008 - The 3rd Floor Apartment

​The two spookiest places in a home are usually the basement in the attic. As a child, those are the two sections of the house that you're most afraid of. They're dark and cold, usually with low ceilings and strange angles. They always seemed to have an old wooden staircase leading to them. But when I was a kid, I found out that it's not the basement or the attic that you should fear. It's that empty third floor apartment. I'm Tom Stewart and this is my paranormal story. Before I start this episode, I just want to. Thank you for listening. Remember, if you've bought T-shirts or coffee mugs from my website myparanormalstory.com, be sure to send me a selfie with your swag so I can post it on Facebook or Instagram. And don't forget everything you buy on the website helps keep this podcast running. So thank you so much for your support. It wasn't until I was an adult that I started remembering the many paranormal experiences that I had as a kid. I guess when you're young you don't understand what's normal and what isn't. For me, I think I just felt that. Everyone was experiencing the things that I was, but when I grew up I started to take a bigger interest in the paranormal. That's when I started realizing there was nothing normal about the events I witness. I was an only child growing up with a single mom. As you would expect, she worked many hours trying to provide for me. Luckily though, my grandmother was willing to help out by watching me in the afternoons and in the summer, so I basically grew up at my grandmother's house. I would spend a lot of time there. I would ride my big wheel up and down and all around the yard outside the house. And I learned how to throw a baseball up against the brick wall from the building next door. I'm not sure that the workers inside cared for that very much though. My grandmother lived with my grandfather in a triple Decker house in Pawtucket, RI. It was a crowded neighborhood not too far from my elementary school, so after school I would walk the quick two blocks to get to my grandmother's house where I would stay until my mom got out of work and would come pick me up. And in the summers I would spend the whole day there. I had a couple of friends in the neighborhood, but I mostly kept to myself. I had no problem being alone, entertaining myself with imaginary games. Most of the houses on my grandmother's street were double or triple deckers, with several families living in each house, but not my grandmother's. They lived on the 1st floor, but the second and third floor apartments were always vacant. As far back as I can remember, they had never rented out either of those two apartments in the house. As a kid I. Just sort of thought my grandmother didn't want neighbors in the house. She probably didn't want the hassle of having too many cars in the driveway or noisy people living above her. I've lived in a lot of apartments, so that makes sense to me, but what didn't make sense was why no one was ever allowed to go upstairs, especially me. Nothing would have been more fun than to be able to play around in a couple. Of empty apartments. Upstairs I would have had a blast running. Around from room to room, playing games and pretending. It would have been like my. Own four room clubhouse. Plus, with the apartments being empty, there'd be nothing for me to get hurt on, and you'd be able to hear me and know where I was the entire time, but my grandmother never saw it that way. As practical as I tried to make it sound, she insisted that was never allowed to go up there. Everyday after school, I'd walk into the house and look up those stairs. Curious about what was up there. My grandmother was a religious person. She believed in God and prayed every day. She didn't go to church, but she would watch mass on TV and there were quite a few crosses and pictures of Jesus in the house. Nothing uncommon for an Irish Catholic. One of the strange things she would do that I didn't understand as a kid was her habit of putting salt in the doorway. Every week or so she would take regular table salt and pour a line on the floor across the doorway of her apartment door, and I asked her why she did it. She said it was to keep the ants. But one time I caught her giving the salt a little blessing, she did the old father, son and Holy Spirit cross. After pouring out the salt. Seemed a bit like overkill for ants, of course. Years later I discovered that it wasn't ants she was trying. To keep out. Salt has been used by hundreds of cultures and by people over many generations to ward off spirits and evil. It's believed that salt forms a barrier that spirits can't cross. Salt is believed by many to have natural neutralizing powers that can cleanse, balance and protect. In some cultures they add it to their food and crops to protect them from evil. Some people wear small amulets with sea salt in them around their neck for protection. Himalayan salt lamps have also grown in popularity from the belief that they ward off spirits and can provide calm to all who are near. In modern day, though, most people who believe in the power of salt will simply pour a line across doorways and windows to protect their home from spirits. For some, it's a superstition, but for some. It's more than that. Now I'm sure it wasn't aunts. My grandmother was trying to keep out, but maybe it was something that was coming from the third floor. A few times rare occasions my grandfather would go up to the second floor apartment, the staircase leading up to it was usually littered with lots of boxes or groceries. Since no one usually went up there, it became sort of a storage area on the stairs. Or things you'd usually keep in a cabinet or a closet. And the second floor that was sort of like my grandparents attic. That's where they kept things that most people store for long periods of time. Suitcases, Christmas decorations, old clothes. And once in a while, especially around the holidays, it would be my grandfather's job to go up there and grab whatever it was they needed and bring it down. At one time he let me go up there with him. I slowly climbed the stairs behind him. I was just a kid and the stairs were old and big. They felt like mountains when I was climbing. As the stairs wound around the corner, I could see the open door to the second floor apartment. It was basically like any other vacant apartment. The shades were all pulled down and the air was dry and dusty. It looked just like the first floor apartment that my grandparents lived in, except no furniture. Just a bunch of boxes and stuff all stacked haphazardly in. The first room. As I strolled around a bit, I was able to peek into the pantry. It had a really old looking sink. Hadn't been used in years. It was an empty space where the stove would normally go and empty cupboards. No signs of anyone having lived there. At all. The two bedrooms off the kitchen were dark and empty. My grandfather didn't want me walking around too much, so I just sort of peeked into the rooms from where I was. I wasn't even sure my grandmother knew I was up there with. The last room I peeked into was the living room. It was brightly lit, despite the shades being down. Who's directly in line with the sun and all I can remember is how dull everything looked in the sunlight. The floors were dusty and the walls looked faded. Otherwise, though just a boring empty room. My grandfather found the box he needed and. We headed back down. But in the hallway was the staircase that leads up to. The third floor. I walked over and took. A look and he immediately called out to. Me this way. I turned around and headed down the stairs behind him. I was excited to have finally gotten to see the upstairs even though it was. Kind of boring. But what about the third floor? Just looking at those stairs made me more curious. I spent many years at my grandmother's house after school summer time, even some overnights too. But I never suspected anything was going on there. Spent a lot of holidays there too. Christmas Eve and Easter with the family, aunts and uncles and other relatives all spending time together, exchanging presents and talking about boring adult stuff. I was always content just playing with my toys off to the side, but I'd always be listening in on their conversations. But never once did anyone ever talk about the empty apartments upstairs. No one even questioned it or asked about it, and no one ever spoke about the salt in the doorway or anything about the third floor. Few years later, I finally decided to find out for myself. At this point I was probably 11 years old. It was the summer and I was spending the days at my grandmother's house while my mom worked. It was a warm, rainy day and I was stuck in the house watching TV playing with toys I imagine. But by this age I was really becoming an explorer. My curious side always run out against my frightened side. It was just a little bit after lunchtime. My grandfather was in bed taking his usual nap. My grandmother had nodded off on the couch. So while they were both sleeping. I decided to sneak off and do some exploring. I snuck out into the hallway and slowly made my way up the stairs. I took my sneakers off first so my footsteps wouldn't make any noise. And I slowly ascended the stairs and my hands and knees quietly trying to avoid all the things that they stored on the stairs. Step by step and carefully climbed until I was up to. The second floor. And it looked as I had remembered. The door to the empty apartment was still open, and in that first room all sorts of old boxes and clothes still just piled up randomly. I thought about exploring the other rooms of that apartment. But what if the floor creaked, or I? Tripped on something. At this point I was more afraid of. Getting caught than anything. Else just the act of doing this was exciting and scary at the same time. So I turned around and headed to the next staircase. The forbidden staircase to the third floor. These stairs didn't have anything on them. The steps were all clear except for a layer of dust from never being used. Before going up, it froze for a moment, realizing. This dust might give me away my 11 year old footsteps on the dusty stairs would surely give me away. So I took my foot and cleared away the dust with my sock so that no footprint would be seen. I held on to the railing and stepped up to the next step one at a time, clearing them off as I went. And continued like this stepping and wiping till I got to the top. These stairs didn't have anything on them. The steps were all clear except for a layer of dust from never being used. Before going up. Froze for a moment realizing. This dust might give me away. My 11 year old footsteps on the dusty stairs would surely give me away. So I took my foot and cleared away the dust with my sock so that no footprint would be seen. I held onto the railing and stepped up to the next step one at a time, clearing them off as I went. And continued like this stepping and wiping till I got. To the top. When I finally reached the third floor. Didn't feel much different. The door was closed. And I assumed it was probably locked. This would be the end of my rainy afternoon adventure. I quietly tried the doorknob. It was an old door knob. Kind of jiggled a little as I turned it. It felt like even the tiniest of noises was going to give me away though, but I managed to slowly turn it all the way and the door opened. We only opened it halfway. Hoping to make as little creaking sound as possible and I just kind. Of peeked in? I didn't know what I was expecting to see, but. I was still somehow surprised at how empty it looked. No boxes or anything being stored up here. It was just an empty shell of an apartment. I opened the door the rest of the way and slowly tiptoed into the first room. It was the same floor plan as the. Other two apartments below. Except for some angled ceilings from being at the top of the house and those angles made it feel a little bit smaller and a little more confined. The air was thick and the apartment was warm. There probably hadn't been a window opened. In this apartment in decades and it. Felt like it. I tiptoed over to the pantry just like I remembered from the 2nd floor. It had an old sink, empty cabinets, and space where a stove would go. None of it ever being used for years, if at all. I tiptoed back across. The kitchen and into the living room. And just like the floor below, it was faded. And old looking. I peeked out one of the. Windows through the side of the pulled down shade. And I can still remember how strange it felt being up this high. I'd never seen my grandmother's yard from this perspective before. So many times I had stared up at these windows from the ground. Now I was way up top looking down. I continued to tiptoe around looking for more things to check out, always stopping every few steps to listen for any noises from downstairs. So far so good. Went back into the kitchen and headed over to one of the bedrooms.
 
It was dark.
 
With just one window and had a shade blocking out the light just like all the other windows. It was a small closet door that was closed. I figured that was probably just empty too. By this point I was wondering. What's the big deal about coming up here? And I was also thinking. Have been gone way too long. Someone is bound to wake up and notice. Tiptoed back into the kitchen. Noticed that the door for. The other bedroom was closed. Seemed kind of odd. Wonder why they would keep. That door closed, but all the other ones open. So I tiptoed over to the closed door. Stopped and looked down. And there was a line of salt going across the doorway. Why would my grandmother care about ants but you? Up here and that's when I heard a noise. The floor was creaking. As if someone had just taken. A step. It wasn't coming from the hallway or downstairs. It was coming from the other. Side of the door. The old door was too intimidating for me to open. At this point I didn't dare touch that doorknob. So I quietly got down on the ground. And laid my head down on the dusty floor. Tried to look under the door. The room seemed. Empty from what I could see through the dust and salt on the floor. It looked brighter than the other rooms too. Perhaps the shade wasn't all the way down in this room. I kept looking and listening. And then I heard it again another Creek. This time I could feel it in my ear as I was pressed against the floor was definitely coming from that bedroom. I looked closely. Wondering who or what it could be in there? And suddenly something walked by. I could clearly see the shadow of a. Foot walking across my line of sight. I quickly got up and wanted to run. But I knew if. I made any kind of noise. I'd be in big trouble. I suddenly stood there having to deal with the choice of waking up my grandparents or running away from whatever was in that room. I ended up tiptoeing as quickly as possible through the kitchen out the door. And down the stairs. Not caring about what, if any, footprints might now dirty socks would be leaving behind. I made it down to the second floor and stopped. And listened. Nothing but silence. The quietly tiptoed down the final flight of stairs slipped back into my grandparent's apartment. They were both still asleep. I went back to my spot in front of the TV and pretended like nothing had happened. And never mentioned to anyone about that time I went exploring. But to this day. Anytime I hear the squeak of a floorboard, I can remember laying on that dirty floor. Looking under the door of my grandmother's third floor apartment. My paranormal story is written, produced and narrated by me. Tom Stewart. Music from this episode, courtesy of Kevin MacLeod at Incompetech. Dot com. If you enjoy my stories and would like to support the podcast, you can go to buymeacoffee.com/my paranormal or just click on the donate button on my website at my paranormal story.com. I also have T-shirts and coffee mugs for sale. Unfortunately, podcasts cost money in your support. Helps me keep this podcast running. Thank you for your support. Please don't forget to subscribe so you'll know when I've added new episodes and feel free to follow me on Facebook and Instagram. Just search for my paranormal. If you have a podcast and you'd like to have me as a guest, or if you would like to ask me a question or tell me your paranormal story, you can e-mail me at [email protected]. Thanks for listening. I'm Tom Stewart, and this is my paranormal story.