My Sister and I experienced something
I have mentioned this before in some askreddit posts, and am now going to share it here. As a child, I was surrounded by religion, although not entirely understanding the complexity of it. I knew of ghosts and goblins, and things that go bump in the night. Having two older brothers who loved horror movies and creeping the hell put of their younger siblings pushed me into the macabre and terrifying at a very early age. However, this was different. This was something outside of normalcy or rationality.
We had this painting, a painting of a lighthouse on a small island, with an overlooking cliff on the foreground. There was fog clouds over the top, but not to as to obscure the stereotypical red spiral of the lighthouse itself. The cliffs were an amber color, almost like a grassy field in the late evening. This painting would become the object of my childhood attachememt to something. The thing was, I swear up and down this is true, because deep down it has to be, that if you stared at this painting, the sea would spray ever so slightly, or the clouds would move across the page. Animated for fractions of a moment, before settling back down to it's original orientation.
Eventually, things started to occur in our home. Call it an overactive child's imagine, but I am going to explain it how I remember. I distinctly remember a deep, deep voice. Think of one of those voice changing apps that over bassed your voice. That deep. Sometimes I wouldn't understand it, other times it would tell me mundane things. One time, I could vividly make out instructions on how to tie my shoes. I remember looking down the hallway to my parents room, waiting for whoever said that to reveal themselves. The strangest thing was that I never felt fear. I was maybe 7 or 8 years old at the time so I should have known something was wrong, but it didn't catch up to me until my late teens for reasons I will get to later.
The dreams I would have in that house were wild as well. The closet held an enigmatic grip on my mind, seeming to be infinite in the darkness. The hallway door always seemed to be cracked open at night, despite my parents always making sure we closed it. My brother was too young to use the bathroom himself, and my sister would wet the bed (sorry sis, but it's an important point) because she was afraid to get up at night. I also remember never wanting to look in the mirror at night, although that could be attributed to the "Bloody Mary" craze that shook every elementary school at the time. Unfortunately dear viewer, that was my extent of paranormal attachment to that house, and moreover that painting. That is, until one night my sister, buddy and I were staying up late watching scary YouTube videos (shoutout Chills).
I had never disclosed the above to anyone, in any capacity, so what I was about to hear shook me to my core in a way I didn't know you could be afraid. The stereotypical hair standing on end, tears filling your eyes, and going completely catatonic. We were talking about scary things that happened to us, and my buddy Jacob was telling of a time he and a mutual friend of ours went to a graveyard and swore they saw something scurrying around that wasnt a dog or raccoon. I told of the time I was out during an orienteering trip in High School and came to a clearing, alone, to see a large wolf staring right at me, and continued to as I kept facing it as I passed. Then my sister's turn came up.
"So basically, there was this painting we had, with a lighthouse, and I swear it would move of you looked at it." I froze, and listened. She went on about how she would hear a voice, but it was bitter, and angry. At night, she would see someone peer through that cracked door. She would have dreams of large eyes staring from the closet at us in the room. One dream she had was that there was an extra door in the hallway, and she opened it to reveal a deep basement. As she descended down, it became more grimy, with leaves and dirt covering the steps. Then, this 5 year old girl turned to see a couch littered with mutilated women, with "you're next" written in blood. Again, this could be an overactive child's imagination, or something more.
It was after that she noticed I was very upset, to the point of tears. Her brother, who recently got back from basic training not too long ago, reduced to a teary eyed wreck. She asked what was wrong and I explained my half, on how the absurdity of not just one of us, but both of us experiencing the same thing, although in different ways, was mind blowing. I consider myself a religious man to this day, and I don't want to know exactly what it was we experienced, as I would prefer to be ignorant. To this day, recalling these events still causes my hair to stand and eyes to water. It's a type of fear you cant get from a horror movie or game.
That's about it, I do have more stories to tell from my own personal experiences as well as some from my mother when she grew up in rural New Mexico, but good night and sleep tight!