In the winter of 1987, a young family living in the small town of Horicon, Wisconsin, fled their home in the middle of the night. They left behind their belongings, their routines, and, most notably, the set of children’s bunk beds they believed had unleashed something malevolent inside their house. What became known as the Tallman Haunted Bunk Beds case remains one of the most unsettling episodes of the 1980s paranormal wave, a story of ordinary people, inexplicable events, and a piece of secondhand furniture that seemed to bring with it a storm of escalating disturbances.
Alan and Debbie Tallman purchased the bunk beds from a thrift shop in 1986. The furniture seemed ordinary, sturdy, lightly used, and perfect for their two young children. The problems began almost immediately after the beds were assembled. At first, the disturbances were small: radios turning on by themselves, strange tapping noises in the walls, and objects shifting position when no one was in the room. The family brushed these moments aside, attributing them to the house settling or the typical quirks of an older home.
But the activity intensified. Their children began reporting a shadowy figure moving in the bedroom where the beds stood. A little girl in the family said she saw a woman with long dark hair standing silently near the foot of the bed. Their son described a voice calling his name from empty rooms. The parents, skeptical at first, became alarmed when they experienced their own encounters. One night, Alan heard a voice whisper his name through a baby monitor, so clearly that he walked the house searching for an intruder.
By late 1987, events had taken a violent turn. Doors slammed on their own. A heavy chair moved across the kitchen floor without anyone near it. A glowing red figure appeared in the hallway, terrifying their son into screaming fits. The most terrifying incident occurred when Alan returned home late from work and saw smoke rising from the garage. When he flung open the door, he found no flames, but a deep, disembodied voice growled, “Come here.” Moments later, the garage door slammed violently behind him.
The Tallmans called their pastor, believing something had attached itself to the house. After blessing the rooms and praying with the family, he urged them to remove the bunk beds entirely. But even after dismantling the furniture and storing it in the basement, the disturbances continued, suggesting, in the family's view, that whatever force had entered the home was no longer confined to the bed.
In January 1988, after a final night of terrifying activity, the Tallmans grabbed their children and fled the home, staying with relatives across town. They refused to return unless accompanied by clergy and family friends. Their story spread quickly through Horicon, escalating into a wave of local panic. Residents reported seeing lights around the Tallman property and claimed the house itself seemed to emit an oppressive, uneasy atmosphere.
Authorities stepped in to calm the growing fear. Police publicly stated that they had inspected the home and found no evidence of vandalism, intruders, or environmental sources of the disturbances. But privately, several officers later admitted the family’s fear seemed genuine. The Tallmans themselves refused interviews, hoping to keep their children out of the spotlight.
The turning point came when the television program Unsolved Mysteries featured the case in 1988. Though the show changed some details to protect the family, the core events remained intact. The episode introduced the bunk beds as the possible catalyst—a piece of secondhand furniture that may have carried an attachment, an object with a past no one could trace. After the broadcast, the Tallmans destroyed the bed completely, hoping to sever whatever link had followed it into their lives.
The house eventually sold to new owners who reported no activity, leaving the case suspended between belief and skepticism. Some investigators have suggested the disturbances were the result of stress, misinterpretation, or accumulating fear within a young family already stretched thin by work and childcare. Others point to the consistency of the reported phenomena, objects moving, voices, apparitions, as characteristic of cases involving “attached objects,” especially those acquired secondhand.
What makes the Tallman case linger is not the sensationalism, but the sincerity. The family gained nothing by sharing their story. They never sought book deals or public attention. In fact, they wanted the opposite: privacy, safety, and an escape from a house that had turned against them during eight terrifying months. Whether the cause was psychological, environmental, or something stranger that clung to those unassuming bunk beds, the Tallman haunting remains one of the most famous modern examples of allegedly “active” furniture, an ordinary object that became the center of extraordinary fear.
Sources & Further Reading:
– “Tallman Haunted Bunk Beds” coverage from the 1988 Unsolved Mysteries broadcast
– Contemporary reporting in Wisconsin regional newspapers, 1987–1989
– Interviews with Horicon residents and clergy familiar with the Tallman family
– Police statements archived in Dodge County records regarding the disturbances
– Analyses by paranormal researchers of object-based hauntings and attachment cases
(One of many stories shared by Headcount Coffee — where mystery, history, and late-night reading meet.)
