Originally posted by janasstar
When we arrived at our home, we didn't even have to go inside to see that something had taken place. One of the elegant porch columns had fallen onto the lawn. We tried not to give it too much importance, other than, 'hey! The place is getting old. Stuff happens.'
Once inside we were speechless! We had left the place immaculate! No more! There was trash strewn from one end of the house to the other. We had left it neatly bagged up, to be carried out when we returned. It was a nightmare. All the dishes had been pulled from the cabinets and smashed to the floor. But yet, nothing was taken and the locks were still in place when we returned.

I can't recall that anything else of dramatic effect happened again as long as I was there. It wasn't much later that I returned to Ks. At this point, anything that I post about this story concerning the house, my sister, Kay, the baby and my brother, will be hearsay. Another part of the story that I know personally to be fact will pick up quite a few years later in the most surprising twist. do you all mind if I tell this part second-hand?

[edit on 10/3/2007 by janasstar]

Okay, I've given the hardcore ATS'ers time to scream at me, that I can't do that. And they haven't. So I will presume that I have the go-ahead to proceed.
This is the rest of the story as it was told to me by my sister, Laura and my brother, Keith.
My brother Keith was serving a ten year prison sentence for some trouble he had gotten into shortly after departing the Marine Corps. He had been such a good inmate, that they had transferred him to an honor grade camp very close to where Laura was living. Being on honor grade status meant that he could leave on the weekends, as long as a family member would sign him out and be responsible for him.
This was something that Laura was willing to do. Also, during prison camp visits, he had gotten sweet on Kay, and she on him. So this was working out quite well, so far.

According to Laura and Keith, not much of any activity had occurred after I left. T had stopped coming to the house. She said that she did not feel comfortable there. She had made a friend at school and was hanging out with her.
Kay and Keith's romance blossomed to the point of bed-sharing. Then, once again the house rebelled in it's most fiercest mode, ever.
It seemed that everything in the house that wasn't nailed down, began flying about. Pictures came off walls. Chairs sailed across the room. You name it, it was happening! Keith ran to the little girl's room to collect her, for safety's sake, when he nearly stepped in what seemed to be a pile of stinking human excrement.
They left the house in fear, and rented a motel room for the night. The next day, Keith told Laura, "I want y'all to take me back to the camp. As long as you live in that place, I don't intend to ever visit there again.

He said it and he meant it, much to Kay's dismay. By this time, Laura and Kay both had to agree that this was not a healthy place to be, regardless of what was the root cause of it. So, they moved out in a matter of days.
I bet you think the story ends there, don't you?
Surprise! No, It doesn't! It should have. But it didn't! Stay tuned for part II. I will take a break here and give you a chance to ask questions or post if you like. Thank you for listening.

this is a great story. it sounds really weird about the human poop on the floor

Okay, I have returned. I see there are no questions, so I will continue. There's not a lot more to tell, but to me the tail end of this story is the most surprising. Probably because the participants involved, knew nothing about the house.
Years later my sister had married, and had two children. The oldest was a girl of six, the youngest was a boy of four. I had long since parted ways with Army husband, and remarried. My brother Keith had finished his stint with the NC dept of corrections. We had lost all contact with Kay. Keith was married and had a small son the age of Laura's son. Okay, we are now up-to-date, and of course, you all know what happened to T.
When I returned to NC, I always made it a point to live close to my sis, Laura. Keith already lived next door to her. Laura was trying to be a top-notch mother to her children to make up for the lack of parenting in our lives,
She took them to church every time the doors were open. Her 4-yr old sang the loudest. Everyone called him, 'little preacher-man!'

One day in particular, we had to pass by the old place, enroute to my mother's house in Charlotte. We could have went another route, but sometimes even though Laura and I were 2 years apart, we thought like twins.
We looked at each other at the same time and said to each other in unison, "You want to?" We knew what we meant. Did we want to brave a stop by the old haunted house, without saying anything specific in front of the children???
We both nodded, and she eased the car off the road and into the driveway. I thought we had the wrong place. The once beautiful house, was in shambles. It looked as though an implosion had taken place inside of it. All of the gorgeous antique furniture was thrown wrecklessly about the lawn, in the perimeter of every single window of the place.
The rest of the porch columns were knocked down and the roof was dipping dangerously.
I know that some years had passed since we lived there, but not enough for this kind of damage. Just as Laura and I were trying to absorb this scene, her son began furiously kicking the back of her seat. It was as if he knew we had thoughts about getting out and investigating. He began to scream at the top of his lungs, "Don't go in there! Mama! There's blood in that house! Don't go in there! God's talking, God's talking!"
Guess what? We didn't! Laura and I looked at each other and once more in unison said, "That's good enough for me!" She fired up the car and slung gravel getting out of there.

That's the story of 'The House' in it's entirety. You are welcome to draw your own conclusions. Some of you asked for the location. There is nothing left of the house anymore, but of course the property is still there. It's location was on the Dallas/Cherryville Hwy. between Dallas and Cherryville. That hwy was also called Hwy 277 if memory serves me.
I no longer live in NC and haven't for a long time. But I do know for a fact that the locals called it the Dallas/Cherryville Hwy.
It is up to you whether you choose to believe it or not. Makes no difference to me. I have told it to the best of my ability and memory after all these years. Any questions or comments?

Would any of you like to share a story or give a theory on what you think may have been afoot at this weird place? For there are stlll times that I cannot believe that it really happened and try to find a reasonable explanation for it.

[edit on 10/3/2007 by janasstar]

Yea, I'm curious if you or your sister did further research on the house, history etc, there were alot of un explained happenings through out the time you lived there, but what ever it was, seemed aggressive??

I wonder if anyone lived in the house since?

Could be worth while speaking to locals regarding the history, they clearly knew something wasnt quite right about the place?

Maybe the gas attendant is still around?

Good story, I really enjoyed it. I'm living in NC now, but I don't think I will go seek that house out.

Originally posted by downunder666
Yea, I'm curious if you or your sister did further research on the house, history etc, there were alot of un explained happenings through out the time you lived there, but what ever it was, seemed aggressive??

I wonder if anyone lived in the house since?

Could be worth while speaking to locals regarding the history, they clearly knew something wasnt quite right about the place?

Maybe the gas attendant is still around?

I wish to this day that we had done research on that house. At the time, we didn't know how, and it didn't occur to us. When my sister finally gave up on it, all she wanted, was out. This was well before the age of computers.
To our knowledge, no one ever lived there again.
As far as the gas station attendant; he was elderly, THEN.
I know it sounds like I am throwing up hurdles, but to tell you the truth, I really would like to have the place investigated. I'd like to know that we all didn't have a mass hallucination or something. My brother Keith is dead now. He died in August of 2000, from complications of malaria and agent orange. My sister Laura lives here in Texas, never far from me.
As far as locals around that place; they would have nothing to do with us back then. The gas station attendant was the only one who bothered. Some of the retailers in Gastonia had warned us about the place, but I no longer, remember who they were.
And NO, you're not going to get me to tell you how long ago this was!