In a sweet little Dutch Colonial in Clermont Florida, people tend to use the front stairs.
It’s not a conscious decision, but there is something disturbing that tickles the nape of their necks on those back stairs, and not in a good way.
It’s a shame John Harden didn’t have that sixth sense, but it’s too late for him now.
A Fateful Night in Clermont
Updated 2/10/2020 – When Harden woke up to the smell of smoke, that fateful night in 1975, he leaped out of bed, completely unaware that it would be the last time that he ever saw his bed.
Leaving his wife, Victoria, he dashed out to the truck.
After putting out a fire that had mysteriously taken a hold of his truck, he went back inside.
He made it as far as the back stairs before his head was taken clean off by the blast of a shotgun.
Fast forward years later…
When seven-year-old Sarah (her name has been changed to protect her identity) moved into the house with her family, she began to show signs of disturbance.
Her parents thought nothing of the nightmares until the screams began.
They would wake in the night hearing screams of terror coming from their little girl.
When they rushed to her room she wasn’t there.
They always found her in the hallway by the back stairs, the same stairs that she refused to tread on during the day.
Sarah’s night terrors became worse and the family was forced to move on, but the people who moved in shortly after were elderly.
It was when their grandson came to stay for the weekend that the hauntings really began.
Tom (not his real name) was fifteen at the time and in the midst of a turbulent time in his life.
After sneaking out to meet a girlfriend he crept back in via the back of the house.
The same path John Harden walked before the killer took off the top of his head.
A Tragic Disturbance
No one really knows what happened for sure, but the couple heard an ear-splitting shriek and jumped out of bed disorientated.
The elderly gentleman ran for the back hallway, thinking he was about to stop an intruder, but he skidded on something wet and tumbled down the stairs.
When his wife finally located the light switch with hands that would never stop trembling again, she was subjected to a sight of horror.
Blood covered the wooden floors and her grandson lay barely conscious with a gash on his head, but when she looked past him she found her husband unconscious at the bottom of the stairs.
When Tom was able to speak again, he claimed that he had no memory of that night, and the boy refused wholeheartedly to ever go anywhere near Clermont again.
His grandparents were too frightened to live in the house anymore, and put it straight back on the market.
Was it John’s ghost taking his death out on the residents, or was it something far more sinister?
486 W Osceola St.
Clermont, FL 34711