A Voice from the Grave

I'm reluctant to give too many details about these events because there was a crime involved, my father was (briefly) a suspect, and they eventually apprehended a perpetrator who is still alive and in prison. Additionally, as a professional, any misinterpretation of events could, however unlikely, conceivably be used to harm my career.

These events occurred in the early 1980's in the northwest U.S. I was 10 at the time, and lived with my father, mother and sister. As unlikely as it may seem, at age 10, I was already a skeptic, and rather well read (ok, I was a geek). As such, I haven't really been able to explain this away by simply saying I was too young to grasp what was happening.

It started when I awoke one morning to find that my next-door neighbor's home had been roped off with crime scene tape, surrounded by police cars, and overrun with reporters. There had been a murder. As I looked out my upstairs bedroom window, the mother of the victim looked up at me with scathing eyes. The victim was a girl in her late teens/early twenties, whom I will refer to as "Sara". I learned that Sara had been murdered some time in the previous 12 hours, shot in the head.

Soon thereafter, my sister's upstairs bedroom became a place to avoid. She would often awaken, screaming in the middle of the night that there was someone in her room. Years later, my mother admitted that even she became reluctant to go into my sister's room to change the sheets or clean. I couldn't walk past the room without the hairs standing up on my head. The cold in the room was very distinct, and omnipresent. You felt watched. The best I can describe it is as a palpable 'cloud of anger' that you could walk through.

I mentioned Sara's mother, because at some point in the investigation, my father was implicated. Sara's mother had reason to suspect this, and as an adult these many years later, I suppose I would have too. The legal aspect of things, however, meant we couldn't divulge the events of our upcoming Ouija board experience to the police or anyone else.

My mother told me that they bought the board out of ignorance, believing its labeling as a "game" (obviously a bad idea in retrospect, but it wasn't exactly like you could look up the topic on the internet and get a sense that using the board was not wise). Thus, as our family activity one night not too long after the murder, my mother, father, sister, and I sat down to the Ouija board.

It started off innocently enough, with everyone laughing and accusing everyone else of moving the plastic Ouija piece. We didn't make the connection between the board and the recent murder until after a couple of silly 'yes', 'no' questions (I don't remember what we asked initially). It didn't take long for the endeavor to take on ominous tones. Whatever was moving the piece quickly made it known that 'her' name was "S-a-r-a", and that she had been murdered. The piece made rapid, violent movements across the board, occasionally moving so erratically that it would pull away from everyone's hands (though it would stop moving at that point).

I distinctly remember that the chill we'd all felt in my sister's room was now with us around the dining room table. I suppose most parents would have sent the kids out to the room as soon as the implications were apparent, but we were all operating in a sense of shock. Thus, we continued with the questions. I don't remember who asked, but one of us hit on the thought to ask Sara to describe her murderer. She described a man with curly black hair. Next, one of us asked what type of car he drove... and the answer was that it was a gold VW Bug. It was at that point that the gravity of the situation really became apparent to all, and my sister and I were sent upstairs to bed (needless to say, my sister slept with the light on that night).

Soon thereafter (I don't recall exactly how long, but I remember it being a few weeks), my father took me to the barbershop for a haircut. As I sat in the chair waiting to start, I watched the overhead television. My father sat off to my side, waiting for me. It was at that moment that the police mug shot of a man with curly black hair was flashed on screen during a local news broadcast. The man had been arrested on suspicion of a series of murders in the area the announcer explained. Then footage from the outside of the home where Sara was killed came on. That footage was soon followed by the picture of a gold VW Bug in the driveway of a one-story home. Needless to say, with events from the 'Ouija-night' still fresh in my head, I turned to look at my father. He looked at me at that moment. Neither of us said a word to each other, but we both realized this was the man Sara described.

But the eerie occurrences in our home only worsened. My room became equally uncomfortable to be alone in. Objects in my closet would occasionally move on their own accord (clothes would swing or rustle...in a closed room). A friend once stood in my room looking at my fish tank while I got something out of the closet (about 8-10 feet away) when we heard a voice in between us. We turned to each other to ask if the other had heard the voice... neither of us had spoken though.

Luckily, we had to move out of state for my father's work soon thereafter. I have since driven past the old home, but I've never stopped, and certainly never gone back inside. I'm not sure why I feel compelled to tell this story other than to say that in the twenty five years since it happened, it has never been far from my mind. It's hard to explain away the physical description of a murderer and his car as secondary to some sort of 'group-think' or over-active imagination. The events were profound enough that they shaped my willingness to consider the reality of a realm beyond the physical and pay attention to things spiritual (however you might define them). In the end, I suppose I'm mostly just interested in whether anyone else has ever had such a specific, verifiable experience.