My step-grandmothers old mansion – By Meanastarkey
When I was a child of perhaps eleven me and my family went to visit my elderly grandfather down in Louisiana. He had recently remarried and we were all very excited to meet his new wife. She lived in an old mansion that had been partly turned into a museum. She had traveled all over the world with her first husband, had become a pilot, and had a grand display of all of the movie stars that she had flown around back in the day.
There was a erie calm to the place. A darkness that no matter how many lamps were lit or lights were turned on, the rooms remained dark and hard to peer into.
She proudly gave us a tour of the house. Except for the attic. I remember jokingly asking if it was haunted or something. I remember seeing a uncomfortable expression briefly flash across her face. She did not seem to want to reply to that question. She finally said just don’t go up there, it might be dangerous, before swiftly adding because of the old flooring. I looked at her hard, trying to get more out of her, but she would say no more about it.
I kept asking her from time to time if I could go upstairs and check it out as I swiftly became bored.
Sometimes during our third visit she finally agreed. She had a curious then smirky look on her face. She herself seemed to be wondering what would happen.
As I approached the attic stairs I began to feel a sense of dread, but I said out loud seemingly to reassure myself, hey I got permission. Upon saying that out loud the feeling lifted and I proceeded on up the stairs.
I reached the landing of the attic and the sight before me shocked me.
There were large beautiful windows with sunlight streaming in upon five or six tables that were set up for a party of some sort. Seated at each table were ancient dolls of every variety.
I took a seat on the windowseat and stared at them all. They were each exquisitely dressed, as if for a formal occasion, complete with real jewelry and beautiful wigs and hair pieces.
I was quite enchanted. I felt like I was being looked over, like I had interupted a party. Then I felt a wave of love wash over me that I could not explain. For a while. Then suddenly that horrible feeling returned and I began to feel trapped.
I could hear what sounded like people murmuring under their breath to each other, but could not place where the sound was coming from. The sounds began to escalate as I felt whatever ominous presence that was coming up the stairs was getting closer. The stairs coming up to the attic began to creak with the sounds of heavy steps. There was no place for me to go. No place for me to hide. I suddenly heard a voice yell in my ear, “Run!!”.
So I ran. Not in a straight line however. I ran around what appeared to be a large black mass that was coming towards me and flew down the stairs, not daring to look back.
I ran all the way back to my step grandmother, who took one look at me and began to laugh hysterically.
Needless to say, I never asked to go up in that attic again.
What is it with basements and attics??
This was many years ago as I am 46 now, so I am sorry I do have any photos or footage to show you.