I spent most of my childhood in my grandparents care. They raised me. Before I went to live with them in their little house on Spring Street, they lived in this house, which we called the big house. I was only about six years old when they moved to a smaller place, but I have many fond memories of the big white house. I spent hours running around the property with my cousins climbing trees and digging up worms. My sisters and brothers would be there too, on the weekends. It was always quality bonding time. The property surrounding the big house had a million places to hide. Some we knew enough to stay clear of. For me, the house was a safehaven, but it could also be dark and mysterious. The perfect place for a thinker like me.
The things I remember most about our time there, are the stories, stories of strange happenings, eerie coincidences and supernatural sightings. Some of which I have shared on this blog.
This place has been the setting of many of my dreams and even more nightmares. Now it’s the setting for my very first mystery, (more news on that coming up soon.)
Like much of my family that lived there, the old place is gone, but the memories remain. I love this old place so I just thought I’d show her off a little.