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In the early 2000s I moved to another state. I rented for a awhile. Then I decided to look for a house to buy. I wasn't inspired by any of the several properties my realtor had showed me so far. So I gave up for awhile. A few weeks later she called me about a place she thought I might be interested in. I had nothing better to do, so I agreed to take a look. She gave me the address. There was something strange about it. It didn't have a street type in the name, such as 'road', 'place' 'street', 'lane', etc. It was just a number and a name. I won't use the real address here for privacy reasons. So I'll just call it '357 Ivy'. I asked my realtor if the address was complete. She told me that was how it was officially listed.
The next day my realtor took me to the property. It was a ranch style house located at the juncture where two roads make a tee. The exterior had that kind of appearance of which any recollection is always fuzzy rather than clear. To this day I only remember a kind of forlorn drabness about it, almost as though I had seen it through a cheap black and white television set rather than through my own eyes.
But there I was and still curious as to what '357 Ivy' might look like from the inside. We got out of the car and walked up to the door closest to the drive way. The owners had already moved out. So we unlocked the door and went in.
The front door led us into a short hall. Directly in front of us was a large window-like opening into another room. To the left it opened into the kitchen. I looked at the kitchen first. I was as underwhelmed with it as I had been with the exterior. There were no modern conveniences such as a dishwasher or garbage disposal. The appliances looked like they were from the seventies. Gutting the kitchen and completely remodeling it would have been a necessity not a luxury. It felt like a lonely place and devoid of any joy or happiness.
Nothing seemed to be going for this place. I could tell my realtor was just as disappointed as I was. We only continued our tour out of sheer curiosity. I turned back to the opening that had earlier caught my attention. That was when things went from just being rundown to unusual. Someone had cut a window-sized opening through the wall. I could see through it into another room. I could tell that whoever had cut the opening through the wall had also been converting what appeared to be the interior of a garage into a family room. I wanted to go inside to get a better sense of the progress. I tried to find a door. But there was no door in any of the walls that I could see through the opening. I followed the wall from the outside around to the left along the opposite side of the kitchen. But there was no door there either. I walked back the other way and stepped outside. I wondered why I had not remembered seeing a garage. I then realized it was because the garage door had already been replaced with a wall. I walked back into the house puzzled, made a mental note and continued on with my tour.
There was a hallway that led from the kitchen to the other end of the house. I started down the hall, got about halfway and had to stop. It must have been the very center of the house. That was when the physical oddities became accompanied by a very strong energy. My visual field became distorted. I felt butterflies in my stomach. There was a strange twisting sensation, like being in a vortex. I intuitively understood that I needed to get out of that hallway or risk becoming entirely disoriented. I took a few more steps, broke free of the vortex and ended up entering another room at the end of the hall on the right.
This must have been the living room. But it made me tense and nervous. It seemed too long and narrow. I couldn't seem to grasp any logical way to comfortably arrange large pieces of furniture, such as a couch. I have been in rooms or spaces of similar dimensions many times. But never have I felt even remotely uncomfortable. I began to realize that there was something unusually negative about this house.
There were other rooms off that hall on the left. I may have glanced in them. Most likely they were bedrooms. But I really don't remember. At that point I would have just left. But then my realtor called out to me and encouraged me to go down into the basement with her.
I went downstairs. In the center of the basement was a furnace. I'm not sure if it would have been directly underneath where I had experienced the vortex. I was able to walk all around it. On one side was a door that led out to a narrow stretch of ground that was the backyard. There was nothing back there besides thistles, tangled vines, spiders and wasps. It was anything but inviting. I went back inside even more discouraged.
On the other side of the basement and towards the end of the house was another room. It had been painted a sickly green or bluish color. I don't remember exactly. There was only a single chair in the middle of the room, also very odd in its singularity and placement. There was an open closet with what looked like seventies-style clothes, all dingy, faded and dusty. The energy in this room was unbearably oppressive. Upstairs the energy had manifested itself more physically than emotionally. Here it was just the opposite. The sadness and despair that I sensed in this room was deeply troubling. And here I was just sensing it. I could imagine that these were the types of emotions that when actually experienced and with no ability to cope or escape could end up leading someone to suicide. For some reason it made me think of someone hanging. I don't recall if this was at the time or later on reflection.
There was not much left to see. On the opposite side of the basement I noticed several alcoves. Each one contained a workbench. Tools hung from the wall. All kinds of hardware was neatly placed on shelves or in drawers. Everything was well-organized. This was the domain of a hobbyist or someone skilled mechanically. I stepped into each alcove. I suddenly felt an unexpected sense of peace and protection. It was like a cocoon. Here I felt safe. Here the negative energy just didn't reach. But the moment I stepped away from the workbench and back out into the basement, the oppressive energy returned. It was as tangible as turning a light switch on and off. But I now also understood that there was a force of good in this house as well. But it had clearly been dominated and overwhelmed by the negative energy.
Both I and my realtor had seen enough. We locked up and got back into the car. I breathed a sigh of relief. What had just happened affected me deeply. This had not just been an overactive imagination. This had been very real. There was something about that house that had left me disturbed. I turned to my realtor and directly asked her if she had felt anything unusual. I got a somewhat non-commital answer. She did have an odd expression on her face. Perhaps it was just her reaction to what I had just asked. So I'm not sure what her experience had actually been. I didn't say anything more. I was silent for the remainder of the trip back to my car.
I remember all of this as though it had happened yesterday. The furthest thing from my mind when I went to go see that house was that it might be haunted. That is not the type of thing I look for or even think about. There was no bias of expectation or a self-fulfilling prophecy. I experienced everything unfolding just as I described. I will always wonder who the family was that had lived there and what their lives must have been like that could have left such a terrible residual energy.
The next day my realtor took me to the property. It was a ranch style house located at the juncture where two roads make a tee. The exterior had that kind of appearance of which any recollection is always fuzzy rather than clear. To this day I only remember a kind of forlorn drabness about it, almost as though I had seen it through a cheap black and white television set rather than through my own eyes.
But there I was and still curious as to what '357 Ivy' might look like from the inside. We got out of the car and walked up to the door closest to the drive way. The owners had already moved out. So we unlocked the door and went in.
The front door led us into a short hall. Directly in front of us was a large window-like opening into another room. To the left it opened into the kitchen. I looked at the kitchen first. I was as underwhelmed with it as I had been with the exterior. There were no modern conveniences such as a dishwasher or garbage disposal. The appliances looked like they were from the seventies. Gutting the kitchen and completely remodeling it would have been a necessity not a luxury. It felt like a lonely place and devoid of any joy or happiness.
Nothing seemed to be going for this place. I could tell my realtor was just as disappointed as I was. We only continued our tour out of sheer curiosity. I turned back to the opening that had earlier caught my attention. That was when things went from just being rundown to unusual. Someone had cut a window-sized opening through the wall. I could see through it into another room. I could tell that whoever had cut the opening through the wall had also been converting what appeared to be the interior of a garage into a family room. I wanted to go inside to get a better sense of the progress. I tried to find a door. But there was no door in any of the walls that I could see through the opening. I followed the wall from the outside around to the left along the opposite side of the kitchen. But there was no door there either. I walked back the other way and stepped outside. I wondered why I had not remembered seeing a garage. I then realized it was because the garage door had already been replaced with a wall. I walked back into the house puzzled, made a mental note and continued on with my tour.
There was a hallway that led from the kitchen to the other end of the house. I started down the hall, got about halfway and had to stop. It must have been the very center of the house. That was when the physical oddities became accompanied by a very strong energy. My visual field became distorted. I felt butterflies in my stomach. There was a strange twisting sensation, like being in a vortex. I intuitively understood that I needed to get out of that hallway or risk becoming entirely disoriented. I took a few more steps, broke free of the vortex and ended up entering another room at the end of the hall on the right.
This must have been the living room. But it made me tense and nervous. It seemed too long and narrow. I couldn't seem to grasp any logical way to comfortably arrange large pieces of furniture, such as a couch. I have been in rooms or spaces of similar dimensions many times. But never have I felt even remotely uncomfortable. I began to realize that there was something unusually negative about this house.
There were other rooms off that hall on the left. I may have glanced in them. Most likely they were bedrooms. But I really don't remember. At that point I would have just left. But then my realtor called out to me and encouraged me to go down into the basement with her.
I went downstairs. In the center of the basement was a furnace. I'm not sure if it would have been directly underneath where I had experienced the vortex. I was able to walk all around it. On one side was a door that led out to a narrow stretch of ground that was the backyard. There was nothing back there besides thistles, tangled vines, spiders and wasps. It was anything but inviting. I went back inside even more discouraged.
On the other side of the basement and towards the end of the house was another room. It had been painted a sickly green or bluish color. I don't remember exactly. There was only a single chair in the middle of the room, also very odd in its singularity and placement. There was an open closet with what looked like seventies-style clothes, all dingy, faded and dusty. The energy in this room was unbearably oppressive. Upstairs the energy had manifested itself more physically than emotionally. Here it was just the opposite. The sadness and despair that I sensed in this room was deeply troubling. And here I was just sensing it. I could imagine that these were the types of emotions that when actually experienced and with no ability to cope or escape could end up leading someone to suicide. For some reason it made me think of someone hanging. I don't recall if this was at the time or later on reflection.
There was not much left to see. On the opposite side of the basement I noticed several alcoves. Each one contained a workbench. Tools hung from the wall. All kinds of hardware was neatly placed on shelves or in drawers. Everything was well-organized. This was the domain of a hobbyist or someone skilled mechanically. I stepped into each alcove. I suddenly felt an unexpected sense of peace and protection. It was like a cocoon. Here I felt safe. Here the negative energy just didn't reach. But the moment I stepped away from the workbench and back out into the basement, the oppressive energy returned. It was as tangible as turning a light switch on and off. But I now also understood that there was a force of good in this house as well. But it had clearly been dominated and overwhelmed by the negative energy.
Both I and my realtor had seen enough. We locked up and got back into the car. I breathed a sigh of relief. What had just happened affected me deeply. This had not just been an overactive imagination. This had been very real. There was something about that house that had left me disturbed. I turned to my realtor and directly asked her if she had felt anything unusual. I got a somewhat non-commital answer. She did have an odd expression on her face. Perhaps it was just her reaction to what I had just asked. So I'm not sure what her experience had actually been. I didn't say anything more. I was silent for the remainder of the trip back to my car.
I remember all of this as though it had happened yesterday. The furthest thing from my mind when I went to go see that house was that it might be haunted. That is not the type of thing I look for or even think about. There was no bias of expectation or a self-fulfilling prophecy. I experienced everything unfolding just as I described. I will always wonder who the family was that had lived there and what their lives must have been like that could have left such a terrible residual energy.
