25. We both distinctly heard a raspy voice whisper ‘Get out’ very clearly.
“The house I grew up in was without a doubt haunted. It was built by a very prominent New Orleans architect after his son was killed by a streetcar on St. Charles Avenue one foggy morning. He built the house to get away from his old house in what was then a suburb to the city, and he definitely still haunts the place. Growing up there were some very weird things that happened, especially in my bedroom (which it turns out was where the architect later killed himself). There are two instances that come to mind that are kind of typical of what happened.
The first happened in the front yard. I was playing soccer with my brothers and some friends from the neighborhood, and the ball rolled under the porch. No big deal. I crawled under the house to retrieve it, which I had done a thousand times before as the gap under the house wasn’t covered. When I came out, I remember looking up towards my room on the second story of the house, and I saw a very well dressed elderly man looking directly at me. He put his finger to his lips and mouthed shush. You bet I shut right the fuck up. I sprinted back to where we had set up the goal posts and never told anyone the story. I’m sure I looked absolutely terrified, but we kept playing the game.
The other incident happened in the room itself. The room had a main area where I had my bed and a couch, and there was a hallway with closets on the side and a bathroom. Early one Saturday morning my brother and I were cleaning the bathroom (I don’t know why) before we went to summer camp, and the door was closed. The door started rattling on the hook that it was locked with, and we both distinctly heard a raspy voice whisper ‘Get out’ very clearly. I guessed the ghost had to use the bathroom or something, or we were disrupting his Saturday morning ritual. We both got right out of there and sprinted down the stairs to tell our mom, who said it must have been our other brother. I slept in the living room for the next two weeks.
Little things like that happened the whole time we lived there, but eventually I got used to it. I don’t think the ghost was malicious because nothing serious ever happened. We were around the same age as his son was when he died when the activity reached its peak, which is honestly really scary and sad to look back on. I’m not really the type to believe in ghosts, but this house convinced me.”