THE RADFORD HOME

GHOST STORIES

THE VIRGINIA HOME

I get asked a lot to tell about my paranormal experiences. I used to be very drawn to investigating, trying to make connections, getting evidence of the undead. I'm not sure why most people get into this hobby. For me it began as thrill seeking. I felt drawn to old, scary houses. I would walk around them and in them when I had the chance. It was as if I was wanting something to happen. Part of me was "daring" something to happen. I felt in control.


In 1998, I had graduated from an Associate degree program. I wasn't able to find immediate employment and was living with my Mother and Stepfather. A coworker of my sister's, was renovating an old home with her partner. My sister stated that I may be able to help, since I wasn't working. The women bought the home, they each had a child living in the home.


The home is in Radford Va., the town in which I was born. It was built in early 1900's by my guess. A two story, wet basement. A four to five stair entry, large front porch. The downstairs had a large living room to the left, a bedroom/bath to the right and kitchen in the back right of the home. There was also an attached back porch, large enough to be another room if properly insulated. There was a large staircase, L shaped, leading to the upstairs. The upstairs had three very large bedrooms, one running the length of the side of the home, with a huge walk in closet. There was laundry and a small bathroom upstairs as well.


The staircase played a large role in the home. It was the very first thing you saw as you walked into the front door. It was wide, beautiful, sculpted original handrail on the right leading up. Beautifully crafted, it drew attention. It is also, where many stories are linked to the paranormal activity within the old, run down home.


The owners were named Cary and Donna. Cary's daughter's name was Angie and she was about 10 or 11yrs. old. Donna's son's name was Steven and he was 6 or 7. They had been in the home less than a year after having purchased it "as is", as it was actually recommended of demolition.

The first time I drove to the home was to meet the owners. Although it was just Donna there alone. When she gave me a tour I definitely thought it was a dump. Everything was wrecked and there were no rooms that were "finished." As I got to know Donna and the family, one thing was for sure, drama and chaos were an everyday affair. The house took on that energy. 

We all sense energies. We know when someone we meet is sending out good or bad vibes. Most of what we "feel" is translated through their gestures or posture. Maybe even the way they speak or what they say. For me, when I've sensed a paranormal energy it is more of a presence. I would describe it more as an invisible mass. Something that is occupying space, but cannot be seen. Have you ever had a feeling someone was looking at you? You turn or glance their way and in fact they were. Have you had someone invade your personal space and you felt the need to move away? This is what it felt like for me when there had been a presence demanding attention. 

I first heard that the house was haunted from the family joking about a guy named Fred. When unexplained things would occur or the kids heard something it was always Fred they blamed. Donna had gone to look up the past deeds on the home. A man named Fred had been a former owner. He was an elderly man when he died. There had also been a record from a census of a young boy under the age of 10 living there when Fred was old also. A grandson perhaps? 

I was a complete sceptic of the stories or any notion that the old house was haunted. I was raised not to believe in ghosts. People died and went to Heaven or Hell and that was the end of it. I was sure that their imaginations had gotten carried away. Besides, it was an old house. It's going to make noises. They surely couldn't expect to blame a ghost for missing items when the house was tore apart under construction. 

It's fair to mention that Donna had a temper. As I spent more time with her, especially when she was around her kids, I saw she was fragile. She smoked a lot, was shaky, some nervous twitches even. When she yelled at her kids, she would do so in a rage. Never a warning, more like a bomb. No escalation, but a sudden end to the calm. I realize now that the energy she had was not just dark, but electric. She was troubled. The spirits didn't want that in their home. They fought back.

My first encounter was while I was alone. Until this moment, I didn't believe a thing of what I'd heard about the home. I had spent over a hundred or more hours there before that evening. In all of those hours, I'd never once experienced anything abnormal.

The women and their kids were on their way to Florida for vacation. As usual, they were frantic, unorganized, as they gathered their belongings and packed their van. Stephanie was yelling. Cary, the ever calm presence was picking up the loose ends. With it being a construction zone and there being too many expensive tools and such for the grabbing, they asked if I'd stay and watch the place. I was happy to do so. To spend a week away from my folks and hang out was right up my alley. They had an above ground pool in the backyard and on that warm summer night, that was my first destination.

It was so quiet without the family there. The house took on a different feeling, one of emptiness. I'd never felt it's size before, until I was there alone. Before they left, Donna asked if I'd mind getting the towels from the dryer. She had set up a bedroom for me upstairs. I carried my overnight bag up the staircase, made a right and directly across from the top of the stairs was the bedroom I'd be staying in. I was very impressed that the bed was made. I thought it was unusual as I'd never seen anything in the home that was in it's place. A nice gesture I thought. It made me smile.

I grabbed a towel from the dryer and went to take a shower. The bathroom I used, next to the bedroom was still a construction zone. The door had not yet been hung on the hinges. The lighting fixture was not covered. The walk in shower was tiled though and I was eager to take a shower and rinse off the pool water. Even though I was alone, I felt uncomfortable not  having a door to close as I showered. So I took the loose door and closed the opening of the bathroom with it. Although I could still see out through the cracks, I felt more secure somehow. This bathroom didn't have a window or working exhaust vent at that time. The shower was large, the tile cold against my feet. The Summer night had turned cool and that old home was drafty. I turned the water up as hot as I could stand. Mid way through my hot shower it happened. The first proof that I wasn't alone. Within the steamy shower, hot water hitting me directly, I suddenly felt an ice cold breeze across my back.

I jumped, I was startled! My eyes wide, turning to look all around me I saw nothing. I opened the shower door with the water still running to see if the bathroom door had been moved. It hadn't. I looked around the room and no one was there. "What just happened?", I thought. I finished my shower, dried quickly and stood in the bathroom listening for sounds outside the door. Try as I may, I couldn't find an explanation for the ice, cold breeze. There wasn't a draft from anywhere, nowhere for a breeze to flow, no A/C in the home.

I had to leave the bathroom. My clothes were in the bedroom, in my overnight bag. With the towel wrapped around me, I moved the door to the side. I looked out into the hallway in all directions. I stepped carefully onto the hardwood floors and although still scared, I felt that getting out of the bathroom would be safer.

Now remember that well made bed, in the clean bedroom? That bedroom shared a wall with the bathroom I'd just left. As I walked into the bedroom, yet another rise in my heart rate. Another shock, another "oh shit" moment. The bedspread and sheet, had been pulled back from the right side of the bed as if someone had turned down the bed for me. I stood there shocked, speechless, frozen. I hurried and grabbed my clothes bag and ran into the hallway to get dressed. I ran down the stairs, all the while feeling something watching me. I grabbed my keys and their portable phone and ran into the front yard. I sat in my car, parked on the street. The phone wouldn't pick up from that far away. I had to walk closer to the house. I did so, while looking at every window on the way. I expected to see someone looking back at me.

I called my Mom. I told her what happened and she urged me to come home. The problem was, I couldn't. I had to watch the house. She stayed with me on the phone as I walked through the home room by room. She had me check all the doors to make sure they were locked, and told me not to go back upstairs if I didn't have to, just to sleep on the couch.

There was no sleep that night. Just me, sitting, then eventually laying on the couch, my eyes seeing the shadows on the wall from the television. I knew the darkest areas of the room. I watched the opening of the living room. Just around the corner was that staircase. I couldn't sleep. When the sun began to rise, I was up with it. To get to the kitchen, or the downstairs bathroom, I had to pass the staircase.

Every time I walked past the staircase, I had to look up. I always expected to see something, someone. Passing the staircase often made the hairs stand on the back of my neck. Eventually by the third evening, I had started to feel kind of angry about it all. Was I really scared to go up the stairs? I built up my courage, with a crowbar in hand and went up the stairs. My heartbeat was so loud and my heart the pounding made it feel it would escape my chest for sure. At the top of the stairs, I very slowly checked each room. Crowbar in hand, I was ready to take out anything that I found. The bed linens were exactly as they had been left. I couldn't see anything out of place. After my check, I felt more confident. Had the crowbar scared away whatever was there?

The rest of the week went by quickly, as soon as I felt comfortable to sleep. I had also been asked to paint the front porch. I was occupied with that task and soon stopped thinking about the shower and the bed every waking moment. I never slept in the bed though, just the couch.

When the ladies arrived back home, I told them what happened. Shocked? They were not shocked at all. A matter of fact, they were not even excited. I soon found out why. They had been living with far worse events. They had seen far more, heard far more and experienced far more. Not just them, but their son also. They hadn't told me everything going on in the home. They tried not to talk about it at all. They didn't want to scare the kids. They were stuck in that home, until they could sell it. They were doing the best they could to co exist with the former residents. Did they own the home? Or were the ladies and their children actually the guests?

STEVEN

If a child could be described as a tornado, that would be Steven. This 7yr old was hyperactive, disrespectful, quick to anger, high pain threshold, an attention seeker and now I know with my clinical background in pediatric therapy, that he has learning delayed and had sensory integration issues. When he was tired though, he was loving, kind, even sweet. He loved his mother so much and greatly wanted her approval and positive attention. He would climb in her lap and snuggle before he went to bed. He oftentimes fell asleep in her lap and was carried to bed.

Steven was playing in his room on a clear afternoon. He could be heard running down the stairs saying, "mommy she has a present." Steven opened the door and no one was there. He asked his Mom who was standing on the stairs, "mommy, where did the little girl go?" Stephanie asked him what girl he was talking about. Carefully asking him questions, Steven said that there was a little girl carrying a present that walked up the front walk. She was in a dress and he saw her coming up the stairs from his front bedroom window. He ran down the stairs to greet the girl and when he opened the door, she wasn't there. At first, Donna didn't believe him. This event happened soon after they had moved into the home. He had been known to spin tall tales before. This one though, was different. It wasn't until later that they were able to know that Steven was telling the truth.

THE KITCHEN PANTRY

Donna made a lot of scrambled eggs and poured a lot of cereal. She was making breakfast one morning and alone in the kitchen when she turned to place something on the counter. Something caught her eye. She thought that Carye was standing in the kitchen as a figure was darkening the pantry opening. She looked fully at the pantry opening and saw a man, in a dark coat and hat standing there, looking at her. He then disappeared into the pantry shelving. Stephanie told me that he pantry was an addition. It had been the original opening to the kitchen from the hallway. So in theory, the pantry opening was actually a door opening in the original home layout when the former residents had lived there.

I spent nearly every day with Donna and Cary. I became a part of their family unit. They were good friends and I enjoyed their home, their family and their routine. I was lacking routine at that time in my life. I wasn't able to find a job and keeping busy was very important to me. Seeing them brave the home and it's secrets, spirits gave me confidence also. I wasn't there without them and there is always strength in numbers.

One afternoon before the kids came home from school, Donna and I were upstairs working on hanging drywall. Hard, tiring work as anyone who has done that can attest to. At the bottom of the stairs was a wet to dry vac. While we were working, we heard it turn on. Immediately Stephanie assumed it was Steven, home from school and already getting into trouble. She began yelling at him to turn it off. It continued to run and she and I turned to the stairs. She led the way, a few steps in front of me. When she got to the bottom of the stairs her hand covered her face. I joined her an saw why. The wet to dry vac wasn't plugged into the outlet. It was running on it's own. Impossible. As soon as we reacted, it stopped.

Cary didn't believe Donna when she told stories about the house. She was too rational of a person to believe such things. When we told her the wet to dry vacuum story, she believed. I'm not sure why, but she knew it happened and she never questioned any other stories again. She must have had an experience herself.

Donna had a sister that lived close by. Her sister also had children and a boyfriend. They used to come over in the evenings and have dinner. We'd all be outside, in the pool, sitting in chairs, laughing, drinking sometimes. One night, after sunset, it was dark. Only the lights from the open windows and back porch light were sending light into the backyard. As we all sat there, we noticed that he upstairs porch light was turning on and off. No one was inside. We chalked it up to a short in the light. Yet, it wasn't just the porch light. The back bedroom light was also turning on and off. No one was scared. At that point, after a long summer of events, we just laughed it off and said, "that's Fred."

THE LITTLE BOY

Donna sometimes fell asleep on the couch. One night, Steven fell asleep on the couch with her, laying his head on the opposite end from her. She awoke to who she thought was Steven standing at her end, looking at her, his small frame outlined from the t.v. glare. She rubbed her eyes and said, "Steven honey, go to bed." She then noticed that Steven had changed his clothes and was wearing pants and suspenders. As she raised up to see him better, she then noticed someone laying across her feet. She looked to the end of the couch to find Steven asleep. Startled she jumped, quickly looked around and didn't see the other little boy anywhere.

WANNA PLAY

Their kids shared a room at one point. The large room that ran the whole length of the home. The one with the gigantic walk in closet with several bifold doors. One evening, as the Steven played upstairs in his room, he could be heard running, giggling and talking to someone. Donna asked him who he was talking to and he said the children in the closet. Again, carefully asking him questions, he revealed that the children come out of the closet and play with him and his toys. A girl and a boy, about his age. He described their clothing, which matched turn of the century, depression era clothing. He also said that they were scared of the grown people in the house and only wanted to play with him.

WRITING ON THE WALL

Before the downstairs front bedroom was painted, Donna had hung new drywall. She used to let Steven write on the walls, color and such. He used to have his toys all over the place and out of anger one day, Donna wrote "pick up your toys" on the wall. She did so with anger, yelling I'm sure with every stroke of the carpenter pencil. Before she had lifted her pencil from the wall, she began hearing banging. The kids were in the room with her. The banging was coming from inside the walls itself. She described it as someone knocking from the other side of the wall and hitting the pipes as well. The kids heard it also. That day, they were all on the front porch when Cary got home from work. The spirit likely didn't like that she was taking her anger out on the house.

This home still creeps me out to this day. I've driven by it only once since they moved out. I stayed in my car. I looked at each window, expecting something or someone to be looking back.