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Misery.....
Houdini....
Submitted by "Angie
S."
Hailing from: Pea Ridge AR
Where it happened: Pea Ridge AR
Posted on: 1/16/06
I have been reading stories on your site about people that had sensed or have been visited by loved one's that have passed. I have such a story to tell about my grandmother on 2 different occasions.
My grandmother passed away Jan 29th 2003. She was living with my sister at the
time which was about 30 minutes from where I live. The night before she passed I
talked with her on the phone and I was telling her about what the dog's have
been up to for the day. She use to live with us but could not go up the stairs
to her room anymore so she went to live with my sis.
Grandmother she would call on a daily basis to check on her "Houdini" which was
her Dog that I took care of. These 2 were very close he was 7 years old and she
raised him from a puppy. SO before we got off the phone she told me something
which was out of the ordinary "I thought", she said if something happens to me
please make sure "Houdini" is happy until I come and get him. So I am thinking
o.k. she has had too many medications but that thought haunted me. She said "I
Love you" and I am proud of you. That is the last time I heard my grandmother's
voice.
The next
day I was at work and I got a phone call from my sister and she said you need to
get to the hospital now. So When I got there my Grandma had passed just seconds
before I stepped into the room. All I could do is scream "I Didn't get to say
"Good bye"! I was devastated. SO that night when we finally got home I had to
take a sleeping pill because I was beat. Plus we were going to have a house full
of relatives from California the next day till the funeral.
I
remember waking up in the middle of the night as if someone sat on my bed I
could feel it move. I It felt as if someone was brushing the hair off of my
forehead. Note: (My grandma use to do this when I got sick when I was younger.)
I looked up and there she was in plain form! And I remember feeling so happy and
she said to me that she was ok and that she was there when I came into the room.
I remember feeling so relieved so I could handle it better knowing that she was
happy.
Months passed and "her dog "Houdini" was very very depressed he would eat and that would be about it. No playing or nothing. That July I went to California and spent a week with family. The night before I left to come back I had a "dream" that my grandmother was sitting at the foot of the bed and she had "Houdini" next to her petting him. I got up the next morning thinking about it and did not think much about it really. when I stepped off the plane my mom gave me the news. "Houdini" Passed away in the night.
She
didn't want to call and get me upset about it on my way home so she waited until
I got off the plane.
So I believe that she knew that he would not have made it very long and it was
time to get her "baby".
I still have "dreams" about her and Houdini...
Will Rodgers I believe once said something to the effect of, "if there are no dogs in heaven , I want to go where they went..."
Just Hanging Around....
Submitted by
"Matt T."
Hailing from: Perry GA
Where it happened: Montgomery, AL
Posted on: 1/16/06
When I
was a little boy, I began to have what some might call my first brush with the
paranormal realm at about the age of 6 or 7 years old. My family and I moved
into a small two bedroom wooden house that had to have been built sometime
around the 40's, so I was told later on as an adult. The house still had the
original wooden floors intact throughout its small but cozy interior. My Mother
and I lived in this house, about two years altogether. My Father would be home
off and on from military TDY's (Temporary Duty
Assignments) on numerous occasions, before he was sent on a one year remote tour
to Turkey in the Middle East.
The only
consolation my Mother and I had while my Father was away working so much was the
blessed fact that my favorite Grandmother (my Mother's mother) lived right next
door to us. So, for the most part, at least during the daytime and on summer
vacations from school, we would spend most of our time at Granny's house
or going somewhere on a trip with her. I loved spending time with my Granny and
Mother particularly because anytime spent with her was time away from that
awful, dark , and sad little house...
I never really liked it from the moment we looked at it with the lady who showed
the house for a fee. I especially disliked the right back bedroom for some
reason that I could not express. Nor could I explain at the
time to my parents what I felt when I first ever set foot in the small bedroom
that faced the big oak tree covered back yard. It always felt cold, dark,
depressing, and the hair on the back of my neck would stand up sometimes when I
would be in that room, especially when I was alone.
When my
Mom and Dad first told me that we were going to live there, and that the "dark
room" was going to be all mine, I must have cried for hours about it. My Mom
wanted me to tell her why I was crying about getting the biggest room in the
house all to myself. It was almost as big as the living room, and I would be
able to play with all my toys and stuff now without being so crowded like in the
old house we use to live in back at Otis AFB. I could not explain how I felt
about it, so I just kept on bawling. My Dad got angry and told me to hush it up,
or he would really give me something to cry about.
So we moved in that old house in the middle of the summer of 1970. I can
remember it being really hot in Montgomery, Alabama at that time of the year
compared to where we used to live. Still my bedroom was always the coldest room
in the house even in the hot summer with the window A/C off and the windows
closed. It especially felt cold in a couple of spots by the backyard window,
which was overshadowed by the big old oak a few feet away from the back of the
house. I told my Mom and Dad that I did not like my room...it was always too
cold. Dad said I was just being a baby and that I should be so lucky to have the
coolest and biggest bedroom in the house to sleep and play in. Besides, the only
reason the room seemed to keep so cool all the time was that it just happened to
be so well shaded by the old oaks in the back of it, as my Dad explained to Mom
and I. But Dad's educated explanation could never quite explain why there were
definite cold spots in the room and why they would move to different areas of
the room at different times of the day or night, in the summer or winter?
As time marched on that sultry hot summer, I grew to hate and fear my room more
and more. I refused to spend any more time in that room than I absolutely had
to. I would not play in that room unless I was forced to. I would whimper
loudly every time it was that moment I had learned to dread the most, "Bedtime!
Go to your room." I could feel the skin literally crawl on the back of my spine,
and my stomach would cringe and then jump into my throat as if I was on some
sort of scary thrill ride at Six Flags, almost every time.
I would always try my best to sneak into my parent's room and crawl into bed,
but as usual, they would wake up and put me back into my bed in that awful room.
The nighttime in my room was always the absolute worst time for me staying in
there, much less even trying to sleep. I distinctly felt like someone was
watching me, or standing over me, like a heavy depressing shadow was hanging
over me. When I would finally drift off to
sleep, I would almost invariably have a nightmare which involved me choking or
feeling like I was being strangled by something unseen, squeezing my neck to the
point where I couldn't breathe. I would try to cry out in my dream for my mom or
somebody to hear me, but I never could get enough air into my lungs to yell out
for help in my distress. I would awaken still feeling like I had been choked.
Then I would scream bloody murder at the top of my lungs for my Mom and Dad to
come help me.
When it
first happened, my Mom and Dad both burst into the room, startled awake in fear,
to see what on God's green Earth had happened to their little boy, with just a
tad bit over active imagination. Then after this scenario replayed night after
night, they both stopped coming at the same time...then they stopped coming at
all. Instead, I would hear my Mother say it was okay to go back to sleep, or my
Dad would yell for me to shut
up and go to sleep before "I come in there and beat your butt, you big Cry
Baby!" So afterwards, I would lay there sniveling and shivering, trying to stay
awake all night with the covers pulled down tight over my head so the unseen
thing that liked to choke my neck in my dreams would not get me again.
My Mom and Dad used to send me to my room for time out when I had done or said
something they did not like. It got to the point where they would literally have
to carry me down the short and narrow hall to my room, kicking and screaming all
the way. I would scream and then plead with them not to make me go in there and
sit in my chair with the door closed. But that is exactly what they would
make me do to teach me a lesson about displeasing them. I hated to sit in that
room in my little red arm chair, all by myself, with the door closed because
"IT" was there, staring back at me...something unseen.
Then the
cold spot would always seem to move over to where I was sitting in my chair. I
would try not to look around the room as the hair on my arms and neck would once
again stand up to signal some invisible presence. I was deathly afraid that if I
tried to look at it, whatever was there would notice I was aware of it and show
itself to me, just to frighten me for fun. Also when the invisible thing would
try to get close to me in my room, I would almost always feel an incredible
sense of sadness, hopelessness, and sorrow. It was like I had
experienced some sort of great loss, maybe the death of a family member or
something.
Being so young at the time, I was incapable of expressing these disturbing
feelings to my skeptical parents, who would find me on numerous occasions
sitting in my room after time out in my chair, just bawling to myself for no
apparent reason. They chalked it all up to just being a young and insecure "only
child", which my Mom truly felt sorry for me for not having any brothers or
sisters to play with. She could not have any more children and was not even
supposed to have me, according to the various doctors my parents had seen after
almost seven years of hopeless infertility. What my parents could not understand
was why I hated my room so much...living and staying in my big room when I never
had to share it with any other siblings to fight over it? What they failed to
recognize was that I was sensing, experiencing something still existing in my
room that should not have been there in all logical human reality.
Nevertheless, I grew to feel its sad presence strongly over the two years we
lived there. After a while, I guess it was about six months after first moving
in, I began to see a faint shadow dart around, in and then out of my room, from
the corner of my eyes when I would go to and from my room. It was almost like
this thing did not want me to notice it, or look at it directly. It was always
darting out of my field of vision. This in some odd way was a small comfort to
me, just knowing this thing did not want me to see it anymore than I really
wanted to see it either. So it seemed to vanish from the room whenever I would
notice its presence.
Over that two year period, my unwanted experience in that old house with the
thing in my room gradually came to a chilling climax. My nightmares began to
reveal more about the thing I always dreamt was around my neck, choking me in my
sleep. I could now see it was a rope that was tied in such an intricate
slip-knot as to crush my closed windpipe when suspended from the rafter in my
bedroom. I didn't know at that age, however, what the type of looped knot in a
rope was called until later when I learned it was called "hanging noose". It was
used for killing people for whatever reason deemed necessary by the executioner.
Shortly after my haunted dreams had revealed the noose, I was unfortunately
privileged to witness, on one cold clear December night, the aftermath of the
dark incident that had transpired in my bedroom several years before.
I had gotten up to go to the bathroom to urinate. Still half asleep, I was on my
way back to bed when I got to my bedroom door and realized that I had not turned
off the bathroom light. At this point I had to open my eyes a little more as I
peeped into my room and then turned around to see the light on behind me. I went
back to the bathroom and shut off the light. All was dark now in the hall and my
room, with only the light of a
full moon coming into the side window by my bed. It was then, as I walked to the
entrance of my bedroom door, that
I could see the
silhouette of a person in the moonlit window casting a shadow on the floor.
It was very strange. I could make out that it was a man's profile, but he was
dangling in the air by something. Yes, there was a rope tied around his neck
attached to the ceiling somehow, and his body was just swinging and jerking all
around in the shadowed light as if it was trying to get free of the rope
attached to it!
I stared
in at the horror and then just squinted my eyes so I couldn't see it clearly
anymore as I lunged for the safety of my bed. I leapt into my bed and pulled the
covers over my head in fear. Finally, I fell into an oddly deep sleep without
incident. When I awoke the next day, I was not sure if it was just another
nightmare. I
wondered if I had really seen anything that night at all?
We were only there about two more months before my Dad got an assignment
overseas. We finally moved much to my relief. Although, after that one night
when I saw the Hanging Man's shadow in my bedside window, the specter that had
haunted my dreams...and coexisted in some unearthly way all that time in my room
with me...seemed to not bother me as much. His visits seemed to grow less and
less. Nevertheless, I was not as scared anymore. In a kid's simple way of
thinking, I knew now that this thing was not really there to harm me, but in
some way it had chosen to let me know that my bedroom was once his, and that he
had lived and died tragically for some awful reason in that room as well.
I kept my creepy experience all to myself as a child, fearing the worst if I
were to tell a living soul about what had happened to me in my sad and cold room
in that old melancholy house. They might certainly deem me as being a nut case.
It was not until I was already twenty five years of age did I ever reveal to
anyone the secret of what I had experienced living in that room as a small boy.
I was having dinner at my parent's house one night in late October, about four
months before my Dear Mother passed away. My Mother and I were sitting at the
kitchen table after dinner. We had just watched some TV show about "real life
ghost hauntings"
paranormally investigated across America on HBO.
My Mother just told me about some really bizarre things she had experienced as a child. I spoke up and asked her if she remembered the old house on Mallory Dr. that we used to live in next to Granny. She said yes, as she recalled us living there while my Father was on a one year tour of Turkey. I began to tell her my very own ghost story experience. I told her about the secret tragedy in my room. Her pupils grew wide and she had goose bumps all over her arms. In short, I told her that a man had committed suicide in my room by trying to hang himself from the ceiling rafter because he was deeply depressed about something that had gone wrong in his life and felt all alone.
My
Mother replied in a surprisingly startled voice," Who told you all this? How did
you know? Your Father and I never told you this! So who told you about it?
Did your grandmother tell you anything about the house?!"
I said, "No, Mother. Calm down. The man in the room showed me what had happened
to him in that room."
Mother insisted that somebody must have told me because there was no other way
for me to know all that stuff. It was supposed to be some sort of unspoken
secret.
Apparently from what I had dug up in the public microfiche records, and my
Mother had managed pry out of my Grandmother (and later the rather reluctant
realtor who had sold us the house), originally there was a young couple who had
owned and lived in the house back in the mid to late 40's. The young man was
called to duty and had performed a tour during WWII at Hickam Field, where he
was stationed as a Marine or Navy fighter pilot. During the attack on Pearl
Harbor, the US Government had presumed him to be missing in action or dead for
almost two years afterwards. In fact, he had lain in a veteran's hospital burn
center in a coma as a "John Doe" during that time. Meanwhile, his young wife
back in the little house on Mallory Dr. was heartbroken, widowed, and unbearably
all alone for those two long years. Finally, she could stand
it no longer. She sold the house and moved back out to California to live with
her parents. There she met up with her childhood sweetheart and was soon
remarried. A year later, the young surviving war hero was released from the VA
treatment facility where he had finally recovered from being in a coma, having
amnesia, and being badly burned on most of his face and body.
The man went back to find his wife at their little house on Mallory Dr. When we
arrived, he found, much to his heartache, that his wife had moved and sold the
house. But it was now up for rent by the current owner, so he put up the rent
and moved in with what little belongings he still had. The young man found out
that his former wife had finally moved back to California to live with her
parents after hearing that he had been killed during the attack at Pearl Harbor.
So he purchased a plane ticket and went to see her, only to discover she was now
happily remarried and already had a beautiful little girl with her old high
school sweetheart...with another baby on the way.
The
young hero came back to his former little house totally devastated and empty
inside. He got a few odd jobs around town, which he never seemed to hold on to
very long because of his heavy drinking and his badly scarred face. One night,
around Christmas time, in a drunken depression the young man, sensing he had no
reason left to live, attempted to hang himself from the rafter in the ceiling in
the master bedroom. Because of his drunken stupor, however, something went
horribly wrong with his plans to end it all quickly. In his hasty and feeble
attempt to tie a noose and hang himself by the neck, he tied the rope and knot
incorrectly. When he went to hang himself, he hung from the rafter with the
noose off center and the rope too long so that his left foot was partially
touching the ground. Because of his body weight dangling from the rope, the
noose knot was too tight to get loose from around his neck, and his arms/hands
were too far from the ceiling rafter to untie the rope. The doomed man hung from
the rafter for several hours and possibly days before he finally died. It was
over two weeks before his body was finally discovered by some telephone utility
repair men who had stopped by to see why his phone line was out of service.
There had been complaints from bill collectors that his phone was constantly off
the hook. Otherwise it might have been longer before his body was discovered. It
was the dead of winter, and the gas company had already shut off the heat due to
failure to pay the bill for over a month. So the man's body would have stayed
well refrigerated for the most
part...that is until spring came and the decay set in...
I include this story because it was definitely entertaining! I had a girlfriend (the story is contained here on Ghostories somewhere...) who lived in an apartment where a young man had hung himself in the closet and she had similar frightening experiences!
Indonesian Spice....
Submitted by "Mirna
Mangkal."
Hailing from: Jambi Indonesia
Where it happened: Jambi Indonesia
Posted on: 1/16/06
There
are some stories that get more exciting as you tell them and add some spice to
the scenario, but some stories are so... STRANGE that you don't really like
talking about it. This story is one of the second kind.
The boys' dormitory building in my boarding school is like military barrack: a
long hallway with rooms on both sides. At one end of the hall is where the
bathrooms are, and the other end is the stairs. There are four floors. The rooms
of one side of the dorm face an area with the vegetation still uncleared. The
rooms on the other face the girl's dorm, far enough to have another girl's dorm
between it, but close enough for us to see the windows and the guys in there.
Each room houses six boys.
The balconies of these rooms are quite roomy and close together, so it's kind of
easy to jump from one balcony to the next, to sneak into another room, for
instance. Which is exactly what a couple of my friends did.
It was not too late into the night, it wasn't even midnight yet, and a few of
the boys wanted to pull a prank, dressing up to scare people from the other
rooms. A friend of mine, Didje, was the center of it all: he had this
expressionless, theatrical kind of solemnity so with ruffled hair, old white
clothes and such, and some powder on his face he was very convincing.
Around the time he was "costumed" for this, Didje looked into the mirror a lot,
and he felt... different. He felt like there's this evilness that came over him.
But he took that as the affect of the really convincing make up and whatnot.
First the guys took a big long white pillow from one of the beds, went to the
next room's balcony, and surprised the guys in it. Which worked.
In Islam, deceased people have to be wrapped in a large piece of pure white
unsewed cloth, tied at the proper places, but in laying the person to rest the
cloth has to be opened at the face, and the body is laid stomach down so the
deceased's face is touching the earth. Sometimes, somehow, this part of the
burial is forgotten, and the deceased "protests" by roaming around as a big
white mummy-like form. Jumping around, folklore claims. This type of
"Indonesian" ghost is very commonly known in Indonesia (thankfully, I have never
seen one myself) so if you're an Indonesia and something that looks something
like white cloth wrapped around something pops at your window after dark, you'll
know instantly what it represents.
One room down, then, the boys in the room freaked out, chanting the name of God
and any holy passage of the Koran they know of, and the guys doing the pranks
was glad. This went on for quite a while, going to the juniors rooms too (that
time we were sophomores) and scaring the digestive enzymes out of them with
Didje and ghostly voices and pillows and such.
Now at this moment Didje felt TOTALLY different. All of a sudden he felt like he
was taken over completely, that he WAS evil, that this is so right, so fun, and
he wanted more of it, and the more some guys panic, the more he was pleased.
Like there was this accomplice that's urging him to go on. So this went on.
Until they came to Aghi's room. Aghi saw Didje, and of course was freaked out at
first, but then he went really pale and sweaty and was really, REALLY terrified,
but Didje kept staring at him with the ghostly solemn face, after all that was
the plan. Finally Aghi managed to say, "Didje, I'm not frightened of... of you,
but instead of... of what's BEHIND you."
At this point Didje snapped out of it a little, and turned around.
In Islam, impurities prohibit you from prayers, touching the Koran etc. When you
consider yourself clean enough, you take a shower which is just a head to toe
shower declaring that you're purifying yourself. Only after that can you start
praying again in the mosque. Seek protection, pray for forgiveness, and all.
I don't really know what it is they saw hovering behind Didje, some tall guy who
wasn't human or whatever, but whatever it is, almost all the boys of the whole
floor practically took purifying showers immediately.
It might've been the perfect campfire story, but the boys seemed...reluctant to
talk about it, so it was believable enough for me. I wouldn't want to prove the
existence of anything like that at all, anyway.
Another story in my dorm occured in the girls' dorm. Thankfully too, I never
experienced them firsthand, but I don't know if I'm too chicken or anything, I
just find a lot of things... BELIEVABLE in my dorm. What with large trees
surrounding it and all, the old well and a few graves belonging to the village
behind our school and all...
Anyway, the girls' dormitory rooms don't have doors. It used to, there are still
hinges where the doors have been, but perhaps for disciplinary reasons, secret
smoking or sneaking boys in or such, the doors were taken down, and replaced
with curtains. There are doors that we can lock of course, but in a way that
makes our dorm seem like little apartments: when you open the door you see the
balcony, each "unit" has three rooms, two on one side and another on the
opposite side, then there's the sink and bathrooms etc.
One day, in our first year, a friend of mine, Mami, was making a glass of milk.
Or was it tea. Anyway, this was in BROAD DAYLIGHT. She was sitting at the large
table, when she saw another friend of mine, Rosa, from inside of the rooms. She
was opening the curtain partway, looked at her, then went back into the room
without saying anything, letting the curtain fall back into place, closing the
room's insides from Mami's view. She got up from the table that very moment to
join Rosa into the room.
But there was nobody in the room. Mami checked the upper bunks of the bunkbeds
and all, but the room was just empty. Rosa freaked out when she heard this.
Anyone in the right mind would've SEEN a PERSON walk OUT of a ROOM, but Mami was
sure she didn't see anything.
There was another version of this. Our mosque has this washing-up room where we
do our ritual washing before prayers. One of our prayers take place at dawn.
Sometimes we students are simply too sleepy and so we miss that praying time.
Another friend of mine, I forgot who it was, remembered that another girl, Lala,
was ritually washing her face and hands and feet right beside her.
When she went back to the dorm about 15 minutes later after the prayer, she
found Lala fast asleep. Apparently Lala didn't join the dawn prayers at all.
These "twinnings" happen in my dorm several times. But I think I've described
how it goes quite enough.
Not like this doesn't have impact on us. Sometimes, when the "night air" doesn't
feel right, we girls squeeze into the beds, two girls in a bed, just in case.
I've graduated last year, and these friends of mine still have a lot of
"encounters" that they hate talking about.
Yours truly, on the other hand, never have... Well, once I was on my cellphone,
on an upper bunkbed, alone in the room for a while. It was really late at night.
Most of the unit went home that weekend and me and some of the others that
didn't chose to pile into a few rooms to keep ourselves company. At that time I
was looking for a spot with good coverage for the phone, so I chose that bed.
The windows were wide open behind me, or rather behind my head, and suddenly I
just felt terrified, not wanting to get up and have to look out the window to
close it or whatever. I just wanted to lay still. After a few minutes, with my
friend on the phone repeating encouragements, I turned around, closed the
windows trying not to catch a glimpse at anything while I did it. I didn't,
thank goodness.
I love Asian ghost stories! And having a different cultural view of a haunting or a doppleganger type experience is very interesting! Thanks for submitting your story!
Grandpa Epperson....
Submitted by "Steve
Saulka"
Hailing from: Phoenix AZ
Where it happened: Brinnon, WA
Posted on: 1/16/06
Not much of a spooker, here, but it certainly did happen to us. When I married in 1978, I began hearing tales of my wife's grandfather, who'd apparently left a ghost. It was said that Grandpa Epperson died before he finished his house on the Duckabush river in Washington State, and that he would occasionally be heard working on the remaining room upstairs. I was definitely a non-believer; I'd have been embarrassed to go along with such weaknesses as belief in spook, yet I will write of what happened one night and let readers make of it what they will.
Several related family groups were at the house one weekend night. The men were
gong hunting the next morning, and everyone was getting to bed early. Beds were
all taken so my wife, two kids and I were settling down in sleeping bags on the
upstairs floor. No one had fallen asleep yet. The door to the unfinished room
was to my right a few feet away, and locked up with an old padlock. That room
was to have been a storage room, and it had no windows or other access. Anyone
trying to get into it would have had to literally step across the four of us,
and I'm here to tell you nobody did. Still trying to settle the kids down we
began hearing sounds of hammering here and lumber being put down there, and it
lasted several minutes. The sounds weren't ghostly or anything; it sounded as if
some damn body had decided to work in the room just as everyone else was going
to bed.
I got
the key from the wife's grandma (she grinning the whole time and saying how
they'd told me so) and opened the door. There was nothing in there but old
lumber, tools and such. I even looked for scrapings in the dust as evidence of
something moved yet saw nothing. I saw nothing, and never heard anything again
in the eight or nine years I was associated with the place.
Gotta Love It! Thanks for your submission to The Barrens!
Riley....
Submitted by "Becky
V."
Hailing from: Whiteface, TX
Where it happened: Levelland, TX
Posted on: 1/16/06
In almost every place I have lived, there has resided something other than living being in my home. The only places I have not felt presences were my college dorm rooms and a trailer I moved out of a few months back. Due to various things I've seen, I refuse to sleep without a light.
Well, in that trailer, I finally felt safe enough to do away with the extra light. Everything was fine until one week. Two nights in a row, I had a run in with shadow people. Now, for some background about that week. With major deadlines approaching, I was overworked, running errands constantly. Basically, I was exhausted! Because of this, it may have been completely my imagination. But on the other hand, I have come to trust my instincts when it comes to the supernatural.
On that first night, it was around 11:30 when I finally was able to get ready for bed. I checked on my son like I did every night, turning out lights as I go. His room was at the opposite end of the trailer from mine. His bed is under the window. The window is about 6 to 7 feet off the ground. It is a small window. Light from a nearby street lamp makes a small square on the floor about 2 feet by 2 feet. Light shining in through the door of the room falls only on his bed, leaving more than half the room almost pitch black.
When I walked in, I could have sworn I saw a couple of shadowy figures run low across the floor of the room, human shaped figures. Now if the shadows were confined to the lighted square. I would have sent my husband out to look for prowlers. But the shadows moved through the darkest part of the room, from the inside wall to the outer wall. I had taken one step in the room when I saw them. As soon as I saw movement, I stopped. The shadows kept moving. That ruled out my making the shadows. This happened in the space of maybe 30 seconds. I checked on my son and went on to bed. I told myself I was just exhausted, that it wasn't real. I laid down and told my husband what happened, joking about it. But I just couldn't shake this uneasy feeling I had. The longer I laid their, the stronger it got.
I got up and almost ran to my son's room. I carried him back to my bed and laid there. I got comfortable and again tried to go to sleep. I didn't see anything when I got him, but something followed us back to my room. I called out saying to leave us alone. Whatever it was couldn't have my baby! I wouldn't let it. After about 5 minutes of repeatedly telling it to go away, the presences was gone. The feeling was gone. Whatever had spooked me had left. I was finally able to let myself fall asleep. My husband was sound asleep by the time I got back with our son. He didn't notice anything.
My
second encounter with the shadow people was different the next night. I was more
startled than scared. I had tucked my son into his bed. I didn't feel any unease
about leaving him there. The presences seemed to be gone for good. My husband
and I were settling down for the night and had turned out the light. I was about
to fall asleep when I had to go to the bathroom. I left the light off in our
bedroom so I wouldn't disturbed my husband. The master bathroom had a sliding
door with the light switch on the left side in the bathroom.
There is a small 18 inch by 4 inch window in the outside wall to the right of
the door. The window makes the bathroom brighter than the bedroom. I reached
around the door with my right arm to turn on the light. At that same moment, a
shadow of an arm reached in front of me for my right hand.
I jumped back, startled. But this time, I wasn't scared. That was the last time I encountered shadow people. I didn't have anymore trouble in the trailer after that.
That would've been my last encounter because I would've been Outta There!!
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