“ I grew up on the property that used to belong to Liberia Plantation. When I was a small child, I used to tell my parents that I would see figures in the house, and they wrote it off as ‘overactive imagination’. It wasn’t my imagination. I knew I was seeing a woman in a torn dress looking at me for help. In August 2006, I was 16 years old. I was a rebellious teenager who looked like I had just walked out on Halloween. It was a Sunday morning. Mom and my brother were still asleep, and dad was out on a run. I decided to use the down time in the house to do my laundry. I walked down into the basement (which gave everybody the creeps. My dog wouldn’t even go down there without somebody.) and turned the corner. Standing in my laundry room, was a tall cloaked…thing. There was no other way to describe it. A tall, cloaked, black thing. Almost like how they described the grim reaper. I screamed but was frozen from fear. The thing ran through the wall, and I haven’t seen it since.
The cloaked thing wasn’t the only paranormal experience at my house. My dog would bark at the wall, but it was the kind of barking that made people see the pit bull in him. I would come over and calm him down, but he would stand between the wall and myself almost in a protective stance. I saw shadows at night that weren’t supposed to be there. I was hearing footsteps going and coming when everybody was in bed. The floating smell of lavender. Dishes clinking when nobody was in the kitchen. The biggest thing that freaked me out about these occurrences was that my neighbors all had the same things going on in their homes.”
“My sister is a firm believer in the paranormal. I used to think it was b.s. and my sister was crazy. I realized she wasn’t crazy in January of 2009. I was a young police officer in Manassas, and it had just snowed. Manassas had a tendency to shut down when it snowed, and I was excited about stopping by my parent’s house for comfort food and some down time in a warm environment. I received a call that an alarm was going off at Liberia Plantation. I headed to the old house tucked away in the woods, and met the curator of the house at the back door. The snow fell quietly as we stood on the back porch, and the curator offered to give me a tour of the house. I accepted since I had seen the house from the road, but had always been curious about the inside. The basement was creepy, and the curator told me that that’s where the bodies were placed. The main level and the second floor looked like an old farm house. The floor creaked underneath our feet as we walked around. We then went up to the attic. I remember seeing the snow on the floor of the attic and the curator explaining the massive roof repair. We both stopped when we saw the sight in front of us. Foot prints leading to the wall, but none coming back from the wall. That sent a chill up my spine. The curator made sure all the lights were off, and we locked up the door. I sat down in my cruiser to write my report, and felt something telling me to glance up. The light shone brightly from the attic onto the freshly fallen snow.”