The Ghoul That Started It All

The idea of living in a haunted house always sounded appealing to me. I mean, who wouldn't want to co-exist with a possible piece of the afterlife while having a fun startle or two along the way? Sure, it seemed fun for an adult me to want in the future, but I never believed it would have happened to me when we moved into my childhood house.

To this day, it's something I still struggle with believing because it seemed like it wasn't a haunted house but rather a home that held space for a haunting from time to time. A visiting point, if you will, for those passing by in the liminal space caused by the highway directly behind the house and divided the cemeteries. Reflecting on my very first paranormal experience in the house with that theory in mind, I like to believe that's what was behind that terrifying first encounter I kept secret for nearly twenty years.

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At the top of the stairs in the two-story Cape Cod-style house we lived in was a small bedroom, once my mother's while she grew up in the home, and then mine. The twin-sized bed of mine had been positioned partially in a small nook, facing towards the single window that looked out to the scenery of the neighbor's old oak tree and passing traffic of the expressway that our backyards butted up against. The view was one I found comfort in, especially at night, as the glow of the warm yellow streetlights and quick flashes of brake lights on passing car lights peaked through the tree's swaying leaves. Weirdly, that view became my nightlight, adding the perfect amount of ambient light to shine through the window panes and give that small doze of comfort I needed until I drifted off to sleep. However, little did I know that would all change come a random night in 1999.

As I laid down to bed that night, nothing seemed out of the ordinary in the home. I could faintly hear my parents getting ready for bed downstairs while my sister was in her room down the short hallway between us. After some time, the noises began to quiet until silence cloaked the home, leaving those awake to sit with their thoughts until their eyes grew too heavy to keep open. As young as I was, I tried my best to stay awake while I daydreamed out the window, listening to the rouge ambulance sirens pierce through the quiet of the night as they drove past on the expressway, and after some time, I drifted off to sleep. While the night grew into the early morning hours, I stirred myself awake and noticed that I had been facing the wall my bed had been up against. Tugging up on the blankets I once had been wrapped in, I rolled over to the opposite side, hoping to find enough comfort to fall back asleep quickly. Instead, shock and panic washed over me as I glanced towards the window and saw an unfamiliar face staring back at me from the bottom right pane.

Frozen in fear, I locked eyes with the hollowed spaces of whatever was outside my window and felt trapped in my bedroom as the elongated pale face stared back at me. Unable to find the words to call for any help from my sister down the hallway due to the sheer fright that was coursing through my veins, the only thing my mind could think of was to hide somewhere away from the window. Throwing off the blankets I once had on, I jumped out of bed and ran over to the other side of the room, hiding in a little nook near the chimney stack that went through my bedroom. While it may have been right next to the window, I was still hiding behind something that could block the outside view from looking inside, while I kept a small view of the window from the space between the stack and the wall. Taking a deep breath, I tried my best to ease my fears, and for a moment, I felt safe and could feel the ease slowly creep in as I tried to get a good view of the window. However, as I looked away into the moonlit bedroom, my racing mind caught up with the moment at hand to remind me that whatever was outside my window couldn't be real. How could it be when there was no physical way someone could reach the second-story window on the side of the house?

After the initial shock had worn off, I found the courage to peek around the chimney stack as my curiosity settled in. Bracing myself for the potential to come face-to-face with whatever had been previously looking inside, I remember closing my eyes and holding my breath as I slowly moved towards the window's view again. Nearly hesitating, I pushed myself around the last corner of the stack, jumping out almost like a sneak attack upon whatever dared to give me a scare that night. But when I opened my eyes, no one was there. I was left staring back at my reflection and the view of the shadows of tree branches dancing in the wind against my neighbor's home that was just past it.

I'm not sure what was louder that night-- the sigh of relief that escaped me upon seeing the empty window frame or the sound of young me rushing back into bed to forget this all happened. With the covers pulled over my head as the universal protection against any monster at that age, I attempted to fall back asleep, and within time, I did, though not without a promise to myself that I'd try to forget about it.

In the years following that night, there had been no mention of any paranormal activity around the house until I was in high school, at least to my knowledge. While nothing had been seen around the home or lurking in the windows, sensations of something else being there and hearing someone move around were frequently heard by those alone in the house. Over the last twenty years, stories slowly trickled out of family members and visiting friends who had a few experiences inside the home. Some say they'd glance up the stairs to the bedroom at the top as they passed the staircase and got an eerie shiver down their spine. One night, my sister had called in a panic to tell me she heard someone shushing her eldest child when he was a baby after she laid him down for bed in that same bedroom. And yet, with an acknowledgment of the strange happenings from multiple people over the years, I still never came out about what I saw that night in my window- until a few years ago when I became comfortable enough to finally let go of the experience I thought I'd take to the grave.

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With the pandemic's lockdown, I found the opportunity to lean more into the constant pull from the supernatural over the months spent isolated. The confrontation of the jarring experience we were all living in under an uncertain anxiety and having to confront mortality in a way we never expected brought the resurgence of interest in the supernatural, and this time around it felt more accepting than in past years. After years of keeping my macabre interests and hobbies to myself and relying on someone to be available to explore, I created a social media account dedicated to the haunting tales surrounding Western New York with the hopes of connecting with new friends who shared the same passion of the unknown.

With one thing leading to the next, the unexpected growth of my social platforms welcomed new opportunities to share stories of my unique adventures and paranormal encounters. Almost without fail, one of the questions that had been routinely asked to kick off the conversation had been

"What was your first paranormal experience?"

Hesitating at first, I surprised myself by answering with a summed-up version of the face in the window story. After all this time and finally finding the confidence I gained due to embracing the side of me that's pulled toward the occult, I let the secret lore slip out as the weight of carrying it fell from my shoulders, no longer becoming a burden of some kind. However, recently, I've been wondering, if maybe it should have stayed a secret for a bit longer as just last month, in March 2025, an appearance of the long white-faced spirit had been spotted--only this time, it was seen inside the home.

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Spending a night at my parent's home, my eldest nephew rested in the back room, just across from the staircase leading to the small bedroom. His back was turned towards the door as he scrolled on his phone while the rest of the house was asleep, but suddenly the sensation of someone watching him crept up. Rolling over to see if it had been his brother, he was instead met with someone or something with a long white face staring back at him as dread washed over him. With it vanishing before his eyes, panic coursed through his veins, and without thinking, he gathered his belongings and ran out of the house in the middle of the night.

Frantically, he called my sister to get him as he refused to enter the home without them. Everyone inside the home remained unaware of what had unfolded, until nearly a half hour later, when my mom was woken up by my sister whispering "Gavin saw a ghost" to her at her bedside.

Within minutes of finding out what happened, a few friends gave the situation an emergency tarot reading to help navigate it, given how shaken up he had been. The consensus of the readings was a tricker spirit within the home had the opportunity to give a scare and took it, but where they came from isn't sure. With set boundaries given and some protection magic upped, it shouldn't be a problem.

For the last few weeks, I've reflected on both experiences, noticing the similarities and wondering if they were truly connected somehow, especially since I had just begun to draft this blog post about my experience when his encounter happened.

Could the thought and energy of rehashing a memory be enough to trigger a paranormal experience?

Did this supposed trickster spirit know about my experience so they could later turn and present themselves the same way to my nephew?

Could there be some truth behind the theory I pondered when I was younger and the surrounding cemeteries and constant flow of highway traffic be opening homes as a visiting liminal space for spirits and energy?

I suppose one day I'll get the answers to all my questions, but until then, my curiosity about the haunting of my childhood home will always wander...