We moved into this house when my daughter was three years old, just the three of us back then.

The HVAC had been updated in the 1980s so it wasn’t original to the house, which was built in 1949, but it was still pretty old. When the heat came on, the house “talked.” I’d be lying in bed in the dark and I could hear whispers and whole conversations as the furnace went on and off.

Worse than the conversations was the crying. I’d be sleeping, and I’d wake up, convinced that there was a baby crying. At 3, my daughter’s crying sounded way different, and we didn’t have a baby, but I’d hear one several times a week in the winter when the furnace was on. I used to get out of bed and check on my daughter but she always slept soundly.

Did I mention that my husband worked many night shifts back then? So really, it was just me and my daughter.

One time I woke up and there was a male presence in the room and the baby in the furnace was crying.

There was something about the bedroom – there was always something going on. One time, early morning, even after dawn, I felt something tap my thigh. Not quite a tap, not quite a tickle, not quite a scratch. It wasn’t an insect because it felt like a finger, tapping, stroking, tickling my thigh. My husband was on the other side of me, and it couldn’t have been him. So I said, “hey what was that? Something touched me.”

He said, “Just your imagination.”

I think he must have felt something too, but didn’t want to think about it. That’s cool, I understand.

Another time, same time of day, early morning, our daughter came out of her bed and climbed in with us. She was on the side of the bed I usually sleep in, I was snuggled next to her, and my husband was on the other side of me. And she said, “Something scratched me.”

I said, “Don’t worry, baby. Just your imagination.”

We upgraded our HVAC about seven or eight years ago, and the baby crying and the whispering stopped. Even before that though, we had so many computers in the house, that I think they messed with whatever psychic energy was going on, because the weirdnesses stopped happening.

After that I never felt a presence in the room. There were no longer any strange bedfellows tapping or tickling. And the babies in the furnace stopped crying.


Maria Ragucci · November 11, 2010 at 4:37 pm

I love those stories- and really believe them. Do you remember the story of the old man who died in Miss Potter’s house and was seen by a young boy who subsequently moved in? I tell it to my son and his friends every Halloween.

Patrice Sarath · November 12, 2010 at 8:08 am

Was this the Shopovic house next door? I don’t remember that story all.

We had a poltergeist — I remember weird knocking noises in our home. Well, and we had the scariest basement and furnace in the world.

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