Iowa House

My fascination with the paranormal started when I was young. During my teens years, I would spend hours binge watching episodes of “Paranormal State” and “Ghost Hunters,” fascinated with the idea of capturing evidence of the paranormal.  So when my grandfather purchased a small home in Iowa that had some reported unusual “activity,” I became especially excited for our yearly Fourth of July road trip to visit my relatives.

My family packed up our white Honda Civic and embarked on the thirteen hour drive to Central City, Iowa.  This was our first time visiting my grandpa’s new home.  Prior to our trip, my step-grandma Doreen had recounted stories of strange footsteps in the attic when no one else was home.  Several times she had become so spooked by the strange noises that she would leave the house and refuse to re-enter unless my grandfather was with her. I was eager to experience this house and its ghostly tenants with my own eyes and ears.  When we first pulled up to to house I was a taken aback by the antiquated home, with its saggy front porch, white peeling paint, and its crooked foundation. My family unloaded our car and made their way into the house.  We greeted family as we entered and made our way through a large living room.  I noticed a staircase to my left and later learned that it led up to a small attic and two small bedrooms.

My uncle and I roamed the house, examining the kitchen, the coat closet under the stairs, and eventually we made our way up to the attic.  The ceilings were so low we had to stoop in order to walk around.  In a small alcove we discovered a series of strange etchings on the wall.  “I hate my life, I want to die, I want to kill myself,” were ominously etched with bold, black ink.  We found the markings strange but knew nothing of their author or its relation to the unexplained activity. We eventually settled on a game of Monopoly on the screened in front porch as dusk began to settle on the hot, Iowa night.

My family spent time chatting late into the night and eventually my Uncle David put my two young cousins down to sleep in my grandfather’s bedroom and closed the door.  My family sat in the living room visiting, the bedroom door visible from the couch.  As we sat chatting, the sound of the door opening caught our attentions and turned our conversation into silence.  Slowly the door opened with a loud creak.  My Uncle’s dog Bella  suddenly stood with a start and pointed her nose towards the door and growled.  I watched as the hair on her back stood on end.  We all sat frozen, anticipating one, or both, of the children to emerge from the bedroom.  No one came out and then the door closed just as slowly as it had opened.  I volunteered to check things out and crossed the living room towards the bedroom. I turned the knob, opened the door, and expected to see the children awake.  Instead, I was greeted by silence.  The room was dark and I could hear the deep breathing of my cousins lying in bed sound asleep.  The experience didn’t spook just me but my entire family, especially when I exited the room and announced that the kids were both still asleep.

This was the first of two strange experiences my family endured during our trip.  A few days later, during the early hours of the morning, my mother was awoken from a deep sleep and experienced what is often described as sleep paralysis.  She was unable to move or talk, but was able to fully see my brother and I lying on the floor asleep at the end of the pull out couch she and my step-father were sharing.  She had said that the room felt extremely cold, and that hovering over my brother and I was a strange human figure comprised of a white mist like substance.  Fearful that our safety was in jeopardy, She tried to call out to us but was unable to do so, in her moment of panic my mother closed her eyes and began to pray.  After a few minutes the paralysis lifted, the room felt warmer, and she woke up my stepfather in a panic.  Needless to say, my mom spent the remaining nights of  our trip asleep outside in the vehicle.

The rest of our trip was uneventful and after a week, we headed back to our home in Denver.  The footsteps and ghostly sounds continued in the house and up until my grandfather was diagnosed with cancer, he left the home and returned back to Colorado to be close to my mother before passing in the summer of 2001.  To this day I still wonder about that strange house and have even tried to research some background information but to no avail. I was under the impression that my grandfather had sold the home, however, recent conversations with my uncle revealed that my step-grandmother’s brother currently resides in it to this day.

I think it's time to return to that house in Iowa.