"Brandon?," I half whispered. There was no response. "Brandon!" I yelled and turned on my knees. He was leaning against the passenger door of the car - just staring, in a trance. I was wiping the vomit off my face with my sleeve and smacking my hands against my pants, getting my hands as clean as I possibly could. I managed to get up on my feet and staggered over to him, throwing my body against his. He remained frozen in his position, like a statue, not responding to me. I looked up at his face. "Brandon," I said again.
"Huh?", he managed, still staring in a trance. I sighed in frustration and turned my head in the direction of his gaze.
There she was. A beautiful ghostly figure, huddled near her lifeless body. She was gently gliding her pale, transparent hand over her face. Her long, blond hair flowing over her bony shoulders and down her willowy body. I mimicked Brandon's trance-like gaze. I couldn't look away. I only prayed she didn't look up. I just wanted to behold her for a moment. She lifted her hand and gently pulled her ghostly wispy hairs behind her ear, exposing a black hole in her left temple. I felt my eyes widen and my jaw drop. She had been shot in the head. My eyes surveyed down her bony arm, over her bony, pale fingers, to the head of her body poking out from beneath the ground. There it was, the same hole.
Suddenly I snapped out of it. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes with my free hand. My heart started pounding. "What now?" I thought. I pulled slightly away from Brandon. He suddenly drew in a deep breath and looked at me, snapping out his trance.
"What are you doing?" He asked in a groggy voice. I didn't move, only motioned with my eyes toward the car. Toward the door. He furrowed his brow, not understanding my cues.
I was afraid to speak. Afraid to make a noise. Afraid to disturb the ghostly figure crouched only fifteen feet away. I only mouthed the words, "Let's go". Again his look was puzzled. I jerked my head toward the car in seizure-like movements - trying to communicate without drawing attention. I finally saw the light go off in his head. He glanced quickly in the direction of the ghost, a look of concern on his face. Then he looked back at me to make sure this was really my plan. I reached behind his body and felt for the handle. I gently lifted it. He crawled in before me and I followed closely behind. I shut the door and locked it quickly, never daring to take my eyes off of the ghost. She didn't seem to notice. I blew out the breath I had been unknowingly holding.
"Now what?" Brandon breathed.
"Go", I whispered, staring straight ahead.
"Go?" he asked in surprise. "Are you serious?"
"Yes! Yes, I'm serious. GO! DRIVE!" I grit my teeth in frustration, keeping my eyes on her - Lisa.
"Well....you're just gonna' leave her here?" As if she couldn't find her way back. She'd found me before. She could travel anywhere - do anything. She didn't need us. Besides, if she really wanted to, she could probably just appear in the car. The thought gave me sudden chills.
"Just frickin' drive, Brandon! DRIVE!" I shouted in agitation.
Brandon slowly moved the gear, notch by notch into reverse. I swallowed hard and drew in a long, deep breath, holding it, waiting in anticipation. How would she react? What would happen next? This was a gutsy thing - I knew it. But I had to get out of there. We started to roll backwards slowly, suddenly catching on something and stopping. Brandon pushed the gas pedal and the engine roared, sending us lurching backwards.
The pale, ghostly figure jerked her head up suddenly - her cold, black eyes boring straight into mine. A look of disgust. Every hair on my body stood at attention. My eyes widened in fear. I gulped hard. We continued to roll backwards, now turning as Brandon angled the car around to face the road. Lisa stood up and started to slowly walk towards the car, holding my gaze in hers. I was completely tense, every muscle in my body. My hands and feet like ice.
"Gah!" I released uncontrollably.
Brandon jumped, "What? What's wrong?" He shouted. Caught off guard.
"She's coming! DRIIIIVE!" I shouted in desperation. He threw the car violently into drive and hit the gas pedal with so much force we flew right out of there, flying over bumps, narrowly missing trees.
"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah." I muttered over and over under my breath, cheering him on.
"Is she still coming?" He shouted. I jumped up in my seat and turned around. There she was, at a distance, still walking slowly towards us, a scowl on her face.
"HOLY CRAP! JUST GO!!!" I screamed.
And he did. He drove like a complete maniac, probably in a similar fashion to how I got us there in the first place. How she got us there...in my body.
We reached the main road and Brandon continued to drive like an absolute maniac. I sat completely tense the whole time, my right hand clutching the side door - only half breathing. Finally we came down the mountain. We were down on main roads now, heading home. I looked behind us again. I don't know what I expected to see - maybe the ghostly figure still following behind, closing in on us. But there was nothing. Just blackness.
"She still there?" Brandon asked quietly.
"Uh uh," I sighed. I reached my hand over and touched his shoulder. He flinched. I pulled my hand back and he looked over at me, embarrassed, then clutched his head with his left hand, resting his elbow on the window ledge and continued on, staring straight ahead in a trance. I heaved a sigh and sat back against my seat, staring blankly out the window, trying to keep my head clear. Trying to push out the memories of what had just happened. We drove home in complete silence.
Upon arriving at my condo, Brandon and I simultaneously opened our doors, stumbled out and staggered toward the garage door leading inside. All I could think about was my bed. I just wanted my bed. We both staggered to my room without saying a word. I threw myself on my bed - dirt, blood, vomit and all.
"Don't you wanna' shower?" Brandon mumbled.
"Hmmm," I groaned.
Brandon sat down hard on the bed next to me. He laid his hand on my hair. "You're covered in lots of different crap, you know."
"Yeah, I know," I mumbled into the bedding. "I don't wanna' shower right now. I'm too tired." I threw myself over onto my back and stared at the ceiling. "Besides, I don't want to be alone. Not even in the shower."
Brandon nodded, staring off somewhere else. I don't know where he was, but he was clearly not present. And neither was I. He started to kick his shoes off, so I followed his lead. He crawled across my bed and reached for me. I pulled away.
"Let me get the lights", I sighed. I shut the bedroom door. And locked it. I didn't know what that would do. It just made me feel safer. I hit the light switch and staggered over to the bed, stumbling onto it and melting into Brandon's shape as he curled his body around mine and laid his arm across the top for security. I felt very safe now. I drifted off quickly.
I drew in a long, deep breath, my body stretching reflexively. I held the stretched position a few seconds and then released, blowing my breath out. I could still feel Brandon next to me. A huge relief. I heard him stirring and waking then too. He groaned and rolled over to his other side, letting his legs fall over the edge and sitting up in a slightly hunched position, rubbing his eyes for several seconds.
We both got up and stretched again, standing up now - facing each other across the bed.
"You okay?" Brandon asked. A look of concern on his face.
I simply nodded. But I worried. I wasn't okay. I wasn't okay at all. I was exhausted, physically and emotionally. I didn't feel any better after my long night's sleep. I felt sick.
"You hungry?," I mumbled.
Brandon nodded. "Yeah. Kind of. You?"
I shook my head no. Brandon laughed. "No? Then what did you ask me for?"
"Well, just 'cause I'm not hungry, doesn't mean you're not," I replied.
I unlocked the door and grabbed the door handle, but hesitated. I looked over at Brandon and raised an eyebrow. "Well, let's see what happens now," I said playfully, trying to mask my intense fear at this moment. The moment of truth. What was on the other side of that door? I had no idea, but we couldn't hide out in the bedroom forever.
I threw it open dramatically and stood there. I looked around at the family room before me. Silence. Calm. Nothing out of the ordinary. I heaved a sigh of relief. "All clear", I said and sauntered out, rounding the corner to the kitchen.
T-E-L-l t-H-e-M
It was spelled out on the fridge. I froze. I turned and bolted for my room screaming, "OH MY GOSH! OH MY GOSH!" I slammed the bedroom door, ran to my bed, jumped under the blanket and pulled it up over my head, sobbing uncontrollably.
I suddenly felt a hand touching me above the blanket. I threw it down and saw Brandon sitting there on the bed. A horrified look on his face. "What - just - happened?" He spoke his sentence in broken pieces.
"She's baaaack," I sobbed.
Now. This is where I will end the long, drawn out tale. It is now the night before Halloween and this could honestly go on forever, but you've hung in there long enough. And now I will simply finish by stating that after two days of contemplating and two days of torment by Lisa's ghost, I did go to the authorities and tell them what I found. I lied slightly. I told the police that my boyfriend and I were camping and came across the body. We were both taken into custody and questioned about the case. The body was found by our description of the location and the map Brandon drew. The body belonged to a young woman - 23-year-old Lisa Stinson. She had been kidnapped, murdered, and driven up there for her shallow burial near the lake.
Brandon and I were eventually released, having been cleared of any connection to the murder. Lisa's case is still a cold case. It has, to this day, never been solved. Lisa never did communicate to me any clue as to who could have done this. Apparently she doesn't know who did this to her.
I returned to my life and Brandon to his. I spoke of this to no one. I couldn't. Everything seemed to work out just right for my son to be with my ex during the times that I was finding the body and talking to detectives.
As for Lisa's ghost - I never did see or hear from her again. Once I reported the whereabouts of her body and she received a proper burial, she left me in peace.
Now scroll way down. I have one final thing to say to you all...
This story is completely made up! GOTCHA!!!!! HAHAHA! I know. Not funny. Not funny at all. But I had you, didn't I? Not one single part of this story is true - including Brandon. I've never had a friend like that named Brandon. I made this all up as I went along - chapter by chapter. Even Lisa Stinson is made up. Now, the two women pictured earlier in the story are real. They were murdered. I did some research for this story. But I honestly had no idea where this story would go until I was actually sitting and typing it.
Now that I've completely lost your trust, I will say - all other stories in this blog are completely true. THOSE were not made up. But anything as exciting as this story - never happened to me. Are you kidding? I'd be in a mental hospital right now if it had.
I hope you enjoyed. I hope you're not too mad at me. And I hope you'll come back for more next month as I begin a new blog - dating stories - The Horror, The Hilarious, The Hurtful, The Hopeless. I have so many crazy (but completely true) dating stories. I've often been told I should write a book. Instead, I would like to blog it because it's fun and gets my need for creativity out of my system. I am now working on a book. An actual book I would like to have published, so if you enjoy reading my blog works, then maybe someday you'll buy my books.
Happy Halloween!
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
The Reluctant Medium - Chapter 5
Brandon just stared in complete awe. I observed him, smiling to myself. It was kind of a funny sight to see. I felt kind of cool at this moment. This was all unfortunately normal for me. Watching someone else frightened and awed by it was truly entertaining. I sauntered over and picked the book up, setting it neatly back on the table. "Believe me now?" I smirked. He didn't respond, so I glanced up at his eyes and noticed he was looking past me, his eyes wide. Suddenly I got the chills and the fear set back in.
"Are you...seeing something?" I asked, half curious, half horrified.
"Umm...it's walking toward the back hallway".
I grit my teeth. My heart started in. "Can you see her?" My voice was shaky now.
"Look", he said and pointed.
I shut my eyes and shook my head. "I don't wanna' see it".
"You won't. Just look, " he insisted.
"You better not be lying. I'll be so mad at you if you make me see a ghost!" I warned.
He just shook his head in awe and mouthed the word "wow". I finally gave in and turned around. I saw nothing. Brandon started walking toward the back hallway.
"What are you doing?" I growled.
"Following the footprints. Come on. She needs us to go with her".
I felt my shoulders slump. "What? How do you know?" I asked in an agitated tone. It felt like he was stealing my thunder. Could he suddenly communicate with this person now? What about me? As Brandon disappeared around the corner into the dark back hallway, I shook my head.
"Oh my gosh!" I whispered to myself. "Why am I upset? This is perfect. He can solve this and I can get on with my life".
The back hall light flipped on. "Come on! Get your keys! Let's do this!" Brandon called out to me. I rolled my eyes and threw my head back, then grabbed my keys and purse off the counter and followed. It didn't seem so scary anymore. Just annoying.
We entered the garage and I looked at Brandon with annoyance, "Well?" I challenged.
"I think we need to drive somewhere. Maybe she wants to show us where her body is", he said very seriously.
"Okay, are you serious? Is it telling you this?" I mocked.
"SHE! It's a she and you know it," he reprimanded.
"Okay, LISA", I said. "What do you want?"
"Lisa? Really?" Brandon looked at me in surprise.
"Yep. She spelled it out for me on the fridge today, didn't ya?" I said, rolling my eyes. I sighed and entered the driver's side, smacking the garage door opener and waiting for Brandon and...apparently Lisa to get in.
I was testy because I was mostly scared deep down and it's how I was dealing with my fear. I feared what we would find. I feared what would happen next. I feared this nightmare would never end. I feared word would get out and I'd be labeled 'the freak' after all of this.
We pulled out of the garage and left the complex. I pulled out onto Dobson Rd. and started driving north.
Brandon looked at me quizzically. "You know where to go?"
"Not really", I said, the rebellious tone still present.
"Okaaay. Maybe you should ask Lisa", he suggested.
I rolled my eyes and huffed, "Well, Lisa? Where do you want me to go?"
Suddenly I felt dizzy, sick to my stomach. My head felt full. Tight. I squinted and groaned, putting my hand up to my left eye and covering it. It started tearing up.
"You okay?" Brandon asked.
Suddenly both of my hands gripped the steering wheel tight. I leaned forward in my seat and squinted. But it wasn't me. I felt like I wasn't myself. My chest felt heavy. It was difficult to breathe...but not. It was difficult to focus, but I didn't really feel like I needed to. It was like something took over me. It's hard to explain. I suddenly signaled and veered off to the right, heading East on University Dr. I pushed the gas pedal further and stared straight ahead, focusing hard on the road ahead.
"What are you doing? You're like way above the speed limit. You seriously need to slow down", I could hear Brandon talking, but I couldn't respond. I had to just drive. Just go. I was like a horse with blinders on. I had a destination and I needed to just focus straight ahead.
I could hear Brandon calling out to me. I could feel him grabbing my arm, but my strength overpowered him and I gripped tighter on the wheel and pressed forward. Suddenly I didn't even hear him, didn't notice him anymore. I drove on.
I don't remember much about that drive at all. It's all fuzzy. I don't remember stopping at stop lights. I don't remember doing much of anything - just driving. The sun was setting now. felt the car pushing forward up a mountain slope.
"The lake? Are we going to the lake?" I heard Brandon say.
"Yes", I snarled back. I was surprised at my tone, but gritted my teeth tight and continued on, still under the control of something else.
Finally we arrived. I just felt it. I felt like we were where we needed to be. We had reached Canyon Lake, but I passed it and continued on a little ways. There was a small trail off to the right. It wasn't meant for a vehicle like mine. It was for off-roading. I drove a Nissan Altima. I turned off and started to drive through it.
I heard Brandon again, "Uhh. Where are we going?"
I ignored him. I felt agitated by his questions. I needed to get through and my tires were slipping around on the gravel, not moving forward fast enough like I needed them to. I gripped the steering wheel even harder, bore down harder on the gas pedal and growled through gritted teeth. "Come on!"
I could feel Brandon's hands on mine. I could hear him shouting to stop, but I couldn't stop. I kept on. I could hear the pelting of small rocks flying up, but I didn't care. I let up on the gas and then slammed it down. We flew up out of the small hole we had created and pressed on, going over bumps and narrowly avoiding trees.
SLAM! We knocked into a tree. I let up on the gas. Brandon threw the car into park. I stared straight ahead, surveying the area, squinting in the dark. Then I released my death grip on the steering wheel and got out. I was scared to death, but my feet were moving on their own. I was searching. It was like I didn't know, but I did. I got out and started walking into the area in front of the car, lit by the headlights. I turned around in slow circles, searching the rocks and dirt and leaves and needles and....suddenly I dropped to my knees and started digging with my hands. It hurt. I could feel the stinging, the burning, the aching, but I continued to dig.
"Whoa! Calm down! I'll help you, okay?" I heard Brandon, but couldn't respond. I continued to dig deeper and deeper, finally making somewhat of a dent in the compacted dirt.
"Seriously! You're bleeding! What the crap are you doing? Have you lost your mind tonight? You drove like a bat outta' HELL! I'm like amazed you didn't get pulled over or get us killed! I'm like trying to figure you out right now! I told you I'd help you, but you're like psycho right now. Seriously!" The words were running on and on. I only half listened to him. I felt bad and I wanted to stop and respond and reassure him, but I couldn't.
Suddenly I felt it. I felt something soft, but bony. I felt the flesh through the dirt. I was rubbing my hand over it. It was a nose. I was horrified. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. My hands continued to brush back dirt. I closed my eyes shut as tight as I could, fighting against this other force. I felt lips! I felt a chin!
GGGAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!! I finally managed. I continued screaming.
I felt Brandon's arms pulling me back. He threw me back onto the soft earth and jumped on me. "What's happening? You're freaking me out! Seriously! Talk to me! Right now!" His eyes were wild with fear.
I growled and thrashed, trying to break free of his hold. I pushed him off of me, which wasn't difficult. He half jumped off of me, completely clueless as to what to do with me. I crawled angrily and forcefully back toward the hole I was digging, toward the face I was uncovering. "GET! HER! OUT! OF ME!" I screamed in spurts as I crawled.
"WHAT! What are you TALKING about?!" he shouted.
I continued digging, turning my head away and pressing my eyelids closed as tight as I could, growling and screaming. "Get her OUT! She's in me! She's making me do this! Get her OUT!"
I don't know what he did or if it was even him, but suddenly I felt lighter and limp. My arms gave out beneath me and I fell to the earth with a thud and a groan. I was panting hard, blowing the dirt out all around my face with my heavy breath. I started choking and sputtering. Brandon lifted me up and pulled me away. I turned and threw myself on him, sobbing uncontrollably. "Brandon", I moaned. The hot tears were flowing freely now.
"What's happening, Kristin?" he asked in a half whisper. His voice was shaking. I could feel his body shaking beneath mine.
"It's her", I moaned. "She's in the ground. She was inside of me, making me drive, making me dig her body up." I sobbed uncontrollably. I was nearly hyperventilating. I was crying so hard, I could barely speak. We just sat there, Brandon holding me - in shock- as I sobbed.
"I wanna'.... go....home", I finally managed in spurts.
Brandon lifted me up. I looked up at him, "Take me home", I moaned. But he didn't respond. His eyes were wide. His look one of horror and disgust. "What", I moaned.
His breathing was heavy. "It IS a body. Oh my gosh! It really is a body!" I turned around reflexively. I didn't want to, but my curiosity got me. I had been looking at things through her eyes. Not really seeing it or experiencing it as myself. I saw it. The face. The neck. Completely uncovered. It was barely starting to decompose. Still pretty fresh. This hadn't happened too long ago. My knees gave out.
"Oh my gosh" I mumbled. I felt a sick twist in my stomach. It started to churn. I clasped my hand over my mouth. "Oh my..." Suddenly I lurched forward and vomited on the ground by the body.
"OH!" I heard Brandon yell. He turned and started to walk away.
"No! Don't leave me!" I yelled and lurched forward and vomited again. It was uncontrollable. What had I eaten? When I thoroughly emptied the contents of my stomach, I started dry heaving. I couldn't stop. I tried to clear my head. Tried to get that image out. I will NEVER get that image out.
"Are you...seeing something?" I asked, half curious, half horrified.
"Umm...it's walking toward the back hallway".
I grit my teeth. My heart started in. "Can you see her?" My voice was shaky now.
"Look", he said and pointed.
I shut my eyes and shook my head. "I don't wanna' see it".
"You won't. Just look, " he insisted.
"You better not be lying. I'll be so mad at you if you make me see a ghost!" I warned.
He just shook his head in awe and mouthed the word "wow". I finally gave in and turned around. I saw nothing. Brandon started walking toward the back hallway.
"What are you doing?" I growled.
"Following the footprints. Come on. She needs us to go with her".
I felt my shoulders slump. "What? How do you know?" I asked in an agitated tone. It felt like he was stealing my thunder. Could he suddenly communicate with this person now? What about me? As Brandon disappeared around the corner into the dark back hallway, I shook my head.
"Oh my gosh!" I whispered to myself. "Why am I upset? This is perfect. He can solve this and I can get on with my life".
The back hall light flipped on. "Come on! Get your keys! Let's do this!" Brandon called out to me. I rolled my eyes and threw my head back, then grabbed my keys and purse off the counter and followed. It didn't seem so scary anymore. Just annoying.
We entered the garage and I looked at Brandon with annoyance, "Well?" I challenged.
"I think we need to drive somewhere. Maybe she wants to show us where her body is", he said very seriously.
"Okay, are you serious? Is it telling you this?" I mocked.
"SHE! It's a she and you know it," he reprimanded.
"Okay, LISA", I said. "What do you want?"
"Lisa? Really?" Brandon looked at me in surprise.
"Yep. She spelled it out for me on the fridge today, didn't ya?" I said, rolling my eyes. I sighed and entered the driver's side, smacking the garage door opener and waiting for Brandon and...apparently Lisa to get in.
I was testy because I was mostly scared deep down and it's how I was dealing with my fear. I feared what we would find. I feared what would happen next. I feared this nightmare would never end. I feared word would get out and I'd be labeled 'the freak' after all of this.
We pulled out of the garage and left the complex. I pulled out onto Dobson Rd. and started driving north.
Brandon looked at me quizzically. "You know where to go?"
"Not really", I said, the rebellious tone still present.
"Okaaay. Maybe you should ask Lisa", he suggested.
I rolled my eyes and huffed, "Well, Lisa? Where do you want me to go?"
Suddenly I felt dizzy, sick to my stomach. My head felt full. Tight. I squinted and groaned, putting my hand up to my left eye and covering it. It started tearing up.
"You okay?" Brandon asked.
Suddenly both of my hands gripped the steering wheel tight. I leaned forward in my seat and squinted. But it wasn't me. I felt like I wasn't myself. My chest felt heavy. It was difficult to breathe...but not. It was difficult to focus, but I didn't really feel like I needed to. It was like something took over me. It's hard to explain. I suddenly signaled and veered off to the right, heading East on University Dr. I pushed the gas pedal further and stared straight ahead, focusing hard on the road ahead.
"What are you doing? You're like way above the speed limit. You seriously need to slow down", I could hear Brandon talking, but I couldn't respond. I had to just drive. Just go. I was like a horse with blinders on. I had a destination and I needed to just focus straight ahead.
I could hear Brandon calling out to me. I could feel him grabbing my arm, but my strength overpowered him and I gripped tighter on the wheel and pressed forward. Suddenly I didn't even hear him, didn't notice him anymore. I drove on.
I don't remember much about that drive at all. It's all fuzzy. I don't remember stopping at stop lights. I don't remember doing much of anything - just driving. The sun was setting now. felt the car pushing forward up a mountain slope.
"The lake? Are we going to the lake?" I heard Brandon say.
"Yes", I snarled back. I was surprised at my tone, but gritted my teeth tight and continued on, still under the control of something else.
Finally we arrived. I just felt it. I felt like we were where we needed to be. We had reached Canyon Lake, but I passed it and continued on a little ways. There was a small trail off to the right. It wasn't meant for a vehicle like mine. It was for off-roading. I drove a Nissan Altima. I turned off and started to drive through it.
I heard Brandon again, "Uhh. Where are we going?"
I ignored him. I felt agitated by his questions. I needed to get through and my tires were slipping around on the gravel, not moving forward fast enough like I needed them to. I gripped the steering wheel even harder, bore down harder on the gas pedal and growled through gritted teeth. "Come on!"
I could feel Brandon's hands on mine. I could hear him shouting to stop, but I couldn't stop. I kept on. I could hear the pelting of small rocks flying up, but I didn't care. I let up on the gas and then slammed it down. We flew up out of the small hole we had created and pressed on, going over bumps and narrowly avoiding trees.
SLAM! We knocked into a tree. I let up on the gas. Brandon threw the car into park. I stared straight ahead, surveying the area, squinting in the dark. Then I released my death grip on the steering wheel and got out. I was scared to death, but my feet were moving on their own. I was searching. It was like I didn't know, but I did. I got out and started walking into the area in front of the car, lit by the headlights. I turned around in slow circles, searching the rocks and dirt and leaves and needles and....suddenly I dropped to my knees and started digging with my hands. It hurt. I could feel the stinging, the burning, the aching, but I continued to dig.
"Whoa! Calm down! I'll help you, okay?" I heard Brandon, but couldn't respond. I continued to dig deeper and deeper, finally making somewhat of a dent in the compacted dirt.
"Seriously! You're bleeding! What the crap are you doing? Have you lost your mind tonight? You drove like a bat outta' HELL! I'm like amazed you didn't get pulled over or get us killed! I'm like trying to figure you out right now! I told you I'd help you, but you're like psycho right now. Seriously!" The words were running on and on. I only half listened to him. I felt bad and I wanted to stop and respond and reassure him, but I couldn't.
Suddenly I felt it. I felt something soft, but bony. I felt the flesh through the dirt. I was rubbing my hand over it. It was a nose. I was horrified. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. My hands continued to brush back dirt. I closed my eyes shut as tight as I could, fighting against this other force. I felt lips! I felt a chin!
GGGAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!! I finally managed. I continued screaming.
I felt Brandon's arms pulling me back. He threw me back onto the soft earth and jumped on me. "What's happening? You're freaking me out! Seriously! Talk to me! Right now!" His eyes were wild with fear.
I growled and thrashed, trying to break free of his hold. I pushed him off of me, which wasn't difficult. He half jumped off of me, completely clueless as to what to do with me. I crawled angrily and forcefully back toward the hole I was digging, toward the face I was uncovering. "GET! HER! OUT! OF ME!" I screamed in spurts as I crawled.
"WHAT! What are you TALKING about?!" he shouted.
I continued digging, turning my head away and pressing my eyelids closed as tight as I could, growling and screaming. "Get her OUT! She's in me! She's making me do this! Get her OUT!"
I don't know what he did or if it was even him, but suddenly I felt lighter and limp. My arms gave out beneath me and I fell to the earth with a thud and a groan. I was panting hard, blowing the dirt out all around my face with my heavy breath. I started choking and sputtering. Brandon lifted me up and pulled me away. I turned and threw myself on him, sobbing uncontrollably. "Brandon", I moaned. The hot tears were flowing freely now.
"What's happening, Kristin?" he asked in a half whisper. His voice was shaking. I could feel his body shaking beneath mine.
"It's her", I moaned. "She's in the ground. She was inside of me, making me drive, making me dig her body up." I sobbed uncontrollably. I was nearly hyperventilating. I was crying so hard, I could barely speak. We just sat there, Brandon holding me - in shock- as I sobbed.
"I wanna'.... go....home", I finally managed in spurts.
Brandon lifted me up. I looked up at him, "Take me home", I moaned. But he didn't respond. His eyes were wide. His look one of horror and disgust. "What", I moaned.
His breathing was heavy. "It IS a body. Oh my gosh! It really is a body!" I turned around reflexively. I didn't want to, but my curiosity got me. I had been looking at things through her eyes. Not really seeing it or experiencing it as myself. I saw it. The face. The neck. Completely uncovered. It was barely starting to decompose. Still pretty fresh. This hadn't happened too long ago. My knees gave out.
"Oh my gosh" I mumbled. I felt a sick twist in my stomach. It started to churn. I clasped my hand over my mouth. "Oh my..." Suddenly I lurched forward and vomited on the ground by the body.
"OH!" I heard Brandon yell. He turned and started to walk away.
"No! Don't leave me!" I yelled and lurched forward and vomited again. It was uncontrollable. What had I eaten? When I thoroughly emptied the contents of my stomach, I started dry heaving. I couldn't stop. I tried to clear my head. Tried to get that image out. I will NEVER get that image out.
The Reluctant Medium - Chapter 4
There was silence on the other end of the line.
"Brandon, I've gotta' go", I sighed and hung up the phone before he even had a chance to respond.
I started to pace around the room. My mind was racing. I wanted to help this spirit, but I wanted to hurry and get it over with. I just wanted my normal life back. The weekend was running out. I needed to get my son back from his dad and I worried that either this would delay the process of getting this spirit back out of my life or my son would get dragged into it and then he'd be freaked out for life and sleeping in my bed until he left home in his late teens.
"Look, I've gotta' get my son in a bit here. I'd really appreciate it if you stayed away for a bit. He goes to his dad again on Tuesday night and then we can hopefully finish this up. I've gotta' go to the bathroom and then I'm leaving, okay?" I didn't even wait for a response. I walked briskly around the corner toward my bathroom. A few minutes later I emerged. The book lay there still on the floor, open to its popular new page. I breathed in deep and let out a sigh. Then I bent over, picked up the book and laid it back on the coffee table. I glanced over at the counter. My keys weren't there. I huffed and furrowed my brow. I was just about to reprimand the spirit and demand my keys back when I remembered they had been knocked to the tile floor in the kitchen during our earlier battle of wills. I held my breath and pursed my lips as I walked around the corner into the kitchen. "Yep. There they are", I said matter of factly, trying to mask the worry I felt that we might have to get into it again if I was going to get out of here. But alas, as I bent to pick up the keys, they stayed calmly in place and I retrieved them, clutching them tightly in my fist. I blew my breath out in relief and left.
For the next couple of days the house stayed calm and silent. No disturbances. No eerie feelings. Nothing. It was Tuesday late afternoon and my ex-husband called to tell me he would be arriving in about an hour to get our son. I was helping John pack his things for another night with his dad, a sick knot forming in my stomach as I realized it was going to be time to enter the Twilight Zone again. I wished I was going somewhere too. Maybe I would find someplace to go for the evening. Even if it was seeing a movie alone. But then I might come home to an angry spirit. I knew this thing could physically move things and touch me. The thought sent shudders through my body. The thoughts were swirling - all of the possibilities - trying to plan an escape from it all. Suddenly I heard my phone ring. I jumped and gasped. "Are you all right, mom?" my son asked, a look of concern on his face. "It's okay, mom. I'll come home tomorrow, okay?" He had no idea how good that sounded. Him being home meant peace in my life.
I walked briskly out to the phone and answered. It was Brandon.
"Hey, Kristin. How's it going?" he asked, a tone of apprehension.
"Good. Good. How are you?" I answered very nonchalantly.
"Really? Good? Is that ghost person gone?" he asked.
I sighed a long sigh. "Or, if you don't want to talk about it...." he started in again.
"No. It's fine. I can't talk right now. My son is getting ready to go with his dad for the night so I can't really talk right now."
"Oh. Okay." There was a moment of silence on the phone. "So, are you going to be talking to it again tonight then?" I heard the hopeful tone in his voice.
"I guess. That's usually what happens. There's still stuff to figure out, so...." My voice dragged off.
"So, do you like know the ghost's name?" he asked. What an odd question, I thought. I hadn't really thought about that part. I was afraid to make it too personal, I guess.
"It's name?" I asked, surprised. "No. I never really thought about asking it. I mean, I know it's a girl and I know it has my hair color".
"Oh my gosh!" he breathed in wonderment. "That is CRRAAAZZEEEEE!" He sounded out each syllable.
"Yep. Pretty much", I replied casually. "Well, I gotta' go. I've gotta' get my son off to his dad here and..."
Brandon cut right in, "Hey, I'm coming over, k?"
At this point I didn't care. In fact, I welcomed company. I was emotionally drained just thinking about the possibilities that lay ahead for that night. I told him to come on over and hung up the phone. I walked around the corner past the kitchen to the back hall where John's room was located and helped him pack the last of his items. The doorbell rang just then and I embraced my son, handed him his bag and walked him around the corner to the front door. I greeted my ex, gave John one last squeeze, looked him in the eye and said, "Hurry home, my little man". Then I waved goodbye and shut the door. As I turned the corner, heading back toward the kitchen for a nice glass of ice water, I saw it on the fridge. Spelled out in my son's magnetic letters:
L-I-S-A
I froze and held my breath. I swallowed hard, the ripple of chills moving from my toes to the very top of my head.
"Did you do that?" I asked out loud, a slightly upset tone. There was no response. "Huh? Did you?" I marched into the kitchen and messed the letters up with my hands. I huffed loudly and opened the fridge. I bent down in, retrieved the gallon jug of cold water and stood back up, shutting the fridge.
L-I-S-A
There it was again. Spelled out again on my fridge. I shook my head and rolled my eyes. "Oh my gosh! This is driving me NUTS! Do you have to do stuff like that? It creeps me out!" I half shouted. My hands were like ice, the sweat thick and greasy in my palms. The gallon jug started to slip. I realized my body was shaking. Too much of an adrenaline rush all at once. I sat the gallon jug on the counter and made my way quickly to my couch, not even feeling my legs. I finally reached it and just crashed right into it, laying there, motionless, suddenly very aware of my breathing - the house was so quiet and still. Suddenly I felt a tingling feeling on my head. My hair started to lift up off my head.
"Stop it!" I screamed and batted at the air above my head. "Stop touching me!"
Suddenly I jumped up off the sofa and spoke aloud. I knew she was there. I knew she was listening and we were going to have a word now. "Listen up. My friend, Brandon, is coming over and if you want me to help you, you're going to cooperate even when he's around. You cooperate and I'll cooperate otherwise you can just forget this whole thing. I'll ignore you. I don't care how aggressive you get. I'm not kidding. One thing you should know about me. I'm stubborn as Hell! I will have my way in the end! You hear me?" My heart was pounding, the adrenaline flowing wildly again. I felt powerful and yet vulnerable at the same time. Suddenly I threw my head back and laughed an insane laugh. I was insane. Truly insane. I fell back on the couch and moaned and groaned, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. "Why is my life so ridiculous?" I lamented.
Just then the doorbell rang. "THANK YOU!" I called out, throwing my hands up in the air. "Here he is", I whispered. "Remember what I told you".
I threw the door open and there he stood. My hero again. My only link right now to sanity - to reality. "Welcome to the crazy house", I said, raising an eyebrow. He laughed and walked in, grabbing me tight and lifting me up.
"What's up, ghost woman?" he teased.
"I'm not the ghost", I replied. "She's over there somewhere", I pointed to the empty family room.
Brandon nearly dropped me. I saw his eyes widen and watched his Adam's apple bob up and down. He wiped his hands on his jeans and nodded, looking around. "Okay. Okay. How do I know she's here?"
I took his hand and led him into my family room. I stopped just before entering and spoke aloud. "Well. He's here. Do something".
Nothing happened. It was silent. The atmosphere very still. Anticipation building. I rolled my eyes and looked about the room. I grit my teeth and sighed heavily.
The book suddenly slid a few inches across the table. I jumped slightly, still caught off guard every time by these episodes. "Wow" Brandon whispered and moved in closer. As he neared the coffee table, it slid to the end of the table and fell clumsily onto the floor, the pages falling open, as if it had simply been knocked off. I sighed with relief. Relief because at least I knew I wasn't totally crazy and also my story was now credible.
"Brandon, I've gotta' go", I sighed and hung up the phone before he even had a chance to respond.
I started to pace around the room. My mind was racing. I wanted to help this spirit, but I wanted to hurry and get it over with. I just wanted my normal life back. The weekend was running out. I needed to get my son back from his dad and I worried that either this would delay the process of getting this spirit back out of my life or my son would get dragged into it and then he'd be freaked out for life and sleeping in my bed until he left home in his late teens.
"Look, I've gotta' get my son in a bit here. I'd really appreciate it if you stayed away for a bit. He goes to his dad again on Tuesday night and then we can hopefully finish this up. I've gotta' go to the bathroom and then I'm leaving, okay?" I didn't even wait for a response. I walked briskly around the corner toward my bathroom. A few minutes later I emerged. The book lay there still on the floor, open to its popular new page. I breathed in deep and let out a sigh. Then I bent over, picked up the book and laid it back on the coffee table. I glanced over at the counter. My keys weren't there. I huffed and furrowed my brow. I was just about to reprimand the spirit and demand my keys back when I remembered they had been knocked to the tile floor in the kitchen during our earlier battle of wills. I held my breath and pursed my lips as I walked around the corner into the kitchen. "Yep. There they are", I said matter of factly, trying to mask the worry I felt that we might have to get into it again if I was going to get out of here. But alas, as I bent to pick up the keys, they stayed calmly in place and I retrieved them, clutching them tightly in my fist. I blew my breath out in relief and left.
For the next couple of days the house stayed calm and silent. No disturbances. No eerie feelings. Nothing. It was Tuesday late afternoon and my ex-husband called to tell me he would be arriving in about an hour to get our son. I was helping John pack his things for another night with his dad, a sick knot forming in my stomach as I realized it was going to be time to enter the Twilight Zone again. I wished I was going somewhere too. Maybe I would find someplace to go for the evening. Even if it was seeing a movie alone. But then I might come home to an angry spirit. I knew this thing could physically move things and touch me. The thought sent shudders through my body. The thoughts were swirling - all of the possibilities - trying to plan an escape from it all. Suddenly I heard my phone ring. I jumped and gasped. "Are you all right, mom?" my son asked, a look of concern on his face. "It's okay, mom. I'll come home tomorrow, okay?" He had no idea how good that sounded. Him being home meant peace in my life.
I walked briskly out to the phone and answered. It was Brandon.
"Hey, Kristin. How's it going?" he asked, a tone of apprehension.
"Good. Good. How are you?" I answered very nonchalantly.
"Really? Good? Is that ghost person gone?" he asked.
I sighed a long sigh. "Or, if you don't want to talk about it...." he started in again.
"No. It's fine. I can't talk right now. My son is getting ready to go with his dad for the night so I can't really talk right now."
"Oh. Okay." There was a moment of silence on the phone. "So, are you going to be talking to it again tonight then?" I heard the hopeful tone in his voice.
"I guess. That's usually what happens. There's still stuff to figure out, so...." My voice dragged off.
"So, do you like know the ghost's name?" he asked. What an odd question, I thought. I hadn't really thought about that part. I was afraid to make it too personal, I guess.
"It's name?" I asked, surprised. "No. I never really thought about asking it. I mean, I know it's a girl and I know it has my hair color".
"Oh my gosh!" he breathed in wonderment. "That is CRRAAAZZEEEEE!" He sounded out each syllable.
"Yep. Pretty much", I replied casually. "Well, I gotta' go. I've gotta' get my son off to his dad here and..."
Brandon cut right in, "Hey, I'm coming over, k?"
At this point I didn't care. In fact, I welcomed company. I was emotionally drained just thinking about the possibilities that lay ahead for that night. I told him to come on over and hung up the phone. I walked around the corner past the kitchen to the back hall where John's room was located and helped him pack the last of his items. The doorbell rang just then and I embraced my son, handed him his bag and walked him around the corner to the front door. I greeted my ex, gave John one last squeeze, looked him in the eye and said, "Hurry home, my little man". Then I waved goodbye and shut the door. As I turned the corner, heading back toward the kitchen for a nice glass of ice water, I saw it on the fridge. Spelled out in my son's magnetic letters:
L-I-S-A
I froze and held my breath. I swallowed hard, the ripple of chills moving from my toes to the very top of my head.
"Did you do that?" I asked out loud, a slightly upset tone. There was no response. "Huh? Did you?" I marched into the kitchen and messed the letters up with my hands. I huffed loudly and opened the fridge. I bent down in, retrieved the gallon jug of cold water and stood back up, shutting the fridge.
L-I-S-A
There it was again. Spelled out again on my fridge. I shook my head and rolled my eyes. "Oh my gosh! This is driving me NUTS! Do you have to do stuff like that? It creeps me out!" I half shouted. My hands were like ice, the sweat thick and greasy in my palms. The gallon jug started to slip. I realized my body was shaking. Too much of an adrenaline rush all at once. I sat the gallon jug on the counter and made my way quickly to my couch, not even feeling my legs. I finally reached it and just crashed right into it, laying there, motionless, suddenly very aware of my breathing - the house was so quiet and still. Suddenly I felt a tingling feeling on my head. My hair started to lift up off my head.
"Stop it!" I screamed and batted at the air above my head. "Stop touching me!"
Suddenly I jumped up off the sofa and spoke aloud. I knew she was there. I knew she was listening and we were going to have a word now. "Listen up. My friend, Brandon, is coming over and if you want me to help you, you're going to cooperate even when he's around. You cooperate and I'll cooperate otherwise you can just forget this whole thing. I'll ignore you. I don't care how aggressive you get. I'm not kidding. One thing you should know about me. I'm stubborn as Hell! I will have my way in the end! You hear me?" My heart was pounding, the adrenaline flowing wildly again. I felt powerful and yet vulnerable at the same time. Suddenly I threw my head back and laughed an insane laugh. I was insane. Truly insane. I fell back on the couch and moaned and groaned, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. "Why is my life so ridiculous?" I lamented.
Just then the doorbell rang. "THANK YOU!" I called out, throwing my hands up in the air. "Here he is", I whispered. "Remember what I told you".
I threw the door open and there he stood. My hero again. My only link right now to sanity - to reality. "Welcome to the crazy house", I said, raising an eyebrow. He laughed and walked in, grabbing me tight and lifting me up.
"What's up, ghost woman?" he teased.
"I'm not the ghost", I replied. "She's over there somewhere", I pointed to the empty family room.
Brandon nearly dropped me. I saw his eyes widen and watched his Adam's apple bob up and down. He wiped his hands on his jeans and nodded, looking around. "Okay. Okay. How do I know she's here?"
I took his hand and led him into my family room. I stopped just before entering and spoke aloud. "Well. He's here. Do something".
Nothing happened. It was silent. The atmosphere very still. Anticipation building. I rolled my eyes and looked about the room. I grit my teeth and sighed heavily.
The book suddenly slid a few inches across the table. I jumped slightly, still caught off guard every time by these episodes. "Wow" Brandon whispered and moved in closer. As he neared the coffee table, it slid to the end of the table and fell clumsily onto the floor, the pages falling open, as if it had simply been knocked off. I sighed with relief. Relief because at least I knew I wasn't totally crazy and also my story was now credible.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
The Reluctant Medium - Chapter 3
WHAP! The book slammed shut. I jumped backward and let out a squeal. Panting, I exclaimed, "Okay, you're scaring me". I tried to calm my nerves and focus. There was a puzzle here - a case to be solved. I was frightened beyond words, but I knew this was not going to be an easy spirit to get rid of. It was aggressive - the most aggressive I had ever encountered. I drew in a breath, closed my eyes and slowly released the air from my lungs, putting me in a slightly euphoric state. I left my eyes closed for a few seconds and tried to clear my head.
"Okay. I'm going to help you, okay? I'm really scared right now, but I'm trying, so just - be patient." There was complete silence and calm in the room. The thought that I was talking to the spirit of a dead person caused chills to rise up in me. I had never done this before. I had never agreed to this before. I had shunned it, but now here I was agreeing to do this. I had no idea what I would encounter, but I knew I had to do it.
I blew out a forceful breath, opened my eyes and said, "Okay. You're not in this book."
The book flew open and the pages turned back and forth wildly again. My eyes widened and I gulped hard. I shuddered and swallowed hard, waiting for the book to fall open on its resting place again. Suddenly I realized that the book was opening to the same page each time; a detail I had been too frightened to notice before. I gritted my teeth. A knot forming in my stomach again. I was afraid to look, but I leaned forward and placed my hand on the open pages.
"You're a cold case?" I asked, a quiver in my voice. No response. "Okay, I'm going to guess that means yes". My mind started racing. What did this spirit want me to know? I wasn't very good at guessing. I decided to just throw something out there - anything. It was like an otherworldly game of 'Taboo'.
I started to read the words on the pages before me. The case was of Bobby Jo Oberholzer and Annette Schnee.
They were camping when they were murdered. Both were shot. One of the bodies took six months to find. I could feel every hair on my body standing on end. "Were you shot?" I half whispered, my voice cracking. No response. "Okay", I answered. "And your body hasn't even been found yet?" No response. I gulped and the tears formed pools in my eyes. "Oh my gosh. This is terrible", I moaned. I blinked hard and the hot tears ran down my face and hit on the pages of the book. "So you're somewhere out in the woods?"
WHAP! I gasped and jumped back. "Okaaay. That means no." My eyes widened. "Oh my gosh. Where are you?" The book flew open again. "Are you buried somewhere in this area?" WHAP! I breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness. That would be too much."
"Why me?" I asked. "There are mediums out there. People who are experts at this. Why don't you talk to them? And my friend, Brandon, totally would have talked to you. Why didn't you try to communicate with him?" There was no response, but I had this very strong thought running through my mind that the spirit had tried and Brandon wasn't receptive to it. He certainly wanted to be, but he didn't possess the gift. It was like the spirit was putting thoughts into my head. "You tried, didn't you?" I asked. The book opened slowly and the pages flipped again.
"Wow. So I'm like your last hope or something, huh?" The book laid open. Nothing moving. I sighed a long, exhausted sigh. Emotionally, I was drained at this point. "Well how old are you?" Suddenly the television clicked on. I gasped and jerked my head in the direction of the TV, scooting backwards until my back was against the sofa. The TV was staticky. It gave me the chills. I watched as the number 2 popped up on the screen, as if the spirit was pressing the buttons on the remote. I glanced quickly around the room. Where was the remote?
Suddenly I saw it on the couch next to me. I shuddered. I wondered if I reached out, if I could feel it. I was sure it was right there on the couch by me now, pushing the remote buttons. I glanced quickly back at the TV. The number 3 popped up next. The number 23 on the screen, the TV still staticky. "You're 23? And you're female, right?" Nothing. Just to test it, I asked, "Or are you a guy?" Still nothing. Perhaps I was misinterpreting signals. A few seconds passed. I sat there puzzled, furrowing my brow, trying to figure things out. WHAP! The book slammed shut. I yelled and jumped. I grabbed the remote and shut the TV off. The static was creeping me out even more.
"Oh my gosh! OKAY! You're a woman. Got it". I started to think about this young woman trying to communicate with me. It was all so surreal. I began to wonder what she looked like. Suddenly lost in thought, I spoke without realizing at first, "I wonder what color your hair was." I felt a tingly feeling on my head and a clump of my hair on the left side started to raise up. I gasped and started batting at my head, scooting across the floor to the other side of the room. "Oh my gosh! Don't touch me. Don't touch me! You're creeping me out. I can't do this right now. I'm freaking out. I just want this to stop. I wish I could just wake up and..." My home phone suddenly rang. I gasped again and glanced over and then glanced around the room cautiously. "Are you going to let me answer this?" No response. I jumped up and ran to the phone, longing for a voice, a human voice - a LIVE human voice.
"Hello?" I panted into the phone.
"Heeeyyyy", the warm, familiar voice responded.
"Brandon!" I shouted excitedly.
"You okay?" he inquired.
I heaved a big sigh and looked around the room again, seeing nothing - the book lying still on the floor. "Yeah. Good. " I said, realizing it didn't sound very convincing. There was a beat of silence. "Where did you go? When did you leave? I woke up this morning and you were gone and I was looking all around my condo and I wondered what happened to you. I was scared!" The words were pouring out of me uncontrollably.
"Geez! Did something happen? Did ghostie come back?" he laughed.
"Okay, that is NOT funny!" I said, angry that he was even speaking about this presence. I felt scared all of the sudden. I had the sense this spirit didn't appreciate this other involvement.
"Calm down! You could've called me! Did you just get up?" Brandon asked, a chuckle in his voice.
"No. I've been up a while" I said softly into the phone and glanced around the room again, looking over at the book. All was still. I walked briskly past it and sat myself on the couch, hoping I could have a bit of real conversation and get a break from the insanity.
"Wanna go do something?" Brandon asked.
"Yeah!" I exclaimed, sitting forward on the couch. I felt suddenly lighter. "Yeah. Get me out of here. I could use some fun."
"All right. Cool. I'll come get you" he said. Just then the book flew open and the pages started turning. My eyes widened, I gulped and slowly turned my head in the direction of the book. I don't even know what Brandon said after that. I could hear a voice through the phone, but my mind was elsewhere, my eyes fixated on the book. It was back on the page - the same page it always flipped open to. "Hello?" I heard Brandon saying over and over. I snapped back. "Hey", I answered.
"What are you doing over there?" he asked suspiciously.
"Nothing. I just...." I sighed heavily. "I can't do anything right now. I..."
"Okay, seriously - what's going on?" Brandon's tone was stern.
I grabbed my forehead with my free hand and attempted to massage my temples. I heaved another big sigh and then started in. "Okay, you know how you stayed on my couch last night? Well, this spirit in my house tried to communicate with you."
There was dead silence on the other end.
"Hello?" I asked.
His voice spoke in a hushed, quivering tone, "Are you....serious? "
"Yeah", I breathed.
"Oh my gosh. I like have the biggest chills right now. How do you know that?" he asked excitedly.
"Because it's here right now - communicating with me", I said in a dramatic, low voice.
"Holy crap! That's crazy! You're playin' me, huh?" He thought he was on to me.
"No. I'm dead serious." I said very slowly and adamantly. "I can't hear a voice or anything. We've found other means of communicating. But there's a story behind all of this. It's....complicated".
"Dude, I'm so there. Tell the spirit to hang on, k?" He sounded giddy.
"No!" I shouted. "No, you can't. This is serious. This person has been murdered, Brandon. MURDERED!" I said the last word in a very dramatic, slow tone.
"Okay. I'm going to help you, okay? I'm really scared right now, but I'm trying, so just - be patient." There was complete silence and calm in the room. The thought that I was talking to the spirit of a dead person caused chills to rise up in me. I had never done this before. I had never agreed to this before. I had shunned it, but now here I was agreeing to do this. I had no idea what I would encounter, but I knew I had to do it.
I blew out a forceful breath, opened my eyes and said, "Okay. You're not in this book."
The book flew open and the pages turned back and forth wildly again. My eyes widened and I gulped hard. I shuddered and swallowed hard, waiting for the book to fall open on its resting place again. Suddenly I realized that the book was opening to the same page each time; a detail I had been too frightened to notice before. I gritted my teeth. A knot forming in my stomach again. I was afraid to look, but I leaned forward and placed my hand on the open pages.
"You're a cold case?" I asked, a quiver in my voice. No response. "Okay, I'm going to guess that means yes". My mind started racing. What did this spirit want me to know? I wasn't very good at guessing. I decided to just throw something out there - anything. It was like an otherworldly game of 'Taboo'.
I started to read the words on the pages before me. The case was of Bobby Jo Oberholzer and Annette Schnee.
They were camping when they were murdered. Both were shot. One of the bodies took six months to find. I could feel every hair on my body standing on end. "Were you shot?" I half whispered, my voice cracking. No response. "Okay", I answered. "And your body hasn't even been found yet?" No response. I gulped and the tears formed pools in my eyes. "Oh my gosh. This is terrible", I moaned. I blinked hard and the hot tears ran down my face and hit on the pages of the book. "So you're somewhere out in the woods?"
WHAP! I gasped and jumped back. "Okaaay. That means no." My eyes widened. "Oh my gosh. Where are you?" The book flew open again. "Are you buried somewhere in this area?" WHAP! I breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness. That would be too much."
"Why me?" I asked. "There are mediums out there. People who are experts at this. Why don't you talk to them? And my friend, Brandon, totally would have talked to you. Why didn't you try to communicate with him?" There was no response, but I had this very strong thought running through my mind that the spirit had tried and Brandon wasn't receptive to it. He certainly wanted to be, but he didn't possess the gift. It was like the spirit was putting thoughts into my head. "You tried, didn't you?" I asked. The book opened slowly and the pages flipped again.
"Wow. So I'm like your last hope or something, huh?" The book laid open. Nothing moving. I sighed a long, exhausted sigh. Emotionally, I was drained at this point. "Well how old are you?" Suddenly the television clicked on. I gasped and jerked my head in the direction of the TV, scooting backwards until my back was against the sofa. The TV was staticky. It gave me the chills. I watched as the number 2 popped up on the screen, as if the spirit was pressing the buttons on the remote. I glanced quickly around the room. Where was the remote?
Suddenly I saw it on the couch next to me. I shuddered. I wondered if I reached out, if I could feel it. I was sure it was right there on the couch by me now, pushing the remote buttons. I glanced quickly back at the TV. The number 3 popped up next. The number 23 on the screen, the TV still staticky. "You're 23? And you're female, right?" Nothing. Just to test it, I asked, "Or are you a guy?" Still nothing. Perhaps I was misinterpreting signals. A few seconds passed. I sat there puzzled, furrowing my brow, trying to figure things out. WHAP! The book slammed shut. I yelled and jumped. I grabbed the remote and shut the TV off. The static was creeping me out even more.
"Oh my gosh! OKAY! You're a woman. Got it". I started to think about this young woman trying to communicate with me. It was all so surreal. I began to wonder what she looked like. Suddenly lost in thought, I spoke without realizing at first, "I wonder what color your hair was." I felt a tingly feeling on my head and a clump of my hair on the left side started to raise up. I gasped and started batting at my head, scooting across the floor to the other side of the room. "Oh my gosh! Don't touch me. Don't touch me! You're creeping me out. I can't do this right now. I'm freaking out. I just want this to stop. I wish I could just wake up and..." My home phone suddenly rang. I gasped again and glanced over and then glanced around the room cautiously. "Are you going to let me answer this?" No response. I jumped up and ran to the phone, longing for a voice, a human voice - a LIVE human voice.
"Hello?" I panted into the phone.
"Heeeyyyy", the warm, familiar voice responded.
"Brandon!" I shouted excitedly.
"You okay?" he inquired.
I heaved a big sigh and looked around the room again, seeing nothing - the book lying still on the floor. "Yeah. Good. " I said, realizing it didn't sound very convincing. There was a beat of silence. "Where did you go? When did you leave? I woke up this morning and you were gone and I was looking all around my condo and I wondered what happened to you. I was scared!" The words were pouring out of me uncontrollably.
"Geez! Did something happen? Did ghostie come back?" he laughed.
"Okay, that is NOT funny!" I said, angry that he was even speaking about this presence. I felt scared all of the sudden. I had the sense this spirit didn't appreciate this other involvement.
"Calm down! You could've called me! Did you just get up?" Brandon asked, a chuckle in his voice.
"No. I've been up a while" I said softly into the phone and glanced around the room again, looking over at the book. All was still. I walked briskly past it and sat myself on the couch, hoping I could have a bit of real conversation and get a break from the insanity.
"Wanna go do something?" Brandon asked.
"Yeah!" I exclaimed, sitting forward on the couch. I felt suddenly lighter. "Yeah. Get me out of here. I could use some fun."
"All right. Cool. I'll come get you" he said. Just then the book flew open and the pages started turning. My eyes widened, I gulped and slowly turned my head in the direction of the book. I don't even know what Brandon said after that. I could hear a voice through the phone, but my mind was elsewhere, my eyes fixated on the book. It was back on the page - the same page it always flipped open to. "Hello?" I heard Brandon saying over and over. I snapped back. "Hey", I answered.
"What are you doing over there?" he asked suspiciously.
"Nothing. I just...." I sighed heavily. "I can't do anything right now. I..."
"Okay, seriously - what's going on?" Brandon's tone was stern.
I grabbed my forehead with my free hand and attempted to massage my temples. I heaved another big sigh and then started in. "Okay, you know how you stayed on my couch last night? Well, this spirit in my house tried to communicate with you."
There was dead silence on the other end.
"Hello?" I asked.
His voice spoke in a hushed, quivering tone, "Are you....serious? "
"Yeah", I breathed.
"Oh my gosh. I like have the biggest chills right now. How do you know that?" he asked excitedly.
"Because it's here right now - communicating with me", I said in a dramatic, low voice.
"Holy crap! That's crazy! You're playin' me, huh?" He thought he was on to me.
"No. I'm dead serious." I said very slowly and adamantly. "I can't hear a voice or anything. We've found other means of communicating. But there's a story behind all of this. It's....complicated".
"Dude, I'm so there. Tell the spirit to hang on, k?" He sounded giddy.
"No!" I shouted. "No, you can't. This is serious. This person has been murdered, Brandon. MURDERED!" I said the last word in a very dramatic, slow tone.
Monday, October 20, 2008
The Reluctant Medium - Chapter 2
After running some errands, I drove to my parents' house. I had a dinner date with a group of single friends that night, but I needed some place to hang until then and I knew I didn't want to be home.
Several hours later, after lying around my parents' house reading magazines and watching "happy" shows on TV to take my mind off of my current haunting issue, the sun set and it was time to go out with friends. My problems instantly disappeared as I climbed into my car and headed off to my destination.
I joined my dinner party and enjoyed some good food and conversation, trying to forget the nag in the back of my mind - "you're going to have to go home eventually and it's probably going to be there". The conversation turned to movies...and then scary movies. One of the guys in the group mentioned "The Others", a creepy ghost movie starring Nicole Kidman. I could feel my stomach turning. I lost my appetite. I pushed my plate of food forward and slumped in my seat, looking around the restaurant for something happy - people laughing, something funny, anything!
"Hey Kristin. You got quiet. What's up? Don't like scary movies?" The guy who started the whole scary movie conversation, Brandon, spoke up.
"No, I do not", I said very adamantly.
Then the teasing started in, "Ooh. Kristin's afraid. Kristin doesn't like ghosts. Poor innocent little Kristin."
"Whatever", I remarked, rolling my eyes.
"Man, I wish I could see ghosts", Brandon lamented.
I froze and my eyes shot up at him. I wasn't breathing and I didn't even realize it. All I could think of was, "You're an idiot. Are you kidding me? You WISH you could see these things? You have no idea what you're saying!" I just stared at him blankly.
"Ooh. She's giving you the evil eye", said one of the other guys and laughed.
Eventually the conversation changed and then the dinner ended. The knots in my stomach were pulling tighter, making it difficult to walk. I sucked it up and headed toward my car, trying to hide my sickening pain. My head was spinning. "Where do I go now?" I thought.
Suddenly I heard Brandon calling out to me. "Hey! Poulsen! Wait up!" I stopped and sighed thankfully. Maybe he'd invite me to do something else. Maybe I wouldn't have to go home just yet. I stopped and slowly turned around, "Yeeessss?" I drew the word out with a playfully suspicious tone and raised an eyebrow.
"Hey, are you mad at me?" he asked.
I chortled, "No! I just don't like ghost talk, that's all?"
"Ah, okay. You get scared, huh?"
"Brandon", I said very seriously, "if you had the experiences I have with them, you wouldn't like talking about it either". I knew I probably sounded totally stupid, but I didn't care. I just felt so desperate at this point. I needed to talk to someone - anyone who would listen to me. I judged that he just might be it.
His jaw dropped and his eyes got big. "Are you serious?" There was an excitement in his tone. "Like when? When did you have these experiences? What happened?"
I swallowed hard, a lump in my throat, trying not to just break down and cry right there. I was so appreciative that he was interested and actually seemed to believe me. "There's one in my house right now", I managed in a breathy voice.
"NO WAY! Are you serious? Dude! Hold on. I'm gonna' call Jake and see if he wants to come over and check it out with me. You don't mind, do you?" He pulled his phone out as he spoke and started looking up Jake's number.
"Wait!" I put my hands up. "I don't wanna' make a big thing out of this."
"No. Totally. I know", he explained. "It's just that he and I talk about this stuff all the time and we totally wish we could like have a ghost experience and he'd kill me if he knew I was having one without him".
I drew in a deep breath and sighed, partially in relief at my new unknowing hero. "Okay. But just him. I don't want a big old crowd of people coming over. It's a condo, I have neighbors, it's kind of late, and I don't want to upset anyone".
"I promise we won't", he said as he held the phone up to his ear, calling Jake.
It was 10:30 PM. Jake, Brandon and I were sitting in Brandon's truck, parked in the space across from my condo, staring at it as I filled them in on the situation...and past situations - just to give them an idea of what types of experiences I had had. We sat in the truck because I didn't "want the ghost to hear me talking about it." I was just scared that it might react to it, which is just what these guys wanted. But not me. I still wanted to pretend I didn't have these experiences.
As I told my stories, I could see the guys fidgeting in their seats. Suddenly Jake threw his door open, "Okay. I've heard enough. I get the idea. Now let's go in there and check it out".
"YEAH!" Cheered Brandon. The guys jumped out and started walking briskly toward my condo. I slid slowly out of the truck, my feet numb to the touch of the ground below. I slowly inched toward my condo, my heart pounding. Brandon turned around and laughing, chided, "Come on! We're here now. You don't have to be scared". I gulped hard. I did feel a BIT protected, but they couldn't stay forever and now the fear that they might upset the ghost and I might have to take the wrath for it just built more knots on top of the still present knots in my stomach.
We entered the condo and Jake walked ahead in the dark calling out, "Hey ghostie. Where are you? Ghostie? Can you hear me?" I was the last to enter. I closed the door and felt an instant chill. I threw the light switch on and shouted, "Stop. Seriously. You're scaring me!"
The guys just laughed and whined. "Come on. You're ruining our fun. We wanna' see this thing. Turn the lights back off", Jake pleaded. Brandon grabbed me in a tight bear hug from behind. "It's okay. I'm here to protect you. I won't let the ghostie get you".
"Yeah, for now! What happens when you leave and I'm left here alone with angry ghostie?" The thought made me shudder.
"You just got the chills. I felt that", he said and hugged me tighter. "Do you want me to stay?"
"You mean stay the night?" I quizzed.
"Yeah. I could sleep on your couch. Make sure nothing happens to you in the night".
I sighed with relief. "Yes. Please!"
"Okay. I will. It's okay", he assured me.
"So where does this ghost hang out the most?" Jake asked, flashing his light around the condo, searching for a sign.
I pointed to the back hallway. "That's where it happened so far", I said. I made my way through the dark room to the couch and sat down in the corner of it, pulling my legs up around me. The guys headed down the hallway with their flashlights, opening doors and cupboards and calling out softly to the ghost. My heart started to pound again, my stomach turning. I closed my eyes and laid my head back, trying to clear my head. Trying not to feel scared. "Spirits feed off your fear" I was once instructed. "Don't let them know you're scared".
The guys eventually came out, completely disappointed. Nothing. For some reason this scared me more. I just had this eerie sense that the ghost wasn't going to give them a show, but was becoming annoyed by the extra company. I had a very strong impression this ghost wanted something out of me and didn't appreciate the extra disturbances and delay. Still, I tried to blow it off as irrational fear and the cogs in my head simply spinning overtime.
"Dude, I gotta' go. I've got somewhere I need to be," Jake excused himself. The two guys high-fived each other and Jake called out "good bye" and "good luck" to us and left. This left Brandon and I. Alone. In the dark. I threw on the lights and turned on the TV. "Wanna watch something?" I asked.
"Sure", he shrugged. "So you really think you have a ghost, huh?"
"Yes", I stated. Annoyed. Was he not believing me now? Just because it didn't jump out at him?
"All righty. Well, I'll sleep out here then and see if maybe I can see something later on".
After watching TV for a few hours, I started to fall asleep on the couch. Brandon nudged me. "You better get some sleep. I'm losing you". I rolled off the couch onto the floor and half crawled to my room.
"Night", I called. "Just take the bedding off my son's bed."
I don't remember much after that. I didn't even change into pajamas. I must have just collapsed into bed and I was out.
The morning light snuck through a crack in my curtains and hit me directly in the right eye. I suddenly squinted and moaned, rolling over on my other side. I stretched and opened both eyes, looking around my empty room. I froze in position and listened. Silence. Suddenly I remembered Brandon had spent the night.
"Brandon!" I called out. The stark silence reminded me of my vulnerability. I jumped up quickly, my head slightly spinning from the sudden change in position. I fell against my door and opened it, peeking out. There was no bedding on the couch. There was no Brandon. I breathed in quickly and sighed. My shoulders slumped. When did he leave? I felt suddenly abandoned. I peeked around the corner to the dark hallway on the other side of the kitchen, hoping to see the bathroom light on. Perhaps he was still here. But it was dark. Nothing. "Oh well". I shrugged and started to walk to the kitchen counter to retrieve my phone, intent on calling him and getting some answers.
Suddenly a book on my coffee table flew off and hit the pony wall separating the living room from the dining area. It thudded to the ground and fell open. My heart stopped, my skin stinging with the feeling of a thousand needles. I yelled out and jumped back against the counter. "What the CRAP was that?!" I panted; almost hyperventilated. My hands and feet went cold, yet I was sweating profusely. I looked around the room. "It's you, isn't it?" I said angrily. Maybe if it knew I was mad it would stop.
Instead the pages suddenly flipped back and forth, finally resting on an open spot. "That's it!" I yelled and turned around to the kitchen counter, reaching for my car keys. I was NOT putting up with this. This THING was not going to disturb my life. I reached my hand out for the keys and they scooted across the counter away from me.
I gasped. "What the..?" I retorted. I reached my hand out again for the keys and they scooted away farther. "Give me my KEYS!" I shouted angrily. I ran around the counter to the other side and grabbed for them again. They flew off the counter onto the tile floor in the kitchen. "AAAHHH!! I screamed, half enraged, half horrified. "Give me my keys! Give me my keys! GIVE ME MY KEYS!!!!!" Each time I reached my hand out, I screamed the words louder and each time the keys scooted away from me. Sweating profusely, my heart beating wildly out of control, I slumped into a crouched position and held my head in my hands and sobbed uncontrollably. "Why? Why me? Why are you doing this to me?"
All was silent. I finally peeked through my fingers and saw my keys sitting there, a few feet in front of me. I had given up hope that I'd get my hands on them until I gave the spirit what it wanted. "What do you want?" I managed in a quiet squeak. Suddenly I heard the book on the other side of the counter slam shut. I scooted over to the counter and slowly pulled myself up, peeking over the edge. "You want me to look at the book?"I whined.
The book suddenly flew open again and the pages turned wildly until it rested again on an open page. I took notice of my panting and tried to get it under control. My arms like goose flesh, I shuddered and crawled over to the book.
It was my "Cold Case Files: The Most Infamous Cases" book. I let out a whimper and clasped my hand to my mouth. "Oh my gosh", I moaned silently. "Oh my gosh. Who are you? Are you in this book? Are you one of these cases?"
Several hours later, after lying around my parents' house reading magazines and watching "happy" shows on TV to take my mind off of my current haunting issue, the sun set and it was time to go out with friends. My problems instantly disappeared as I climbed into my car and headed off to my destination.
I joined my dinner party and enjoyed some good food and conversation, trying to forget the nag in the back of my mind - "you're going to have to go home eventually and it's probably going to be there". The conversation turned to movies...and then scary movies. One of the guys in the group mentioned "The Others", a creepy ghost movie starring Nicole Kidman. I could feel my stomach turning. I lost my appetite. I pushed my plate of food forward and slumped in my seat, looking around the restaurant for something happy - people laughing, something funny, anything!
"Hey Kristin. You got quiet. What's up? Don't like scary movies?" The guy who started the whole scary movie conversation, Brandon, spoke up.
"No, I do not", I said very adamantly.
Then the teasing started in, "Ooh. Kristin's afraid. Kristin doesn't like ghosts. Poor innocent little Kristin."
"Whatever", I remarked, rolling my eyes.
"Man, I wish I could see ghosts", Brandon lamented.
I froze and my eyes shot up at him. I wasn't breathing and I didn't even realize it. All I could think of was, "You're an idiot. Are you kidding me? You WISH you could see these things? You have no idea what you're saying!" I just stared at him blankly.
"Ooh. She's giving you the evil eye", said one of the other guys and laughed.
Eventually the conversation changed and then the dinner ended. The knots in my stomach were pulling tighter, making it difficult to walk. I sucked it up and headed toward my car, trying to hide my sickening pain. My head was spinning. "Where do I go now?" I thought.
Suddenly I heard Brandon calling out to me. "Hey! Poulsen! Wait up!" I stopped and sighed thankfully. Maybe he'd invite me to do something else. Maybe I wouldn't have to go home just yet. I stopped and slowly turned around, "Yeeessss?" I drew the word out with a playfully suspicious tone and raised an eyebrow.
"Hey, are you mad at me?" he asked.
I chortled, "No! I just don't like ghost talk, that's all?"
"Ah, okay. You get scared, huh?"
"Brandon", I said very seriously, "if you had the experiences I have with them, you wouldn't like talking about it either". I knew I probably sounded totally stupid, but I didn't care. I just felt so desperate at this point. I needed to talk to someone - anyone who would listen to me. I judged that he just might be it.
His jaw dropped and his eyes got big. "Are you serious?" There was an excitement in his tone. "Like when? When did you have these experiences? What happened?"
I swallowed hard, a lump in my throat, trying not to just break down and cry right there. I was so appreciative that he was interested and actually seemed to believe me. "There's one in my house right now", I managed in a breathy voice.
"NO WAY! Are you serious? Dude! Hold on. I'm gonna' call Jake and see if he wants to come over and check it out with me. You don't mind, do you?" He pulled his phone out as he spoke and started looking up Jake's number.
"Wait!" I put my hands up. "I don't wanna' make a big thing out of this."
"No. Totally. I know", he explained. "It's just that he and I talk about this stuff all the time and we totally wish we could like have a ghost experience and he'd kill me if he knew I was having one without him".
I drew in a deep breath and sighed, partially in relief at my new unknowing hero. "Okay. But just him. I don't want a big old crowd of people coming over. It's a condo, I have neighbors, it's kind of late, and I don't want to upset anyone".
"I promise we won't", he said as he held the phone up to his ear, calling Jake.
It was 10:30 PM. Jake, Brandon and I were sitting in Brandon's truck, parked in the space across from my condo, staring at it as I filled them in on the situation...and past situations - just to give them an idea of what types of experiences I had had. We sat in the truck because I didn't "want the ghost to hear me talking about it." I was just scared that it might react to it, which is just what these guys wanted. But not me. I still wanted to pretend I didn't have these experiences.
As I told my stories, I could see the guys fidgeting in their seats. Suddenly Jake threw his door open, "Okay. I've heard enough. I get the idea. Now let's go in there and check it out".
"YEAH!" Cheered Brandon. The guys jumped out and started walking briskly toward my condo. I slid slowly out of the truck, my feet numb to the touch of the ground below. I slowly inched toward my condo, my heart pounding. Brandon turned around and laughing, chided, "Come on! We're here now. You don't have to be scared". I gulped hard. I did feel a BIT protected, but they couldn't stay forever and now the fear that they might upset the ghost and I might have to take the wrath for it just built more knots on top of the still present knots in my stomach.
We entered the condo and Jake walked ahead in the dark calling out, "Hey ghostie. Where are you? Ghostie? Can you hear me?" I was the last to enter. I closed the door and felt an instant chill. I threw the light switch on and shouted, "Stop. Seriously. You're scaring me!"
The guys just laughed and whined. "Come on. You're ruining our fun. We wanna' see this thing. Turn the lights back off", Jake pleaded. Brandon grabbed me in a tight bear hug from behind. "It's okay. I'm here to protect you. I won't let the ghostie get you".
"Yeah, for now! What happens when you leave and I'm left here alone with angry ghostie?" The thought made me shudder.
"You just got the chills. I felt that", he said and hugged me tighter. "Do you want me to stay?"
"You mean stay the night?" I quizzed.
"Yeah. I could sleep on your couch. Make sure nothing happens to you in the night".
I sighed with relief. "Yes. Please!"
"Okay. I will. It's okay", he assured me.
"So where does this ghost hang out the most?" Jake asked, flashing his light around the condo, searching for a sign.
I pointed to the back hallway. "That's where it happened so far", I said. I made my way through the dark room to the couch and sat down in the corner of it, pulling my legs up around me. The guys headed down the hallway with their flashlights, opening doors and cupboards and calling out softly to the ghost. My heart started to pound again, my stomach turning. I closed my eyes and laid my head back, trying to clear my head. Trying not to feel scared. "Spirits feed off your fear" I was once instructed. "Don't let them know you're scared".
The guys eventually came out, completely disappointed. Nothing. For some reason this scared me more. I just had this eerie sense that the ghost wasn't going to give them a show, but was becoming annoyed by the extra company. I had a very strong impression this ghost wanted something out of me and didn't appreciate the extra disturbances and delay. Still, I tried to blow it off as irrational fear and the cogs in my head simply spinning overtime.
"Dude, I gotta' go. I've got somewhere I need to be," Jake excused himself. The two guys high-fived each other and Jake called out "good bye" and "good luck" to us and left. This left Brandon and I. Alone. In the dark. I threw on the lights and turned on the TV. "Wanna watch something?" I asked.
"Sure", he shrugged. "So you really think you have a ghost, huh?"
"Yes", I stated. Annoyed. Was he not believing me now? Just because it didn't jump out at him?
"All righty. Well, I'll sleep out here then and see if maybe I can see something later on".
After watching TV for a few hours, I started to fall asleep on the couch. Brandon nudged me. "You better get some sleep. I'm losing you". I rolled off the couch onto the floor and half crawled to my room.
"Night", I called. "Just take the bedding off my son's bed."
I don't remember much after that. I didn't even change into pajamas. I must have just collapsed into bed and I was out.
The morning light snuck through a crack in my curtains and hit me directly in the right eye. I suddenly squinted and moaned, rolling over on my other side. I stretched and opened both eyes, looking around my empty room. I froze in position and listened. Silence. Suddenly I remembered Brandon had spent the night.
"Brandon!" I called out. The stark silence reminded me of my vulnerability. I jumped up quickly, my head slightly spinning from the sudden change in position. I fell against my door and opened it, peeking out. There was no bedding on the couch. There was no Brandon. I breathed in quickly and sighed. My shoulders slumped. When did he leave? I felt suddenly abandoned. I peeked around the corner to the dark hallway on the other side of the kitchen, hoping to see the bathroom light on. Perhaps he was still here. But it was dark. Nothing. "Oh well". I shrugged and started to walk to the kitchen counter to retrieve my phone, intent on calling him and getting some answers.
Suddenly a book on my coffee table flew off and hit the pony wall separating the living room from the dining area. It thudded to the ground and fell open. My heart stopped, my skin stinging with the feeling of a thousand needles. I yelled out and jumped back against the counter. "What the CRAP was that?!" I panted; almost hyperventilated. My hands and feet went cold, yet I was sweating profusely. I looked around the room. "It's you, isn't it?" I said angrily. Maybe if it knew I was mad it would stop.
Instead the pages suddenly flipped back and forth, finally resting on an open spot. "That's it!" I yelled and turned around to the kitchen counter, reaching for my car keys. I was NOT putting up with this. This THING was not going to disturb my life. I reached my hand out for the keys and they scooted across the counter away from me.
I gasped. "What the..?" I retorted. I reached my hand out again for the keys and they scooted away farther. "Give me my KEYS!" I shouted angrily. I ran around the counter to the other side and grabbed for them again. They flew off the counter onto the tile floor in the kitchen. "AAAHHH!! I screamed, half enraged, half horrified. "Give me my keys! Give me my keys! GIVE ME MY KEYS!!!!!" Each time I reached my hand out, I screamed the words louder and each time the keys scooted away from me. Sweating profusely, my heart beating wildly out of control, I slumped into a crouched position and held my head in my hands and sobbed uncontrollably. "Why? Why me? Why are you doing this to me?"
All was silent. I finally peeked through my fingers and saw my keys sitting there, a few feet in front of me. I had given up hope that I'd get my hands on them until I gave the spirit what it wanted. "What do you want?" I managed in a quiet squeak. Suddenly I heard the book on the other side of the counter slam shut. I scooted over to the counter and slowly pulled myself up, peeking over the edge. "You want me to look at the book?"I whined.
The book suddenly flew open again and the pages turned wildly until it rested again on an open page. I took notice of my panting and tried to get it under control. My arms like goose flesh, I shuddered and crawled over to the book.
It was my "Cold Case Files: The Most Infamous Cases" book. I let out a whimper and clasped my hand to my mouth. "Oh my gosh", I moaned silently. "Oh my gosh. Who are you? Are you in this book? Are you one of these cases?"
Thursday, October 16, 2008
The Reluctant Medium - Chapter 1
This story will be told in parts. I will break it down into chapters. This is probably by far the creepiest tale I have to tell. I have never, in my life, ever told this tale so if you know me and you're questioning why I've never told it, you may understand why as you read this.
I have to type this during the day with happy music playing in my ear because this one is difficult to tell. But I will share it with you now.
It was the spring of 2002. Late morning. I was home alone. My son was gone with his father for the weekend. I had just finished a shower after my mid morning workout and threw my hair over, blowing my hair with the diffuser to set my long, mismanaged curls. The house was very quiet - just the hum of my hairdryer. An eerie feeling came over me. In an attempt to calm my nerves, I began humming to myself - the happiest tune I could think of. Despite the warmth from the dryer, I caught a sudden chill. I closed my eyes and breathed in a long, deep breath. "Keep calm. This is nothing. You're just scaring yourself", I thought to myself.
I kept my eyes shut, humming the happy tune until my hair was dry enough. I flipped the switch on the dryer, threw my head back, releasing my wild curls all over my head and played with them, trying to fix them into some sort of style. I reached quickly for my bottle of hairspray, knocking it clear across the bathroom. It hit the wall, smacked on the tile floor and rolled right back to me, very slowly, finally resting at my feet. "Wow!" I exclaimed and bent over to pick it up. That's when I saw it, forming right before my eyes, wet footprints.
There was literally steam coming off the wetness, as if the feet touching the tile were hot. My eyes slowly widened, my chest tightened, a large lump formed in my throat and I stopped breathing. My lungs began to burn and just as my chest felt it would burst, I drew in a life-giving breath and pursed my lips and felt the tears form. I slowly shook my head. "Oh my gosh", I whispered. "Please no. Pleease". I was frozen in my squatting position. Part of me could sense my knees and legs were aching in protest, but my mind wouldn't allow me to move. I was afraid of the consequences of trying to move. I swallowed with difficulty, but managed to pull the lump in my throat down enough to breathe without much effort.
The footprint faded. I gasped and then blew the breath out hard. Then another formed. The chill hit me from head to toe. Another formed and then another, walking toward the door of the bathroom. I fell slightly back against the bathroom wall and with the help of the adrenaline running through my veins, managed to push myself back up to a standing position. I released my breaths into pants and just stared at the floor by the doorway. The footprints stopped, but two stayed, the steam slowly curling up off of them, disappearing into thin air.
The hot tears came flowing. I could feel the warmth running down my cheek, a comforting contrast against my chilled flesh. "You want me to follow you, don't you?" my voice cracked. I felt a sense it did, whatever it was. I stood there, staring blankly, the tears forming lakes in my eyes, blurring my vision. I was afraid to blink; afraid if the water ran out, I'd see clearly again.
"No", I half whispered. "I won't do it. I want to be left alone." There was no response, but the two steamy footprints remained. My chest was heavy. My breathing was labored. I had to convince it I wouldn't help. I had always managed it before. But now my head was empty. I could think of nothing. "There are others out there - others who will help you. I know it. Please can't you find someone else?" I drew in a breath and held it - hopeful - waiting for an answer. Just then the footprints disappeared completely. Just vanished. I blew out the breath I had been holding in.
Suddenly my body felt cold and weak and limp. I took a step forward and my knee nearly gave out on me. I was unsteady. I put my arm out and pushed myself along the walls, stepping over the tile where the footprints had rested. I pushed myself down the hall to my room, and then stumbled toward my bed, falling face first into the mess of pillows and sobbed myself into a state of euphoria.
I flipped myself onto my back and laid there, drawing in long, cleansing breaths, my head mostly empty, with the exception of a wispy swirl spinning lightly around. "Hmmmmmmm" I moaned. I drew in a quick breath and threw myself up into a stance. "Okay. I'm leaving now", I reported aloud. I dressed as quickly as I could, threw on the minimal makeup and ran - yes ran out to my garage. The door lifted and I felt the comfort of the warm sun. My eyes were puffy and burning from the crying, but I hid them behind my sunglasses and drove off of the premises, feeling a renewed sense of hope.
I have to type this during the day with happy music playing in my ear because this one is difficult to tell. But I will share it with you now.
It was the spring of 2002. Late morning. I was home alone. My son was gone with his father for the weekend. I had just finished a shower after my mid morning workout and threw my hair over, blowing my hair with the diffuser to set my long, mismanaged curls. The house was very quiet - just the hum of my hairdryer. An eerie feeling came over me. In an attempt to calm my nerves, I began humming to myself - the happiest tune I could think of. Despite the warmth from the dryer, I caught a sudden chill. I closed my eyes and breathed in a long, deep breath. "Keep calm. This is nothing. You're just scaring yourself", I thought to myself.
I kept my eyes shut, humming the happy tune until my hair was dry enough. I flipped the switch on the dryer, threw my head back, releasing my wild curls all over my head and played with them, trying to fix them into some sort of style. I reached quickly for my bottle of hairspray, knocking it clear across the bathroom. It hit the wall, smacked on the tile floor and rolled right back to me, very slowly, finally resting at my feet. "Wow!" I exclaimed and bent over to pick it up. That's when I saw it, forming right before my eyes, wet footprints.
There was literally steam coming off the wetness, as if the feet touching the tile were hot. My eyes slowly widened, my chest tightened, a large lump formed in my throat and I stopped breathing. My lungs began to burn and just as my chest felt it would burst, I drew in a life-giving breath and pursed my lips and felt the tears form. I slowly shook my head. "Oh my gosh", I whispered. "Please no. Pleease". I was frozen in my squatting position. Part of me could sense my knees and legs were aching in protest, but my mind wouldn't allow me to move. I was afraid of the consequences of trying to move. I swallowed with difficulty, but managed to pull the lump in my throat down enough to breathe without much effort.
The footprint faded. I gasped and then blew the breath out hard. Then another formed. The chill hit me from head to toe. Another formed and then another, walking toward the door of the bathroom. I fell slightly back against the bathroom wall and with the help of the adrenaline running through my veins, managed to push myself back up to a standing position. I released my breaths into pants and just stared at the floor by the doorway. The footprints stopped, but two stayed, the steam slowly curling up off of them, disappearing into thin air.
The hot tears came flowing. I could feel the warmth running down my cheek, a comforting contrast against my chilled flesh. "You want me to follow you, don't you?" my voice cracked. I felt a sense it did, whatever it was. I stood there, staring blankly, the tears forming lakes in my eyes, blurring my vision. I was afraid to blink; afraid if the water ran out, I'd see clearly again.
"No", I half whispered. "I won't do it. I want to be left alone." There was no response, but the two steamy footprints remained. My chest was heavy. My breathing was labored. I had to convince it I wouldn't help. I had always managed it before. But now my head was empty. I could think of nothing. "There are others out there - others who will help you. I know it. Please can't you find someone else?" I drew in a breath and held it - hopeful - waiting for an answer. Just then the footprints disappeared completely. Just vanished. I blew out the breath I had been holding in.
Suddenly my body felt cold and weak and limp. I took a step forward and my knee nearly gave out on me. I was unsteady. I put my arm out and pushed myself along the walls, stepping over the tile where the footprints had rested. I pushed myself down the hall to my room, and then stumbled toward my bed, falling face first into the mess of pillows and sobbed myself into a state of euphoria.
I flipped myself onto my back and laid there, drawing in long, cleansing breaths, my head mostly empty, with the exception of a wispy swirl spinning lightly around. "Hmmmmmmm" I moaned. I drew in a quick breath and threw myself up into a stance. "Okay. I'm leaving now", I reported aloud. I dressed as quickly as I could, threw on the minimal makeup and ran - yes ran out to my garage. The door lifted and I felt the comfort of the warm sun. My eyes were puffy and burning from the crying, but I hid them behind my sunglasses and drove off of the premises, feeling a renewed sense of hope.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Grumpy Old Man
Shortly after "The Man On The Second Story" experience, I moved out of my parents' home. Not because of 'the man', but because I had been there three years since my divorce and it was time for me to grow up and move out.
I wanted to buy a house, but I wasn't quite in the right position, so I decided to rent the cheapest little apartment I could in order to save money. I found one in a run down part of Mesa for $400/month. It was a little two-bedroom in a fourplex. It was really tiny, but it was just my son and I, so we didn't need much. Upon entering the flimsy front door, you would enter a tiny little family room area, which opened up to a tiny little eating area in a corner and a tiny little kitchen, which felt crowded if more than one person stood in it. Just off the kitchen was a tiny little hallway with one bathroom and two bedrooms. I moved in and settled down. Though it was small and probably about as sturdy as a cardboard box, I was excited to start my true independence. I hung little pictures and put fake plants around, trying to make it as homey as possible.
With the exception of the major street noise, and the fact that it was old and had years of other people's filth speckled throughout, it wasn't a bad place and it was starting to feel like home.
But, as I'm sure you've gathered from my other stories, the peace doesn't last around me. Some have speculated that I maybe thrive on a crisis, but honestly I would love to have a peaceful life with little to no drama.
The disturbances started about a month into our move in. My son's room was on the opposite end of the hall (about 4-5 steps away). Our doors faced each other and I put my desk on the wall by the door so that when I typed late at night, he could have the light from my room shining in his room. He would lay on the end of his bed that allowed him to look out of his door and see me. This gave him comfort and I was fine with it.
One night I was typing. It wasn't too late. Maybe only 9:00 PM. My son wasn't in school yet. He was only 4, so I sometimes let him stay up later. About a half hour after I tucked him into bed and began my typing I heard him call out my name, so I removed my headphones and looked across the small hallway over at him. "What, honey?" I sighed.
"I don't like that man, mommy" he replied. His little face was contorted into a disapproving look.
I thought perhaps he was referring to 'the man' from my parents' home. In an attempt to reassure him that those days were past I said, "Oh honey. We don't live there anymore, so you won't see a man anymore, okay?"
He sighed a little sigh and scrunched his eyebrows together. "Well, he's right there, mommy".
The sensation of a thousand tiny pins stung all over my skin. My heart pounded into action. I gulped hard. "You see a man again?" He frowned and nodded. I started to pant. I tried not to, but my body took over.
"Well, it's a different man, mommy", he said. This comforted me slightly, but only slightly. I wondered who THIS man was and what HE could possibly want. I was tired, I had a lot of work to do and I did not have time to mess with any man, so I advised my son to "just turn over and look the other way, honey. He won't hurt us". My obedient little son sighed and threw himself onto his other side, eventually drifting off to sleep. I furrowed my brow and continued typing, thinking to myself, "You better not do anything, whoever you are. I will make you so sorry. And you had especially better not mess with my son". Somehow this made me feel powerful to think this way, although I honestly had no idea how I'd get revenge on a ghost.
As the weeks carried on, my son occasionally spoke of 'the man', but it seemed to be only rare occasions and I never saw, heard or felt anything, so I didn't feel any sort of threat. So life carried on.
Every other weekend my son spent a couple of nights at his dad's house, so I had the apartment to myself, but I always seemed to be having a party and my friend, Stephanie, slept over a lot. I had two couches that faced each other in the family room, so we usually watched a movie on those or just talked in the dark until we fell asleep.
And then it happened - I found myself home alone one weekend. I wasn't even thinking worried thoughts. I had forgotten about 'the man'. But he hadn't forgotten about me. I stayed up working a bit. The walls in the fourplex were paper thin and the young married couple occupying the unit next to mine shared a bedroom wall with me. Apparently they could hear me typing through the wall, though my computer was on the opposite wall, and on this night they knocked hard on the wall and called out, "We're trying to sleep". I froze. I just sat there and my jaw dropped. I thought, "Wow! They can hear this? That is ridiculous!" But I don't like to be inconsiderate if I can help it, so I decided to stop typing for the night. It was nearly midnight and I yawned suddenly. It was a long, deep yawn and it brought me to the realization that I was dead tired, so I slumped out of my chair, got ready for bed and then climbed in between the covers, settling down for a good, long sleep.
Just as I felt myself drifting off, my entire bed shook. My bed was a wooden daybed at the time. It belonged to me in high school and my parents let me take it with me since I had no furniture of my own and they had no use for it. It was just a single bed. Very small. But it was just me, so it's all I needed. My eyes opened suddenly and I lay there very still. "Wow. I'm more tired than I thought", I thought to myself. I closed my eyes again and immediately started drifting off. That's when I heard loud, shuffling footsteps on the carpet. I squinted my eyes together tight and thought, "Okay, I'm seriously hallucinating now". I turned over in my bed to face the wall and cozied up under the covers, trying to drift off again.
My whole bed shook again. I shot straight up in bed. This time I worried that it might be more than a hallucination. I blinked in the darkness and looked around my tiny little room. I saw nothing. I heard nothing. I heaved an angry sigh and threw myself back hard on my pillow, staring at the ceiling. I suddenly felt very alone and very vulnerable. I laid awake, just staring straight upward, wondering what would happen next and wondering what I should do if something did happen again.
Just then the whole bottom end of my bed lifted up off the floor as if someone was standing at the foot of my bed and lifting it up and shaking it, then setting it back down.
"Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. What do I do?" I cried softly to myself. I closed my eyes and felt the hot tears forming in my eyes. My entire bed shook again. I glanced over at my alarm clock. By this time it was 12:30 AM. I had nowhere to go. I felt like I couldn't go wake my parents with this "craziness", so I just laid in bed - completely helpless.
"Go away, please," I moaned softly. I suddenly felt an overwhelming heaviness in the room. I felt like it was mad at me. It wanted me gone. It was trying to scare me now. "I have nowhere to go right now. It's so late. Just let me sleep. I'll move out as soon as I can, okay?" I sobbed it out loud, keeping as quiet as I could so as not to disturb my neighbors. Suddenly the heaviness left the room and I felt like I could breathe again. I sucked in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. I felt it quiver as it left my body. Eventually I was able to settle down and go to sleep.
A few weeks passed and nothing happened. I felt confident that the ghost man understood my dilemma and was being patient with me - giving me a chance to get out as soon as I could. I was signed into a year-long contract and only 2 1/2 months had passed. An incident happened one night after my son fell asleep where I felt the presence in my room as I typed. I took my headphones off, set them in my lap and looked up at the ceiling and spoke aloud to the presence. "I know. I know. I said I'd leave and I will. But I'm stuck in a lease and I don't know if I can get out of it. You'll just have to be patient with me, okay?" I felt the presence leave and I felt like everything would be okay until the lease ran out at least.
I was wrong. I usually am. Though these presences have haunted me for 11 years, I still don't understand how they work. They're so unpredictable.
An old friend of mine called me one day. She said she had a cute cousin she wanted to set me up with. Everyone was always trying to set me up. I was a single mom and they all felt sorry for me - not that I'm complaining. I enjoyed going on dates, especially with "cute cousins". I accepted the setup and a few nights later, the "cute cousin" arrived on my doorstep and he was indeed cute. And fun. He took me out on a date to the Arizona State Fair. We had a great time there and seemed to have a bit of a connection, so when he took me back to my apartment, I invited him in. He accepted my invitation and entered my apartment. I offered him a couch, "any couch. Take your pick", I said, motioning to the two couches and standing back, allowing him to choose. He chose the couch that faced the hallway. I sat on the couch opposite and we began visiting. As our conversation progressed, I noticed he kept glancing over at the dark hallway, squinting his eyes funny and then kind of shaking off whatever he thought he was seeing and looking back at me.
I noticed he kept glancing back at the hallway, a look of concern growing on his face. I finally sat forward, glanced back at the hallway and asked, "What's going on? Are you okay?" He started to pant and looked over at me quick. I saw the terror in his eyes.
"Nothing", he lied. "It's nothing. Anyway, what was I saying?" I reminded him and he began to finish his story. He glanced back over at the hallway again and suddenly stopped mid sentence. His jaw dropped open slightly and he started to turn his head toward me, keeping his eyes fixated on a spot in the hallway.
"I'm sorry", he interrupted himself. "Did you say you lived here with someone? A roommate or something?"
I made a face, "No. Well...my son, but he's with his dad. Why do you ask?"
"Oh", he said. I noticed beads of sweat forming on his brow. He lifted his hand and wiped it off, examining it and chuckling a nervous laugh. "Anyway", he laughed.
He started back on his story and I pulled my legs up and curled into the couch, listening attentively. He was cute and I enjoyed talking to him. I was glad he had decided to come in and talk more. Just then he jumped up in his seat, looking at the hallway, a very concerned look on his face, "I've gotta go", he panted. "I've gotta' go right now".
"Oh", I replied in a disappointed tone. "Okay...well..."
He walked briskly toward the door before I even had a chance to get up off the couch. He fiddled with the locks and jerked the door open hard, exiting into the street and practically running to his truck. I couldn't believe it. His behavior was erratic. It didn't make any sense. We were having a perfectly good conversation...or so I thought. I slumped against the door frame, completely disappointed and watched him fumble with his keys as he desperately tried to unlock his truck door.
"It was fun", he called over his shoulder. "Thanks for going out. Have a good one". Then he jumped up in, started his truck and squealed furiously out of the parking lot, disappearing around the corner and leaving me standing there, completely astonished. I lingered a few seconds in the doorway and then shrugged and sighed. I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, laying my head back and wondering, "What in the world just happened? He said 'have a good one'. What does that mean? Is that like, 'see ya' never?'"
Just then I realized - he must have seen him - the man. The ghostly man in my hallway. That grumpy old man must have grown impatient with me and the disturbances I was causing in his territory. He had grown tired of waiting and decided to take matters into his own hands. I decided it wasn't worth it to battle him. I had no power against him. No resources. No time. No money. I decided to try to get out of the lease ASAP.
I called my sister. She and her husband had just built a large home in Queen Creek and she had mentioned she was lonely out there in the rural countryside. "Sonia, I have GOT to get out of here. This place is haunted. I swear there's an old man in here that does NOT want me around!"
"Are you serious? What's going on?" she asked. I explained the events and she promised me she'd ask her friend whose dad owned the fourplex if he knew anything about any of the previous tenants.
Sure enough - there was a story. There was an old man who lived and died in that unit. He was a grumpy old man who kept to himself. Didn't really like to socialize. I was a very social person, having people over constantly and bringing a son with me, a young, energetic son. He did not appreciate us and he wanted us out. I was happy to oblige. I called my landlord who was fine to let me out of my lease early and I moved out within two weeks.
I wanted to buy a house, but I wasn't quite in the right position, so I decided to rent the cheapest little apartment I could in order to save money. I found one in a run down part of Mesa for $400/month. It was a little two-bedroom in a fourplex. It was really tiny, but it was just my son and I, so we didn't need much. Upon entering the flimsy front door, you would enter a tiny little family room area, which opened up to a tiny little eating area in a corner and a tiny little kitchen, which felt crowded if more than one person stood in it. Just off the kitchen was a tiny little hallway with one bathroom and two bedrooms. I moved in and settled down. Though it was small and probably about as sturdy as a cardboard box, I was excited to start my true independence. I hung little pictures and put fake plants around, trying to make it as homey as possible.
With the exception of the major street noise, and the fact that it was old and had years of other people's filth speckled throughout, it wasn't a bad place and it was starting to feel like home.
But, as I'm sure you've gathered from my other stories, the peace doesn't last around me. Some have speculated that I maybe thrive on a crisis, but honestly I would love to have a peaceful life with little to no drama.
The disturbances started about a month into our move in. My son's room was on the opposite end of the hall (about 4-5 steps away). Our doors faced each other and I put my desk on the wall by the door so that when I typed late at night, he could have the light from my room shining in his room. He would lay on the end of his bed that allowed him to look out of his door and see me. This gave him comfort and I was fine with it.
One night I was typing. It wasn't too late. Maybe only 9:00 PM. My son wasn't in school yet. He was only 4, so I sometimes let him stay up later. About a half hour after I tucked him into bed and began my typing I heard him call out my name, so I removed my headphones and looked across the small hallway over at him. "What, honey?" I sighed.
"I don't like that man, mommy" he replied. His little face was contorted into a disapproving look.
I thought perhaps he was referring to 'the man' from my parents' home. In an attempt to reassure him that those days were past I said, "Oh honey. We don't live there anymore, so you won't see a man anymore, okay?"
He sighed a little sigh and scrunched his eyebrows together. "Well, he's right there, mommy".
The sensation of a thousand tiny pins stung all over my skin. My heart pounded into action. I gulped hard. "You see a man again?" He frowned and nodded. I started to pant. I tried not to, but my body took over.
"Well, it's a different man, mommy", he said. This comforted me slightly, but only slightly. I wondered who THIS man was and what HE could possibly want. I was tired, I had a lot of work to do and I did not have time to mess with any man, so I advised my son to "just turn over and look the other way, honey. He won't hurt us". My obedient little son sighed and threw himself onto his other side, eventually drifting off to sleep. I furrowed my brow and continued typing, thinking to myself, "You better not do anything, whoever you are. I will make you so sorry. And you had especially better not mess with my son". Somehow this made me feel powerful to think this way, although I honestly had no idea how I'd get revenge on a ghost.
As the weeks carried on, my son occasionally spoke of 'the man', but it seemed to be only rare occasions and I never saw, heard or felt anything, so I didn't feel any sort of threat. So life carried on.
Every other weekend my son spent a couple of nights at his dad's house, so I had the apartment to myself, but I always seemed to be having a party and my friend, Stephanie, slept over a lot. I had two couches that faced each other in the family room, so we usually watched a movie on those or just talked in the dark until we fell asleep.
And then it happened - I found myself home alone one weekend. I wasn't even thinking worried thoughts. I had forgotten about 'the man'. But he hadn't forgotten about me. I stayed up working a bit. The walls in the fourplex were paper thin and the young married couple occupying the unit next to mine shared a bedroom wall with me. Apparently they could hear me typing through the wall, though my computer was on the opposite wall, and on this night they knocked hard on the wall and called out, "We're trying to sleep". I froze. I just sat there and my jaw dropped. I thought, "Wow! They can hear this? That is ridiculous!" But I don't like to be inconsiderate if I can help it, so I decided to stop typing for the night. It was nearly midnight and I yawned suddenly. It was a long, deep yawn and it brought me to the realization that I was dead tired, so I slumped out of my chair, got ready for bed and then climbed in between the covers, settling down for a good, long sleep.
Just as I felt myself drifting off, my entire bed shook. My bed was a wooden daybed at the time. It belonged to me in high school and my parents let me take it with me since I had no furniture of my own and they had no use for it. It was just a single bed. Very small. But it was just me, so it's all I needed. My eyes opened suddenly and I lay there very still. "Wow. I'm more tired than I thought", I thought to myself. I closed my eyes again and immediately started drifting off. That's when I heard loud, shuffling footsteps on the carpet. I squinted my eyes together tight and thought, "Okay, I'm seriously hallucinating now". I turned over in my bed to face the wall and cozied up under the covers, trying to drift off again.
My whole bed shook again. I shot straight up in bed. This time I worried that it might be more than a hallucination. I blinked in the darkness and looked around my tiny little room. I saw nothing. I heard nothing. I heaved an angry sigh and threw myself back hard on my pillow, staring at the ceiling. I suddenly felt very alone and very vulnerable. I laid awake, just staring straight upward, wondering what would happen next and wondering what I should do if something did happen again.
Just then the whole bottom end of my bed lifted up off the floor as if someone was standing at the foot of my bed and lifting it up and shaking it, then setting it back down.
"Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. What do I do?" I cried softly to myself. I closed my eyes and felt the hot tears forming in my eyes. My entire bed shook again. I glanced over at my alarm clock. By this time it was 12:30 AM. I had nowhere to go. I felt like I couldn't go wake my parents with this "craziness", so I just laid in bed - completely helpless.
"Go away, please," I moaned softly. I suddenly felt an overwhelming heaviness in the room. I felt like it was mad at me. It wanted me gone. It was trying to scare me now. "I have nowhere to go right now. It's so late. Just let me sleep. I'll move out as soon as I can, okay?" I sobbed it out loud, keeping as quiet as I could so as not to disturb my neighbors. Suddenly the heaviness left the room and I felt like I could breathe again. I sucked in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. I felt it quiver as it left my body. Eventually I was able to settle down and go to sleep.
A few weeks passed and nothing happened. I felt confident that the ghost man understood my dilemma and was being patient with me - giving me a chance to get out as soon as I could. I was signed into a year-long contract and only 2 1/2 months had passed. An incident happened one night after my son fell asleep where I felt the presence in my room as I typed. I took my headphones off, set them in my lap and looked up at the ceiling and spoke aloud to the presence. "I know. I know. I said I'd leave and I will. But I'm stuck in a lease and I don't know if I can get out of it. You'll just have to be patient with me, okay?" I felt the presence leave and I felt like everything would be okay until the lease ran out at least.
I was wrong. I usually am. Though these presences have haunted me for 11 years, I still don't understand how they work. They're so unpredictable.
An old friend of mine called me one day. She said she had a cute cousin she wanted to set me up with. Everyone was always trying to set me up. I was a single mom and they all felt sorry for me - not that I'm complaining. I enjoyed going on dates, especially with "cute cousins". I accepted the setup and a few nights later, the "cute cousin" arrived on my doorstep and he was indeed cute. And fun. He took me out on a date to the Arizona State Fair. We had a great time there and seemed to have a bit of a connection, so when he took me back to my apartment, I invited him in. He accepted my invitation and entered my apartment. I offered him a couch, "any couch. Take your pick", I said, motioning to the two couches and standing back, allowing him to choose. He chose the couch that faced the hallway. I sat on the couch opposite and we began visiting. As our conversation progressed, I noticed he kept glancing over at the dark hallway, squinting his eyes funny and then kind of shaking off whatever he thought he was seeing and looking back at me.
I noticed he kept glancing back at the hallway, a look of concern growing on his face. I finally sat forward, glanced back at the hallway and asked, "What's going on? Are you okay?" He started to pant and looked over at me quick. I saw the terror in his eyes.
"Nothing", he lied. "It's nothing. Anyway, what was I saying?" I reminded him and he began to finish his story. He glanced back over at the hallway again and suddenly stopped mid sentence. His jaw dropped open slightly and he started to turn his head toward me, keeping his eyes fixated on a spot in the hallway.
"I'm sorry", he interrupted himself. "Did you say you lived here with someone? A roommate or something?"
I made a face, "No. Well...my son, but he's with his dad. Why do you ask?"
"Oh", he said. I noticed beads of sweat forming on his brow. He lifted his hand and wiped it off, examining it and chuckling a nervous laugh. "Anyway", he laughed.
He started back on his story and I pulled my legs up and curled into the couch, listening attentively. He was cute and I enjoyed talking to him. I was glad he had decided to come in and talk more. Just then he jumped up in his seat, looking at the hallway, a very concerned look on his face, "I've gotta go", he panted. "I've gotta' go right now".
"Oh", I replied in a disappointed tone. "Okay...well..."
He walked briskly toward the door before I even had a chance to get up off the couch. He fiddled with the locks and jerked the door open hard, exiting into the street and practically running to his truck. I couldn't believe it. His behavior was erratic. It didn't make any sense. We were having a perfectly good conversation...or so I thought. I slumped against the door frame, completely disappointed and watched him fumble with his keys as he desperately tried to unlock his truck door.
"It was fun", he called over his shoulder. "Thanks for going out. Have a good one". Then he jumped up in, started his truck and squealed furiously out of the parking lot, disappearing around the corner and leaving me standing there, completely astonished. I lingered a few seconds in the doorway and then shrugged and sighed. I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, laying my head back and wondering, "What in the world just happened? He said 'have a good one'. What does that mean? Is that like, 'see ya' never?'"
Just then I realized - he must have seen him - the man. The ghostly man in my hallway. That grumpy old man must have grown impatient with me and the disturbances I was causing in his territory. He had grown tired of waiting and decided to take matters into his own hands. I decided it wasn't worth it to battle him. I had no power against him. No resources. No time. No money. I decided to try to get out of the lease ASAP.
I called my sister. She and her husband had just built a large home in Queen Creek and she had mentioned she was lonely out there in the rural countryside. "Sonia, I have GOT to get out of here. This place is haunted. I swear there's an old man in here that does NOT want me around!"
"Are you serious? What's going on?" she asked. I explained the events and she promised me she'd ask her friend whose dad owned the fourplex if he knew anything about any of the previous tenants.
Sure enough - there was a story. There was an old man who lived and died in that unit. He was a grumpy old man who kept to himself. Didn't really like to socialize. I was a very social person, having people over constantly and bringing a son with me, a young, energetic son. He did not appreciate us and he wanted us out. I was happy to oblige. I called my landlord who was fine to let me out of my lease early and I moved out within two weeks.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Don't Steam The Bathroom!
I have several ghost stories concerning the house we live in now. This is a short little ditty about one of the many disturbances we have felt.
The house we live in now has two bathrooms - one in the master bedroom and one in the hall.
My children bathe and shower in the hall. When my son showers, he steams up the bathroom pretty good and my husband and I have been trying to teach him how to de-steam it since there is no window in that bathroom. We always tell him, "John, make sure you hang up your towel, open the shower curtain, so the steam doesn't collect in there, and leave the door open to air it out."
He's pretty good about remembering most of those things, but often he forgets the part about making sure the shower curtain is completely open.
One night it was very late. It was a weekend night and I had let my son stay up with me watching TV while my husband watched a French film in the back master bedroom. At about 10:30 I turned to my son and said, "You need to go take a shower". "Mooooooommmm", he whined. "Do I have to?"
"Yes", I said sternly. "Go right now. I let you stay up late enough." He slumped off the couch and moped away towards the bathroom.
"And remember, John - don't steam the bathroom", I called out.
I turned back to my program on TV and listened as he turned the water on in the shower. A few minutes later I heard the water stop and I muted the TV and listened to make sure he followed all of the steps to not steam the bathroom. Our house echoes very loud. It's about 70% tile, so you can pretty much hear everything happening in the house. I heard him open the bathroom door. I heard the slap of his damp feet across the tile. I heard his bedroom door shut as he dressed himself in his pajamas. A few moments later I heard his bedroom door open and literally one second later, I heard the screeching of the metal rings on the metal pole where the bathroom curtain hung, with a sound like it was violently being thrown open. Then there was silence.
Then I heard it - coming towards me - very fast. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! The naked, damp feet slapping against the tile, the sound growing louder, then the panting of breath. John ran right at me, a look of terror on his face.
"MOM!" He shouted. "MOM!" He collapsed onto the couch beside me and buried his face in his hands. "Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!" He moaned.
"What?" I sat straight up in my seat and looked at him, completely puzzled. "What's the matter?"
"Mom, oh my gosh! Did you hear that?"
I nodded. "Well, yeah. I heard you throw open the bathroom curtain and then I heard you run. What's going on?"
"Mom. That wasn't me." He stared me straight in the eyes, his eyes as round as saucers, his complexion pale.
"What do you mean it wasn't you?" I quizzed.
He proceeded to explain that just as he set foot on the tile outside of his bedroom door, he saw and heard the curtain fly open in the bathroom across the hall. It spooked him and he ran to me. My heart did a back flip and I just stared at my son in disbelief. I started to pant, matching my son's erratic breathing pattern.
"Okaay", I said slowly as I got up from the couch. "Let's go tell dad". We ran down the hall to Bertrand, holding onto each other and burst into the master bedroom, causing my husband to just about leap off the bed. We explained what had happened, so he jumped out of bed and entered the hall bathroom, examining the curtain and tub thoroughly.
"I don't see anything". We asked him if he heard it and he nodded and replied, "Yeah, but I thought it was just John opening the curtain like we asked him to".
I guess our ghostly house guest was just trying to be helpful.
The house we live in now has two bathrooms - one in the master bedroom and one in the hall.
My children bathe and shower in the hall. When my son showers, he steams up the bathroom pretty good and my husband and I have been trying to teach him how to de-steam it since there is no window in that bathroom. We always tell him, "John, make sure you hang up your towel, open the shower curtain, so the steam doesn't collect in there, and leave the door open to air it out."
He's pretty good about remembering most of those things, but often he forgets the part about making sure the shower curtain is completely open.
One night it was very late. It was a weekend night and I had let my son stay up with me watching TV while my husband watched a French film in the back master bedroom. At about 10:30 I turned to my son and said, "You need to go take a shower". "Mooooooommmm", he whined. "Do I have to?"
"Yes", I said sternly. "Go right now. I let you stay up late enough." He slumped off the couch and moped away towards the bathroom.
"And remember, John - don't steam the bathroom", I called out.
I turned back to my program on TV and listened as he turned the water on in the shower. A few minutes later I heard the water stop and I muted the TV and listened to make sure he followed all of the steps to not steam the bathroom. Our house echoes very loud. It's about 70% tile, so you can pretty much hear everything happening in the house. I heard him open the bathroom door. I heard the slap of his damp feet across the tile. I heard his bedroom door shut as he dressed himself in his pajamas. A few moments later I heard his bedroom door open and literally one second later, I heard the screeching of the metal rings on the metal pole where the bathroom curtain hung, with a sound like it was violently being thrown open. Then there was silence.
Then I heard it - coming towards me - very fast. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! The naked, damp feet slapping against the tile, the sound growing louder, then the panting of breath. John ran right at me, a look of terror on his face.
"MOM!" He shouted. "MOM!" He collapsed onto the couch beside me and buried his face in his hands. "Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!" He moaned.
"What?" I sat straight up in my seat and looked at him, completely puzzled. "What's the matter?"
"Mom, oh my gosh! Did you hear that?"
I nodded. "Well, yeah. I heard you throw open the bathroom curtain and then I heard you run. What's going on?"
"Mom. That wasn't me." He stared me straight in the eyes, his eyes as round as saucers, his complexion pale.
"What do you mean it wasn't you?" I quizzed.
He proceeded to explain that just as he set foot on the tile outside of his bedroom door, he saw and heard the curtain fly open in the bathroom across the hall. It spooked him and he ran to me. My heart did a back flip and I just stared at my son in disbelief. I started to pant, matching my son's erratic breathing pattern.
"Okaay", I said slowly as I got up from the couch. "Let's go tell dad". We ran down the hall to Bertrand, holding onto each other and burst into the master bedroom, causing my husband to just about leap off the bed. We explained what had happened, so he jumped out of bed and entered the hall bathroom, examining the curtain and tub thoroughly.
"I don't see anything". We asked him if he heard it and he nodded and replied, "Yeah, but I thought it was just John opening the curtain like we asked him to".
I guess our ghostly house guest was just trying to be helpful.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Look At Me
Thanksgiving 2001. I had just purchased my first home by myself, a young, divorced mother of one son. I felt a bit overwhelmed at the huge responsibility of owning my own place, but at the same time felt excited and proud of myself. It was a brand new condo. I had chosen all of the colors and options and now I was moved in and settling down, ready to start my completely independent life.
My first year in that condo was a good year. Things were going well with my business, my son was doing well in school and I was loving my new, beautiful home. I typed medical reports for a living and though I did most of my work during the day while my son was at school, I had taken on so many clients that my workload often spilled over into the late evening hours.
My condo had two bedrooms, each on opposite sides of the floor plan. This was the first time my son and I had bedrooms separated that far apart, so I always left the hall light on by his room and left his door and my door open in case he called for me in the night. My desk was set up in my bedroom. It was a good-sized room and I was a single mother with little furniture, so the set up worked nice. Upon entering the room, one would find my desk directly on the wall straight ahead, so my back faced my bedroom door while typing. In order to save electricity, I always had all of the lights in the rest of the condo turned out at night.
One night about 9:00 PM I was typing. The house was silent. John was asleep down the hall beyond the kitchen and I was trying to finish up some work to deliver the next morning. As I typed, I suddenly felt a strange feeling like there was someone in the room. I turned quickly in my chair and looked over my shoulder. Nothing. I turned back and began typing. It was the summer and my hair was long, so I often pulled it back into a ponytail to keep it off my neck. As I continued typing, I felt something hit my ponytail and it began to swing from side to side. I spun around in my chair and said, "John! What are you doing?" But there was no one there.
"John?" I called out. There was complete silence. I listened for his little footsteps, probably running back to his room, but heard nothing. I heaved a sigh and shook my head as I turned back to my computer. "Okaaay", I said aloud, trying to ease my nerves. "I must be tired". I continued typing and a few moments later I felt it again. Something was batting at my ponytail and making it fly wildly from side to side. I slapped my hand behind my head, but felt nothing, so I spun around and shouted, "John!" Nothing. Silence.
I blew out a frustrated sigh and jumped up from my chair, walking briskly out to the main room, around the corner to the kitchen and down the back hallway where John's room was located. I stood in his doorway, squinting into his dark, quiet room. "John", I whispered. He didn't reply. "John!" I whispered louder. Still no reply. I entered his room and stood over him. I bent over and pushed on him lightly. He breathed in quickly and rustled over onto his side. He was definitely asleep. He was only 6 years old and there was no way he could pretend that well to be asleep. It wasn't my son hitting my ponytail, so who was it or rather, WHAT was it?
I returned to my room and this time shut my bedroom door hoping to shut out whatever it was. For that night, at least, the disturbances ceased.
A couple of nights later I was typing and this time felt a tug on the back of my shirt. I immediately jumped up and ran down the hall to check on John. Again, he was asleep. I blew out a weary, frustrated sigh and walked back to my room. I shut the door and held my hand against it, leaning on it for a second, "There. Now stay out and leave me alone", I said aloud. I sat down and settled back in for some typing, but before I put the head phones on, I heard a whisper, "Look at me".
"Oh my gosh", I thought. My breathing turned to panting. I shut my eyes and gulped hard, sitting very still in my seat. I wanted to cry. I had already been haunted for years. I moved into a brand new home thinking this was a new start and I would be left alone now. Was there no escape? I'd gone a whole year with no hauntings. Why now? What was happening to me? Was I crazy? "Maybe I AM crazy", I thought to myself. The room stayed silent and I opened my eyes and panted, staring straight ahead at my screen.
"Please go away. You've got the wrong person. I don't want to talk to you, whoever you are. I don't want to see you. I won't look, so go away", I said aloud, hoping the spirit of whatever it was would understand and have mercy on me. This may sound strange because I hadn't seen the ghost at all, but I had a very strong impression that it was a young woman, maybe in her 20s at the oldest. When I heard the whisper, it was hard to discern, but I swore it was a young woman. Still, I had no interest in communicating with or seeing ghosts and I wondered why I kept feeling disturbances everywhere I went.
I continued typing that night and the ghostly presence let me be. That night as I climbed into bed, I thought to myself, "Okay, I think it got the message. I think my life will be at peace now". And it was. For a little while anyway.
Several months later I was lying in bed late at night, trying to fall asleep, my thoughts racing. I was working on a musical project and I was excited about it, so I layed awake, staring at the ceiling, the street lights shining through the slight separation in the curtains. I could hear the music I was working on running through my head. So many ideas. My mind was working overtime, but I needed to sleep. It was late. I closed my eyes and tried to clear my head so I could rest. I felt my body and mind relax and I started to drift off to sleep.
"Kristin". I heard a whisper. My eyes shot open, but I layed very still. "What was that?" I thought to myself. My breathing was shallow. I stayed still, moving only my eyes around the dark room. I saw nothing and heard nothing more. I slowly closed my eyes again. "Kristin", it whispered louder. I shot straight up in bed. "Okay, WHAT the CRAP is going on?" I said aloud. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" I shouted and threw my body back onto my bed, squinting my eyes shut tightly and growling. I threw my body over onto my left side and kept my eyes shut, heaving a frustrated sigh.
"Look at me", the voice whispered.
"NO!" I shouted. "GO AWAY!"
The voice fell silent and somehow I managed to drift off to sleep. The next morning I awoke and layed in bed thinking about the past events, about the ghost bothering me and begging me to look at it. I was frightened and upset and just plain tired of the disturbances.
Later that day I took my son to my parents' house for a visit. As my son ran around my mother's backyard with a neighbor boy, I sat in the kitchen visiting with my mom as she baked. I needed to talk to someone and I knew my story sounded outrageous, but I decided to go ahead and lay it on her anyway.
"Why don't you just talk to the ghost? See what it wants." She tried to offer some sort of advice, some help.
"Are you kidding me? NO WAY! I do not want to see or talk to that thing, whatever it is. I just want it go away!" I retorted.
My mother sighed. "Well, honey, haven't you already told it several times to leave you alone?"
I huffed. "Yes", I growled.
She shrugged her shoulders, "Well...."
I dropped the subject. There was really nothing my mother or I could do and I just wanted to forget about it. I still had hope it would just go away.
It was summer again and the hour was once again late. Leaving my door open this night, I crawled into bed, yawning widely and rubbing hard on my tired, burning eyes. I situated myself comfortably in my bed and started to drift off. Sometime later in the evening, I briefly awoke, threw the hot covers off of me and shifted to my back. I sighed a relaxed sigh and began to venture back off to dreamland. Suddenly I felt icy cold fingers pull on my toes. I jerked awake.
"DANG IT!"I growled. "NOT AGAIN!"
I rolled over and pulled my feet in closer, huddling up. A few seconds later, I felt the icy touch on my ankle. Reflexively, I kicked my leg out into the air, making contact with nothing.
"That's IT!" I snarled.
Without opening my eyes, I aggressively threw myself to the end of the bed, pulled the covers back on and pulled them over me completely, up to my chin. I huffed and threw myself onto my side, adamantly refusing to cooperate.
I kept my eyes shut tight, trying to clear my mind and escape to dreamland before the ghost could harrass me any further.
"Kristin". The whisper was loud this time. It was fighting back.
"NO!" I yelled. "I said NO and I meant it! GO AWAY! I will NEVER look at you!"
The room fell silent. Without thinking, I opened my eyes.
Suddenly, I saw a smoky swirl in the air. It swirled in place like a miniature tornado and then flew towards the doorway, disappearing with a firm SLAM of my bedroom door.
And that was it. I never heard from or felt that particular ghost again. She was gone. Just like that - finally realizing my stubbornness was not worth it.
I just hope she found someone out there somewhere who would just....look at her.
My first year in that condo was a good year. Things were going well with my business, my son was doing well in school and I was loving my new, beautiful home. I typed medical reports for a living and though I did most of my work during the day while my son was at school, I had taken on so many clients that my workload often spilled over into the late evening hours.
My condo had two bedrooms, each on opposite sides of the floor plan. This was the first time my son and I had bedrooms separated that far apart, so I always left the hall light on by his room and left his door and my door open in case he called for me in the night. My desk was set up in my bedroom. It was a good-sized room and I was a single mother with little furniture, so the set up worked nice. Upon entering the room, one would find my desk directly on the wall straight ahead, so my back faced my bedroom door while typing. In order to save electricity, I always had all of the lights in the rest of the condo turned out at night.
One night about 9:00 PM I was typing. The house was silent. John was asleep down the hall beyond the kitchen and I was trying to finish up some work to deliver the next morning. As I typed, I suddenly felt a strange feeling like there was someone in the room. I turned quickly in my chair and looked over my shoulder. Nothing. I turned back and began typing. It was the summer and my hair was long, so I often pulled it back into a ponytail to keep it off my neck. As I continued typing, I felt something hit my ponytail and it began to swing from side to side. I spun around in my chair and said, "John! What are you doing?" But there was no one there.
"John?" I called out. There was complete silence. I listened for his little footsteps, probably running back to his room, but heard nothing. I heaved a sigh and shook my head as I turned back to my computer. "Okaaay", I said aloud, trying to ease my nerves. "I must be tired". I continued typing and a few moments later I felt it again. Something was batting at my ponytail and making it fly wildly from side to side. I slapped my hand behind my head, but felt nothing, so I spun around and shouted, "John!" Nothing. Silence.
I blew out a frustrated sigh and jumped up from my chair, walking briskly out to the main room, around the corner to the kitchen and down the back hallway where John's room was located. I stood in his doorway, squinting into his dark, quiet room. "John", I whispered. He didn't reply. "John!" I whispered louder. Still no reply. I entered his room and stood over him. I bent over and pushed on him lightly. He breathed in quickly and rustled over onto his side. He was definitely asleep. He was only 6 years old and there was no way he could pretend that well to be asleep. It wasn't my son hitting my ponytail, so who was it or rather, WHAT was it?
I returned to my room and this time shut my bedroom door hoping to shut out whatever it was. For that night, at least, the disturbances ceased.
A couple of nights later I was typing and this time felt a tug on the back of my shirt. I immediately jumped up and ran down the hall to check on John. Again, he was asleep. I blew out a weary, frustrated sigh and walked back to my room. I shut the door and held my hand against it, leaning on it for a second, "There. Now stay out and leave me alone", I said aloud. I sat down and settled back in for some typing, but before I put the head phones on, I heard a whisper, "Look at me".
"Oh my gosh", I thought. My breathing turned to panting. I shut my eyes and gulped hard, sitting very still in my seat. I wanted to cry. I had already been haunted for years. I moved into a brand new home thinking this was a new start and I would be left alone now. Was there no escape? I'd gone a whole year with no hauntings. Why now? What was happening to me? Was I crazy? "Maybe I AM crazy", I thought to myself. The room stayed silent and I opened my eyes and panted, staring straight ahead at my screen.
"Please go away. You've got the wrong person. I don't want to talk to you, whoever you are. I don't want to see you. I won't look, so go away", I said aloud, hoping the spirit of whatever it was would understand and have mercy on me. This may sound strange because I hadn't seen the ghost at all, but I had a very strong impression that it was a young woman, maybe in her 20s at the oldest. When I heard the whisper, it was hard to discern, but I swore it was a young woman. Still, I had no interest in communicating with or seeing ghosts and I wondered why I kept feeling disturbances everywhere I went.
I continued typing that night and the ghostly presence let me be. That night as I climbed into bed, I thought to myself, "Okay, I think it got the message. I think my life will be at peace now". And it was. For a little while anyway.
Several months later I was lying in bed late at night, trying to fall asleep, my thoughts racing. I was working on a musical project and I was excited about it, so I layed awake, staring at the ceiling, the street lights shining through the slight separation in the curtains. I could hear the music I was working on running through my head. So many ideas. My mind was working overtime, but I needed to sleep. It was late. I closed my eyes and tried to clear my head so I could rest. I felt my body and mind relax and I started to drift off to sleep.
"Kristin". I heard a whisper. My eyes shot open, but I layed very still. "What was that?" I thought to myself. My breathing was shallow. I stayed still, moving only my eyes around the dark room. I saw nothing and heard nothing more. I slowly closed my eyes again. "Kristin", it whispered louder. I shot straight up in bed. "Okay, WHAT the CRAP is going on?" I said aloud. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" I shouted and threw my body back onto my bed, squinting my eyes shut tightly and growling. I threw my body over onto my left side and kept my eyes shut, heaving a frustrated sigh.
"Look at me", the voice whispered.
"NO!" I shouted. "GO AWAY!"
The voice fell silent and somehow I managed to drift off to sleep. The next morning I awoke and layed in bed thinking about the past events, about the ghost bothering me and begging me to look at it. I was frightened and upset and just plain tired of the disturbances.
Later that day I took my son to my parents' house for a visit. As my son ran around my mother's backyard with a neighbor boy, I sat in the kitchen visiting with my mom as she baked. I needed to talk to someone and I knew my story sounded outrageous, but I decided to go ahead and lay it on her anyway.
"Why don't you just talk to the ghost? See what it wants." She tried to offer some sort of advice, some help.
"Are you kidding me? NO WAY! I do not want to see or talk to that thing, whatever it is. I just want it go away!" I retorted.
My mother sighed. "Well, honey, haven't you already told it several times to leave you alone?"
I huffed. "Yes", I growled.
She shrugged her shoulders, "Well...."
I dropped the subject. There was really nothing my mother or I could do and I just wanted to forget about it. I still had hope it would just go away.
It was summer again and the hour was once again late. Leaving my door open this night, I crawled into bed, yawning widely and rubbing hard on my tired, burning eyes. I situated myself comfortably in my bed and started to drift off. Sometime later in the evening, I briefly awoke, threw the hot covers off of me and shifted to my back. I sighed a relaxed sigh and began to venture back off to dreamland. Suddenly I felt icy cold fingers pull on my toes. I jerked awake.
"DANG IT!"I growled. "NOT AGAIN!"
I rolled over and pulled my feet in closer, huddling up. A few seconds later, I felt the icy touch on my ankle. Reflexively, I kicked my leg out into the air, making contact with nothing.
"That's IT!" I snarled.
Without opening my eyes, I aggressively threw myself to the end of the bed, pulled the covers back on and pulled them over me completely, up to my chin. I huffed and threw myself onto my side, adamantly refusing to cooperate.
I kept my eyes shut tight, trying to clear my mind and escape to dreamland before the ghost could harrass me any further.
"Kristin". The whisper was loud this time. It was fighting back.
"NO!" I yelled. "I said NO and I meant it! GO AWAY! I will NEVER look at you!"
The room fell silent. Without thinking, I opened my eyes.
Suddenly, I saw a smoky swirl in the air. It swirled in place like a miniature tornado and then flew towards the doorway, disappearing with a firm SLAM of my bedroom door.
And that was it. I never heard from or felt that particular ghost again. She was gone. Just like that - finally realizing my stubbornness was not worth it.
I just hope she found someone out there somewhere who would just....look at her.
Friday, October 10, 2008
The Man On The Second Story
It was my 18th year. I had finished my first year of college at Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff, Arizona and found myself back at my parents' home for the summer, being completely taken advantage of in a ridiculous retail job, and missing my friends up north. About mid summer my parents decided to take a trip away together and I was left in charge of the brood. There were five of us (There still are. Don't worry - nobody dies in THIS story.) Shortly after my parents' departure I received a phone call from my old college roommate, begging me to come up for a visit over the weekend. I decided my siblings were old enough to care for themselves and I took off.
Two days later I headed home, the realization of what I had done hitting me hard. I took my father's new truck without asking and I hadn't been in contact with my siblings, my charge, for two days. I knew the consequences could be severe and that this could potentially be the end of my life, but I had to face it, so I drove home as quickly as I could to assess the damage before my parents' return.
It was about 10:00 PM on a Sunday night. As I pulled onto my parents' street, the sight had me worried. The streets were half lined with unfamiliar cars and trucks and a small crowd was gathered in my parents' driveway. I slowed the truck to a crawl and inched my way through the parting crowd. As I slid out of the driver's seat onto the pavement, my brother approached me, shouting, "Where have you been?"
"What's going on?" I shouted back, irritated.
"Someone's in the house!" he shouted excitedly.
"What? What do you mean? Who's in there and how did they get in?" I placed my hands firmly on my hips and scowled at my brother, thoroughly annoyed - mostly because this was probably going to get me busted more than I realized. I quickly panned the crowd and saw a teenage boy marching toward the house with a shotgun in hand. "Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!"I shouted and threw my hands to either side, pushing through the crowd as quickly as I could toward the wannabe Rambo. "What in the world do you think you're doing?" I shouted, half terrified, half enraged.
Everyone started shouting excitedly all at once. I couldn't understand what they were all saying, but I did catch the words, "man" and "upstairs window". I stepped back onto the street and gazed up at the two windows directly over the garage. They looked like eyes to me and the garage was like the mouth.
My sister walked toward me then and explained the situation. Apparently everyone had gone out for the evening and when they returned, my brother or sister had seen a man peeking out from the curtains in the upstairs window above the garage.
It spooked them because nobody should have been in that house. They thought it was a robber, so one of their friends ran home and retrieved his father's shotgun without permission - a major disaster just waiting to happen. I was so glad I had arrived when I did and realized the trouble we all could have been in. Long story short - we all entered the house and inspected it together with the two guys holding weapons leading the crowd - one with a bat, one with a shotgun. We found nothing. We spoke of nothing. Whatever it was, it was gone and we just wanted to forget it.
Now, let's move ahead two years. I had married and moved out of my parents' home. Unfortunately, that marriage ended in divorce and I was back at my parents' home with my toddler son, trying to figure my life out. Eventually I discovered the world of medical transcription and embarked on a career in that field. It allowed me to work from home, so my parents helped me set up an office....in the room above the garage.
I found that typing early in the morning and late at night worked best so that I could spend time with my son during the day and do most of my work at night. The first few nights were uneventful. I basically typed until I was falling asleep in my chair at which point I would shut down my computer and drag myself down the hall to bed.
By about the fourth night, the disturbances began. The room had one wall lined completely in mirrors. It was a model home and the designer had decided to make the room above the garage a "ballet room" because, you know....so many people I know just want to be able to practice their plie's and turn outs in the comfort of their own home. Anyway...
My desk faced the wall between the two windows looking out over the street and the wall of mirrors was off to my right, just in my peripheral vision.
The hour was late. The house was dead quiet. I sat there typing feverishly, just the clicking of the tape machine and the keys on the keyboard. Suddenly I felt a chill. I stopped typing briefly and looked at the wall above my monitor. "What was that?" I thought to myself. I drew in a deep breath, heaved out a sigh and continued to type. I suddenly had the feeling someone was looking over my shoulder. Again I stopped typing. I gritted my teeth and suddenly flicked my head toward the wall of mirrors, hoping to catch a glimpse of something. Nothing. But I clearly felt someone behind me. I decided I must be dead tired and quit for the night.
The next night I found myself up at a ridiculously late hour, the only one awake, typing furiously in an attempt to complete as much work as possible while my son slept. It was only a matter of moments before I felt a presence again. I felt a cold breath on my neck. It tickled. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I lifted my hand behind me and slapped the back of my neck. "Stop it", I said aloud. I scowled at my monitor and let out a frustrated sigh. Then I went back to typing. As the nights continued on, the disturbances continued on. Each week they would become a bit more aggressive until at one point I actually felt a hand on my shoulder. It was cold. I lost it right there. I jumped up out of my seat and said aloud, "I'm tired. I have a lot of work. You need to leave me alone!" Just then the light in the room flickered and dimmed. My heart leapt in my chest and I held my breath. I gritted my teeth and stared at the lights above - frozen. Just then it stopped and the lights returned to their full strength. I released the air burning in my lungs and ran from the room, throwing the switch off as I left.
I tried explaining this story to my family, but it was met with laughs and comments like, "You're such a drama queen". I knew my story was unbelievable, but I also knew it was really happening to me. I felt scared and alone. I made the decision to quit typing late at night. When the last person in the house was going to bed, I would too. Whatever it was, it didn't bother me during the day.
All disturbances stopped. All was well.
Or so I thought...
Several weeks later I went through the usual bedtime routine with my son. I dressed him in pajamas, helped him brush his teeth, read him a bedtime story, knelt by the side of his bed with him and helped him pray and then tucked him in. I then turned out the light and knelt by the side of my bed, silently uttering my own prayers. My son was young, but he knew the routine. It was the same thing every night and I had schooled him long enough in the practice, so he was well aware that when the lights went out, all would fall silent until my prayers were finished and then I would sing him to sleep from my bed. On this night, as I knelt in prayer, I suddenly felt a warmth brush up against my side. I stopped the prayer in my head and froze. I could hear my son's breath and could feel it on my arm. I opened my eyes in the black of the room and saw well enough to see he was by my side.
"John, what are you doing, honey?"
"I just wanna be by you, mom", he replied.
As my eyes adjusted to the dark of the room, I could see that he was staring at me wide-eyed. Just staring. But then I realized it wasn't at me that he was staring, but beyond me.
"Honey, I'm saying my prayers still. Go get in bed and I'll sing to you when I'm done", I ordered.
He shook his head 'no' and I sighed a frustrated sigh and said, "Fine. Then just stay quiet for a moment while I finish my prayers". He said nothing and I closed my eyes and began to pray again in my head. Within seconds my son tapped my arm with his little hand. I ignored it. He tapped again, harder. I ignored him again.
Finally he whined, "Mommy". I huffed loudly and looked up, "What? I'm saying my prayers and you need to let me finish!" I scolded.
"Okay, mommy, but who's that man behind you?"
I froze! I all but jumped up and ran out of there screaming. I realized that I had to be brave for my son and I was so thankful the room was black and he couldn't see the look of terror on my face.
"Who is it, mommy?" he asked again. I couldn't even speak. I couldn't find my voice. I knew every tiny little hair on my body was standing on end at this point and my hands and feet went ice cold.
"There's no man, baby." I weakly attempted to explain away what he thought he might be seeing.
"But he's looking at you, mommy. He's right behind you and he's looking at you".
I didn't know what to do. It was a bit late this night. The house was completely silent. I knew everyone was in bed and I knew that nobody would appreciate being awakened by me and my "dramatic, irrational" fears.
"Wanna get in bed with mommy?" I managed in heavy breaths.
"Uh huh", he nodded as he spoke.
"Okay, baby. Come on." I pulled him into bed with me, refusing to let any part of my head turn for fear of catching a glimpse of 'the man'. I curled my body around my son's and faced the wall, keeping my back completely to the rest of the room. I reached down without looking and pulled the covers up to my chin. I began humming a happy tune and squeezed my eyes shut as tight as I could stand to. In my head the same thought recurred over and over "please don't let me see it. Please don't let me see it". I said a silent prayer in my head as I continued to hum quietly. "Please. Whatever that thing is. Don't let it touch me. Don't let it talk to me. Make it go away." I don't remember much else after that. Somehow I managed to eventually fall asleep.
I moved out shortly into my own place, but my son never said anything again about 'the man'.
Two days later I headed home, the realization of what I had done hitting me hard. I took my father's new truck without asking and I hadn't been in contact with my siblings, my charge, for two days. I knew the consequences could be severe and that this could potentially be the end of my life, but I had to face it, so I drove home as quickly as I could to assess the damage before my parents' return.
It was about 10:00 PM on a Sunday night. As I pulled onto my parents' street, the sight had me worried. The streets were half lined with unfamiliar cars and trucks and a small crowd was gathered in my parents' driveway. I slowed the truck to a crawl and inched my way through the parting crowd. As I slid out of the driver's seat onto the pavement, my brother approached me, shouting, "Where have you been?"
"What's going on?" I shouted back, irritated.
"Someone's in the house!" he shouted excitedly.
"What? What do you mean? Who's in there and how did they get in?" I placed my hands firmly on my hips and scowled at my brother, thoroughly annoyed - mostly because this was probably going to get me busted more than I realized. I quickly panned the crowd and saw a teenage boy marching toward the house with a shotgun in hand. "Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!"I shouted and threw my hands to either side, pushing through the crowd as quickly as I could toward the wannabe Rambo. "What in the world do you think you're doing?" I shouted, half terrified, half enraged.
Everyone started shouting excitedly all at once. I couldn't understand what they were all saying, but I did catch the words, "man" and "upstairs window". I stepped back onto the street and gazed up at the two windows directly over the garage. They looked like eyes to me and the garage was like the mouth.
My sister walked toward me then and explained the situation. Apparently everyone had gone out for the evening and when they returned, my brother or sister had seen a man peeking out from the curtains in the upstairs window above the garage.
It spooked them because nobody should have been in that house. They thought it was a robber, so one of their friends ran home and retrieved his father's shotgun without permission - a major disaster just waiting to happen. I was so glad I had arrived when I did and realized the trouble we all could have been in. Long story short - we all entered the house and inspected it together with the two guys holding weapons leading the crowd - one with a bat, one with a shotgun. We found nothing. We spoke of nothing. Whatever it was, it was gone and we just wanted to forget it.
Now, let's move ahead two years. I had married and moved out of my parents' home. Unfortunately, that marriage ended in divorce and I was back at my parents' home with my toddler son, trying to figure my life out. Eventually I discovered the world of medical transcription and embarked on a career in that field. It allowed me to work from home, so my parents helped me set up an office....in the room above the garage.
I found that typing early in the morning and late at night worked best so that I could spend time with my son during the day and do most of my work at night. The first few nights were uneventful. I basically typed until I was falling asleep in my chair at which point I would shut down my computer and drag myself down the hall to bed.
By about the fourth night, the disturbances began. The room had one wall lined completely in mirrors. It was a model home and the designer had decided to make the room above the garage a "ballet room" because, you know....so many people I know just want to be able to practice their plie's and turn outs in the comfort of their own home. Anyway...
My desk faced the wall between the two windows looking out over the street and the wall of mirrors was off to my right, just in my peripheral vision.
The hour was late. The house was dead quiet. I sat there typing feverishly, just the clicking of the tape machine and the keys on the keyboard. Suddenly I felt a chill. I stopped typing briefly and looked at the wall above my monitor. "What was that?" I thought to myself. I drew in a deep breath, heaved out a sigh and continued to type. I suddenly had the feeling someone was looking over my shoulder. Again I stopped typing. I gritted my teeth and suddenly flicked my head toward the wall of mirrors, hoping to catch a glimpse of something. Nothing. But I clearly felt someone behind me. I decided I must be dead tired and quit for the night.
The next night I found myself up at a ridiculously late hour, the only one awake, typing furiously in an attempt to complete as much work as possible while my son slept. It was only a matter of moments before I felt a presence again. I felt a cold breath on my neck. It tickled. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I lifted my hand behind me and slapped the back of my neck. "Stop it", I said aloud. I scowled at my monitor and let out a frustrated sigh. Then I went back to typing. As the nights continued on, the disturbances continued on. Each week they would become a bit more aggressive until at one point I actually felt a hand on my shoulder. It was cold. I lost it right there. I jumped up out of my seat and said aloud, "I'm tired. I have a lot of work. You need to leave me alone!" Just then the light in the room flickered and dimmed. My heart leapt in my chest and I held my breath. I gritted my teeth and stared at the lights above - frozen. Just then it stopped and the lights returned to their full strength. I released the air burning in my lungs and ran from the room, throwing the switch off as I left.
I tried explaining this story to my family, but it was met with laughs and comments like, "You're such a drama queen". I knew my story was unbelievable, but I also knew it was really happening to me. I felt scared and alone. I made the decision to quit typing late at night. When the last person in the house was going to bed, I would too. Whatever it was, it didn't bother me during the day.
All disturbances stopped. All was well.
Or so I thought...
Several weeks later I went through the usual bedtime routine with my son. I dressed him in pajamas, helped him brush his teeth, read him a bedtime story, knelt by the side of his bed with him and helped him pray and then tucked him in. I then turned out the light and knelt by the side of my bed, silently uttering my own prayers. My son was young, but he knew the routine. It was the same thing every night and I had schooled him long enough in the practice, so he was well aware that when the lights went out, all would fall silent until my prayers were finished and then I would sing him to sleep from my bed. On this night, as I knelt in prayer, I suddenly felt a warmth brush up against my side. I stopped the prayer in my head and froze. I could hear my son's breath and could feel it on my arm. I opened my eyes in the black of the room and saw well enough to see he was by my side.
"John, what are you doing, honey?"
"I just wanna be by you, mom", he replied.
As my eyes adjusted to the dark of the room, I could see that he was staring at me wide-eyed. Just staring. But then I realized it wasn't at me that he was staring, but beyond me.
"Honey, I'm saying my prayers still. Go get in bed and I'll sing to you when I'm done", I ordered.
He shook his head 'no' and I sighed a frustrated sigh and said, "Fine. Then just stay quiet for a moment while I finish my prayers". He said nothing and I closed my eyes and began to pray again in my head. Within seconds my son tapped my arm with his little hand. I ignored it. He tapped again, harder. I ignored him again.
Finally he whined, "Mommy". I huffed loudly and looked up, "What? I'm saying my prayers and you need to let me finish!" I scolded.
"Okay, mommy, but who's that man behind you?"
I froze! I all but jumped up and ran out of there screaming. I realized that I had to be brave for my son and I was so thankful the room was black and he couldn't see the look of terror on my face."Who is it, mommy?" he asked again. I couldn't even speak. I couldn't find my voice. I knew every tiny little hair on my body was standing on end at this point and my hands and feet went ice cold.
"There's no man, baby." I weakly attempted to explain away what he thought he might be seeing.
"But he's looking at you, mommy. He's right behind you and he's looking at you".
I didn't know what to do. It was a bit late this night. The house was completely silent. I knew everyone was in bed and I knew that nobody would appreciate being awakened by me and my "dramatic, irrational" fears.
"Wanna get in bed with mommy?" I managed in heavy breaths.
"Uh huh", he nodded as he spoke.
"Okay, baby. Come on." I pulled him into bed with me, refusing to let any part of my head turn for fear of catching a glimpse of 'the man'. I curled my body around my son's and faced the wall, keeping my back completely to the rest of the room. I reached down without looking and pulled the covers up to my chin. I began humming a happy tune and squeezed my eyes shut as tight as I could stand to. In my head the same thought recurred over and over "please don't let me see it. Please don't let me see it". I said a silent prayer in my head as I continued to hum quietly. "Please. Whatever that thing is. Don't let it touch me. Don't let it talk to me. Make it go away." I don't remember much else after that. Somehow I managed to eventually fall asleep.
I moved out shortly into my own place, but my son never said anything again about 'the man'.
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