When i was about 5 years old, (Iam 26 now) me, my mother, and my brother lived with my aunt and uncle on Elm Street in Youngstown, Ohio. I was in kindergarten at this time and was not told about these things until i was a teenager, and i was not aware of them myself at the time. The house that we lived in was rather large, 3 stories with a refinished basement. I was told that the house at one time was some type of jewelry store. The refinished basement was used by the owner as an apartment, where he lived when he was not working upstairs in the store.

It was said that one night, the owner met an untimely death, caused by theives. They had broken in to rob the place and found him, going to the bathroom. He was shot and killed right there on the toilet. Blood spattered all over the walls and floor.

The house was sold and the new owners set about to cleaning up and remodling the house. Everything went quite well until it came time to redo the basement. Of course the mess in the bathroom was cleaned up, but the walls and floor of the bathroom were badly stained. They tried to scrub away the stain, but it would not go away. They carpeted the floor, and many, many, times they tried to paint over the walls, but to no avail, the stain continued to bleed thru the paint each and every time, no matter what the color. Eventually, they wallpatered and that did the trick.

After several years, the home had been sold and resold several times, including to my aunt and uncle. They had lived there about 6 months when we came to stay with them. My mother and aunt seemed to nothice the most activity. There were the cold spots and the lights would go on and off with no explination. The scariest part for them is that a male voice would call their names when nobody else was in the house. My only recolection of that time is that i didn't like living there. I think of all the places I lived as a child, that is the one that i did not want to go home to. I don't know why I felt this way, perhaps the best way to describe it is that the house just felt creepy, my brother told me he felt the same way.

I don't remember how long my aunt and uncle lived at that house, but i know we only stayed a couple of months. Today I live only a couple of blocks from Elm street and I cannot remember which house it is, it may even be torn down now, this town has alot of empty lots where houses used to stand. If I could remember, I think I would go back.

This story was also submitted to Animalhouse.com in a ghost story contest but, not with as much detail.