Ghost stories from an Empath

The story goes that a well to do farmer in Libby Montana murdered his entire family and himself except for his mother. His mother had been in town buying supplies, and when she returned she found her son hanging by a rope in the mudroom, his wife slumped over the kitchen sink with a bullet to her head and the three children in the upstairs bedroom tucked nicely in their beds with bullet holes right smack in the center of their heads. Obviously, proper authorities were called, and the family was buried on the property.

The Grandmother now alone on a big farm with no help; no money sold the place. This took about a month to happen. The last night of being on the property, she walked the mile and a half down the dirt road leading to the railway at the end of the property. She then proceeded to step in front of a train. There was nothing left of her except for a finger.

This story was told to me multiple times when I was a kid growing up in the same house this family had this horrible tragedy happen to. I always thought that it was just the vivid imagination of my father, but to my dismay, I later found out that this wasn’t the case. It was genuine and Libby’s most prominent murder/suicide case.

If you believe in mystery, if you believe in ghosts, then this story is just for you.

Since I can remember, I have always been able to see ghosts. I can detect if there are bad energies. Even feel other people’s feelings. Some of the things that happened to me as a kid I can remember and some of them I can’t but have recounts from my parents of the stuff I don’t remember.

To this day, this house still freaks me out. One of the most prominent memories I have is always seeing the 3 little kids that were shot and killed by their father in my closet. Now, this closet wasn’t a typical walk-in closet. It didn’t have a door; it was all open to the room. Also, if you were tall, you had to duck as the ceiling slopped from the roof. It also didn’t have any lighting; it was just a dark alcove in the room. I hated it; anytime I had to get my clothes for the day, I would run in and run out. Now why I did this was because those three kids would always grab at my ankles if I stood there for too long. I’m sure you’re thinking, “oh, it’s a child’s wild imagination.” That’s not the case, I later went back as an adult, but we will get to that later.

My parents never believed me as to what was happening. They would give me the excuse of me having a wild imagination, that ghosts aren’t real. So I had to start telling myself to get over my fears I had of that room. Until I had my eleventh birthday party. It was your typical young girl party, I had six girly friends over. My entire family came had dinner, ate cake, and opened presents, and then when the extended family left, my sister threw me a Mary Kay makeup party for my 6 friends and I. It was great for a young budding about to be a teenager.

After all, the festivities ended, and the adults wanted to go to bed. My friends and I retired to my bedroom upstairs. We listened to music, played some board games, and listen to the new CD’s I got for my birthday. Eventually, we had to quiet down, but everyone knows girls will be girls, and we laid in our sleeping bags, talking, and giggling as quiet as we could. Around midnight still up and laughing, we heard thunderous footsteps coming up the stairs like someone was coming up to tell us to be quiet in a furious manner. We all hide in our sleeping bags pretending to be asleep, thinking it was one of my parents. But it wasn’t, I felt someone one was there looming over us, and I could see him in my mind, and it wasn’t anyone I knew. I popped my head out of my sleeping bag to see if maybe it was my brother-in-law, but no one was there. I started to freak out, and so did my friends, so I went downstairs to see if maybe someone did come up there and just left before I popped my head out to see if the coast was clear and everyone said nobody went upstairs. I asked if they heard someone going up the stair loudly; they said yes and thought it was one of us girls going to the bathroom. Mind you, this house only had one bathroom.

I returned to my friends and told them what I was told, and that was the end of us sleeping that night. Thankful, nothing else happened the rest of the night, and we all eventually fell asleep. To this day, I sincerely feel that it was the murderous father coming up to shut his kids up. To that day, I knew what I was feeling in that house was real, simply because my friends experienced what I had been dealing with since I could remember at that point.

My parents divorced a year after this incident, and we all moved away, but I have had the opportunity to go back to that house. As an adult and being there was way different than I remember as a kid. It was more intense to the point that the energies in that house tried pushing me down the stairs. Nearly scared of my dad, we were coming out of my old nursery room where my dad had painted a Disney themed mural on all over the walls. There were only two bedrooms in the upstairs of the house and only a tiny little landing in between them, and then the stairs when off that landing. My dad was in front of me, and he went into the room I called mine for most of the time I was there, I followed, and as I stepped onto the landing I felt this force push me, and I almost went head first down the staircase. If it weren’t for my dad catching me, I would have fallen. After he caught me a vision of sorts of an angry man rushing up the stair at us, and from then, I had to get out of the house. I couldn’t breathe, my heart was pounding, and I just felt like I was not wanted in that house.

I haven’t been back since. The house still stands, and the farm is still operational. I have a feeling I won’t ever get to go back but currently working on going back to get video evidence. Will definitely update you all if I do.

I’ve been to many different haunted spots, and as an empath, it’s an odd experience one that I can’t explain correctly. Sound off below if you have any frightening stories or if you, too, are an empath like me.