We Moved Into a Real Haunted House and Regretted It | Audio Horror Story

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We Moved Into a Real Haunted House and Regretted It

I moved around a lot as a kid. We were the kind of family that would have boxes that always went unopened and undisturbed between moves. My dad was a good guy but he had issues with authority so he usually had trouble keeping a stable job for more than a year. When his lease was up we would move closer to his new job.

One time we moved into a small two‑bedroom one‑bath house with a detached garage. The rent was around three hundred dollars a month back in two‑thousand three. It was in a rough part of town but that did not bother my dad. The landlord told us that someone had passed away in the house within the last five years. My dad saw it as a great deal and shrugged it off.

We moved in soon after and things started happening quickly. There were noises in the house that sounded like other people were living there. Drawers opened and closed on their own doors swung shut and opened by themselves water would turn on in the bathroom and then turn off. We lived with it because it was never dangerous.

The front door had a keyhole on both sides so you could not leave the locked house unless you had the keys. A week after we moved in we lost the keys. We were still unpacking and there were boxes everywhere. My dad got frustrated and started yelling about the keys. He accused me of taking them. He was stressed and loud.

Then out of nowhere we heard keys hit the floor in the living room right in front of the couch. He picked them up and tried to explain how they got there. He left for work. Over the next months the keys became the center of all activity. Every morning we would find them in new places. My dad would leave them in a glass bowl on top of our old tube TV. Next morning they would be gone. One morning we found them in a sealed box of pots and pans that we needed to unpack. They were shoved into the handle hole on the side of the box. We laughed because it felt like someone had a sense of humor.

The worst thing happened almost every night. Around two to three AM there were heavy footsteps pacing in the hallway outside our bedrooms. I checked with my dad later and he said it freaked him out too. We had lived there for about eight months. I was around eight years old.

One night I heard the stomping. I could not take it anymore. I screamed into the hallway “Stop stomping around I need sleep to God damn it” Silence came for fifteen seconds. Then I heard something running full speed down the hall towards my room. My door got three loud aggressive knocks. My dad woke up and came to check on me. My stomach felt like I had to use the toilet. I was frozen in bed when I heard my dad call my name. He asked if I was okay.

I mustered the courage to leave my bed and head to the toilet. I was shaking and my body betrayed me. I ran and left a trail of what had happened halfway between my room and the toilet. My dad followed me into the bathroom worried about me. I was crying and embarrassed. I made a mess on the floor. I told him everything. He held me and told me that if I ever felt scared I could sleep in his room because nothing could bother me when he was there.

Just a week later the final straw came. My dad had been dating a girl for over a year and she had been staying with us more and more. One night she stayed over after a minor fight with my dad about chores. Despite being grumpy they went to bed. Around two to three AM she woke up and felt someone tugging her ankle. She tried to sit up but the tugging continued. She was dragged out of bed down the hallway by one ankle. She didn’t wake up until she hit the floor. It took her a moment to realize what was happening. Then she screamed. The tugging stopped and she ran back into the bedroom and turned the lights on.

My dad jumped up and asked what happened. She told him she was being pulled into the hallway. That was it for my dad. He sent me to stay at my aunt’s house and stayed alone in the house while he packed and looked for another place. He felt it was safer without me there.

During the packing my dad had friends come by to help. Almost everyone who came said they saw a small white dog walking around when they entered the house. None of us had a dog or ever saw one move through our home. It was the same story again and again from different people.

We moved out soon after. I still think about that house sometimes. I wonder if the people who live there now go through the same stuff or if it calmed down when we left. It felt haunted as hell.