I took to Google and searched "Haunted Meridian homes" and came across a news story from just last month on IdahoNews.com. Channel 2's Brian Morrin reported a strange occurrence he captured on video. While recording himself playing a guitar, an unidentified object enters and exits the frame, too quickly and blurred for him to discern what it might be. You can read the full story and watch the video here.

What prompted my search was my own seemingly paranormal experience just last night. I headed to bed after tucking my kids in, ready to settle in for a cozy sleep. Of course the turbulent wind streaking through the valley had other plans. Everything was creaking. The house itself seemed to sway with a dull roar. I was fully expecting for my kids to barge in to either complain or say they're scared. The latter occurred, but it was my ten year old. The toddler was fast asleep.

Before he even opened his mouth to speak I assured him, "It's just the wind, baby. I know it's loud, but you'll fall asleep."

"I heard someone slurping water and swallowing it."

Nothing could prepare me for that response. I had nothing to offer him but bewilderment. I asked him twice to explain what he heard, desperately searching my brain for some household noise I could equate with that off-putting sound. I settled on something so weak I was certain he'd refute it.

"Babe, wind is weird. It can sound like all kinds of things when it's passing through walls and floorboards."

I know. Who would believe that? Surprisingly he accepted. The way children trust their parents. Bless them. He went right back to bed, leaving me to agonize over this unnerving bit of information. I can't remember now what grim thoughts swirled in my brain; sleep was creeping in and zoning me out. What I do remember--what I'll never forget-- is the cold, breathy whisper that pierced my ears and sent a shiver through my body.


In true horror movie ingenue style, I hopped out of bed to investigate. Liam, my 3 year old, must have woken up from the overactive wind. No. I crossed to the other end of the house to find both boys sleeping soundly in their rooms. My stomach churned. Who whispered for his mom if not one of my children? I crept back to my room feeling more ill with each step. Now lying in my bed, my chest was tight and I could feel sweat accumulating above my brow. Why wasn't my husband home from work yet? I had no one to turn to.

I remained awake, stiff, intently listening for the voice to speak again; dreading its arrival but somehow hoping to hear it once more. Instead my stillness was interrupted by scratching. A hurried, erratic scratching as though coming from inside the wall behind my head. I was paralyzed with fear. This was not the wind. It couldn't be. And then...


I leapt from my bed. Dizzy, nauseous, panicked. I bounded into the hallway and began turning on lights. Scary movie logic, perhaps? The hall, living room, kitchen, and bathroom lights flooded the house, and with it a calmness flooded my body. I made my way back to bed, less nervous. And just moments after resting my head on the pillow, the rumble of the garage door hit my ears. My husband was home. My brain was exhausted. I fell asleep almost instantly.

It's been on my mind all day and finally decided to start Google search for haunted homes in Meridian. Obviously what I found didn't provide any answers. But I'm scared to narrow down my search. Are there any children buried in walls stories I should know? I'm reminded of J.A. Bayona's, El OrfanatoAnd I'm just not prepared for that kind of trauma.

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