The House On Sammy Street

I was best friends with the three who rented out “The House”, as we referred to it. Even though I technically lived in North Tower at Concord, I found myself staying at 137 Sammy Street every weekend, as well as a few weekdays here and there. I had heard rumors of it being haunted, but from the end of August until late October, I hadn’t personally experienced any “weird” happenings, and even that was when I was almost asleep in the bedroom and I heard my best guy friend (now my fiance) and a few of our other friends telling the front door in the adjacent living room to stop opening and closing on it’s own. Somehow I didn’t care so much about that, perhaps it was because I was nearly asleep at that point, or maybe it was because there were so many other people in the house that I wasn’t worried about anything really scary happening.

Nothing really scary happened for a while. In January, I was one of two people in the house, killing time while the other two residents were at work. It was snowing outside, so I was prepared to camp out for the night instead of brave Athens Road. I was on the phone with a good friend, when all of a sudden my phone goes dead. This had happened before, thanks to my battery going dead because I had talked for so long on it. I assumed this was the case in this situation, but when I looked at my phone, it had a full charge on it. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now when I think about it, it’s probably not a coincidence that my phone would work in certain areas of the house at that point (such as the kitchen) and not work in others (the living room and the bedroom which I had started out in).

The “weirdest” and “scariest” thing that I ever experience in “The House” occurred during one of my last nights spent in it. This happened in late February, right when emotions were running high and a year-and-a-half long relationship was ending (and a new one was blossoming). It was snowing outside, so I asked my fiance to please close the window (I am not a fan of sleeping in a cold environment, as he is). I watched him do so, and at 3am, being the only two in the house, we turned out all the lights and tried to go to sleep. An estimated ten to twenty minutes later, I distinctly heard giggling coming from another room in the house. This was not my imagination, nor was it children playing outside, as my rational mind raced to tell me that it was after all, the windows were closed, it was an early 3am Thursday morning, and we were the only two (human beings) in the house. I didn’t say anything about what I had just heard and neither did he; in fact, I was so freaked out by what had happened that I waited until he was completely moved out of the house to ask him if he had heard what I had, if it was not just my imagination. He confirmed that it was not, and to this day, I am thankful that I never have to set foot into that house ever again.