Darren DeMarco Licensed Real Estate Salesperson

I just would like Pizza..

CREEPY REAL ESTATE STORY... Jack, Georgia About fifteen years ago, I joined the real estate industry in the hope of selling my recently-deceased great uncle’s home in Buckhead (North Atlanta). The home is one of those southern-styled, three-storied carriage homes that was, more or less, beaten up from years of neglect. My uncle suffered from mental illness, so it was not surprising the current state of the home.... One hot summer day, while working with a contractor, we noticed a cold draft flowing through the first-floor home office. It was strange because the A/C was not on and it was 94 degrees outside. He thought the air could be flowing from the basement, so he went to check. Five minutes went by. Then ten minutes. I eventually opened the basement stairwell and yelled down the staircase. An unfamiliar, burly voice responded: Help me. I ran downstairs only to find the contractor tied up and knocked out unconscious. Thinking it was a home burglary, I immediately called the police. Upon waking up, the contractor had absolutely no recollection of the event or even asking for help. He was immediately rushed to the hospital where tests were inconclusive. The next day, I returned to the house with my future ex-husband as back up. We scrounged the house, looking for any sign of a break-in. There was none. We then heard a loud noise in the basement. We ran downstairs, only to be met with a frigid, stale air that smelled like the acidic scent of mangroves. And then suddenly, before our eyes, part of the basement ground literally fell through to reveal a perfectly square hole. My husband and I were shook. Just moments ago, we were in the basement and saw no hole. Now, there was this 3x3 perfectly square. Dumb as he was -- there’s a reason why we’re divorced -- he stuck his hand inside and felt bone at the surface. Call the cops, honey. There’s a dead body in there. Police excavated the basement and found two bodies. My first thought was it had to be my uncle. Since 18 years old, he had owned the home after his parents died in 1944. However, examiners determined the bodies would’ve been killed by excruciating torture to the genitals region and blunt force trauma to the head around that date. At that time, my uncle was overseas fighting the Nazis and didn’t return back from Paris until 1947. To this day, we have no idea why parts of the house were so frigid, who was screaming for help, or if my uncle was the murderer. It’s left my entire family in the dark. And worst of all, the foundation was destroyed. We ended up knocking down the house and selling the property. Not exactly the way you think your first listing will go, if you ask me.

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Just making people happy in the Real Estate world in beautiful Saratoga Springs!