The Sallie House: The Terrifying True Haunting That Drove a Kansas Family Out of Their Home — Ep. 32
December 2, 2025 • 38 mins
A quiet home in Atchison, Kansas. A nursery that never felt empty. Scratches that appeared on skin — fresh, burning, and witnessed in real time.
This is the true paranormal story of the Sallie House haunting, one of the most disturbing and well-documented cases in America’s haunted history.
In this episode of State of the Unknown, we walk through the chilling events exactly as the family reported them: the footsteps, the cold spots, the toys that moved on their own, and the violent attacks that finally drove them out.
Then we step back and examine what investigators actually documented, what witnesses claimed, and what remains part of Midwestern urban folklore.
If you enjoy paranormal encounters, real hauntings, demonic cases, or unsolved supernatural mysteries, this is an episode you won’t want to miss.
Listen now and decide for yourself what really happened inside the Sallie House.
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
SPEAKER_00 (00:03):
What would you do if you moved into a house that
seemed perfectly normal duringthe day?
But the moment the sun wentdown, little things started
happening.
Not dramatic stuff.
Nothing you could point to andsay, that's definitely
paranormal.
Just odd.
A toy sitting in the cornersuddenly ending up in the middle
(00:25):
of the floor.
Your dog barking at a spot onthe wall like someone was
standing there.
Lights turning on in the hallwayafter you've already shut them
off.
Cold air brushing past yourankle when the rest of the room
is warm.
Most people would shrug thatoff, but what if it didn't stop
there?
(00:46):
What if the activity followedpatterns, like someone small was
moving through the house atnight?
What if objects didn't justmove, but were arranged almost
deliberately?
And what if the touches didn'tfeel like drafts anymore, but
fingers, light pressure, quick,and always when you weren't
(01:08):
expecting it.
Now imagine this keeps building,little by little, until you
can't ignore it.
And then one night, somethingreaches out and scratches you,
deep enough that it bleeds.
You check the house, you checkthe windows, you check the
doors, everything is locked.
(01:30):
So what would you do then?
That's the situation one couplefound themselves in when they
moved into an old house on aquiet street in Acheson, Kansas.
A house that, according tolocals, investigators, and
people who live there decadesapart, seemed to hold on to one
presence above all others.
(01:52):
A little girl named Sally.
These days, the Sally House isone of the most famous haunted
homes in America.
People take tours.
Paranormal teams spend weekendsthere.
You'll see documentaries, livestreams, and more theories than
(02:13):
you could ever track.
But long before the camerasshowed up, long before the house
became something peoplewhispered about online, the
stories were already circulatingin Acheson.
In the version most people knowtoday, the one that shaped
everything that came after,comes from the early 1990s, when
(02:34):
a young couple lived in the homeand documented what they
experienced.
Neighbors talked about coldspots.
Delivery drivers said they heardfootsteps when no one was home.
Families said the upstairshallway never felt completely
empty.
Everybody seemed to have aslightly different version of
the haunting, but they allpointed to the same idea.
(02:58):
There was a child in that house,and she wanted attention.
I'm your host, Robert Barber,and this is State of the
Unknown.
Tonight, we're stepping inside aquiet house in the Midwest, one
(03:22):
that families say changed themoment they moved in.
This is the story of the SallyHouse.
Tony and Deborah didn't moveinto the house on 2nd Street
because they were chasinganything unusual.
It was practical.
Close to work, close to family,and the kind of place that made
(03:46):
sense for a young couplestarting out.
The house itself looked ordinaryenough.
White siding, a small yard, anarrow staircase just inside the
front door that led up to thebedrooms.
Nothing that stood out.
Nothing that hinted at themonths ahead.
The first few days were all thethings you expect after a move.
(04:09):
Half open boxes, missing tape,that one drawer in the kitchen
that never seems to fit what youwant to put in it.
They were tired, but excited.
In the house, it felt fine.
But even in that first week,there were little moments that
stuck out later.
One afternoon, Deborah noticedtheir dog Bo standing perfectly
(04:33):
still in the middle of theliving room, ears up with his
head tilted, staring at a cornerwhere nothing was happening.
She clapped her hands trying toget his attention.
Nothing.
His eyes tracked something shecouldn't see.
She let it go.
Another night, Tony turned offthe hallway light before bed.
(04:56):
He walked upstairs, brushed histeeth, and when he stepped back
out, the hall light was onagain.
He figured he just misrememberedor bumped the switch.
He let it go.
A cold spot showed up near thebottom of the stairwell, a
little patch of air that didn'tseem connected to the vent
system, or a draft from outside.
(05:19):
They joked about it.
Old houses do weird things.
And still, they let it go.
But there was one detail Deborahremembered clearly later on.
Something small that didn't feelimportant at the time.
Each morning, when she walkedinto the nursery they were
prepping, the room up at the endof the upstairs hall, she'd find
(05:44):
one of the stuffed animals outof place.
A bear that had been on a shelfsitting in the rocking chair.
A doll that had been on thefloor leaning against the door.
The first few times, she thoughtTony moved them.
He thought she did.
Neither of them wanted to admitthat something in the room felt
(06:06):
watched.
Not dangerous, not heavy, justaware.
And honestly, looking back, Ican understand why they brushed
it off.
You don't move into a new houseand immediately tell yourself
it's haunted.
You explain things away becausethat feels safer.
But the house wasn't easing off.
(06:28):
It was building.
And the moment that finally madeboth of them stop and think
happened late one night, longafter they'd settled into bed,
when the temperature in the roomdropped all at once.
Not gradually, not like a ventkicking on, but suddenly, like
someone opened a freezer doorbeside them.
(06:49):
Tony sat up.
Deborah pulled the blankettighter.
Bo growled from the hallway, lowand steady.
Something moved just outsidetheir door.
A soft shuffle, light and quick.
And for the first time, neitherof them could explain it away.
(07:16):
At first, Tony and Deborah triedto treat those early moments
like part of the adjustmentperiod, the same way any couple
gets used to the quirks of a newhouse.
But within a few weeks, the oddmoments weren't random anymore.
They were repeating.
And they were happening in waysthat felt intentional.
(07:37):
The nursery, especially.
That room at the end of thehallway had a quiet stillness to
it during the day.
Almost warm, almost peaceful.
But when the house settled atnight, something about it
changed.
The air felt heavier.
The corners seemed darker thanthey should.
(07:58):
In that rocking chair by thewindow, the old wooden one they
found at a secondhand shop neverstayed where they left it.
Some nights it was angledtowards the crib, other nights
facing the door.
Once it was turned completelyaround, pointed to the wall.
Deborah asked Tony if he wasmoving it.
(08:19):
Tony asked her the same thing.
And both of them realized theywere having the same thought.
What if neither of us touchedit?
Still, they didn't want to jumpto the word haunted.
Most people don't.
You create explanations becausethey feel safer.
So they kept looking for ways torationalize what was happening.
(08:43):
One afternoon, Deborah walkedinto the nursery and stopped in
the doorway.
The rocking chair was angledtoward the crib again, not where
either of them had left it.
And the air in the room had thatsame charged stillness she'd
been feeling more and more.
Downstairs, Tony was having hisown moments.
(09:03):
He'd hear footsteps on thestaircase when he knew Deborah
was outside.
Not heavy ones, light steps,quick, two or three at a time,
almost like a child running upand down.
The kind of sound you onlynotice when the house is
supposed to be quiet.
Sometimes Bo, their dog, wouldbark towards the stairs as if
(09:26):
someone were standing halfwayup, peering down at him.
His fur would rise along hisback, not full alarm, but alert
enough that Tony would stop whathe was doing and listen.
And Bo wasn't the only oneresponding.
Lights flickered on bythemselves, always in the
hallway or in that nursery.
(09:46):
Cabinet doors in the kitchenstood open in the morning when
they'd been shut the nightbefore.
And they both started noticingcold spots, not drafts from
windows, but little patches offreezing air that showed up and
disappeared without warning.
But the moment things shiftedfrom strange to unsettling came
(10:08):
one night while Tony waswatching television in the
living room.
He felt something brush acrossthe back of his calf.
Not a breeze, not static, butcontact.
Light and quick and unmistakablydeliberate.
His first thought was Bo.
He looked down.
The dog was asleep on the otherside of the couch.
(10:32):
Tony didn't call out.
He didn't move.
He just watched the doorway,waiting to see something,
anything that could explain it.
Nothing appeared, but thefeeling didn't leave him.
Later, when he told Deborah, shedidn't laugh or brush it off.
Instead, she admitted somethingshe'd been keeping to herself,
(10:55):
that she'd felt small touchestoo.
Little tugs at the hem of hershirt, soft pressure on her
ankle while she folded laundry,the sensation of a tiny hand
brushing across the back of herarm.
For the first time, it actuallygot to them.
One person feeling somethingstrange is easy to ignore.
(11:17):
Two people feeling the same kindof touch, that's different.
But even then, they weren'tready to label the house as
something paranormal.
They told themselves it was justthe stress of moving, the
adjustment, the creaks andquirks of an old place.
They tried to hold on to normal,but the house wasn't interested
(11:39):
in normal.
Because the next phase wasn'tabout sounds or toys or cold
spots, it was about pain.
And the moment it started,everything changed.
For weeks, the strange activityin the house had been building.
(12:00):
Small touches, toys out ofplace, cold spots that seemed to
hover at angle height beforedisappearing.
But one night, the shift wasn'tslow.
It wasn't a gentle build.
It was immediate.
It happened while Tony was inthe hallway, getting ready to
head upstairs.
He felt a quick sting across hisstomach, sharp enough to make
(12:24):
him grab at it.
Not the kind of feeling you getfrom brushing against a nail or
catching yourself on a corner.
This felt intentional, clean,fast.
He lifted his shirt.
Three red lines were risingacross his skin.
They weren't long, maybe fourinches each, but they were deep
(12:45):
enough to bead with blood.
He stood there in shock, tryingto replay the last few seconds
in his head.
He hadn't touched anything, hehadn't bumped into anything.
There was no loose wood, nosharp object anywhere near him.
But when Deborah saw thescratches, her expression
changed.
Not confused, not dismissive,concerned.
(13:10):
Because a few days earlier, andshe hadn't told him this yet,
she had woken up with twosimilar marks on her thigh,
faint but unmistakablyscratches.
At the time she convincedherself it was their dog or the
edge of the comforter, somethingordinary.
But now Tony had marks too, andthey matched.
(13:33):
That was the moment when theatmosphere in the house shifted
from strange to invasive.
Something wasn't just movingthings around.
Something wasn't just brushingpast them.
Whatever was in the house couldtouch them, and it could hurt
them.
A couple nights later, somethinghappened that convinced both of
(13:54):
them the house wasn't easing up.
It was escalating.
After that, the energy in thehouse changed, especially
upstairs.
The hallway grew colder.
Lights flickered more often,sometimes brightening and
dimming like someone was playingwith a dimmer switch that didn't
exist.
And the nursery.
(14:15):
That quiet room at the end ofthe hall felt like it had
someone in it.
During the day, Deborah wouldpass by the doorway and swear
she saw something small move inthe corner of her eye.
A shadow, quick, childlike.
At night, the rocking chaircreaked again.
(14:35):
Slowly at first, sometimes justonce or twice.
Other times long enough thatshe'd stand in the hallway
listening, hoping it would stop.
There were other moments too,the kind you only processed
later.
The baby monitor picking upstatic when it wasn't plugged
in.
Soft breaths coming through thespeaker.
(14:58):
A child's giggle.
Faint, fast, and impossible toplace.
Voices in the hallway thatsounded like they were coming
from just outside the bedroomdoor.
But when Tony opened it, thehall was empty.
Still.
And then objects didn't justmove, they rearranged.
One morning, Deborah found thenursery closet open, and every
(15:22):
piece of clothing was in a pilein the center of the floor.
Another morning, the pictureframes downstairs were face
down, placed, not knocked.
The worst moment was when Tonygot up for a glass of water and
found every cabinet door in thekitchen open.
Silently, all at once.
But the incident that finallypushed them from uneasy to
(15:45):
afraid came days later, whenDeborah stepped into the nursery
and saw the stuffed bear sittingin the center of the room and
the scorch marks beside it.
Dark circles, small andperfectly round, like someone
had pressed two burning handsinto the carpet.
She backed out of the room andclosed the door.
(16:06):
Because at this point, the housewasn't just strange, it was
becoming hostile.
(16:59):
If the odd moments in the housewere unsettling before, the next
phase was something elseentirely.
Because whatever had beenbrushing against them and
tugging at their clothes wasn'tstaying subtle anymore.
Now it was acting withintention.
And the scratches were only thebeginning.
(17:20):
Tony was the one the housefocused on the most.
He didn't want to admit it, notat first, but it became
impossible to ignore.
The touches, the cold spots, thesudden pain, they all seemed
directed at him and only him.
And the attacks kept escalating.
(17:41):
One night, Tony was walking pastthe nursery when he felt
something clamp around hiswrist, small fingers, tight and
fast, like a child grabbing ontoa parent.
But when he turned, no one wasthere.
He tried to shake it off, blameit on nerves, blame it on the
house settling.
(18:01):
But later that same night, whilehe was asleep, Deborah woke to
the sound of him sucking in airlike he'd just been burned.
She turned on the lamp, and Tonywas sitting upright, clutching
his chest.
Three deep scratches were risingacross his skin, fresh, red and
angry.
(18:21):
She didn't hear him move.
He didn't thrash.
He didn't even sit up until thepain hit him.
The marks just appeared.
And they were deeper this time.
Long enough she wiped blood awaywith her hand.
A few days later, Tony was alonein the basement finishing
laundry.
(18:42):
The basement of the Sally housewas unfinished, concrete floors,
low ceilings, old foundationwalls that let in just enough
cold air to feel uncomfortable,even on warm days.
He heard movement behind him.
Not footsteps, shuffling, likesomeone small dragging their
(19:03):
feet across the floor.
He turned quickly, expecting tosee Bo, but the dog was
upstairs.
What Tony did see froze him inplace, a shape standing by the
support beam, just tall enoughto be a little kid.
Not fully formed, not solid, butdark.
(19:23):
A human outline.
He blinked, it was gone.
He ran upstairs withoutfinishing the clothes.
He didn't tell Deborah, not yet,because even though he didn't
want to say it out loud, a partof him wondered if seeing it
would make it more real.
But Deborah was having her ownmoments, especially in the
(19:47):
nursery.
One afternoon, while foldinglaundry in the room, she felt a
sudden rush of cold air passbehind her.
Not a breeze, not a draft, atemperature drop like someone
walking right past her shoulder.
The kind of cold that sinksdeeper than skin.
She turned, and the rockingchair was moving.
(20:11):
Slowly back and forth, back andforth.
The room was silent, no ventsrunning, no floorboards
creaking, just the chair movingon its own.
She stepped closer, almostwithout thinking, and felt a tug
on the hem of her shirt, gentlebut unmistakable, like a small
(20:33):
hand reaching out.
She didn't scream, she didn'tdrop the clothes, she just
stepped backwards and whispered,please don't.
But whatever was in the housewasn't looking for permission.
The next major incident happenedwhile they were sitting in the
living room, talking about theirday.
No tension, no argument, nothingemotional happening.
(20:56):
It was calm.
Then Tony jerked suddenly, likesomething punched him in the
back.
He reached behind himself andwinced.
Deborah pulled up his shirt.
Three long scratches ran acrosshis shoulder blade, blistered
like the skin had been burnedand split open.
She touched one of the marks andfelt heat radiating off of it.
(21:19):
Heat coming from scratches thathadn't existed ten seconds
earlier.
The house wasn't just reactinganymore, it was escalating.
In some moments felt personal.
The activity got stronger whenTony was frustrated.
Lights flickered when he walkedunder them.
(21:39):
Footsteps followed him up thestaircase.
He felt cold breaths on the backof his neck whenever he tried to
be alone.
Then came the nursery incidentthat finally broke him.
It was late afternoon.
The house was quiet.
Tony stepped into the nursery tograb something from the closet.
The moment he entered, everystuffed animal in the room,
(22:02):
every single one, toppled overat the same time.
Not slowly, not one by one, butall at once.
Like someone brushed a handstraight across the room.
He froze.
Then suddenly the rocking chairstarted moving.
Not the gentle sway Deborah hadseen.
(22:23):
This was harder, angrier, likesomeone was stomping their foot.
His chest tightened, the hair onhis arms lifted.
He stepped back towards thehallway because something in
that moment told him he wasn'tsupposed to be there.
As he reached the door, he felta sharp pain across his forearm.
(22:43):
He didn't even need to look.
He knew.
Three more scratches, deepenough that blood slid down
toward his wrist.
And that's when Tony finallysaid the thing he'd been holding
back.
I think whatever's in this househates me.
The tension in the home grewheavier each day.
(23:05):
Deborah felt it.
The dog felt it.
Tony, the one being targeted,felt it constantly.
He told Deborah he didn't likebeing alone in the house
anymore.
He told her he heard voiceswhispering behind him in the
kitchen.
He told her something was wrongwith the nursery.
And every night the scratchesgot worse.
(23:28):
They formed in threes, always inthe same pattern, always without
warning.
They happened while he wasawake.
They happened while he wasasleep.
They even happened once while hewas driving.
Deborah begged him to see adoctor, but Tony didn't need a
medical explanation.
(23:48):
He needed help.
Someone who knew what to do.
Because at this point, the housewasn't just haunted, it was
hostile.
And whatever was in there seemeddetermined to run them out.
They couldn't ignore it anymore.
So they reached out.
Not to family, not to neighbors,but to people who dealt with
(24:11):
this kind of thing.
And the moment thoseinvestigators stepped inside,
the entire story shifted.
By the time Tony and Deborahdecided to bring in help, the
(24:33):
house felt different than it hadwhen they moved in.
The air was heavier.
The upstairs hallway stayedcold, the kind of cold that
didn't belong at a Kansas homein the middle of summer.
In the nursery, the room thatshould have felt the warmest had
become the center of everythingthey couldn't explain.
When the first group arrived,they expected the usual cameras,
(24:57):
meters, gear.
What they didn't expect was howquickly the house responded.
Within minutes of stepping intothe nursery, all three
investigators felt the samething.
A small tug at their clothes,light at first, then firmer,
like a child trying to get anadult's attention.
One investigator set a plushbear on the floor near the
(25:21):
rocking chair as a test.
They stepped back.
The bear shifted just a fewinches, but enough for everyone
to see.
Downstairs, things were nocalmer.
When Tony stood in the center ofthe living room to test whether
the presence reacted to him, hewinced almost immediately.
(25:41):
Three scratches rose across hisabdomen as the team watched.
Fresh, red.
That changed the tone.
This wasn't a residual haunting.
Something was interacting.
A psychic arrived later thatevening, someone familiar with
the property.
She paused in the upstairshallway, hand hovering above the
(26:05):
wall like she felt heat risingfrom it.
She's in that room, she said,nodding towards the nursery.
She's been here a long time.
She looked at Tony, not afraid,but cautious.
She doesn't understandboundaries.
The name Sally came from her,the impression of a young girl,
(26:28):
maybe six or seven, confused,lonely, and seeking attention.
It sounded gentle, but it didn'tmatch the scratches.
Throughout the night,investigators heard footsteps on
the stairs when no one was nearthem.
They recorded a faint giggleoutside the nursery door.
(26:49):
One audio recorder capturedrhythmic whispering, soft and
close, like a child murmuring toherself.
When one investigator askedaloud, Sally, can you show us
you're here?
The rocking chair moved.
One slow rock.
The next morning, when theyreturned to gather equipment,
(27:10):
the nursery door was open.
The plush bear sat upright onthe rocking chair.
One recorder had been nudgedseveral inches from where it was
placed.
But the thing that shook Tonywasn't the objects, it was the
footage.
In one clip, a faint figurestood near the crib, small,
(27:31):
dark-haired, perfectly still fora moment before darting out of
the frame.
Tony knew that shape.
He knew that feeling in thenursery, the sense of someone
standing behind him.
It hadn't been his imagination.
After the investigators left,the house didn't quiet down.
It didn't reset.
(27:53):
It retaliated.
Door slams, objects thrown,lights flickering violently
whenever Tony walked beneaththem, cold spots following him
from room to room.
The house wasn't hiding anymore.
It was demanding attention.
And the scratches, the thingtormenting Tony for weeks, began
(28:15):
happening almost daily.
Deborah started worrying thehouse wasn't just trying to
scare them, it was trying tobreak them.
And the moment that turneddangerous wasn't a shadow, it
wasn't a sound, it was fire.
(28:41):
Tony and Deborah had gone to bedearly.
The house was quiet, the airstill, the kind of calm they'd
been craving after weeks ofactivity.
For the first time in a while,it felt like maybe things were
settling down.
Around midnight, Tony woke up tothe smell of something sharp and
chemical, burning electricalwires.
(29:03):
He sat up fast, convinced asocket had blown or something in
the wall was overheating.
Deborah woke up too.
They both smelled it.
They followed the scent into thehallway, and the temperature
dropped instantly, the samecold, heavy air they'd felt in
the nursery before everythinggot worse.
The odor grew stronger, burnedplastic, hot metal.
(29:27):
Tony opened the nursery door andfroze.
In the center of the room, onthe carpet, a small patch was
smoldering.
Not a flame, but a dark smokingcircle no bigger than a child's
hand.
The same shape as the scorchmarks Deborah had found earlier,
except this time it washappening right in front of
(29:49):
them.
Deborah whispered his name.
Tony didn't move.
Across the room, the rockingchair began to sway.
Slowly at first, then harder,like something was pushing it
with intent.
The smoke thickened.
Their dog barked from thehallway, a frantic sound they
had never heard from him insidethe house.
(30:11):
Deborah grabbed Tony's arm.
We need to go.
But Tony wasn't looking at thecarpet anymore.
He was looking at the wall nearthe crib, where three long black
streaks, like charredfingerprints, were sliding
downward.
He felt that familiar burnacross his chest at the same
moment.
He didn't look, he didn't haveto.
(30:34):
They left the nursery, shut thedoor, and didn't open it again.
By morning, The decision wasmade.
They packed what they could.
They called family.
And they left the house.
Not for a night, not for aweekend, for good.
Because at that point, whateverwas in the house wasn't just
(30:55):
trying to scare them.
It was trying to drive them out.
And it finally succeeded.
Now that we've walked throughthe story the way it's been told
for years, let's step back andlook at what we can actually
confirm in what remains part ofthe narrative built around the
(31:17):
Sally House.
The house itself is real.
Its location on North 2nd Streetin Acheson has been documented
for well over a century.
Multiple families lived therelong before the activity became
part of local lore, and thehouse is now known as a
destination for tours andinvestigators.
(31:37):
The couple's move-in timeline isalso real.
Tony and Deborah lived in thehome in the early 1990s, and
they've spoken publicly abouttheir experiences many times in
interviews, documentaries, andparanormal case files.
Their accounts stay largelyconsistent over the years, even
when separated.
(31:57):
The scratches are alsodocumented.
There are photographs takenduring the height of the
activity showing red marksacross Tony's abdomen and arms.
Investigators at the time saidthey witnessed new scratches
forming while they were in theroom.
Those testimonies exist inwritten reports and in video
interviews.
(32:18):
The cold spots, the footsteps,the nursery activity, the moving
objects, those all come directlyfrom the couple's personal
accounts and from the notes ofinvestigators who visited the
home.
Multiple groups claim they sawtoys move, lights flicker, and
the rocking chair shift.
Again, these are reportedexperiences, not proven
(32:41):
phenomena.
Now we move into the areas thatare widely circulated but not
verified.
Details like scorch marks shapedlike hands mostly show up in
later retellings of the story.
Some versions say theinvestigators photographed them.
Some say the couple only sawdiscoloration.
There is no surviving photographthat confirms the exact shapes
(33:05):
or their cause.
The burning smell and the fireincident appear in several
accounts, but there isn't anofficial incident report from
the fire department.
Nothing was recorded as astructural fire.
So while multiple retellingsinclude it, there's no direct
documentation beyond witnessstatements.
(33:25):
The reports of a small shadowyfigure, especially the
description of a child-sizedform near the crib, come from
investigator interviews, butagain, no publicly released
footage confirms the exactshape.
If any video was captured, ithasn't been shared beyond closed
groups.
(33:46):
The psychic statements about agirl named Sally also fall into
the unverified category.
There are no historical recordsof a young girl named Sally
dying in the home.
The story of a doctor performingemergency surgery on a child
there appears in many versions,but lacks supporting
documentation in medical orlocal archives.
(34:07):
It's part of the narrative, butnot part of the historical
record.
The idea that the house targetedTony specifically, that does
come directly from the couple,and other investigators said
they noticed the same pattern,but the cause, if any, is
unknown.
What we're left with is a blendof documented injuries, multiple
(34:29):
eyewitness accounts, consistentreports of the same types of
activity, and a significantlayer of folklore added over
time.
There's enough consistency tosay the couple experienced
something, but the exact natureof that something, a child's
spirit, a hostile presence, or amix of psychological strain and
(34:50):
environmental conditions, isn'tsomething that's been proven
through any official record.
What is clear is that theexperiences left a mark on the
home and the community.
And long after they left, newfamilies, investigators, and
visitors would report their ownmoments in the house.
Enough to keep the legend alivefor decades.
(35:15):
When I look at the story of theSally House, what stands out to
me isn't just the scratches orthe shadow figures or the
temperature drops.
It's the consistency in howpeople describe the atmosphere
of that home.
Everyone who steps inside seemsto talk about the same things.
The wait in the hallway, thestrange quiet in the nursery,
(35:36):
the feeling of someone standingclose even when the room is
empty.
You can dismiss cold spots orflickering lights, but it's
harder to ignore how many peoplewalked into that space and
described it in almost identicalways.
And if I'm being fair, whatstrikes me most is how quickly a
place can change you when you'realready under stress.
(35:59):
A new house, a new routine, thepressure of trying to understand
things that don't make sense.
It doesn't take a haunting tomake you feel off balance.
But when unexplained thingsstart piling up, one on top of
another, your mind startsconnecting dots in ways you
wouldn't normally allow.
Do I think the house hadsomething going on?
(36:21):
I think something happened therethat affected people
emotionally, physically, andpsychologically.
Whether it was a haunting,something environmental, or a
kind of feedback loop betweenfear and experience, the result
was real for the people wholived through it.
And if there was something inthat house, I don't think it
(36:42):
wanted to be ignored.
But this is one of those storieswhere the truth sits in the
spaces between the accounts.
You have what people saw, whatthey felt, what they believed,
and what they carried with themafter they left.
You have patterns that repeatand moments that don't line up
neatly with explanations.
(37:04):
And somewhere in that mix is theversion that makes the most
sense to you.
So when it comes to the Sallyhouse, you almost have to decide
for yourself what you think washappening there.
A haunting?
A home under pressure?
Or something in between, waitingfor someone to pay attention.
(37:28):
This has been State of theUnknown.
What stays with me about theSally House is how little the
reports have changed.
Different families,investigators, and visitors,
years apart, all describe thesame moments.
The cold spots, the footsteps,the uneasy quiet in the nursery.
Most stories twist as they getretold.
(37:51):
This one didn't.
And that consistency is hard todismiss.
If you're listening on ApplePodcasts, leaving a review is
one of the best ways to help theshow grow.
And if you're on Spotify, Ialways put a poll under each
episode.
It's a fun way to tell me whatyou think or what you believe
really happened.
So tap in and let your voice bepart of the mystery.
(38:14):
And truly, thank you forlistening.
It means more than you know.
If you've got an idea you thinkwould make a great episode, you
can reach out to me anytime atstateoftheunknown.comslash
contact.
Until next time, stay curious,stay unsettled, and remember,
(38:34):
some rooms are better leftbehind a closed door.
What would you do if you moved into a house that
seemed perfectly normal duringthe day?
But the moment the sun wentdown, little things started
happening.
Not dramatic stuff.
Nothing you could point to andsay, that's definitely
paranormal.
Just odd.
A toy sitting in the cornersuddenly ending up in the middle
(00:25):
of the floor.
Your dog barking at a spot onthe wall like someone was
standing there.
Lights turning on in the hallwayafter you've already shut them
off.
Cold air brushing past yourankle when the rest of the room
is warm.
Most people would shrug thatoff, but what if it didn't stop
there?
(00:46):
What if the activity followedpatterns, like someone small was
moving through the house atnight?
What if objects didn't justmove, but were arranged almost
deliberately?
And what if the touches didn'tfeel like drafts anymore, but
fingers, light pressure, quick,and always when you weren't
(01:08):
expecting it.
Now imagine this keeps building,little by little, until you
can't ignore it.
And then one night, somethingreaches out and scratches you,
deep enough that it bleeds.
You check the house, you checkthe windows, you check the
doors, everything is locked.
(01:30):
So what would you do then?
That's the situation one couplefound themselves in when they
moved into an old house on aquiet street in Acheson, Kansas.
A house that, according tolocals, investigators, and
people who live there decadesapart, seemed to hold on to one
presence above all others.
(01:52):
A little girl named Sally.
These days, the Sally House isone of the most famous haunted
homes in America.
People take tours.
Paranormal teams spend weekendsthere.
You'll see documentaries, livestreams, and more theories than
(02:13):
you could ever track.
But long before the camerasshowed up, long before the house
became something peoplewhispered about online, the
stories were already circulatingin Acheson.
In the version most people knowtoday, the one that shaped
everything that came after,comes from the early 1990s, when
(02:34):
a young couple lived in the homeand documented what they
experienced.
Neighbors talked about coldspots.
Delivery drivers said they heardfootsteps when no one was home.
Families said the upstairshallway never felt completely
empty.
Everybody seemed to have aslightly different version of
the haunting, but they allpointed to the same idea.
(02:58):
There was a child in that house,and she wanted attention.
I'm your host, Robert Barber,and this is State of the
Unknown.
Tonight, we're stepping inside aquiet house in the Midwest, one
(03:22):
that families say changed themoment they moved in.
This is the story of the SallyHouse.
Tony and Deborah didn't moveinto the house on 2nd Street
because they were chasinganything unusual.
It was practical.
Close to work, close to family,and the kind of place that made
(03:46):
sense for a young couplestarting out.
The house itself looked ordinaryenough.
White siding, a small yard, anarrow staircase just inside the
front door that led up to thebedrooms.
Nothing that stood out.
Nothing that hinted at themonths ahead.
The first few days were all thethings you expect after a move.
(04:09):
Half open boxes, missing tape,that one drawer in the kitchen
that never seems to fit what youwant to put in it.
They were tired, but excited.
In the house, it felt fine.
But even in that first week,there were little moments that
stuck out later.
One afternoon, Deborah noticedtheir dog Bo standing perfectly
(04:33):
still in the middle of theliving room, ears up with his
head tilted, staring at a cornerwhere nothing was happening.
She clapped her hands trying toget his attention.
Nothing.
His eyes tracked something shecouldn't see.
She let it go.
Another night, Tony turned offthe hallway light before bed.
(04:56):
He walked upstairs, brushed histeeth, and when he stepped back
out, the hall light was onagain.
He figured he just misrememberedor bumped the switch.
He let it go.
A cold spot showed up near thebottom of the stairwell, a
little patch of air that didn'tseem connected to the vent
system, or a draft from outside.
(05:19):
They joked about it.
Old houses do weird things.
And still, they let it go.
But there was one detail Deborahremembered clearly later on.
Something small that didn't feelimportant at the time.
Each morning, when she walkedinto the nursery they were
prepping, the room up at the endof the upstairs hall, she'd find
(05:44):
one of the stuffed animals outof place.
A bear that had been on a shelfsitting in the rocking chair.
A doll that had been on thefloor leaning against the door.
The first few times, she thoughtTony moved them.
He thought she did.
Neither of them wanted to admitthat something in the room felt
(06:06):
watched.
Not dangerous, not heavy, justaware.
And honestly, looking back, Ican understand why they brushed
it off.
You don't move into a new houseand immediately tell yourself
it's haunted.
You explain things away becausethat feels safer.
But the house wasn't easing off.
(06:28):
It was building.
And the moment that finally madeboth of them stop and think
happened late one night, longafter they'd settled into bed,
when the temperature in the roomdropped all at once.
Not gradually, not like a ventkicking on, but suddenly, like
someone opened a freezer doorbeside them.
(06:49):
Tony sat up.
Deborah pulled the blankettighter.
Bo growled from the hallway, lowand steady.
Something moved just outsidetheir door.
A soft shuffle, light and quick.
And for the first time, neitherof them could explain it away.
(07:16):
At first, Tony and Deborah triedto treat those early moments
like part of the adjustmentperiod, the same way any couple
gets used to the quirks of a newhouse.
But within a few weeks, the oddmoments weren't random anymore.
They were repeating.
And they were happening in waysthat felt intentional.
(07:37):
The nursery, especially.
That room at the end of thehallway had a quiet stillness to
it during the day.
Almost warm, almost peaceful.
But when the house settled atnight, something about it
changed.
The air felt heavier.
The corners seemed darker thanthey should.
(07:58):
In that rocking chair by thewindow, the old wooden one they
found at a secondhand shop neverstayed where they left it.
Some nights it was angledtowards the crib, other nights
facing the door.
Once it was turned completelyaround, pointed to the wall.
Deborah asked Tony if he wasmoving it.
(08:19):
Tony asked her the same thing.
And both of them realized theywere having the same thought.
What if neither of us touchedit?
Still, they didn't want to jumpto the word haunted.
Most people don't.
You create explanations becausethey feel safer.
So they kept looking for ways torationalize what was happening.
(08:43):
One afternoon, Deborah walkedinto the nursery and stopped in
the doorway.
The rocking chair was angledtoward the crib again, not where
either of them had left it.
And the air in the room had thatsame charged stillness she'd
been feeling more and more.
Downstairs, Tony was having hisown moments.
(09:03):
He'd hear footsteps on thestaircase when he knew Deborah
was outside.
Not heavy ones, light steps,quick, two or three at a time,
almost like a child running upand down.
The kind of sound you onlynotice when the house is
supposed to be quiet.
Sometimes Bo, their dog, wouldbark towards the stairs as if
(09:26):
someone were standing halfwayup, peering down at him.
His fur would rise along hisback, not full alarm, but alert
enough that Tony would stop whathe was doing and listen.
And Bo wasn't the only oneresponding.
Lights flickered on bythemselves, always in the
hallway or in that nursery.
(09:46):
Cabinet doors in the kitchenstood open in the morning when
they'd been shut the nightbefore.
And they both started noticingcold spots, not drafts from
windows, but little patches offreezing air that showed up and
disappeared without warning.
But the moment things shiftedfrom strange to unsettling came
(10:08):
one night while Tony waswatching television in the
living room.
He felt something brush acrossthe back of his calf.
Not a breeze, not static, butcontact.
Light and quick and unmistakablydeliberate.
His first thought was Bo.
He looked down.
The dog was asleep on the otherside of the couch.
(10:32):
Tony didn't call out.
He didn't move.
He just watched the doorway,waiting to see something,
anything that could explain it.
Nothing appeared, but thefeeling didn't leave him.
Later, when he told Deborah, shedidn't laugh or brush it off.
Instead, she admitted somethingshe'd been keeping to herself,
(10:55):
that she'd felt small touchestoo.
Little tugs at the hem of hershirt, soft pressure on her
ankle while she folded laundry,the sensation of a tiny hand
brushing across the back of herarm.
For the first time, it actuallygot to them.
One person feeling somethingstrange is easy to ignore.
(11:17):
Two people feeling the same kindof touch, that's different.
But even then, they weren'tready to label the house as
something paranormal.
They told themselves it was justthe stress of moving, the
adjustment, the creaks andquirks of an old place.
They tried to hold on to normal,but the house wasn't interested
(11:39):
in normal.
Because the next phase wasn'tabout sounds or toys or cold
spots, it was about pain.
And the moment it started,everything changed.
For weeks, the strange activityin the house had been building.
(12:00):
Small touches, toys out ofplace, cold spots that seemed to
hover at angle height beforedisappearing.
But one night, the shift wasn'tslow.
It wasn't a gentle build.
It was immediate.
It happened while Tony was inthe hallway, getting ready to
head upstairs.
He felt a quick sting across hisstomach, sharp enough to make
(12:24):
him grab at it.
Not the kind of feeling you getfrom brushing against a nail or
catching yourself on a corner.
This felt intentional, clean,fast.
He lifted his shirt.
Three red lines were risingacross his skin.
They weren't long, maybe fourinches each, but they were deep
(12:45):
enough to bead with blood.
He stood there in shock, tryingto replay the last few seconds
in his head.
He hadn't touched anything, hehadn't bumped into anything.
There was no loose wood, nosharp object anywhere near him.
But when Deborah saw thescratches, her expression
changed.
Not confused, not dismissive,concerned.
(13:10):
Because a few days earlier, andshe hadn't told him this yet,
she had woken up with twosimilar marks on her thigh,
faint but unmistakablyscratches.
At the time she convincedherself it was their dog or the
edge of the comforter, somethingordinary.
But now Tony had marks too, andthey matched.
(13:33):
That was the moment when theatmosphere in the house shifted
from strange to invasive.
Something wasn't just movingthings around.
Something wasn't just brushingpast them.
Whatever was in the house couldtouch them, and it could hurt
them.
A couple nights later, somethinghappened that convinced both of
(13:54):
them the house wasn't easing up.
It was escalating.
After that, the energy in thehouse changed, especially
upstairs.
The hallway grew colder.
Lights flickered more often,sometimes brightening and
dimming like someone was playingwith a dimmer switch that didn't
exist.
And the nursery.
(14:15):
That quiet room at the end ofthe hall felt like it had
someone in it.
During the day, Deborah wouldpass by the doorway and swear
she saw something small move inthe corner of her eye.
A shadow, quick, childlike.
At night, the rocking chaircreaked again.
(14:35):
Slowly at first, sometimes justonce or twice.
Other times long enough thatshe'd stand in the hallway
listening, hoping it would stop.
There were other moments too,the kind you only processed
later.
The baby monitor picking upstatic when it wasn't plugged
in.
Soft breaths coming through thespeaker.
(14:58):
A child's giggle.
Faint, fast, and impossible toplace.
Voices in the hallway thatsounded like they were coming
from just outside the bedroomdoor.
But when Tony opened it, thehall was empty.
Still.
And then objects didn't justmove, they rearranged.
One morning, Deborah found thenursery closet open, and every
(15:22):
piece of clothing was in a pilein the center of the floor.
Another morning, the pictureframes downstairs were face
down, placed, not knocked.
The worst moment was when Tonygot up for a glass of water and
found every cabinet door in thekitchen open.
Silently, all at once.
But the incident that finallypushed them from uneasy to
(15:45):
afraid came days later, whenDeborah stepped into the nursery
and saw the stuffed bear sittingin the center of the room and
the scorch marks beside it.
Dark circles, small andperfectly round, like someone
had pressed two burning handsinto the carpet.
She backed out of the room andclosed the door.
(16:06):
Because at this point, the housewasn't just strange, it was
becoming hostile.
(16:59):
If the odd moments in the housewere unsettling before, the next
phase was something elseentirely.
Because whatever had beenbrushing against them and
tugging at their clothes wasn'tstaying subtle anymore.
Now it was acting withintention.
And the scratches were only thebeginning.
(17:20):
Tony was the one the housefocused on the most.
He didn't want to admit it, notat first, but it became
impossible to ignore.
The touches, the cold spots, thesudden pain, they all seemed
directed at him and only him.
And the attacks kept escalating.
(17:41):
One night, Tony was walking pastthe nursery when he felt
something clamp around hiswrist, small fingers, tight and
fast, like a child grabbing ontoa parent.
But when he turned, no one wasthere.
He tried to shake it off, blameit on nerves, blame it on the
house settling.
(18:01):
But later that same night, whilehe was asleep, Deborah woke to
the sound of him sucking in airlike he'd just been burned.
She turned on the lamp, and Tonywas sitting upright, clutching
his chest.
Three deep scratches were risingacross his skin, fresh, red and
angry.
(18:21):
She didn't hear him move.
He didn't thrash.
He didn't even sit up until thepain hit him.
The marks just appeared.
And they were deeper this time.
Long enough she wiped blood awaywith her hand.
A few days later, Tony was alonein the basement finishing
laundry.
(18:42):
The basement of the Sally housewas unfinished, concrete floors,
low ceilings, old foundationwalls that let in just enough
cold air to feel uncomfortable,even on warm days.
He heard movement behind him.
Not footsteps, shuffling, likesomeone small dragging their
(19:03):
feet across the floor.
He turned quickly, expecting tosee Bo, but the dog was
upstairs.
What Tony did see froze him inplace, a shape standing by the
support beam, just tall enoughto be a little kid.
Not fully formed, not solid, butdark.
(19:23):
A human outline.
He blinked, it was gone.
He ran upstairs withoutfinishing the clothes.
He didn't tell Deborah, not yet,because even though he didn't
want to say it out loud, a partof him wondered if seeing it
would make it more real.
But Deborah was having her ownmoments, especially in the
(19:47):
nursery.
One afternoon, while foldinglaundry in the room, she felt a
sudden rush of cold air passbehind her.
Not a breeze, not a draft, atemperature drop like someone
walking right past her shoulder.
The kind of cold that sinksdeeper than skin.
She turned, and the rockingchair was moving.
(20:11):
Slowly back and forth, back andforth.
The room was silent, no ventsrunning, no floorboards
creaking, just the chair movingon its own.
She stepped closer, almostwithout thinking, and felt a tug
on the hem of her shirt, gentlebut unmistakable, like a small
(20:33):
hand reaching out.
She didn't scream, she didn'tdrop the clothes, she just
stepped backwards and whispered,please don't.
But whatever was in the housewasn't looking for permission.
The next major incident happenedwhile they were sitting in the
living room, talking about theirday.
No tension, no argument, nothingemotional happening.
(20:56):
It was calm.
Then Tony jerked suddenly, likesomething punched him in the
back.
He reached behind himself andwinced.
Deborah pulled up his shirt.
Three long scratches ran acrosshis shoulder blade, blistered
like the skin had been burnedand split open.
She touched one of the marks andfelt heat radiating off of it.
(21:19):
Heat coming from scratches thathadn't existed ten seconds
earlier.
The house wasn't just reactinganymore, it was escalating.
In some moments felt personal.
The activity got stronger whenTony was frustrated.
Lights flickered when he walkedunder them.
(21:39):
Footsteps followed him up thestaircase.
He felt cold breaths on the backof his neck whenever he tried to
be alone.
Then came the nursery incidentthat finally broke him.
It was late afternoon.
The house was quiet.
Tony stepped into the nursery tograb something from the closet.
The moment he entered, everystuffed animal in the room,
(22:02):
every single one, toppled overat the same time.
Not slowly, not one by one, butall at once.
Like someone brushed a handstraight across the room.
He froze.
Then suddenly the rocking chairstarted moving.
Not the gentle sway Deborah hadseen.
(22:23):
This was harder, angrier, likesomeone was stomping their foot.
His chest tightened, the hair onhis arms lifted.
He stepped back towards thehallway because something in
that moment told him he wasn'tsupposed to be there.
As he reached the door, he felta sharp pain across his forearm.
(22:43):
He didn't even need to look.
He knew.
Three more scratches, deepenough that blood slid down
toward his wrist.
And that's when Tony finallysaid the thing he'd been holding
back.
I think whatever's in this househates me.
The tension in the home grewheavier each day.
(23:05):
Deborah felt it.
The dog felt it.
Tony, the one being targeted,felt it constantly.
He told Deborah he didn't likebeing alone in the house
anymore.
He told her he heard voiceswhispering behind him in the
kitchen.
He told her something was wrongwith the nursery.
And every night the scratchesgot worse.
(23:28):
They formed in threes, always inthe same pattern, always without
warning.
They happened while he wasawake.
They happened while he wasasleep.
They even happened once while hewas driving.
Deborah begged him to see adoctor, but Tony didn't need a
medical explanation.
(23:48):
He needed help.
Someone who knew what to do.
Because at this point, the housewasn't just haunted, it was
hostile.
And whatever was in there seemeddetermined to run them out.
They couldn't ignore it anymore.
So they reached out.
Not to family, not to neighbors,but to people who dealt with
(24:11):
this kind of thing.
And the moment thoseinvestigators stepped inside,
the entire story shifted.
By the time Tony and Deborahdecided to bring in help, the
(24:33):
house felt different than it hadwhen they moved in.
The air was heavier.
The upstairs hallway stayedcold, the kind of cold that
didn't belong at a Kansas homein the middle of summer.
In the nursery, the room thatshould have felt the warmest had
become the center of everythingthey couldn't explain.
When the first group arrived,they expected the usual cameras,
(24:57):
meters, gear.
What they didn't expect was howquickly the house responded.
Within minutes of stepping intothe nursery, all three
investigators felt the samething.
A small tug at their clothes,light at first, then firmer,
like a child trying to get anadult's attention.
One investigator set a plushbear on the floor near the
(25:21):
rocking chair as a test.
They stepped back.
The bear shifted just a fewinches, but enough for everyone
to see.
Downstairs, things were nocalmer.
When Tony stood in the center ofthe living room to test whether
the presence reacted to him, hewinced almost immediately.
(25:41):
Three scratches rose across hisabdomen as the team watched.
Fresh, red.
That changed the tone.
This wasn't a residual haunting.
Something was interacting.
A psychic arrived later thatevening, someone familiar with
the property.
She paused in the upstairshallway, hand hovering above the
(26:05):
wall like she felt heat risingfrom it.
She's in that room, she said,nodding towards the nursery.
She's been here a long time.
She looked at Tony, not afraid,but cautious.
She doesn't understandboundaries.
The name Sally came from her,the impression of a young girl,
(26:28):
maybe six or seven, confused,lonely, and seeking attention.
It sounded gentle, but it didn'tmatch the scratches.
Throughout the night,investigators heard footsteps on
the stairs when no one was nearthem.
They recorded a faint giggleoutside the nursery door.
(26:49):
One audio recorder capturedrhythmic whispering, soft and
close, like a child murmuring toherself.
When one investigator askedaloud, Sally, can you show us
you're here?
The rocking chair moved.
One slow rock.
The next morning, when theyreturned to gather equipment,
(27:10):
the nursery door was open.
The plush bear sat upright onthe rocking chair.
One recorder had been nudgedseveral inches from where it was
placed.
But the thing that shook Tonywasn't the objects, it was the
footage.
In one clip, a faint figurestood near the crib, small,
(27:31):
dark-haired, perfectly still fora moment before darting out of
the frame.
Tony knew that shape.
He knew that feeling in thenursery, the sense of someone
standing behind him.
It hadn't been his imagination.
After the investigators left,the house didn't quiet down.
It didn't reset.
(27:53):
It retaliated.
Door slams, objects thrown,lights flickering violently
whenever Tony walked beneaththem, cold spots following him
from room to room.
The house wasn't hiding anymore.
It was demanding attention.
And the scratches, the thingtormenting Tony for weeks, began
(28:15):
happening almost daily.
Deborah started worrying thehouse wasn't just trying to
scare them, it was trying tobreak them.
And the moment that turneddangerous wasn't a shadow, it
wasn't a sound, it was fire.
(28:41):
Tony and Deborah had gone to bedearly.
The house was quiet, the airstill, the kind of calm they'd
been craving after weeks ofactivity.
For the first time in a while,it felt like maybe things were
settling down.
Around midnight, Tony woke up tothe smell of something sharp and
chemical, burning electricalwires.
(29:03):
He sat up fast, convinced asocket had blown or something in
the wall was overheating.
Deborah woke up too.
They both smelled it.
They followed the scent into thehallway, and the temperature
dropped instantly, the samecold, heavy air they'd felt in
the nursery before everythinggot worse.
The odor grew stronger, burnedplastic, hot metal.
(29:27):
Tony opened the nursery door andfroze.
In the center of the room, onthe carpet, a small patch was
smoldering.
Not a flame, but a dark smokingcircle no bigger than a child's
hand.
The same shape as the scorchmarks Deborah had found earlier,
except this time it washappening right in front of
(29:49):
them.
Deborah whispered his name.
Tony didn't move.
Across the room, the rockingchair began to sway.
Slowly at first, then harder,like something was pushing it
with intent.
The smoke thickened.
Their dog barked from thehallway, a frantic sound they
had never heard from him insidethe house.
(30:11):
Deborah grabbed Tony's arm.
We need to go.
But Tony wasn't looking at thecarpet anymore.
He was looking at the wall nearthe crib, where three long black
streaks, like charredfingerprints, were sliding
downward.
He felt that familiar burnacross his chest at the same
moment.
He didn't look, he didn't haveto.
(30:34):
They left the nursery, shut thedoor, and didn't open it again.
By morning, The decision wasmade.
They packed what they could.
They called family.
And they left the house.
Not for a night, not for aweekend, for good.
Because at that point, whateverwas in the house wasn't just
(30:55):
trying to scare them.
It was trying to drive them out.
And it finally succeeded.
Now that we've walked throughthe story the way it's been told
for years, let's step back andlook at what we can actually
confirm in what remains part ofthe narrative built around the
(31:17):
Sally House.
The house itself is real.
Its location on North 2nd Streetin Acheson has been documented
for well over a century.
Multiple families lived therelong before the activity became
part of local lore, and thehouse is now known as a
destination for tours andinvestigators.
(31:37):
The couple's move-in timeline isalso real.
Tony and Deborah lived in thehome in the early 1990s, and
they've spoken publicly abouttheir experiences many times in
interviews, documentaries, andparanormal case files.
Their accounts stay largelyconsistent over the years, even
when separated.
(31:57):
The scratches are alsodocumented.
There are photographs takenduring the height of the
activity showing red marksacross Tony's abdomen and arms.
Investigators at the time saidthey witnessed new scratches
forming while they were in theroom.
Those testimonies exist inwritten reports and in video
interviews.
(32:18):
The cold spots, the footsteps,the nursery activity, the moving
objects, those all come directlyfrom the couple's personal
accounts and from the notes ofinvestigators who visited the
home.
Multiple groups claim they sawtoys move, lights flicker, and
the rocking chair shift.
Again, these are reportedexperiences, not proven
(32:41):
phenomena.
Now we move into the areas thatare widely circulated but not
verified.
Details like scorch marks shapedlike hands mostly show up in
later retellings of the story.
Some versions say theinvestigators photographed them.
Some say the couple only sawdiscoloration.
There is no surviving photographthat confirms the exact shapes
(33:05):
or their cause.
The burning smell and the fireincident appear in several
accounts, but there isn't anofficial incident report from
the fire department.
Nothing was recorded as astructural fire.
So while multiple retellingsinclude it, there's no direct
documentation beyond witnessstatements.
(33:25):
The reports of a small shadowyfigure, especially the
description of a child-sizedform near the crib, come from
investigator interviews, butagain, no publicly released
footage confirms the exactshape.
If any video was captured, ithasn't been shared beyond closed
groups.
(33:46):
The psychic statements about agirl named Sally also fall into
the unverified category.
There are no historical recordsof a young girl named Sally
dying in the home.
The story of a doctor performingemergency surgery on a child
there appears in many versions,but lacks supporting
documentation in medical orlocal archives.
(34:07):
It's part of the narrative, butnot part of the historical
record.
The idea that the house targetedTony specifically, that does
come directly from the couple,and other investigators said
they noticed the same pattern,but the cause, if any, is
unknown.
What we're left with is a blendof documented injuries, multiple
(34:29):
eyewitness accounts, consistentreports of the same types of
activity, and a significantlayer of folklore added over
time.
There's enough consistency tosay the couple experienced
something, but the exact natureof that something, a child's
spirit, a hostile presence, or amix of psychological strain and
(34:50):
environmental conditions, isn'tsomething that's been proven
through any official record.
What is clear is that theexperiences left a mark on the
home and the community.
And long after they left, newfamilies, investigators, and
visitors would report their ownmoments in the house.
Enough to keep the legend alivefor decades.
(35:15):
When I look at the story of theSally House, what stands out to
me isn't just the scratches orthe shadow figures or the
temperature drops.
It's the consistency in howpeople describe the atmosphere
of that home.
Everyone who steps inside seemsto talk about the same things.
The wait in the hallway, thestrange quiet in the nursery,
(35:36):
the feeling of someone standingclose even when the room is
empty.
You can dismiss cold spots orflickering lights, but it's
harder to ignore how many peoplewalked into that space and
described it in almost identicalways.
And if I'm being fair, whatstrikes me most is how quickly a
place can change you when you'realready under stress.
(35:59):
A new house, a new routine, thepressure of trying to understand
things that don't make sense.
It doesn't take a haunting tomake you feel off balance.
But when unexplained thingsstart piling up, one on top of
another, your mind startsconnecting dots in ways you
wouldn't normally allow.
Do I think the house hadsomething going on?
(36:21):
I think something happened therethat affected people
emotionally, physically, andpsychologically.
Whether it was a haunting,something environmental, or a
kind of feedback loop betweenfear and experience, the result
was real for the people wholived through it.
And if there was something inthat house, I don't think it
(36:42):
wanted to be ignored.
But this is one of those storieswhere the truth sits in the
spaces between the accounts.
You have what people saw, whatthey felt, what they believed,
and what they carried with themafter they left.
You have patterns that repeatand moments that don't line up
neatly with explanations.
(37:04):
And somewhere in that mix is theversion that makes the most
sense to you.
So when it comes to the Sallyhouse, you almost have to decide
for yourself what you think washappening there.
A haunting?
A home under pressure?
Or something in between, waitingfor someone to pay attention.
(37:28):
This has been State of theUnknown.
What stays with me about theSally House is how little the
reports have changed.
Different families,investigators, and visitors,
years apart, all describe thesame moments.
The cold spots, the footsteps,the uneasy quiet in the nursery.
Most stories twist as they getretold.
(37:51):
This one didn't.
And that consistency is hard todismiss.
If you're listening on ApplePodcasts, leaving a review is
one of the best ways to help theshow grow.
And if you're on Spotify, Ialways put a poll under each
episode.
It's a fun way to tell me whatyou think or what you believe
really happened.
So tap in and let your voice bepart of the mystery.
(38:14):
And truly, thank you forlistening.
It means more than you know.
If you've got an idea you thinkwould make a great episode, you
can reach out to me anytime atstateoftheunknown.comslash
contact.
Until next time, stay curious,stay unsettled, and remember,
(38:34):
some rooms are better leftbehind a closed door.
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