Stories from Wisconsin

fair warning, I curse a bit in this. normally its worse, so if I do in later parts then this applies for that as well.

As well as that, if i could also tag this under nosleep then I would, but thats not an option and it applies to childhoodstories more. The whole thing isn’t creepy, but this house was bad and not just design wise.

A bit of back story, I grew up as a navy kid. Most of my childhood was spent moving from state to state, sometimes not even a full year afterwards.

We lived in this house for around 8 months, so one of our shorter stays in a state.

The house we lived in was strange to say the least. It had been a few years since anyone had lived there, but I thought it was cool (I was obsessed with the movie Coraline at the time, but that will be important later), and my mom loved the fact that it was right next to the towns fire station (I’d give my dad and brothers opinions, but my dad constantly worked and my brother was 3 at the time, so they didn’t know much).

Now, when I say strange, I mean creepy as fuck. The house was a little over 100 years old. I’d say it had history, but I only know the basics along with what we experienced.

Everything there was a little bit off. The stairs were incredibly steep, and frankly unsafe. The laundry room was in a weird off-to-the-side room that was way too small for the appliances that were shoved in there. The kitchen was set up weird where half of the counters were set up normally, but the other half were unevenly placed in the other corner of the room. The upstairs bathroom was weird in that it had steps leading into it at a wonky angle (I wish I could explain it better).

I know this all sounds like I’m bashing the house for being shittily set up, but it was unconventional in a way that you couldn’t ignore.

The house used to be split into two separate apartments, so there was a small applienceless kitchen upstairs that my mom set up as my “art studio.”

I don’t think I ever used it.

The whole thing (counters and all) was painted an off-white yellow color, but it was all done with what looked like acrylic paint. It was weirdly plastic-y, and tacky to where you could push your nail in and leave a noticeable dent, and it had brush strokes through the whole room. I remember the whole room being like this, but I could be mistaken, but that’s unlikely.

I say that because I’ve always had a weirdly good memory. I can remember the layout of almost every house I’ve lived in, and I’ve drawn out what I remember with conformation from my mom that it’s all correct.

Along with the way the house was set up, there were the smells. You’re probably thinking something like “what the fuck, this is way more important then the shitty set up” and yeah, your right, but shut up.

Just a heads up, my parents don’t smoke. My dad despises it, and my mom hasn’t since my brother was born back in 2006 and hated it while she was addicted.

This matters because occasionally, and my occasionally I mean maybe once a week, specific parts of the house would REEK of cigarettes as if someone had been smoking some time before.

My brothers room was the worst.

When we first moved in there were stains from the previous renters through out the house, but specifically in my brothers room. My mom attempted to clean them, then eventually painted over them.

I’m not sure if the stench can come through stains, but that doesn’t make any sense to me.

Submitted April 02, 2019 at 08:43AM by MementoMori_14 https://ift.tt/2OEz083