It was quite a beautiful house, that’s why we bought it. My husband John and I. I am Michelle, and I am the survivor. I mourn the loss of my husband every day. If it wasn’t for my love of the beauty of the house, my love of the mystery, then he would still be here today. We wanted to move away, be away from everyone and everything. The house was in Council Bluffs, Iowa, near Omaha, Nebraska, if that helps you with the visual. It was a magnificent three story. It was about 13,000 square feet, 4 bedrooms, 5 bathrooms, and 3 half baths. It was quite extreme for just the two of us, but it the price was unbelievably low. I wanted the house so badly; John wanted me to be happy.
So, we moved in. It was our first night, September 29th. We hadn’t yet put in a phone line, but we didn’t mind, we wanted to be on our own; we didn’t want distractions from the outside world. We had spent the day unpacking, and made dinner. It was around 7 p.m. we watching TV and enjoying some wine, when the horror began. I heard a loud creaking noise, it sounded like it was coming from every direction.
“Did you hear that?” I said to John.
“Of course I did,” he replied. “It was probably nothing honey, don’t worry.”
So I believed him. The next thing I knew we were asleep on the couch and I felt something shaking me. I opened my eyes, but there was nothing there. I couldn’t stop shaking, violently shaking. I was freezing yet my arm was burning. It was literally burning; a hand print appeared on my arm. I screamed and clawed at John to get his attention, but he wasn’t next to me anymore. I cried out his name and I heard him whimper back. The shaking stopped and I was flung over the back of the couch by the mysterious spirit that had hold of me. There was John lying against the back of the couch, he was tied up, there was duck-tape across his mouth. I immediately ripped of the duck-tape and started untying him.
The walls around us were vibrating with thumping sounds. I felt my eyes swell with hot tears.
“What is happening?” I said.
“I don’t know, I can’t remember anything. This isn’t good. We need to get out of here.” John said.
The floor started to shake and all of the sudden a huge hole formed mere inches from where we were sitting. I shrieked and tried to pull back. John began to peer through the hole down to the first floor.
“Everything looks normal down there,” he stated.
I decided to peer over, mind you the walls were still banging, and the sound was over bearing. As I gazed through the hole I heard an awful and felt an ice cold hand on my back. I immediately looked back and once again John had disappeared, standing over me was an awful looking figure. The figure was large and had what looked to be a large black, dark purple, and red coat hanging off it all disheveled. The figure had no face, at least not one that I could make out.
“Where is my husband!” I screamed.
“GET OUT!” The awful thing that stood above me said.
“Give me back my husband back, or I’m not going anywhere,” I said. I couldn’t stop shaking; I had never been so scared in all of my life.
“He’s mine now,” said the awful thing as it pushed me through the hole.
I fell to floor and blacked out. When I woke awoke I didn’t know how long I had been there but there was blood all over my body. The impact bruised and scraped me up pretty badly. I ran frantically through the house searching for my husband. Every time that I screamed his name the awful screamed back at me, telling me to get out. The doors started melting into nothing as I would reach at the doorknobs.
“GET OUT!” I heard.
I was the third floor and I was headed for the stairs, still screaming for John. I took the first step down the stairs and the shattered below me. I quickly grabbed onto the top of the staircase. I was hanging on with all of my might. Tears were flowing down my face. I looked up and standing above me was that awful thing and it was holding onto my husband.
“Michelle, leave. Please baby just leave,” John pleaded with me.
“Not without you,” I cried.
“It wants me,” he said. He stared deep into my eyes and mouthed to me to go get help.
“Okay,” I stated.
The awful thing picked me up and threw me with more force than I ever thought possible. I flew through walls and windows. I landed on the grass outside of the house. I began to run away from the house, I wanted to find someone to help. I heard an awful noise; it was a blend of howling, screeching, and banging. I turned to look back and the house had disappeared. There was nothing left. There was no house, there was no awful thing, and there was no John.
I sat in front the lot all night long, in pure shock. I cried all night. The next day I walked to the nearest town and made a phone call to the realtor. The number was out of service. The realtor was nowhere to be found. Everyone that I asked said that no house stood in that lot for over 70 years.
That house was real. That night was the worst night of my life. I’m still searching for John to this day. I don’t know what was inside that house, or why it took my husband. Maybe I never will.
