Paranormal Horror Stories That Will Keep You Awake Tonight
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Why did the narrator move to a remote house after his wife's death?
I moved into the house because my wife died, although that isn't the explanation I gave anyone at the time. The explanation I gave was money. I reviewed property damage estimates for an insurance company and worked almost entirely from home. I told my brother that I was tired of paying Nashville prices for a house I didn't even like. I told my co-workers that living near the office had become pointless. I told them real estate agent that I wanted land, quiet, and enough room to fix up without putting myself back into debt. All of those things were true, they just weren't the real reason. The real reason was that Claire was everywhere in our old house. She died eleven months after being diagnosed with ovarian cancer.
She was thirty five. I was thirty eight. We didn't have children, which had been a source of sadness before she got sick, and a strange kind of mercy afterward. There was nobody in that house. House but me, once the nurses collected their equipment, and her family took the clothes I'd said they could have. Even after most of her things were gone, every room still reminded me of something: the dent on her side of the couch, the loose handle on the bathroom drawer she'd been asking me to fix, a pale square on the living room wall where we'd taken down a framed print to bring to the hospital. I lasted there for a little over four months after the funeral. Then I put the place up for sale, accepted the first decent offer, and started looking for somewhere far enough away that I wouldn't pass our old grocery store or the exit for her oncologist every time I drove across town.
The house I found was in Fentress County, outside Jamestown, Tennessee. It sat at the end of a narrow county road. Road, on a little over eight acres. The nearest full-time neighbor was about half a mile away, and most of what surrounded the property was hardwood forest and old pasture. The house itself had been built in sections. The front half was a two-story farmhouse from sometime around the 1920s. A kitchen and mudroom had been added in the 60s, and a previous owner had enclosed Closed part of the back porch after that. None of it matched very well, but the roof was sound, the well worked, and the inspection didn't uncover anything I couldn't afford to repair. The price was $128,000. That was cheap, even with the dated wiring, stained carpet, and basement moisture.
The agent explained that the owner had died in a nursing home and the distant Relatives handling the estate wanted it gone. It had already sat empty for almost three years. Two previous sales had fallen apart after inspections, and the estate had lowered the price each time. There was also an abandoned church on the neighboring parcel. You could see it from the upstairs bedroom once the leaves came down. It was a small white building with a narrow steeple, a sagging porch. And tall windows covered from the inside. A cemetery occupied the slope behind it. The church had its own gravel entrance farther down the county road and wasn't included with my land. According to the agent, the last congregation had folded years earlier.
Someone still cut the cemetery grass in the summer, but the building itself hadn't been used in a long time. I asked the house. Whether the church was the reason the house was so cheap. She laughed and said the basement was the reason. It wasn't a threatening basement, it was just ugly. The walls were covered in dark wood paneling. The floor had been painted gray several times, and there was a permanent damp smell, even though the inspector couldn't find active water intrusion. The furnace, water heater, and electrical panel were all down there. Along with a finished room that might once have served as an office. I planned to tear most of it out, seal the foundation, and turn the finished room into a proper workspace.
I closed on the house in late October and moved in during the first week of November. My brother, Daniel, drove up from Nashville to help. We spent two days carrying furniture, replacing smoke detectors, and making fun.
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Chapters
8 chapters
1
Why did the narrator move to a remote house after his wife's death?
0:22–11:21
2
What caused the mysterious light switches to turn off on their own?
11:21–21:04
3
How did the discovery of the fake‑brick wall lead to a hidden lower chamber?
21:04–30:42
4
What did the contractor Wes find behind the wall and why was it significant?
30:42–40:27
5
Why did the basement doors lock themselves and the power fail during the night?
40:27–49:11
6
What happened when the narrator confronted the figure in the lower room?
49:11–1:00:49
7
How did the police, trooper, and engineer respond to the strange events?
1:00:49–1:11:20
8
What were the long‑term effects on the narrator after the house was sold?
1:11:20–1:23:55
Speakers
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