Hello and welcome to my episode 164 of Real Life Ghost Stories, and I have one

story for you today, and it is a story from Jen that has broken into three different

stories and it comes from January the 20th, 2022.

In 2003, I moved across the country to live with someone I met on the internet.

The move had been ill-advised, full of warnings and portance that it was an overall bad idea.

I had stubbornly forged ahead anyway. I had stayed at his place once before for a week in May.

The tiny house had felt eerie and off, but I had dismissed it as a culture shock and a

slanting floor. Now that I was maneuvering among the boxes and furniture crammed into the space,

it felt oppressive and overwhelming. Again, I tried to chalk it up to a culture shock,

and the undeniable fact that the relationship while workable long distance was turning into a

controlling nightmare in the confined space of the aging tiny house on the banks of the Ohio river.

Little did I know, everything was going to get much worse.

The house was tiny, three rooms over a dirt floor cellar, with a spring in one corner that

caused a trickle of water to seep out under the roughhune floor, under the wide porch,

and cascade meridly down the crooked stone steps and into the narrow street when the rain was

particularly hard. It was originally the summer kitchen for the large three-story house next door.

Sometime between when it was built around 1840 and the early part of the 20th century,

it had been converted into a tiny little cottage. The spring-seeping into the cellar floor was

causing the corner of the house to slowly sink, tilting everything down the steep hill on which it

was built. The back of the cottage was dug into the hillside. The small rear terrace banked with a

roughhune stone wall. The front of the cottage was well above the grade, steep wooden stairs

leading to a wide porch that ran the length of the house. Because it was originally an outbuilding

...