Then years later I came back to visit and I HEARD IT AGAIN like, "holy shit. Whatever it is in still in there." I waited til morning, went in and saw no signs than an animal had been in there whatsoever. I couldn't even find where one would get in.
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OKAY MORE MOVEMENT. It was too quick to record. There's a bunch of plastic bags with some old clothes and toys in there. Imagine the sound of something crawling on top of them. I swear I heard a full "step" ...
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Soooooo I've been lying in the dark for a half hour, barely breathing, frozen solid... maybe I need to rethink this.
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Ok it's 3am so I'm gonna try to sleep somehow. I have my phone ready to try and recording if the noise happens... But tomorrow morning, under the sunlight of a benevolent god, I will venture in...
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OK I JUST CAUGHT THE SOUND AMD RECORDED, BUT ALL I HEAR IS AMBIENT NOISE... IS THIS A TELL-TALE HEART THING!?!!? AM I INSANE? WTFpic.twitter.com/fbUDglrnJ5
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Ok i slept and am still alive... i think its time to open UNDER THE MAGICAL HEALING LIGHT OF DAY
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Folks... there’s no more bags in there. Just this creepy ass bookcase pressed RIGHT NEAR THE DOORpic.twitter.com/YlAt9jt4Vg
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For more context, my house is some haunted shit. This is steps to my BASEMENTpic.twitter.com/Vjj9QCtEc0
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Imagine being a kid and having to do laundry by yourself down here...pic.twitter.com/ZiqCsZDqpq
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Oh, and this is where my friend Elliot and I once found A MYSTERIOUS DOOR WITH A NUMBER ON IT BEHIND A FAKE WALL... inside? ... a prohibition era booze hideaway. We kept some of the bottles!pic.twitter.com/6pngaoG7bA
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Our “play room” as kids i swear to god was this damn attic...pic.twitter.com/c9UUsqCDcH
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Things are too scary so heres some eggs benedict I just made!pic.twitter.com/ALXowfGDkm
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I am now going to ask my mom about the noises in the side attic (which I keep trying to spell "attack")
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I just investigated with my mom. Her, immediately: "Oh I thought I put that bookcase in the corner." NOPE. FUCK THAT. OUT. DONE. END THREAD. MOVES OUT. BURNS HOUSE. SALTS EARTH.
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I've been thinking about this spooky fun thread and the problem is that I've never been someone who can leave well enough alone.
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For I could talk about all the usual conclusions people make when it comes to "Haunted New England Stories" and I think it's unsurprising that this beautiful, old, odd wooded land with their little cute colonial houses are full of old puritanical ghosts.
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The kinds leftover for archaic witch burnings and silent vows. And so I could talk about how the weird noise in my side attack ties into some deeper external lore that fits the area to a T...
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But the problem is that it's all just an achingly clear metaphor. The houses are just like human beings, projecting normalcy and quaintness, but actually filled demons of regret, pain, secrets, fear, and the barren parts of stone that hide within.
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Most of the time, they're all gathering cobwebs with a dusty forgotten bookshelf that's been left behind. No, these aren't external fears, these are the parts within ourselves. And the simple truth is that New England isn't haunted... New Englanders are.
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End of conversation
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