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Some of Z’s Ghost Stories

rikki
After some have asked, I thought I too would publicly share my tales of dealing with the supernatural. Be warned, these are freaky. And yes, they happened, some to members of my family but most to me. Maybe I'll tell you more of them... if you really want. You aren't scared...are you? *evil laughter*

Before I was born, my family lived in an old Civil War-era house they affectionately dubbed 'the White House'. It was rather haunted because my Mom tells me of the things that happened to them there.

Nothing to ominous, just out of the ordinary and at times annoying. She'd tell me of how the doors would open and close on their own, even when they had been previously locked; the house was level and there was nothing wrong with the foundation, so it was not caused by the doors not shutting properly.

Another of her tales revolved around a rocking chair in one of the bedrooms that would rock and rock, often at a fast rate of speed -- she'd be able to hear it when she was cleaning downstairs. Sometimes she would feel as someone not of the living slipped into bed beside her and there was a bloodstain on the floor that always came back even after she had scrubbed the floor.

Even with the hauntings, she loved that house and if my grandparents hadn't been declining in health as they had been, my family would never have left it. Its probably a good thing they did, because I'd have tried fighting the damn things as I grew up there.

Why would I fight them? To clarify, there are people in the world attuned to the spirits that walk the Earth, unable or unwilling to 'cross over'; there's different types of us and I'm what my fellow Sensitives among my group of friends refer to as a 'Warrior-type... Meaning I try to forcibly make the more hostile of spirits and other things-that-go-bump go away....permanently.

Yes, there are things that go bump in the night...I tend to bump back.

Where we live now is a five-acre property that belonged to my grandparents; its mostly woods and the woods have...inhabitants. When we first moved here, I was five and very innocent to the things I would later in life try to fight. The things that are in the woods would allow me access to them, to their woods.

For me, I was never lost there, though there was an at times moving spot in the woods I was never allowed near; it was a place that would make me quake in fear and to this day I cannot go near it, because my body will forcibly 'shut down' -- I've tried and when I come to, I tend to be far from where I was when I 'shut down', generally close to or on one of the paths leading in and out of the woods.

My Mother, a Sensitive of the Defender/Protector type, could tell what was in those woods and it worried her when I would run around with the things that lived in them, often involving me playing with them in hair-rising stunts in the trees that could have killed me if I stepped wrong. My brother, a self-proclaimed Warrior-type as well, would at times drag me from the woods; when I was a child, I didn't understand why because they were so inviting, so kind compared to the living, human children I often interacted with at school.

Then I understood, after an incident that occurred not too long after my mother began to keep me out of the grasp of the things in the woods, having me help my father in our vegetable garden as a way to exhaust me so I wouldn't go play there.

The Incident?

My first encounter with a Hell Hound.

My sister, a few years older, and I shared a bedroom with a set of bunkbeds; she on the bottom, I on top. She had a dog named Mitzy, a kind mutt that the family adored and lived in a large pen outside the house; we girls could open or bedroom window and stick out head out to see and speak to her whenever we wanted during the night. One night, the entire household was wakened by my sister's screams. My mother rushed into the bedroom and found her utterly terrified; it took a while, but she eventually told us why.

She was convinced she was dreaming when the creature came through th window; it phased through, not breaking it as one might think. It was big and powerful, with a body like a lion's or wolfs -- all muscle and power with wicked claws. It looked at her and she found it wore Mitzy's face; it stared at her and seemed to inspect her before looking at the top bunk...

It reared up on its hindlegs, using her bed as a brace as it did so; when it stood, it's head almost brushed the ceiling of our bedroom and she could hear the sound of the bunkbed creaking under its weight as it placed its forepaws on my bunk.

She wasn't sure how she knew, but she knew this thing wanted to hurt me, so she did the one thing she could think of and screamed, bringing the entire house to investigate, even as it vanished into thin air.

It wasn't a dream. How did we know? Because there were tears in our bedsheets to match the size of the claws of the beast she described.

After that, the woods were no longer my sanctuary and I began to notice things more often then I did before and things were no longer as easily dismissed as an overactive imagination.

I'm a little out of order in this retelling; one of the first ghostly happenings on the five-acre property that I remember most vividly would be the Redcoat from Hell. I was walking by the open doorway of what would later become my sister and mine's bedroom and I glanced in to see if my sister was there. She wasn't but HE was; standing in the room, a Redcoat, from the Revolutionary war as though he stepped from the pages of my history book...only....his eyes weren't human. There were red, fiery pits that burned with the fires of Hell. Not too long after that, my sister mentioned seeing a dark figure standing in the corner of her bedroom, a figure she knew was not human and not alive.

I've not seen him since, but I've occasionally felt his presence.

It took a while of research but I began to understand what some of these things were; the most common is the 'dark figure', a specter of sorts that is a shadow of who it had been while alive, generally sticking to one location or even attaching itself to a person. Its technically called a Shade and the more powerful they get, the more dangerous they can be. Low-levels are more annoying, but the stronger they get... well.... that's for another time...

...if you don't think I'm crazy, that is....

My Japanese name...

rikki

My japanese name is 坂本 Sakamoto (book of the hill) 久美子 Kumiko (eternal beautiful child).
Take your real japanese name generator! today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Name Generator Generator.



My authentic japanese name is 藤本 Fujimoto (true wisteria) 幸子 Sachiko (child of fortune).
Take your real japanese name generator! today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Name Generator Generator.

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