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grinwolfe · 7 years

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What it's like living here

I would like to tell you a story. A long story. It doesn't matter if you believe it or not. Maybe one day you'll find yourself in a situation and some part of this will resurface from ancient memory and absorb some of the shock. Or maybe you already know, and my story might provide some validation or relief. The point is, it's a story and we always learn things in stories. I live in a prairie. I live where hardly anyone comes to visit and half the people who live here want to leave. I live with extreme heat and drought, extreme rain and floods, the occasional snow and hail in July, 8 months of winter, the highest crime rate in my country, plagues every year of different insects and animals (this is the jack rabbit and bumblebee year, so it's a good year), and the most light on average in a year, with our 180° skies and endless fields. It takes hours to get anywhere else, there aren't any public buses anymore for between the towns, so if you're on your own and have no car, best of luck to you and see you in two days. There is nowhere to hide from the sun, the bugs will feast on you, as will bears, cougars and coyotes once you've been trampled/gored by a moose or stag. This is a desolate, dangerous, empty space where if you stop and listen for a while, you start to feel the great expanse of ever consuming existence and how small and very very mortal you are. How fragile and brief we all are, and quite meaningless. That silence can either take you to new levels of consciousness and understanding, or drive you insane until you are babbling and screaming just to hear anything beyond the soft drone of all those bugs who want to eat you and the hungry giggling of a pack of coyotes. That is where I live. I also live in a century old house. This is quite the accomplishment; there aren't many of them left in the community where I live. Anything old, antique, or possesses character is immediately destroyed because 'it doesn't appeal to businesses.' A plain metal box always replaces it, which is the ugliest damn thing you've ever seen. My house is 110 years old, maybe older; the furthest the records go back is 1906 and my house was already built then. It came from a Sears catalogue and was built by laymen. I exist because of this house. It brought my parents together; my mom was my dad's first and last renter who only ever paid one months rent because she lost her job. I grew up in this house, amid the constant reno's saw dust, rusty nails, century old horse hair, exposed wiring, and power tools. My father is still renovating it. No, it isn't in that bad of shape, he's just really bad/slow at it and is very possessive of the house so he refuses to let anyone outside of me or mom help. And we don't like to help him because he's a huge jerk when you help him. You need to know all of this because understanding the circumstances of growing up in this house, in this place, adds another unnerving layer upon my tale. It's hard to know if it was like what I remember before I was born, or if activity ramped up as I grew up. I have no way of finding out because neither of my parents are a)organized, b)observant c)tolerating of differences. The earliest event I can remember was the most traumatic. I was around the age of 4, and while my parents watched tv in the living room, I went into the kitchen with their permission to grab a caramel candy. Our kitchen has one huge single pane window looking into our backyard and midway up I saw two lights reflected in the glass. My first instinct was that those lights were reflected from a hallway light behind me. I wasn't wrong. I just didn't immediately grasp that the light was rebounding off two eyes that were over ten feet (over 3 m) off the ground. Not little eyes either. They were yellow white, round, forwards facing, 1 1/4" (32 mm) in diameter and roughly 8 inches. And they were staring right at me. Do you know what that is? Because I still don't. Frankly, it's amazing I didn't pee myself. I was so scared, I couldn't scream or make a noise. I collapsed and played dead like a baby deer while trying to slowly crawl out of the kitchen while gasp crying softly for my parents, terrified that the monster will come through the glass. I eventually made it, got rebuked for crawling on the floor, and then I hid under the coffee table while they watched their show. It wasn't until the end of their show that they bothered to ask why I hadn't said a word and was still under the coffee table. They dismissed my fears. To this day they denied it ever happened, yet they still mock me for saying back then, 'the trees have eyes.' From then on, I avoided that window, or any ground floor window at night, afraid of what I would see for 10 years. Blinds and a heightened night vision became my friend. I figured if the lights were off around me, then nothing outside could see me. I would not, and still don't sit with my back to windows. That was only the beginning. As I child I remember hearing things that didn't make sense; footsteps around the house, mysterious bangs, someone calling my name, and a full blown tea party in the kitchen when no one was home. I challenged my parents the next day about why I wasn't invited to the party, it was only 9:30 but they replied there was no party, the babysitter left at 9 and they didn't get home until 11. Things went missing and I would get blamed until I realized how disorganized and irresponsible with other people's stuff my parents were. Then we all blamed each other. Toys that I broke by accident were mysteriously repaired, and I know for certain that my parents would never miss an opportunity to turn something I did into a lecture, and pound their chests on how benevolent and wonderful they are to fix it and how grateful I should be for the next year and how Santa would bring me one less present. When I was ill, someone would tuck me in and wipe my forehead but when I opened my eyes no one was there. Our three cats also saw things, as did I. Things that moved fast but were otherwise transparent. The cats were very affected, flight or fight modes activated, hissing, growling, mews of fear, charging and fleeing. I was 6 when I heard about ghosts from a friend, and that seemed to make sense. But ghosts scared me so ghosts became a banned thought in my home and if you dared bring up the subject you were met with 'don't be ridiculous, that's a silly thing to think, you're letting your imagination get away with you and are irresponsible with your things,' and I had to agree because I was six and what the hell did I know? As I got older and my dad ripped more of the house apart, events became less frequent but more intense. Once in the early morning before school, my stereo went crazy, flipping through all the station MANUALLY (the dial was turning) while a very loud buzzing traveled around my room, occasionally dive bombing me. If it was a bee, then it was a bee the size of a guinea pig, but I would've seen that and I saw nothing. I screamed for my dad, who also heard it, who also couldn't figure out what was making it, and then leaving it unresolved with a 'stop wasting my time.' I ran in, grabbed the rest of my clothes and changed in the bathroom. I never heard that buzzing again and never found a very large insect in the house. I saw shadows watching me at night in my room, and shadows of insects and insect like things crawling around in my home. I honestly thought I was going crazy. Since then I've been tested for schizophrenia and psychosis and nope, I'm an average crazy, no more sane than anyone else. Then things got more obvious. Once, while dancing in my kitchen (i only dance when I'm alone) I was startled by a young man, about 16, quickly leaning out from behind my refrigerator to say 'hi!' in the most excited pleased tone you can imagine. I screamed of course and tried to leap up onto the opposite counter tops and by that point he was gone but I still remember what he looked like from the waist up (the rest was hidden behind the refrigerator). He had suspenders, a green shirt, one of those paperboy caps, a round raw face like it had been cooked, with a short button nose and bright blue eyes. He was genuinely pleased to meet someone close to his age, or that's how it felt. On another occasion, in the morning, a different young man walked into my room and said 'my name is Marlow.' It was so clear. I sat right up, he had vanished by then and said loudly 'who the f@ck is Marlow???' Funnily enough, he did resemble Christopher Marlowe a little, but I refuse to believe a 17th century poet/writer decided to visit me in my bedroom. Also, I still don't know who the f@ck Marlow is. When I misbehaved or shirked chores I got tapped. Anywhere, often on the top of my head, sometimes on my ear or shoulder. Soft the first time but if I had been ignoring it by the 3rd then they got harder. Last year a hand fondly patted/ ran through my hair. I could feel the individual fingers on my scalp. Not everything has been benign. My dad took down a wall in the basement and suddenly there was a Shadow Person, which for the uninformed is a non-human entity and they generally mean bad news, like this one. I did not know this at the time, I thought I was going insane and the internet couldn't answer my questions. They are incredibly malevolent, and this one kept threatening all of us, intending to kill any and maybe all of us for pleasure. But my feckless parents were in more danger than me because they couldn't see it. It fell entirely to 15 year old me to research and handle it. I begged my mom to help, even though she laughed in my face, and I told her I was scared for their lives. They couldn't even help me keep it contained in the basement (for some reason the doors -which were original, kept it from moving around freely.) For a month, that thing steadily increased its energy and territory. It grabbed my ankle as I was going up the stairs and chased me the rest of the way up. Half of me thought I had finally lost it, but another part of me, that rational side, trusted my instincts because if we were really in danger, now was not the time to ignore it. I eventually triumphed; I used the door trick, specifically the front door. I locked it out of the house and now it's out there in the world but not terrorizing me. I thought when I went to college that all that would change, that I'd be away from trigger memories and in a new place in a safe supportive setting doing something that I loved. Not so. The forest next to the college also possessed things, some of which were even worse and more powerful than the Shadow Person. Luckily, I only saw them from a distance and through my window. I have had CAT scans done, MRI's, I've talked with psychiatrists, neurospecialists, psychotherapists, and have had 3 psychoanalysis done. None of them can explain any of this and no one wants to try. I tell them what I've experienced and they go silent because they're rational, scientific doctors and though in every other way I am sane, what I am saying must be impossible. So I researched. And researched. And researched. Now? I'm not scared of ghosts, nor do I go looking for them. They're people without bodies, but still people. They're going to be just as enthusiastic, seedy, annoying, mean, bossy, or kind as they were in life and mostly don't want to be bothered or have their home ripped apart. Don't mess with things you don't understand is a good rule of thumb. It might be fun to scare yourself and your friends silly by trying to summon something BUT DON'T. It's not worth it, and you might have to face consequences that will stick with you forever. Plus, it's kinda rude. But if you get a Shadow Person, or some other non-human entity, dude, get that shit dealt with right away by a professional. They do exist. As for me, I'm just fine. Back in this old house for now, the remaining spirits are on good terms with me and are waging war on dad and his eternal renovations. I expect when he passes, he'll be in this house too, there is no wall, no floor, nothing he has not put his mark on. And as long as the people standing in the back yard watching the house don't get in, we'll be fine for a while yet.

#ghost #paranormal #story #ghost stories

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