When I was a little boy, my parents and my brother and sister lived in a two-story house which, even to this day, I truly believe was haunted. Many strange things happened in that dwelling, things which made me quite fearful at times, and even now as I recall the things which happened there, I feel I'm there once again.
One thing I know for sure is I never once got a restful night's sleep while I lived in that house. When I would fall sleep, I would dream of seeing an Indian head in the middle of our living room. The Indian in my dream had no body, only a head with an eagle's feather attached to a headband. The Indian head, all glowing in the dark. would pull me, like a magnet pulls a piece of steal, toward its familiar yet frightening features. In my dream I would literally claw the bed, and then the floor, as it pulled me closer and closer, relentlessly and without mercy. I recall I was so fearful that I literally had the taste of fear in my mouth which lingered even after I awoke. It's a horrible taste. I would always awaken from my dream, sometimes screaming, just before the Indian head was about to touch me, and the dream would be repeated each and every night.
There were other things which happened in that house that could only be regarded as supernatural. One event occurred just after I managed to drop off to sleep. I was awakened from a dream to find several Indian heads rolling back-and-forth across the foot of my bed. The experience was so frightening to me that I begged my mother to take me away from that house so I wouldn't have to live there in fear any longer.
As it turns out, I wasn't the only person in the house who believed it was haunted. My siblings also experienced supernatural occurrences. On one occasion, my sister proposed a test to determine, once and for all, if there were really ghosts who inhabited the house; and she devised a plan she believed would give her the answer she sought. She placed a penny, heads up, on the windowsill in her bedroom one night before she went to bed. As she did this, she said aloud, "If there are any spirits living here, this penny will be turned over when I wake in the morning." To no one's surprise, when she awoke the next morning, her penny gave its dreadful answer: tails up!
The house in which we lived also had a coal furnace in the basement which could only be accessed from the outside. As it would happen, on one cold winter's night, my mother asked me to go down and stoke the furnace, since the temperature was beginning to get uncomfortably chilly in the house. I didn't think much about it at the time, so I did as my mom asked and proceeded outside and around back to the basement. As I was opening the furnace, I got the feeling something was watching me; you know, the strange feeling you get sometimes when you think you're being watched, typically accompanied by the hairs standing up on the back of your neck. As I moved toward the coal bin to retrieve a lump of coal for the furnace, I saw two red, piercing eyes peering at me from the coal shoot where, when we would receive deliveries, coal would fall down and drop into the bin. Those eyes, bright red and intense, almost demonic-like, sent shivers of fear cascading through my body like bolts of lightening that come in a storm. I was so horrified by the experience, I wasn't sure if I would be able to get out of the basement quick enough to avoid a certain unfavorable demise. That was the last time I stoked the furnace in that house.
Many more bazarre events, not chronicled here, happened in that house during the few years we lived there. Some time later, after we moved out, I learned the house we lived in so uncomfortably all that time was built over an Indian burial ground. And now you know the rest of the story.