It was a hot sticky May in Western Tennessee, as most May’s are in this part of the South. The kind of hot where you walk to the mailbox and break in a sweat. We had moved here from up Southeast Missouri and were moving into the house with the Gone with the Wind curtains and chandeliers. My sister and I had begged my parents to rent this house because of those curtains in the living room, and chandeliers in every room. What girl doesn’t want a genuine, vintage, crystal chandelier hanging in her bedroom? We had always loved old houses, our Dad is a Civil War buff and we had spent our fair share of time in creepy old houses where the paintings follow you with their eyes due to a fabulous art trick during that time. This house, right off the town square was one of those houses where all the rooms were connected by a door and the master bedroom had a huge “dressing room”, and the living room and dining room had adjoining fireplaces and sky high ceilings and as always in the South, a front porch with a swing. We moved into our dream house but after a week or two of euphoria, strange things started to happen. My dog was stolen to start it off, then my little sister whom I was sharing a room with. Began to lock our bedroom door every night, not just our door but the other 2 doors that led into our room as well. I asked her why and she claimed that the doors had been opening on their own; I being the practical older sister insisted that it was probably just the house being old and that the doors must not have been shut all the way. I started noticing that whenever I walked in certain parts of the house, I got a really creepy feeling, particularly in the kitchen where the entrance to the attic was. I was curious to know what was in the attic but was afraid to look. Then one morning I was sitting on my bed reading, and I heard a noise.I looked up and saw the door knob turn and the door opened and no one was there. I sat there with my eyes transfixed on the door, motionless, scared.Apparently; it hadn’t been the imaginings of a little girl. That was the beginning. I saw it happen many times after that, including sparks coming from the bathtub faucet and then the last straw. One night, I said my prayers then got into bed, I lay my head down, secure in the fact that we had locked all 3 doors and no doors would be opening by themselves while we slept. And then, my bed began to shake violently. We live on the New Madrid fault, I immediately looked up at the chandelier and it was not moving, I looked over at my sister’s bed, she was not moving. It was only my bed and something was shaking my bed, something I could not see and was not of this world. I began to pray as hard as I knew to pray, pleading the blood of Jesus and calling on Heaven and the shaking stopped..That was the last straw. We lived there a month and we moved. Beautiful house, but creepy, and every time I drive by there. I still wonder what’s in the attic.