On a later visit, Randy brought another friend with him to the house. They entered and proceeded to look around, climbing to the upper floor. The door that they came in through suddenly slammed shut, with an ear-shattering crash. Randy's friend, Bob, nearly jumped out of his skin. Randy, experienced by now, had become used to the house's behavior. He told Bob that the house was "keeping them for a while." "What!!!" said Bob, quite alarmed. "If the house wants us to stay, there's no way we'll be able to leave," Randy replied. Bob immediately ran down the stairs and tried to open the door. It would not budge. He then tried a number of windows, but they wouldn't move either. "The house is just testing you Bob," said Randy. "If it likes you, it will let you go." "You're really beginning to scare me, Randy," Bob said with a shaky voice. Randy found himself saying things like that without giving it a second thought. He said he felt that he became "part of the personality of the house."

After convincing Bob to relax and go with the flow, they sat down on the floor in the upper room. There was a large hole in the floor, and you could dangle your legs through it. It was very dark down there, below the hole, but they both strained their eyes, staring into the dark. There seemed to be whispering and the sound of people walking around in the dark below. The whispering slowly grew to a muffled mumbling sound. They could make out shadows of people walking and talking. Randy and Bob had stopped breathing for a very long time, trying to hear what was being said. Then suddenly, the door below creaked open, light came in, and the people all vanished.

Bob tried a window and found that it opened with just a little push, where earlier, when he had used every ounce of available strength, it wouldn't move. They both decided it was time to leave.

Naturally, Randy had told others about the house and a group of three friends decided to meet him there at a designated time. Randy, waiting at the house, was anxious to show his friends an interesting time. He waited for three hours this night, but no one showed up. The house appeared to be quiet, so Randy went home. The next day he met Sarah, who was to have driven the group to the house. "What happened to you guys,?" he asked. "I waited for three hours for you to show up." Sarah half laughed as she answered, "We were almost there, but about 10 feet before the turn off, the car just went straight into the corn field. We got stuck, and had to get a tow truck to pull us out." They then made plans to try to visit again the following night.

This time the group acquired a fourth member, but ran into the same problem. The car seemed to have a mind of it's own and left the road at exactly the same place to proceeded directly into the corn field again. The group was not discouraged this time. Armed with two flashlights, they left the car and walked through the corn field, toward the house. There was a barbed-wire fence that they almost ran into, but they were fortunate enough to spot it under the flashlight beam. As Jerry was climbing over the fence, Phil, the boy behind him, reached into his own pocket, pulled out a jackknife, and stabbed Jerry in the buttocks. In total shock, Jerry shrieked, "What the hell did you do that for?" Sue, and the other girl, Sarah, both began to scream. It was a scene of complete chaos, as the girls knocked Phil to the ground and sat on him, while Jerry took the knife from his hand. Phil did not put up a fight at all. He said, "I don't know why I did that. I just had a strange feeling that I was supposed to."

Though quite angry with Phil, the group was able to push the car back out of the corn field. Phil donated his tee shirt as a bandage, and they sped off to the emergency ward. Jerry ended up with 9 stitches, and wasn't able to sit comfortably for a few weeks. He decided not to press charges, but he would never trust Phil again. They all decided not to go near the house again for as long as they lived.

Randy, after hearing of the incident, realized that the house was going to be very selective about who would be allowed in and out. For some reason, Randy was one of the chosen few.

On another occasion, Randy and Bob decided to return to the house again. They began by going to the upper floor and looking down through the hole in the floor. Looking down, the lower level seemed darker and blacker than it could possibly have been. Absolutely no light shone anywhere on the lower level. Then, faint muffled sounds of voices were again heard, coming from below in the blackness. They began to make out faint shadows of people walking around. Randy got up, and Bob remained, watching.

Randy walked to the staircase and began to descend into the darkness. Moving very slowly, in an attempt to not be seen or heard by the people below, Randy slowly took the steps, one at a time, for what seemed to be hours. He was conscious of each breath that he took, letting the air in and out slowly and quietly. Now coming down two more steps, he was aware that a dusty light filled the room. The light seemed to be caused by a foggy mist in the air. With each progressive step downward, the light became brighter, and objects became clearer.

Now, he could see that the people looked like characters from an old time movie. He saw women wearing white scarves on their heads and over their shoulders. Some were wearing aprons. The men had hats, like derbys and Stetsons. The clothing all appeared to be heavy, woven fabric, almost like burlap. He could hear the people speaking almost clearly now, as he descended to the last step. The room was now very bright and cheery. A morning sunlight was coming through the windows. Heavy furniture of dark pine and cushions filled the room. The people seemed to be aware of him, but did not acknowledge his presence. Randy thought to himself, "I'm going to just walk in to this room and talk to everyone." He made a move to step to the floor. Suddenly, a jarring tap on the shoulder turned everything black. Randy heard a voice. "Randy, what are you doing?" It was Bob. "You jerk,--you idiot-- I was almost there" Randy yelled. "What are you talking about?," asked Bob in complete bewilderment. "Didn't you see the people? Didn't you see the sunlight?" Bob was still confused, "Ah... No, it's been fifteen minutes, and I was trying to figure out where the heck you were. Then I found you here at the bottom of the stairs. And it's still pitch black down here." "Well you just stopped me from going back to meet the people who lived here," Randy chastised, feeling angry and frustrated.

Since the stabbing incident, Randy did not like Phil, nor did he trust him. Nevertheless, on this particular afternoon, Phil joined a small group of people who had come to visit the house. Randy's strong dislike for Phil seemed almost unexplainable. He knew that it went beyond the stabbing incident, almost, it seemed, to a previous life encounter or something.

Randy acted as a "tour guide" for the group as he led the foursome through the doorway. Robin, Randy's wife went first, followed by one of her friends, then Randy, followed by Phil. As Phil crossed the threshold, the mighty door slammed with a tremendous crash, just missing Phil by less than an inch. "Damn!!!" Randy thought, "That should have hit him." With the force that the door slammed with, it could have easily broken Phil's arm, or leg, or even crushed him. Randy realized how evil and deviously his mind was working at the moment, and how the house almost seemed to be carrying out his thoughts. Reluctantly, Randy said, "I don't think it's a good idea for us to be here today. Let's all leave right now." The girls said, "Aw come on Randy!" "I... said... Right... Now!" Randy had a great deal of force in his voice this time, and no one questioned it.

During his visits and explorations, Randy had gained a healthy respect for the power of the house, and the house seemed to have a respect for Randy's wishes as well.

Over the next few years many people would become injured in the house and on, and even near the property. Included in these incidents was a fiery car crash (shown above), in which one of the car's occupants was killed. But Randy never suffered so much as a scratch in the near hundred times that he visited the house.



The incidents described in this article represent only a fraction of Randy's experience with this house. He plans to complete a book soon which will tell the complete story. We'll keep you posted on its progress and publication date.


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