This is a real ghost stories online extra.

Hi.

I am from Pennsylvania, and my name is Jennifer.

And I grew up in a house that was over 100 years old, probably closer to 150, that has a really bizarre kind

of history where at one point it was part of it was a horse supply store.

And in Scrant, Pennsylvania, there's really kind of a depressive history there of a lot of coal

mining and iron ore mining and steam engines, just a lot of suffering on the backs of immigrants.

In fact, both of my great-grandfathers died in their 50s of black lung disease, unfortunately.

There's also a lot of history of alcoholism and just depression in that area.

Just kind of paint a picture of the culture.

And down at the end of the block where I grew up was a little cemetery, in fact, that had gravestones dating back to, I can remember, the oldest one I saw was the 1700s.

So many of them were kind of worn away, so you could barely see what they said, but you could still make that out.

So there was just so much culture that this city was steeped in, in my neighborhood especially, and my house where I grew up.

My family owned two homes.

We had a bigger house where I grew up and then a smaller house that we actually called

the little house that was down the end of our property, beginning with another property.

And the little house, I had several generations of family actually lived

and passed that down to us. And the bigger house my grandparents had purchased when they were a young

couple, raised their kids there. I grew up with my grandma and grandpa and my brother and my sister.

My grandpa died when I was about 10 years old and he's really the only dad I ever knew.

The big house that I grew up in was an old colonial style home.

And during the day, it was fine, very old, but fine.

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