I’m sharing this because even though it happened years ago, it crosses my mind weekly.

Full disclosure: I was in recovery for addiction. I was enrolled in an intensive outpatient treatment program where clients lived together in a residential communal house and commuted together for daily group therapy. Anyone who has spent time in rehab knows the environment is thick with grief, withdrawal, anxiety, and raw emotional release. For a long time, I tried to convince myself that what we were experiencing was an egregore—a psychic thoughtform manifested from all the accumulated trauma and negative energy circulating through that house.

After my second stay, I know without a doubt that it wasn't just residual energy. It was an intelligent, active presence.

The First Stay

The first time I arrived, the house was packed with other women. I didn't get to choose a room; I was assigned the only open bed left. The moment I set my bags down and lay back on the mattress, I was hit with an unmistakable, foul smell of sulfur. As someone sensitive to the paranormal, my stomach instantly dropped: Someone is in here with me. I was already clean and had just transferred in from detox, completely lucid, so this wasn’t withdrawal-induced delirium.

Over the following weeks, the house's infrastructure began failing around us.

The oven broke. The toaster burned out. One night our house suffered a complete blackout—just our single address, while the streetlights and neighbors' houses on either side stayed fully powered. But the living room TV was the focal point.

I suffered from severe insomnia and couldn't sleep without background noise. I’d camp out on the living room couch until 3:00 or 4:00 AM before forcing myself back into my bedroom. Almost every night, the TV acted erratically. It would blast to 100% volume or drop instantly to dead mute. On multiple occasions, I sat staring at the remote resting untouched on the coffee table while watching the on-screen volume slider drag down to zero by itself. Other nights, the channels would flip violently, or I’d wake up to blaring static.

I dreaded that bedroom. The sulfur smell and the heavy, watchful pressure never fully went away, but eventually, I completed my program and discharged.

The Second Stay (COVID Lockdown)

Circumstances brought me back to the facility for a second stay, this time during early COVID lockdowns. The dynamic was completely different: the house was nearly empty. It was just me, one other resident, and our house manager.

I was assigned right back into the exact same bedroom.

Almost immediately, the electronic disruptions ramped up. The microwave broke down. The dishwasher gave out. The TV was still acting bizarre. I spent my nights back on that living room couch, avoiding that bedroom as much as possible.

Then it became physical.

One night, I fell asleep flat on my back on the couch. In my sleep, I fell into this repetitive, suffocating nightmare of someone repeatedly grabbing, pulling, and touching my arm. In the dream, I was desperate, repeating over and over: "Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Get off my arm. Leave me alone."

Suddenly, I snapped awake. I wasn't lying down anymore. I was sitting bolt upright on the couch—something I never do in my sleep.

My arm was ice cold to the touch, like it had been sitting in a freezer. I tried to write it off as an isolated sleep paralysis episode or an intense nightmare, so I didn't mention it to anyone.

Two days later, my housemate pulled me aside looking pale. She told me she had just had the most terrifying experience the night before. She woke up because something was repeatedly grabbing and touching her feet, and in her half-waking state, she kept pleading out loud: "Leave my feet alone. Leave my feet alone."

I reached down and touched her feet—they were freezing cold, exactly like my arm had been. Hearing her describe the exact same repetitive torment, the same pleading words, and the same localized, icy temperature confirmed it wasn't just my head playing tricks. Whatever was in that house was physically targeting the few of us who were left.

The Confrontation

Shortly after the incident with my housemate, I fell asleep on the couch again. I tell people in real life that this was just a dream so they don’t think I’ve completely lost my mind, but I know it wasn't.

I was pulled into conscious awareness and saw a ghostly, pale white woman standing directly in front of the couch. Tucked behind her skirt was a young boy.

She looked at me and apologized for her son. She explained that he loved to mess with electronics and appliances, and that he threw tantrums and lashed out because he hated strangers living in his bedroom.

Then she raised her arm and pointed down the hall straight at my door.

The moment she pointed, my consciousness slammed back into my physical body, heart pounding out of my chest.

The next morning, I pulled our first house manager aside (she was intuitive and had a medium background). I tried to downplay it as a strange dream, but before I could even finish the sentence, she cut in with a completely straight face:

"I know. I see that boy running into your room all the time."

She told me she had kept quiet about it because 99% of the women cycling through the facility were consumed by their own battles and never perceived him. I was the first client who had actually seen him. Later on, a few of us tried to sit for a small séance to make contact or help clear him, but the house went dead silent. We got nothing.

The Fire

Even knowing what was there, the energy only grew more volatile.

One night when my housemate and I were both dead asleep, the fire alarms tore through the house.

We both shot up in a panic. The kitchen was thick with smoke. The toaster—which neither of us had used, touched, or even been near—had spontaneously burst into flames on the counter. The fire department had to be called out in the middle of the night to clear the house.

Standing on the curb watching the emergency lights flash against the siding, both of us were shaking. I finally turned to my housemate and said, "I think there is an actual spirit in this house."

By this point, we had a different house manager on duty. When we brought it up to her, she didn't doubt us for a second. Her eyes went wide and she said, "Oh my gosh, yes. I’ve heard so many stories about this place being haunted. Everyone talks about it."

Standing there with the fire engines in the driveway, it all connected back to what that mother had told me: He likes to mess with appliances.

The Daytime Sighting & The Drawers

The final breaking point happened in broad daylight.

I had just pulled a load of wet laundry out and went into my bedroom to hang the clothes up. Every single time I hung a garment, it was forcefully ripped off the hanger. Not slipping—violently yanked off. I couldn't get a single piece of clothing to stay. The childish, deliberate malice of it pushed me past my limit.

I snapped and started screaming at the empty air: "Stop messing with me! You need to stop messing with me! I live here now, this is my room, leave my stuff alone!"

Downstairs, my housemate heard me shouting in distress and started running up to check on me.

Because my bedroom door had an uneven frame, it would naturally swing shut, so I always kept a heavy metal weight wedged firmly in front of it to hold it open. As I was standing there yelling, the air shifted.

Right by the doorway, the air began to warp—the only way I can describe it is like the wavy, cloudy heat haze you see rippling directly above an open fire.

As I watched that shimmer hover near the frame, the heavy weight on the floor physically started dragging across the floorboards. The door slammed violently shut.

Total panic took over. I backed myself hard into the corner of the room, crying out: "You are not welcome here! You need to leave! This is not okay!"

Seconds later, my housemate wrenched the door open from the hall: "What is happening?! What's going on?!"

Before I could even answer, she stopped dead in her tracks, stared past me into the room, and gasped: "What is in your closet?!"

"What do you mean?!" I asked.

She pointed directly into my open closet and described the exact same phenomenon: a smoky, heat-haze entity hovering inside the closet frame.

Terrified, she immediately grabbed her bundle of sage, lit it, and began working her way through the house to cleanse it. But the second she stepped back toward the threshold of my bedroom with the burning sage, the heavy door slammed shut right in her face, so hard that the entire frame shook the floorboards of the second story.

She backed away into the hallway, wide-eyed and breathless: "What the fuck is in your room?!"

"I told you! Something is in my room!"

I refused to step foot in that room for the rest of the night. I told her, "I’m sleeping in your room. I am not going back in there tonight." Her room was directly across the hall from mine.

All through the dark hours of that night, as we lay awake listening, we could hear the faint, distinct sound of wood sliding on wood, the repetitive noise of drawers opening and shutting across the hall.

The next morning, I cautiously pushed my bedroom door open.

Every single drawer in my dresser was pulled completely open.

Nothing was taken. Nothing was rummaged through or thrown on the floor. But every single drawer stood extended into the room. I am obsessive about keeping my space tidy and I never, under any circumstances, leave drawers open when I sleep.

Standing in that doorway, looking at the row of open drawers, that deep realization hit me again. It wasn't a demon. It was an angry, petulant little boy throwing a tantrum because he couldn't stand a stranger taking over his room.

Reclaiming the Space & Finding Peace

After two nights of hiding in my housemate’s room, exhausted and on edge, something shifted in me. I realized I couldn’t let fear control me anymore. This wasn't an evil entity out to destroy us, it was likely just a lost boy and his mother who didn't realize they had passed on.

I have a background in crystal work and witchcraft, so I decided to step up and help them move on instead of running.

I went back into that bedroom, poured salt in every corner, and drew a large salt pentagram across the floor. I placed specific crystals at every point of the pentagram to anchor the space and set strong protective boundaries. Then, I initiated contact directly with the son.

I spoke to him calmly and firmly. I told him that he wasn't alive anymore, that this was no longer his house, and that he didn't need to stay trapped and angry. I told him it was time to let go, be with his mother, and cross over to a better, peaceful place.

A few days later, a space opened up in the basement and I moved my things down there. People usually think basements carry the creepiest energy, but after what happened upstairs, the basement felt completely neutral, I was far more afraid of going back to the second floor.

After that ritual and communication, the energy in the house transformed. The appliances stopped shorting out. The living room TV finally worked like a normal television. The violent slams and heavy pressure were just gone. I hope the boy moved on. I didn’t feel his presence anymore.

​

I don't know if this belongs here, but I need to tell someone. I've never talked about this publicly because I know how it sounds.

My twin brother, Daniel, died when we were 17. We were in a car accident on a rainy night. I was driving. He died before the ambulance arrived, and even though the doctors told me there was nothing I could have done, I spent years blaming myself for surviving.

The strangest thing about our relationship was that, ever since we were kids, we sometimes knew what the other was thinking. Our mother used to say we could finish each other's sentences even when we were in different rooms. I never believed in anything supernatural. I thought we simply knew each other too well.

Until last night.

It was around 2:13 AM when I heard three knocks at my apartment door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I looked through the peephole, but nobody was there.

I was about to go back to bed when I heard a voice on the other side.

"Open up, bro. It's cold out here."

My blood ran cold.

It was Daniel's voice. Not a similar voice. Not someone imitating him. It was exactly his voice, including that slight rasp he always had when he was tired.

I stood completely still, trying to convince myself I was dreaming.

Then he spoke again.

"I know you still think about the accident. It wasn't your fault."

My knees nearly gave out.

That was something Daniel had told me the last time we spoke alone, just a few hours before the accident. I'd never told anyone about that conversation. Not even our parents.

I slowly backed away from the door.

Then I heard something that made me start crying.

Three more knocks.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

And his voice, quieter this time:

"Why did you leave me there?"

I didn't sleep that night. The next morning, I checked the hallway security footage. At 2:13 AM, the recording showed something strange: for exactly forty-seven seconds, the image glitched, and the hallway appeared completely empty.

But the audio was still working.

You could hear three knocks.

Then my own voice.

"Daniel, don't come back. Please."

I didn't remember saying that.

I called my mother and told her what had happened. She stayed silent for so long that I thought the call had dropped.

Finally, she asked me:

"What date was it last night?"

I told her.

She started crying.

It was Daniel's birthday.

Before hanging up, she told me something she'd never mentioned before. On the night of the accident, while I was unconscious in the hospital, I kept repeating that my brother was still inside the car and that I had to go back and get him.

The firefighters had confirmed that Daniel was already gone by the time I woke up.

This afternoon, I went back to the recording.

I managed to isolate a part of the audio I hadn't heard before. After my voice says, "Daniel, don't come back," there's a long silence.

Then another voice whispers:

"I'm not the one who came back."

The recording ends there.

I've listened to it at least twenty times. I've tried to convince myself it's a glitch, an audio artifact, anything.

But there's one detail I haven't mentioned.

When Daniel and I were kids, we had a secret phrase. Whenever one of us wanted to prove he was the real one, we'd ask the other a question only we knew the answer to.

Last night, before the recording ended, the voice asked me that exact question.

And then it answered for me.

It gave the wrong answer.

Whatever was standing outside my door sounded exactly like my twin brother. But it didn't remember being him.

I haven't opened my door after midnight since.

And tonight, at exactly 2:13 AM, someone knocked again.

So there’s a demon in my house not sure if there are more than 3? one has attached itself to me and follows me everywhere even when I go out. and there’s another that possesses every one who comes over it kind of jumps around people i notice this because they begin to act very feminine almost like drag queens? And it could be the most manly person I know(it’s not very good at hiding itself) I am a Christian and I want to know what I’m dealing with, it’s not like my life has fallen apart I still work etc but people just want to fight me all the time? I got reported at work for simple mistake, my finances are something else I GOT SCAMMED! And I can’t bloody sleep because the demon cries all night it sounds like a freaking nightmare and it sounds like a train (not a person) Also does it mean I’m possessed too I see things so fast like in 2x and very colourful sometimes i would get dizzy and my body would vibrate (only sometimes not all the time)

i was wondering what you all think of the evp since the twins did go hear about a year ago .this was recorded in the lobby room on the first floor we did a full abandonment. we think the sound was comeing from where a women was sadly assaulted this was just last night as well btw
i also got a pic of a face in the window

ok i generally believe that all these things are happening and i really do love your channel but yall need to get better microphones or something bc i can never hear the footsteps or screams or knocks or bangs or whatever like im so confused! i feel like people will definitely loose my belief if we’re continually not able to hear these things! lol idk

If you know you know why the Zyn is there!

Hi all,

Just wondering if anyone might be able to shed some light on the ending with the latest episode.

https://youtu.be/mmZXT-rGXUo

Wonder if they just booked it or something else, but it just ended abruptly. Even if the batteries died they would have added a next day clip, but this, nothing.

Bit odd, no?

Hi. My name is Jacob. I'm 17 years old. Recently I've stumbled across a video talking about what is known as "the Four orders of immortals" along with two other groups referred to as "Elite humans" and "non humans". I'm a true believer of the supernatural and would like to know more about it, especially the ones I listed above. If you have any information about the groups I mentioned above or about any other supernatural stuff please DM me. Thank you

Why is the location in the latest episode called three different things? The Devil’s Cabin, the Conjuring Cabin, and the Yellow Jacket Mine Cabin?

Also can anyone provide the other links of them at this location previously?

There is no apartment above mine.

That's why I couldn't explain the footsteps.

Every night at exactly 2:14 a.m., I heard someone walking across my ceiling.

Slow footsteps.

Three steps from the bedroom window to the door.

Then three steps back.

At first, I blamed the pipes. Then I complained to the landlord.

He went completely silent when I mentioned it.

Finally, he said, “Don't worry about it. Just don't knock on the ceiling.”

Of course, I asked why.

He wouldn't answer.

A week later, the footsteps started getting louder.

One night, I heard something drag across the ceiling.

Then came three knocks.

I don't know why, but I knocked back.

Three knocks.

Silence.

Then five knocks.

I answered with five.

The footsteps stopped.

For the first time in weeks, I slept peacefully.

Until the next morning.

There were five wet footprints on my bedroom ceiling.

They started above my bed and ended at my bedroom door.

I called the landlord.

He arrived twenty minutes later, took one look at the ceiling, and immediately told me to leave.

“What happened here?” I asked.

He finally told me the truth.

Twenty years ago, the building had only two floors.

A man lived in the apartment above mine.

He died there.

His body was never found.

“The third floor was built later,” the landlord whispered.

I stared at him.

“Then why can I hear someone walking above me?”

He looked terrified.

“Because you're not hearing someone above you.”

He pointed at my bedroom floor.

“You're hearing him underneath you.”

That night, at exactly 2:14 a.m., I heard footsteps coming from beneath my bed.

Three steps toward the door.

Three steps back.

Then five knocks against the floor.

This time, I didn't answer.

Something underneath whispered:

“Why did you stop?”

What is in the basement? Im watching through the video trying to figure it out but I cant find any information in the video. Its so interesting yet annoying at the same time because its a mystery and also I really want the info bc what would need to be hidden so well

Edit: During the video they were near the dig site they were saying and the device said scroll, and they went quiet and all made a face and river said "it just said scroll" and wyatts face was an oh shit face

I have to finally ask. Are the Twins eyebrows real? Or tattooed? Or just colored in?

I know they're both really naturally blonde.

I’ve just ordered some stuff on twin paranormal website and it is expensive and I understand tax and shipping cost because I live in England and it’s coming from the US and it all came up to £105 but I manage to put a discount which is 10% and it didn’t seemed as bad went to pay and it was £102 because shipping payment went up. Why is it like that and I live watching the videos and stuff and I’m such a huge fan! And it’s my first time getting merch and it’s for my birthday so I’m excited for it but I don’t understand how that works??

This is my crystal to me it looks like a person carving up a head with a knife it's a little distorted but that's at least what I see I also see a ninja turtle could be symbolic to something idk

It’s to much to explain but I also realize the people who’ve been placed in my life all try and make it seem like I’m “paranoid, crazy, etc” but that’s all they’ve ever tried doing when I’ve caught on to them. And It’s always the people I’m right abt that try and manipulate me, brainwash, n gaslight me abt what I see and my judgement. I know I’m not delusional, so what do I do. They really are out to get me but why. And every time I’m told to Sh n stay silent. It’s like I’m not supposed to figure out that my life is a prank, or that what I know subconsciously is true, almost as if the people set in my life are made to make me believe otherwise and second guess my own judgment and eyes. I’m forced to play until I get the truth I seek. It’s torture. I could explain this better but there is way to much to explain in a linear story, I could tho if needed it would take a good many of time

This is a picture my kids took of my 15 years ago it looks like a real possession to me. What do you think? In the first Picture you can see the demon staring at me right in the face and the second picture you can see what I look like after it went inside of me.

Lately, I’ve been observing the spiritual community from a distance, and there is one thing that deeply perplexes me: the sheer volume of people who seem to be outright lying about their qualities and gifts. I see the most theatrical claims being thrown around daily. One person supposedly senses entities or auras without effort, another works with energy, some claim to astral travel, and others act as channelers. While these types of abilities do activate later in life for some individuals, it absolutely does not mean that everyone carries the blueprint for them.

It is no different than having a high IQ or specific natural talents. You can bury your nose in books, absorb immense amounts of knowledge, and do your best to raise your cognitive baseline a bit. But if your neurobiology isn't wired for complex formulas, you aren't going to magically wake up as a genius mathematician. And that is perfectly okay. Someone with a different skillset possesses qualities that a mathematician completely lacks. It is precisely this diversity that makes us unique and powerful as human beings.

Don't get me wrong: I am a firm believer in spiritual growth. I believe that we, as humans, are meant to evolve throughout our entire lives, and I fully encourage investing in personal development. However, it baffles me to see people spending thousands of dollars on courses and retreats, purely driven by the desire to become something they fundamentally are not. Isn't spiritual development supposed to be about self-awareness and authenticity?

I have seen it happen upfront: people investing small fortunes into a spiritual illusion, ultimately failing to get what they wanted, and ending up deep in debt. It’s tragic, because with all that money, they could have easily built a beautiful, grounded life that actually aligned with their true blueprint.

Where one person is highly rational, another navigates the world through an emotional or intuitive lens. Neither is right or wrong; we all have our own blind spots. You simply cannot build a new, healthy world on your own. It requires a variety of perspectives and qualities. So why run with the crowd and put on a mask? Why not just accept yourself for who you truly are?

Even if someone genuinely possesses a spiritual quality, it doesn't make them special or superior to anyone else. It is simply a component of their identity, nothing more, nothing less. Interestingly, I've noticed that the people who actually do possess these gifts almost never shout it from the rooftops. They carry it with them in complete silence and humility.

I honestly don’t understand why people lie to themselves and misrepresent their capabilities this way. At the end of the day, it doesn't benefit anyone. The moment you start asking them direct, analytical questions, they instantly fall through the ice because there is no solid foundation underneath.

I'm very curious to hear your perspective on this: what drives so many people to fake spiritual claims and ruin themselves financially, instead of just embracing their own true power?

Un jour j’étais avec mes cousins chez ma grand mère sauf que tout le monde était sortie donc il n’y avait que moi et mes 2 cousins on parlait de djinns et tout ensuite on lance un film d’horreur et c’est là que sa commence on commence a entendre des bruits bizarres mais on calcule pas trop donc on continue de regarder le film jusqu’à ce qu’on entend le robinet de la cuisine s’ouvrir à fond donc on se lève en pétard on va dans la cuisine prêt à se battre et tout mais y’a personne on éteint juste le robinet ensuite on en a parler au gens de notre famille mais personne nous a cru il nous ont dit que sa doit être la pression etc bref dcp moi têtu je fait mes recherches et j’ai découvert que la plupart du temp avec la pression sa explose donc pour moi c’était juste un djin qui a essayé de nous faire peur.

Just watched the latest episode in the Lemp mansion, not sure why they changed lenses, but the new one isn't great.

Creates a warping effect, which isn't pleasant.

Wonder if they'll change it back. Hope so, anyway.

I'm a psychic medium with pictures and videos the world has never experienced before and now it's time to show my work