My husband saw it on the internet while browsing for houses. We plan on moving sometime this year, but we haven’t officially started looking yet. This house had everything we wanted. It was too good to be true.
Five bedrooms, three bathrooms, 3000-square feet, a basement, huge kitchen with a pantry, and a shop in the back! All on 2 acres. The pictures showed tile throughout, huge rooms, and a beautifully landscaped front yard. Built in a neighborhood located at the base of a mountain range. All of this awesome-ness for the low price of $249,000. We had to go see it. That day.
We knew it was going to be a fixer-upper because it was a foreclosed home. But it didn’t look that bad from the pictures.
The realtor representing this home needs to seriously consider a career in photography. You know the kind that make piles of shit and transients look pleasing to the eye?
When we got there, our hopes were more than crushed, mangled, graffitied and crapped on. The tile job done throughout the house was so incredibly uneven that if you didn’t watch your step, you’d trip over tile corners and edges. It looked like something was trying to upheave itself from under the tile (I’ll get to this aspect later). The only large room in the house was the master bedroom downstairs in the basement; the other rooms were smaller than small.
I’m not going to list all these negatives. Suffice it to say the house needed more work, and more money invested, than it was worth. Let me just state before I go on that we are no strangers to fully renovating a home. The house we are in now is my mother-in-law’s, and she hadn’t lived in it in years. We gutted this house, and I mean gutted. Tore out walls, flooring, everything in the bathrooms, kitchen cabinets and the kitchen sink, and about 3/4 of the back wall to the house. We added a new room and family room. We put in new insulation and put up new drywall. We rewired and replumbed the whole house. We put in sinks, toilets, and bathtubs. We put in a whole new kitchen. We painted the whole house, inside and out, and installed new flooring throughout. We did the majority of this work ourselves.
So I am not a house snob, and I am definitely not too delicate to do any work myself. There is more to this story than just a foreclosed home that needed a lot of work.
Have you ever seen any of the Paranormal Activity movies? Amityville? Poltergeist?
I thought the house had a creepy and uncomfortable feel to it and, for some reason, every time I passed the door to the garage, I didn’t want to go in. That was even before my husband told me what he saw in the garage. He said the inside of the door to the garage and the surrounding wall looked like a dog had been trying to get out. He said the drywall was ripped to shreds, gouges in the door, and there was blood everywhere.
Yeah. Gouges. Blood.
I’m thinking demon dog? Or dog locked in the garage with something terrifying? Why would a dog do that to itself? Was it a dog?
The first weird thing I noticed was when we walked up the pathway to the house. There were splatters and droplets of something dark. I thought, “Huh. That’s weird. Looks like blood. Couldn’t be blood. Brown paint. Yeah, it’s brown paint.”
Those tiles I was talking about earlier. It looked like a rush job, and it wasn’t level or even. Hmmm. Something buried?
Remember I mentioned the master bedroom was in the basement? There was a random pvc tube, about 3 inches in diameter, that came about a half foot out of one of the walls in the bedroom. The section of wall that it came out of was built out a bit, like it was added on and the wall pops out at that point.
And there is no way that house is 3000 square feet. Hidden compartments behind the walls? Like in the master bedroom?
As we walked away from the house, I kept thinking if I turned back to look that I’d see a figure standing in one of the windows.
My daughter was creeped out by the house, too. When we got home, she asked, “Was anyone left alone at any time in that house?” We all turned and looked at my son. He replied, “What?” I guess the dogs would be growling if we’d brought something home.