 My family hasn't been closely knit, not for a very long time, particularly on my father's side. Until just the last few years, I hadn't seen any of my cousins or aunts or uncles from that side of the family since I was probably about 10 years old, almost 20 years ago. Over the last few years, however, my father has become heavily involved in researching our family's history. Out of that endeavor has sprung an annual family reunion, which we have had every year for the last two or three. I'd be lying if I said the first couple of times were anything short of awkward. As I said, I haven't seen any of them since I was a child. Now as a grown adult, I was thrown back into the mix with family that I barely knew. In a few cases, I still can't even get their names straight, had nothing in common with and nothing with which to talk about. My cousin Davey was probably the single exception to this, but even he was a completely different person from the kid I'd known as was I to he no doubt. So for the first two years, I mostly stuck with my immediate family near the alcohol and sat in uncomfortable silence. A few weeks ago, we had what I think was our third annual reunion, this time probably in large part thanks to my recent pension for dragging up long forgotten memories from what has become a rather fuzzy childhood. And then sharing those recollections with you, dear readers, I made a deliberate effort to establish communication with my cousin Dave, the alcohol may have played a small hand as well. Who can say this conversation turned out to be easy, satisfying, and much more enlightening than I could have hoped. We discussed shared childhood events, including those detailed in the dead children of Camp Redwood ghouls in the graveyard and eyes from beyond, as well as others. Several events came up over the course of this discussion and in the further discussions we've had in our continued communication since that I'd almost completely forgotten about that is to say that I had completely forgotten until he brought them up. It all came flooding back. I'd like to share some of those stories with you here. This first story takes place around the time of my camp Redwood story in a house within which as I look back now, I always felt unsafe. I don't know if I blocked out most of my memories from that house or what. What I do know is that I not thought of it in a very long time. But over the last few weeks, speaking with my cousin Dave has opened a floodgate of memories, some absolutely horrifying, as well as possibly having opened a floodgate of paranormal activity. The night on which the following events occurred started off as quiet. It was a summer evening in the turbulent era that followed my parents divorce. My mother had gotten the house, a rather large old house, which sat in a small thicket of woods in a fairly populous suburban area. The area was by no means remote, but by comparison to the others in the neighborhood, my house sort of was. My father was often his new apartment and my mother was constantly working into the wee hours of the morning, doing her best to support the family. My oldest sister was rarely home and my other also older sister was living on her own with her boyfriend. That left my brother and I both very young, alone in the house almost every night. On this occasion, being midsummer, we'd managed to round up some company. My cousin Dave and one of my brother's friends named Jesse had come over and were hanging out deciding what they wanted to do. Eventually they decided they were going to walk up to our old neighborhood to see some friends leaving me behind as my older brother didn't want me tagging along. So they left. I was alone a lot as a kid, but only in this particular house do I remember every feeling the need to round up an arsenal of weaponry with which to protect myself. I would empty virtually the entire contents of the silverware drawer onto the couch next to me. Corks, steak knives, butter knives, shish kebab skewers, with which I made Wolverine Claws. But all of this is neither here nor there. I'd gone about this same ritual on this very night and sat down with my Wolverine Claws prepared to watch some television. X-Files, I think, back when it was scary. Before long, the peaceful summer night turned into a raging storm. The rain beat on the roof like a stampede of infinite horses. As the sound of distant thunder grew louder, the power started to flicker, threatening to throw me into a world of darkness. And I huddled closer to my stockpile of murderous butter knives. Suddenly there came a furious pounding on the front door. I was frightened, not knowing who could possibly be at the door. But at the same time, the thought of being alone in the house scared me so much that I didn't care. I ran to the window, creeping up slowly as I neared it, in order not to be seen. I slipped the curtain aside carefully and looked through the window. It was pouring outside, however, and a sheet of rain roared across the glass, collecting here and there in thick rivulets so that I couldn't see anything outside. The darkness of the night and the surrounding trees did their part to impede my vision as well. Suddenly, a blinding flash of light illuminated the world outside. Through the flowing water, I was able to make out the shape of two figures standing on my porch, crouched low to the ground. I watched as they swayed back and forth, just outside the door. They looked like trolls or garden gnomes. The knocking came again, this time a bit angrier. Get us in. A voice growled from outside of the door. I clenched my wolverine claw-wielding fist. Matt, let me in or I'll kill you. It only took a moment for me to recognize my brother's voice and another moment to let him in the house, along with Dave and Jesse. In another moment still, I was being pelted with wet fist. Why didn't you open the door? They said, I, uh, I thought you were garden gnomes. Time ticked by with all of us sat inside the house, me happy to have some company and them unhappy to be back home. The power wavered once more, and even the older boys held their breath. The storm was vicious and showed no signs of letting up. Oh man, you guys, Dave said suddenly, jumping to his feet, I have a great idea. We all turned our attention towards him. Let's play with the Ouija board. Of course, as was almost always the case with Dave, this idea was both terribly bad, yet well received. We all ran around in excitement, gathering up candles, blankets, pillows, and of course the Ouija board. Allow me to set the stage a little before we get too far in. We'll be back on track shortly, but to add to the picture, as well as not to slow down the pacing later, I think it's important that we get it out of the way. When you first walked into the front door, there was a wide and open landing area, just before the stairs that led up to the second floor. To the left, through a wide archway was the dining room. Through the dining room on the right was the door to the long narrow kitchen, which had a door on the left leading outside and on the right, a door down into the basement. Look at the main entrance. If you made a right through another wide archway, you would enter the living room. As you entered on your right was a large window, the one I'd looked out earlier in the story in front of which sat the TV I've been watching on the left across from the TV was a long sofa, one of its three cushions supporting a pile of kitchen cutlery and eating utensils. Behind the sofa was a small area of the living room that was sort of sectioned off. It was about eight feet from the back of the couch to the back wall of the living room where another large window looked out on the backyard. Also in this section on the wall to the left was a closet, which was where the Ouija board had been kept. It was in this little nook behind the couch in front of the closet and below the backyard window that we'd set up the board. We laid down a thick comfy quilt and lined it with some pillows. Then we lit the candles around us in a crude circle before turning off the lights with the thunder rumbling in the heavens, shaking the house upon its foundations and the rain continuing its assault upon the roof. We began our session with the Ouija board. Due to limited finger space on the plant shed, I was left out of the actual communication attempt and reduced to simply a spectator. But that was fine with me. I sat on my pillow, blanket wrapped about my shoulders and watched as the others began their efforts to communicate with the dead. If there are any spirits here with us tonight, we'd like to try and speak with you, said my cousin Dave, with his fingertips gently caressing the white plastic plant shed. Nothing happened at first. For several minutes, similar statements were made and various questions were asked, all of which evoked no response from the spirit board. More minutes passed, and the excitement had begun to fade as still nothing appeared to be happening. I sensed the others enthusiasm, beginning to falter and feared that the mood of the evening was about to be ruined. Suddenly, my brother's friend Jesse shouted at the top of his voice, Speak! At that moment, the plant shed leapt into the air about three inches off of the board. I recall now that I could plainly see the space between the board and the plastic piece. It was clearly airborne. Dave was on my left, and my brother on my right, with both of their fingers completely visible to me. Jesse sat across from me, however, with his back to the closet door. I couldn't see his fingers, and as he had been the one to shout, I was suspicious that he might have been behind the plant shed sudden burst of activity. I kept my mouth shut, however, in an effort to sustain the atmosphere. The others had reeled back in fright in response to the sudden movement. Eventually, with an abundance of hesitance, the three resumed their prior position. Is there someone here with us? Dave asked. The board did not respond. My brother looked towards Jesse. You try, he said. Jesse looked at him nervously, mouth agape. But without argument, he turned his face back towards the board, closing his slack jaw to swallow the lump in his throat. Is, is anyone here with us? Jesse asked. I watched in awe as the plant shed slowly began to move, creeping along towards the top of the board, which was in front of my brother. Near the edge of the board, just before sliding off onto the quilt, it stopped through the circular window embedded into the white plastic. The word yes could be read. My brother's head quickly snapped up and looked towards Jesse with a dubious expression on his face, as if to say, you'd better not be doing this. In return, Jesse shook his head. A look of fright spread across his own face, as if to say, it's not me, I swear. Still, I had my suspicions. Though the scared excitement had returned. Keep going, Dave said to Jesse. Uh, do you have a name? He asked. The plastic fang again began to creep along, shuffling across the board on its felt shoes. It only moved this time in a small circle before coming to rest once more on the word yes. Dave smirked, smartass. He said, well, Jesse began, what is? The plant shed suddenly lurched across the board, stopping briefly on the letter U, then slid off quickly to the letter N. Finally, at a pace much swifter than it had moved in answering the previous questions, it zipped over to the letter O. There it came to rest. We all cast nervous glances at one another before the inevitable accusations began. Jesse, come on, man, I know you're doing this, offered my brother. I threw my hat into the ring behind him, as I did agree. Jesse shook his head. No, man, I swear. All I know is that it isn't me, said Dave. So it's definitely one of you two. How come it's only answering to Jesse? Brandon, my brother, asked. Come on, Dave, he's gotta be doing it. Dave looked towards Jesse. I swear, it's not me, guys. Jesse said, his voice cracking, he was visibly shaking. I don't know, dude, said Dave. Look at him, he's terrified. I am, Jesse admitted. I am terrified. I think we should stop. No way. The other three of us agreed in unison. So after a timidly fought uphill battle against my brother and Dave, Jesse resumed communication. So, uh, your name is Uno? He asked. The plant shed hurtled furiously across the board, again towards my brother. With such speed, it caused him to rock backwards a bit. No, it responded. It then began another circuit of the board, racing hurriedly, angrily, from letter to letter, once more indicating the cryptic letters, U-N-O. This time, it didn't stop, however. It continued on U-N-O, racing back and forth repeatedly. U-N-O, hissing and scraping across the board, U-N-O. Outside, the storm raged and the sky was torn open with a ferocious roar. Jesse could take no more. Stop it, he screamed at the top of his lungs. And to my astonishment, the plant shed stopped coming to rest upon the O so that through the circular window, it appeared as an eyeball staring us down maliciously. I felt suddenly very uneasy, now afraid that Jesse was in fact not behind this activity. He was either a very good actor or something more was going on here. The others seemed to share my apprehension. I watched Dave and my brother communicate wordlessly, both coming to the agreement that maybe this had gone far enough. At least that's what I thought they'd agreed upon. They never got the chance to express it. As everyone sat around stunned, the plant shed began to move once more at its original achingly slow pace. I watched as it slid out from under Jesse's fingers. Clearly he was not the culprit. Seeing this, my brother then let go, followed by Dave. The plant shed, however, kept moving. We looked on in disbelief, watching the plastic fang move along of its own accord, aided not by human hands. The eye revealed to us the following letters, D, I, G. Again, it began a circuit of the board. D, I, G, D, I, G, D, I, G. Jesse slammed his hand down upon the plastic plank, halting its movement. Then instantly yanked his hand away with a cry of pain. Winsing, and with tears beginning to stream down his face, he drew his hand to his mouth and sucked on the fingers. My hand, he shouted, it burned me. On the board, in between the four of us, the plant shed began to bounce violently, back and forth from leg to leg at a rapid pace, making a sound like a spinning quarter beginning to falter. Outside, there came a tremendous boom, coupled with the searing light from an intense blast of lightning. On my right, just above eye level, the curtain window to the backyard was a lit, a bluish square of bright fuzzy light, casting shadows about the darkened room. In that moment of brief illumination from the corner of my eye, I could see the figure of someone standing in the backyard, just outside the window. Dave, who sat with his back against the rear of the couch, facing the window, saw the image entirely. Holy shit! He sprang to his feet and vaulted over the couch behind him, while Jesse, who had also seen the figure, fell backwards into the corner of the couch and claws it with a whimper, sucking on his burned fingers. Dave sped towards the lamp, just beside the couch and hurriedly clicked it on, only it didn't come on. Now knowing that what I thought I'd seen from the corner of my eye had actually been there, I too jumped to my feet, ran around the couch and into the main area of the living room. What the heck, guys? Brandon shouted. He'd been seated with his back to the window and thus didn't see the figure standing outside in the storm illuminated against the backdrop of night. I myself continued running through the living room, past Dave, still trying to click on the lamp and into the entry hall. There, I flipped the switch to the light in the entryway and the light in the dining room on my left, neither of which came on. Apparently with the lights already off in order to enhance our candlelit session with the Ouija board, we'd missed the fact that the power had died. Oh my God, you guys. I said, peeking my head back into the living room. The power's out. As I looked into the living room to inform the others of our dilemma, the back window once more flared with that electrical glow. I was now completely facing the window and could see clear as day, the woman standing in our backyard, just outside the window. Her hair was done up nice and neat in a style similar to something from an old style TV show. She wore a white shirt or blouse with what appeared to be a blue apron over top. In that brief moment in which she was lit up, I couldn't make out her facial features through the range-streaked window. Her face instead appeared all smeared and blurry. Oh my God, I said again, pointing with a trembling hand towards the window. At the same time, I could hear a whimper come from behind the couch, one that I was sure had been issued from Jesse's finger-sucking lips. Now standing upright, my brother took notice of my indication of the rear window and finally turned to see what all the fuss was about. Though I could no longer see the woman from where I was, Brandon, being much closer to the window, apparently could. For when he turned to see what it was that I was pointing at, with such a look of terror spread across my face, he immediately jumped to his right, away from the window with a surprised shriek. Oh crap, oh crap. He shouted as he tore towards me through the living room. Who is that? Don't leave me, Jesse screamed from behind the couch. Get up, you idiot. Dave yelled as he made his way into the entry hall with my brother and I. Quick, my brother said, suddenly we have to lock the doors. Instantly, I jumped towards the front door and slammed on the bolt. Brandon took off through the dining room and into the kitchen to lock the door out to the side yard, tripping and knocking over chairs along the way. Dave had run back into the living room to grab a couple of the candles and was shouting for Jesse to follow. He'd finally come out from behind the couch, shaking and in tears. After a few moments passed and my brother had not come back, the other three of us left the entryway and headed towards the kitchen to find him and see what was going on. There we found Brandon, leaning over the sink, above which was a small pair of windows looking out into the backyard. In his hand was a flashlight turned off which he had apparently acquired from the kitchen junk drawer. We all gathered in the long, narrow kitchen and waited silently for him to report what he saw outside. I don't see anything out there, guys. He said, after a few moments of gazing through the glass. I know I saw her. I said, her? Asked Dave. Yeah, her, replied my brother. I saw her too. He turned and looked back out the window. But I don't see her now. We stayed in the kitchen, huddled closely together, shadows shifting with the dancing candlelight, just waiting, waiting for something to happen. Anything for the power to come on, for my mother to come home, unlikely not for a few more hours or maybe for one of my sisters to pay a visit. None of those things happened. Instead, just barely audible over the rain drumming across the roof and the continuous rumble of thunder. We heard a long, drawn out, squeaky wine like that of a rusty hinge coming from somewhere outside. It was followed shortly by a loud metallic bang. What the heck was that? Dave asked. I don't know. My brother answered him. Oh, God, you guys? Jesse groaned. This isn't right. It's all wrong. Yeah, guys, I don't like this. I said, voicing my concerns. There was a feeling of impending doom that was slowly building, gaining momentum, spreading like a disease through the air, infecting us. We all could feel it. A creeping fear, stronger than that by which each and every one of us had already been seized. We weren't in the clear. Something more was about to happen. From below our feet, there arose a clatter accompanied by another metallic boom. Oh no, my brother said. What, what, what is it? I asked. The storm cellar, he replied. We had forgotten about the storm cellar, a pair of green metal doors which sat just outside into the left of the living room window at which the woman had been standing and led downward into the basement. On my right, standing narrowly a jar was the door that led from our kitchen down into the dank dark cellar. Well, was it open? Dave asked nervously. We have to lock it. He said, without waiting for a reply. Impulsively, Dave pushed his way by me, snatched the flashlight from Brandon's hand and headed for the basement door. No, my brother and I both yelled, knowing that in all likelihood, it was already too late to secure the basement. Dave flipped on the torch, swung open the door and aimed the beam of light into the passage, then froze, staring open mouth into the darkness at something down the basement stairs. My brother jumped forward, knocking Jesse to the ground, clutched Dave by the shoulders and yanked him away from the top of the steps. The sudden action caused Dave to drop the flashlight which came to rest at the top of the stairs. As my brother pulled Dave away, I sprang towards the door to shut it. At my feet, the dropped flashlight, still emitting its beam pointed straight ahead into the pitch black of the cellar. I couldn't help but look directly ahead. The light refracted off of the steeply descending ceiling, illuminating faintly the damp wooden stairs below. At the bottom of the basement stairs in a black puddle of trembling water stood the woman. Water rolled off of her wet skin and soaked clothes falling into the black puddle to cause ripples that sped away towards the puddle's edge in circles of reflected light. It was hypnotic. I watched in horror as the woman slowly leaned forward farther and farther until her face was little more than a foot away from the stairs. No human being could possibly lean forward at such a dramatic angle. In a twitchy and spastic motion, the woman's head lifted so that she was staring directly at me. It was now her face that caught my attention or rather the lack thereof. It was blank, blurry, and yet shifting as though I were still viewing it through a rainy window. The woman, still leaning forward, hovering parallel to the steps, then began to haltingly float upward towards me. The blue fabric from the apron she wore hung limp dragging along the steps with a disquieting whisper. As she got closer, her feet dragging behind her thumped and scraped along with each and every step she passed. I could hear her toenails as they scratched slowly across the old warped wood. The dripping faceless woman crept towards me getting closer by the second. Then from out of the deeply shadowed cellar behind her stepped two children standing side by side. On the left, a boy dressed in a suit stood up staring at me with his hands perfectly straight on his sides. Next to him was a little girl of equal height dressed like the woman who is now halfway up the stairs. The children's faces were grotesque, almost cartoonish eyes far too big for their heads bulged from their tiny sockets while below their mouse were stretched into impossibly wide maniacal grins exposing equally unlikely teeth. Their skin was a pale frigid tint of blue. The children remained at the bottom just outside of the shadows while the mother continued her ascent. As the woman got closer, I vaguely remember thinking that I could faintly hear her humming a lazy tune. Matt, what are you doing? I heard my brother shout out on my right. Then suddenly there was a clatter and the flashlight went spinning away throwing the basement and the beings that occupied it back into unseen darkness. My brother had stepped in front of me inadvertently kicking the flashlight in the process of taking me by the arm and pulling me away from the doorway. I recall feeling dazed and now as I write this I suppose I must have been in some sort of trance throwing me out of the way. My brother spun back towards the door and slammed it shut. He then quickly slid the chain on the door into place hopefully securing the basement. What did you guys see? Brandon asked turning back towards Dave and I. Uh, a woman, Dave said and kids I added. Dave shot a quizzical look towards me. It hit me then what I just seen. Oh my God, Brandon, we have to get out of here. My brother seemed prepared to argue until with a final loud snap the basement door popped open. Luckily the chain held and in that moment the four of us scrambled over one another in a dash for the front door on our way through the dining room disoriented and shrouded in darkness. We clearly heard another loud snap followed by the bang of the basement door crashing into the kitchen wall the chain had given out. My brother, my cousin Dave, Jesse and I spilled out of the house into the pouring rain the roaring thunder and the crackling lightning we ran down our long wooded driveway out onto the street and then ran some more. We finally stopped running once we made it to a brightly lit intersection in Oasis in the dark of night where a nearby gas station offered shelter from the storm and hopefully a chance to find help. From there, we called my sister told her we had seen someone in the house and asked her to pick us up, which she did. She took the four of us back to her apartment and though we argued knowing that we'd not just been victims of a family break-in, she called the police. They checked our house out discovered signs of a possible break-in, but no perps. The only things they found to verify our story at all was water trailing from the storm cellar doors through the basement up the steps into the basement door with the busted chain. However, they also encountered our Ouija board setup which only helped to cast further doubt upon the reality of our story in the minds of the officers. The rest of that summer ticked by slowly. My brother and I taking it one day at a time each of us unwilling to be left alone in that house. Eventually though, once it was apparent that there would be no further activity we were able to get back into a normal lifestyle. Nothing else of this magnitude ever happened in that house and for years we had no answers. Was it a ghost we'd summoned through the Ouija board that was now set loose on the world? That was our best guess, but we had no clue until a few years later that is. It turns out that Jesse had known the whole time who these spirits were, where they had come from and what they wanted. He'd seen them before you see many times his whole life in fact. Now, we didn't know it at the time and wouldn't find out until my brother entered middle school but Jesse and his family were thought of around town as weirdos, they were thought of as outcast. This was due entirely to Jesse's grandfather who had once murdered a family in cold blood. A mother and her two children, a boy and a girl, the bodies had never been recovered. Jesse's grandfather had been tried and sentenced to death but apparently his punishment paled in comparison to what his family had gone through for years, constant torment from the unrestful spirits of the family slain by the grandfather's hands around town. It was just a story, one that the school kids told to scare each other and whispered about whenever Jesse walked down the hall, a family haunted for eternity by vengeful spirits. But when Dave and my brother first heard it and then related it to me, we knew that it was no story. I never saw Jesse again. He kept his distance from my brother after that and they rarely spoke again, if ever. According to Dave, Jesse and his family moved away a few years after the incident, no doubt taking the spirits with them. The bodies of the slain family, however, stayed behind where they were eventually discovered, buried on the property of Jesse's old house, a house that once belonged to his grandfather. I don't know for sure, but I think I hope that maybe two families finally found rest that day. Hey everyone, remember to like and subscribe if you enjoyed the video and a special thank you to the author. This was a very creepy, well-written story. Make sure to check out more of their work in the description. If you'd like to support me further, there's a link to my Patreon in the description and remember, never play with a Ouija board.