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February 2005
Page 3

Iowa Haunting
by Keith

In 1982, I moved into a house with four post-high school friends in Iowa, which proved to be haunted. The house was visibly old and rickety and sported a plaque that was mounted above the wrap-around porch, indicating it had been built in 1897. It also had a half dugout basement, which was mysteriously boarded off. Even more mysterious were the stairs, which were torn off halfway down, leaving a six-foot drop-off to the dirt floor below.

Two of us slept upstairs in separate bedrooms and the other three slept downstairs in the living room. Almost every night, footsteps could be heard in the dining room and kitchen after everyone had gone to bed. We were also awakened by creaking of the bathroom and closet doors. Occasionally, they would even open and shut on their own. More than once, someone or something would begin to ascend the wooden stairs to the upper floor, but would always cease as soon as we turned on the lights to investigate.

The hauntings increased in intensity after three of my friends moved out about a month or so later. On two occasions, my remaining friend and I heard organ music coming from the downstairs area, but it ceased as soon as we rounded the corner to check it out. This led up to the most serious incident of all.

On that night, I returned from the farm very late, about 10 p.m. I was awakened at 1:11 a.m. (I still remember glancing at my clock) by my friend who was pacing back and forth from his room to mine. He was very upset. He was visibly perspiring and shaking uncontrollably. I hopped out of bed and followed him into his room as he explained the following.

He had just gone upstairs to bed and was pulling off his shoes when he noticed someone standing off to the side of his bed. He presumed it was me because the person was tall, but when he looked in that direction, he saw an old man instead. The man wore dark trousers, a black cloak, and had on a white ruffled shirt. His gray hair was blown back as if he had just stepped out of the wind. The man stood clenching his fists and grimaced angrily at my friend. The man then raised his fist and swung at him. My friend was so frightened by the visitor he could only brace for the impact. But instead of hitting him, the man's fist went right through him. This seemed to startle the seemingly solid old man as much as my friend and he tried twice more.

Finally, my friend found himself able to move and nearly fell off the bed slinging of all things his pillows at him. At this, the old man gave one more look of rage, stepped backwards, and disappeared through the wall. My friend swore to me that if he were outside looking up, he would have seen him come through the second story.

With that, my friend told me he was leaving and immediately made his way downstairs. I told him that there was no way I was going to stay in the house alone, and I wasn't about to go searching for another place at 1a.m. After some persuasion, he stayed, but only for the night. Needless to say, neither of us slept a wink that night.

My friend tried to stay another night about a week later, but the ordeal had been too much for him. He moved out permanently the next day. After he moved out, I stayed in the house alone for the next two months until I eventually moved out. Strangely enough, all of the haunting stopped as soon as my friend moved out. The house became completely normal and I did not witness another incident the entire time.

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