The story I am about to relate is my very first brush with things paranormal.
It happened when I was sixteen years old. Up to that time, I had never given things paranormal a second thought. I was not interested in ghosties and such, nor had I any reason to be, other than perhaps sitting around a campfire with a bunch of friends and scaring the bejee*e out of each other with rather silly ghost stories.
I visited the house in which I was born and where I spent the first four years of my life, but which was now occupied by an elderly relative who lived alone, and basically in only two rooms. (It was heated with a wood stove, so the fewer rooms he used, the fewer rooms he had to heat.) I was curious to explore this house, remembering the time when I lived there, and checking out the artifacts that were still there, much as I remembered them.
The living room door was closed and likely had been for a very long time. It was likely I was the first person in that room in years, since the gentleman who resided there had absolutely no reason to enter that room. But my curiosity demanded that I check it out, so I opened the door and stood there, scanning the inside. I was immediately struck by a musty smell, old wood and furniture that hadn't been disturbed in ages. and by a distinct chill. Everything was covered by a layer of dust. and I had a sense that I was intruding to the extent that I was somewhat hesitant to enter. This puzzled me, so I informed myself that I had every right to be there, and stepped into the room. Immediately, I was hit by an energy that was absolutely negative and evil, totally unlike anything I had ever experienced in my life. I stepped about 5' into the room and stopped dead in my tracks. It was as though I had encountered an invisible wall that I MUST NOT, under any circumstances, cross. I was terrified, largely because I had not a clue what was happening, and that I had no reference points whatsoever to help me make sense of it. I remembered that room as being bright and cheerful and that I was perfectly happy playing there, but always with adult supervision because I tended to touch things I shouldn't and I tended to break things. It was still bright, but cheerful, it wasn't.
I told myself again this is nonsense, to get a grip and get on with exploring. I immediately envisioned something dreadfully malevolent in a corner watching me and creeping ever closer. I likened it to there being a big, nasty dog crouched in the corner, teeth bared, growls emanating from deep in its throat. It never took its eyes off me, and I knew at any moment it would be on top of me, tearing me to bits. The entity came ever closer, and I could feel it breathing on my neck. I didn't turn around because I didn't want to actually see what was there. As long I didn't see it, I didn't have to deal with the fact that something horrid really was there.
I turned and bolted!
Outside that room, everything was calm and blissfully normal. Within a few minutes, I had decided that this was nonsense, and what the heck had come over me anyway! I was hell bent on getting back in there, so I strode in as though I owned the place. Again, whatever was in that room made it clear I was an intruder and that I was in its space. Again, I envisioned that dreadful dog in the corner, and again, whatever was there crept ever closer to me until I KNEW it was right behind me.
Again, I turned and bolted.
Rinse and repeat.
Over the next few years, I visited that house several more times, and never, ever got more than 5' into that room, even though I kept telling myself this is all nonsense.
Then, five years or so later, I was married. My husband and I visited that little town on our honeymoon, and again I ventured into that room. It was utterly clean! Whatever had been there was totally and utterly gone! I walked all the way into the room, a feat I had never done before, and was perfectly comfortable.
I have never made sense of this. Years later I mentioned it to a gifted psychic who told me that this entity was certainly real, and not a figment of my fertile teenage imagination; that it was a driveby entity who had drowned and had chosen that space because it was totally unused and never, ever occupied until I came along. It resented my being there because I was intruding in a space it had claimed as its own. As for the dog, I think that was just the way my brain interpreted this very threatening presence.
So there you have it! I tend to rattle on, so I shall stop now.
Edited by Muriel, 10 March 2017 - 09:24 PM.