Some years ago, I won't say how many because it might give my age away, but I was around fifteen-years-old. I was living in a small town in North Carolina and we decided to move to a house in the country. It was me, my mother, two brothers and two sisters. We had no idea this house was haunted, back then landlords didn't have to disclose everything. But the first minute I walked into the house, I knew something wasn't right. I could feel something watching me and I could feel hate all around. Later on I wouldn't even go in the house alone, even during the day. But the first we were there, at about nine-'0-clock, it was good and dark, we heard someone walk up the steps and across to our front porch. Then a loud banging started on the front door, the front door had a window on it and I walked to the window, thinking it was one of my friend's playing a joke. There was nobody there but the banging continued. This went on night after night for about two weeks. Then one night a buddy of mine, who was in the marine corp and home on a weekend pass, came by with five other marines. They had heard the story and were going to catch the ghost and whoop it's ass. Or, so they thought. So, we were all sitting around, laughing and talking, and sure enough at about nine-'o-clock somebody walked up the steps, across the porch, and the banging started. The first marine to the door snatched it open and something invisiable hit him hard and knocked him down. The others just froze. Then, they decided they weren't going to whoop the ghosts' ass, they would rather leave. The last thing my buddy said to me, as they were leaving, was, "We won't be back." We stayed for about three more months and toughed it out until we finally moved back to town. Bu I've never forgotten that house or that night. This story is true!
