I grew up in a town called Utica, located in central Ohio, it was not a large town, scarcely more than a village, and a rather old one at that, founded little more after Ohio itself was. Most well known for the Velvet Ice Cream factory located just outside of town. But I didn't come here to talk about ice cream, oh no, I came here to talk about a haunted house, or rather, two of them. The first house, rather small, covered in bluish grey faux wood slants, and capped in grey tiles, was my home when I was roughly 12 or so. The house had an enormous yard (the entire block directly behind the house was empty), but to a boy who preferred reading to outdoor play, this made little difference to me. My preferred place was in my room, located at the back of my house, on the second floor. The room was furnished with three large windows giving an excellent view of the yard and surrounding areas. And in the evenings the room was awash with the rays of the setting sun. But sunlight and vivid blue wallpaper did little to erase the feeling of unease I had in that house. From the moment we moved in something about that house just didn't sit right with me. Late at night, when I was curled up in bed, I would here a "thunk thunk thunk" as if someone were ascending the staircase, located just outside my room. But neither my little brother, nor dog or cat (my mum had several pets, including a large hound) emerged from around the upstairs landing. On one night I got up to go to the bathroom and to get a glass of water, to obtain my goal I had to go downstairs. So I felt my way down the steps and into the living room, past the sofa and through an arched doorway into the kitchen, which the bathroom abutted. After having done what needed to be done in the bathroom, and having got my glass, I headed back upstairs, but as I was passing the closet underneath the staircase, the door slowly creeped open and startled me, causing my glass to plop onto the floor. My mum brushed this off as just my imagination, and for a time a believed her, maybe I too wanted it to have just been my imagination? But what happened on another night I am sure was not my imagination. At the risk of sounding cliche, it was a dark and stormy night, I has up far past my bedtime, and decided to sneak downstairs for a snack. Down the steps, through the living room and into the kitchen where the good were held. Having gotten my snack, what it was makes no bearing on the story, I once more found myself passing that closet. I was just about to reach the base of the steps, the paranormal the last thing on my mind, when I heard the closet door creeping open, I looked over and was shocked to see a pair of glowing yellow eyes looming at me from within that closet. They were far too high to have been a cat's, and they seemed to be embedded into a dark, vaugly man-like, shape. I was transfixed on those eyes for what seemed like hours, until they vanished as suddenly as they appeared. We have since moved out of that house, and I haven't thought much of the eyes until retelling my story here to you. I passed by that house a while back, it now sits abandoned, and there is an air of sadness to that old building. The house we movied into was much larger, equipped with all the modern furnishings, and was, in fact, a tad bit too big! Four bedrooms, a kitchen, dining room, massive living room and basement. For the three of us (mum, me and my little brother) the house was an extravagance. We lived at this house for darn near five years, at first my mum lived in the downstairs bedroom, my brother in the bedroom at the don't of the house on the second floor, and me in the largest bedroom, also on the second floor. The fourth bedroom was used as a storage space and game room. But that is not where our story begins. It begins with me and a curious hole. My bedroom was quite large, and even after having decorated it with drawings and collectibles it still felt too big. Too empty. In the back of the room there was a small closet, and in that closet there sat a hole. A square hole having been carved into the wall. Why there was a hole I will never know, but what I did know is that I never, ever wanted to go near that hole. The hole gave off, well all I can say is evil, feelings. Oh how I hated that hole! None of our cats, which otherwise roamed freely about the house, would dare go near that hole. Often at night I would awake from terrible nightmares, screaming and covered in a cold sweat. After three years of nightmares and dread, my mum made my room her own, having turned her old one into a playroom for kids she began watching, I was moved to the game room. This room was munch smaller, but paradoxically, much more comfortable, at least at first. For while I thought moving out of my old room would rid me of the hole's influence, I was very, very wrong. Not it long after I moved that I began to notice shadows, moving shadows, hanging around my room at night. I would find many of my collectibles (really just toys) having been moved around in the middle of the night. And I would often hear strange noises emanating from downstairs. My mum apparently never had any problems with the hole in her (once mine) new bedroom. So I have a feeling that whatever lived in that hole had followed me to my new room. And was not finished with me yet. For almost two years I was spooked by the spook of that big house. Until one day, when my mum could no longer afford rent, we had to move out of that house. I do not know what became of that old spook, but I have a feeling he (I always got the impression it was an older male) had latched onto a new victim once the house was sold to another family.