I spent a lot of my childhood on my grandfather’s farm in Southern Maryland. The farm had several sheds and outbuildings that were older than the main house. During the day it was the perfect setting for childhood hide and seek and pretend commando outings but you wouldn’t catch me playing out there at night. There was at least a mile between one farm and the next. When the sun went down you couldn’t see two feet in front of your face. The land was known for its wilderness, Native American roots, Revolutionary and Civil War history; and is still today one of the lesser developed areas in Maryland.
My grandfather worked nights so I would be left alone with my Aunt and my uncle who were only a few years older than I was. I was five when I first noticed the paranormal activity and about nine or ten when I stopped visiting the farm. It happened every night, almost like clockwork. My grandfather would leave for work, I would be up in my aunt’s room listening to music and talking until it was time for bed. We would sleep in the same small twin bed every time I stayed down there…safety in numbers. At about little after 1:00AM it would all start. The sounds of somebody coming in the back door, footsteps up the old wooden stairs, for a second it would be quiet then all the doors upstairs would slam shut at the same time. After the doors slammed shut it sounded like an old TV western throughout the whole house. Like as if Cowboys and Indians were chasing after each other, men’s voices and gun shots. It only lasted a short time before it would get quiet again. The footsteps would go back down the stairs and the back door would creak open and slam shut as if somebody was leaving the house.
They used to tell me it didn’t happen when I was a kid, that it was all my imagination. But when I got older my aunt and my parents admitted that it did happen and things used to happen all the time not only in that house but all throughout the county. After my grandfather had sold the farm construction workers found the grave of a family of four when the new owners tore down the old barn.
I really don’t think it was the spirits of the family causing the activity in the house. I think it was the land itself. It had seen so much blood and war that it couldn’t rest. It occurred almost every night like a song stuck on repeat in your CD player.
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