From Josh:

At the end of Old Squires Road stood a giant haunted house. It was a very old, run down place with large vines crawling up the brick of the house. It was a known fact that the family who built the house were murdered in the house (they were hung in the basement, except for the father, who was shot while trying to protect his family).

From a distance the house wasn't all that scary but when near the house it gave off a very clammy, erie feeling. ANYWAY, Teenagers used to always perform bravery tests in it, seeing who could sleep a full night in the basement of the house. When I was 13 my friends Truman and Pat and I decided to accept this test of bravery and sleep in the basement.

We brought sleeping bags, food and, of course, flashlights. After sitting in the basement for sometime we began to feel more comfortable, the eeriness was still there but we had gotten used to it.

I don't quite remember when we drifted off, sometime during a conversation I suppose.

"not here... not tonight... not here... not tonight..."

I woke up in a state of panic. I quickly grabbed my flash light and looked around the basement. Silence. I lay back down. As I'm falling asleep I hear a man' s voice.

"not here... not tonight... not here... not tonight..."

Once more I sat up in a state of panic. This time the voice continued to say, "not here... not tonight... not here... not tonight..."

I turned my flash light on and shun it around. I saw a man in the far corner of the basement. He just stood there and we stared at each other. I suppose I was too shocked or too terrified to do anything else.

The man looked sad and once more he said. "not here... not tonight... not here... not tonight..."

My flashlight flickered off and the man was gone.

Needless to say I woke Pat and Truman up and we got the heck out of there. The next morning I found out two things.

First thing - A criminal with a female hostage arrived at the house MINUTES after me and my friends left. The woman was killed in the attic and the criminal set the house on fire.

Second thing - Apparently Pat, Truman and I picked the wrong night to sleep there, because it was the 50th aniversary of the night the family was hung and shot. To this day I STILL see a psyciatrist about this incident.