Haunting in Poplar Bluff (real story)

When writing the Traveling Spiritualist Series, I drew inspiration from my fascination with the spirit realm. However, you may wonder where that inspiration came from, and for the first time, I will share the story with you, my fans.

When I was a child, I lived in a trailer park, and in front of the trailer park was a little white house. I would often play outside with the daughter that lived in that little white house and one day while we were digging in the dirt by my trailer I asked her, “How come she never invited me over to her place to play?” I was shocked by the girl's answer but without stopping what she was doing she replied, “Because my house is haunted, and the man is scary.” I asked more questions, and I can no longer recall much of the answers anymore, but I do remember the girl saying that once she went to bed at night, she wouldn’t get up the rest of the night because the man would be in the bathroom. Later that year the girl and her family moved, and I forgot all about our conversations about the little white house.


Sometime later my aunt, uncle, and cousins moved into the little white house and one night I stayed all night. I awakened in the middle of the night needing to use the restroom and when I did, I noticed a male figure standing at the head of the bed where my cousin slept, and it kept reaching out its hand that had long fingers with sharp nails and I covered my eyes in fear and when I would open them again it would start all over. I tried to wake up one of my cousins that was sleeping closer to me, but he would not wake up. This went on for some time and then suddenly the figure disappeared, and a female figure seemed to appear she smiled at me twirled, and then disappeared. I hurried and ran to the bathroom as I did so my aunt had one of those donkey figures that was supposed to go out in the yard in her living room and I could swear it looked like it was about to charge at me. I ran so fast not trying to look at anything as I hurried and threw on the light to the bathroom. Afterward, I hurried and ran back to the bed and covered my head so that I couldn’t see anything else. From that day forward I never did see anything else. I refused to stay all night at the little white house, and I told everyone that I believed that place was haunted but most shrugged it off as a child’s overactive imagination.

Over the years families moved in and out of the little white house never staying for very long. Then people just stopped moving into the house and it stood empty.


When I was a teenager, my friend, from across the street was going to stay all night at my house we went to her house to grab her things and we had to walk by the empty little white house to get to her place and back to mine. As we walked to her place, I quickened my steps and so did my friend, every time I walked by the little white house, I felt uneasy. After my friend grabbed her things, we started to head back to my place and stopped dead in our tracks as every light in the house suddenly turned on at once. My friend went and grabbed her older brother, and he went over to the little white house and checked all the windows and doors everything was locked up and no one was in the house. My friend and I refused to step into the yard, but we stood on the little gravel road watching her brother check the house. Finding no explanation as to how the electricity was even on in a house that had been sitting empty for years, much less how every light had turned on at once with no one in the house her brother gave up and walked us to my place. I told my parents about the lights being on and they looked out the window at the house and every so often we would do this just to see if the lights were still on. My friend and I were looking out the window at 11:59 pm and just as the clock turned 12 am all the lights in the house turned off all at once. My friend and I called out to my dad, and he looked at he was mystified as to how that could be explained away. From that moment at least my family and my friend now believed me when I said that place was haunted.

The little white house is now torn down and when I tell my story as always some believe, and others think it was an overactive imagination. No matter what it was I never saw anything like that again.


Now it’s your turn to share your true haunting story with me.


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