There’s a place where seemingly all supernatural beings, dimension gates, UFOs, possessed objects and other creatures gather. I know how does it sound, but I’ve been there a lot, I spent weeks there, I’ve known that place for more than twenty years now. I am a person trained in the sciences, but my experiences are events I just can’t explain; now I don’t even try to. I let them slip and accept them as things I have no explanation for. As the X-Files says, I have lived with a fragile faith built on vague memories from an experience that I could neither prove nor explain…
So about the new-old house, as I tend to call it. It’s a building plot with two houses built end-to-end, and there are other smaller buildings on it too, for farming and raising animals. That makes the building count around eight, including the garage too. I don’t know the whole story of that place, when the first main house was built, but I know that in 1966 they built a second house right before the first. These two then became separated by a wall, only sharing the attic. Behind these were the piggery, then a farming storage house, and then a chicken house. On the other side of the yard, in front of the back of the original house where the stairs to the attic were, there was a cellar, behind that an animal house for the rabbits, geese and ducks, and at the end, the garage. Sometimes with the years these buildings were destroyed and re-built modified or completely different, but the majority stayed the same.
As you can see, the land was quite built-up. And considering that there were practically two full houses, it could give home to at least 3 or 4 generations at the same time. My ancestors created this house, they lived in it, and even now my relatives own it.
Now let me talk about the rooms of the main houses.
The old house has three rooms and a small kitchen. Two of the rooms have been used in the past decades as storage rooms, one as an old relative’s home, who died some years ago now. The new house has six rooms in all, from which two are bedrooms, one is a kitchen, another is the bathroom, and there’s a hall and a narrow hallway. Adding a bit more to the history, nothing’s ever have been on the land before these houses. Not any other building, not a cemetery, nothing. It was just a green field, probably used to shepherd animals there.
From my experiences I can tell that the old house is more kind and welcoming than the new house. I know how strange it sounds to word it like this, but it feels like those houses are alive. Of course they can’t be literally alive, but let me explain it. Whenever I was in the old house it was nice, like any other home with flowing plaster, dusty old smell and half-broken furniture and objects. But when I entered the new house, even if I was the only person inside, I’ve never felt like I was alone, not in any room. And it wasn’t a positive, home-y feeling, it felt quite hostile, like I was an intruder somewhere I shouldn’t be.
Only this wouldn’t have such a meaning, but now I will try my best to count every event I can remember from that place that has ever happened to me or a family member or relative of mine.