It was the summer of 1987 and my family had moved to Bridgeport, WV. We were moving into a rental home at the time. We had to come down early for my husband’s job and our house was still being built. The rental was a two story old, Victorian style house in the middle of a small town. When we finally moved in, our first night in the house proved the most terrifying.
It was around midnight when we arrived at our rental. My husband and his cousin were unloading the truck and I was looking after our two boys. As soon as we entered the house, Kenny (my oldest boy) began to explore it. It didn’t take him long to find the upstairs. I took my younger son into the kitchen and began unpacking. It had only been a few minutes when Kenny came into the kitchen and told me that there was a lady upstairs.
Naturally I would have just ignored this as a child’s imagination, but Kenny was acting so seriously. He told me that the lady said we needed to get out of the house right now. I yelled for my husband and he came into the kitchen. I told him what Kenny said and he laughed it off, but I wasn’t so sure. I told him we needed to check the upstairs before we did anything else.
We went upstairs to look for this woman. While we were walking upstairs, Kenny said that the lady had a dress on and long hair. As we checked on each room my sense of fear grew. There was no one upstairs. My husband was convinced that Kenny was just telling a story, but I didn’t believe it. Kenny’s whole demeanor had changed since we first got to the house. We never saw or heard from the woman again.
