times when I would hear chattering. Like close, in the room. Yet indistinct. Not muffled but I couldn't tell what they were saying either. It went from two to four people and they would keep me up at night. I would try to go to sleep, but constant chattering to the point I would lay there crying. Begging for them to let me sleep and eventually I would fall asleep. The last part of this post for now, is an experience everyone in the house had. Also, the only thing I only truly saw in the house as did everyone else. So right across the hall from me, is my "sister's" room. I say this because she never slept in it. At first it was my nursery, but that changed quickly, then it was my bother's. To be noted there were three bedrooms in this hall way. Two decent sized ones and a quite small one. My brother ended up moving to the smaller one. So my mom would tell, me, that at two or three I would adamantly tell her there was a boy in my closet with red hair. I think my step-dad ended naming him Henry. Henry was a red headed boy in older clothing who would flip all of the lights and open all of the doors at once. He wouldn't slam or intentionally break things, but he would try to get your attention until my step-dad told him to stop. Sometimes, he would be a physical apparition and other's just the doors. To be said, it wasn't ever just one door. It was the three bedroom doors, and the bathroom right next to them in the hall way. So those are just a few of my stories in my childhood home, I have a lot more. However, I just wanted to post this for now.