My first violent experience was in the back of the house I grew up in. I lost my grandmother at the age of 12. I went head long into a mass depressive state, and nosed dived into Satanism without doing any research. I wanted my grandmother back, and negating that I wanted to tear down the world around me. I know now it was wrong, I know I should have looked for a different way out, but at the time I was hurting and lost and just wanted it all to end.
Not but three weeks after my grandmothers death, I started to try opening "doors" and "pulling" things though. In all honesty I didn't need to try that hard. She already lived at my home.
Therefore, when my grandmother went "home", I started to look for another way to the other side. I got pretty dark for a while. Looking into and about things I had no business looking into. I came home one afternoon from school and looked around the house for my mother, but she wasn't anywhere to be found. I was walking into the "Hobby" room when I heard something shuffling around in my mothers bedroom, so I went to take a look, thinking it was her. I walked in and couldn't see her so thought maybe she was putting or pulling something under the bed. So I stepped in a little further, only to find no one there.
I shrugged, learning by now there were SEVERAL people there besides us, I turned to walk out the room and there she was. I couldn't see her face for her hair. It wasn't like in the horror movies were the hairs literally pulled over the face, it's just that her head was to far forward, and the room was to dark to see (though I doubt I would have been able to see her even if the lights were on and the shades not drawn.). I took a step back, because even then I had a "bubble" issue, but she stepped with me, keeping the distance between us the same. I walked around her in a circular motion and as I got to the door of the bedroom, she reached out as if to grab my arm, as if to keep me from leaving the room. Then disappeared. I turned and bolted.
I told my mom about it, but she told me she was harmless. That she died from suicide. That she was just lonely. I never saw her leave the Master Bedroom of the house. She wouldn't even go into the master bathroom, which was right next door to the Master bedroom and lead into the "hobby" room. Stopping at the door, she'd stand there, her head down, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and button down over shirt. She was terrifying to me. Her anger radiated from her and filled the room until you could almost taste it. Her depression was overwhelming to the point, for me, that if I even went near the bedroom I felt like crying, or screaming.
The weeks passed into months and I would see her, but not go near her. I made excuses not to go into the room when asked, but with my mother, that didn't last that long. On afternoon she told me to go get something and that was the end of the conversation. She gave me the look, which meant do it or get beat. So I got up and took several deep breaths. I tried to force myself to walk calmly, but I could feel her the moment I went into the room. And depression went to anger as soon as I stepped over the threshold of the door. It was as if she was saying "HOW DARE YOU!" to me with the amount of pressure that was there. Then I felt it. It raked down my arm like white hot fire. I grabbed what I came for and bolted out of the room.
Reaching my mother I did something I would not have the courage to do again until I moved out and away form my mothers house. I looked her strait in the face and told her I wasn't going back into that room, I didn't care what she did. For the first time in years she stopped and looked at me, I mean really looked at me. She said I was ghost white and my eyes were as big as plates. Then she saw the blood. It wasn't but a scratch, but it was enough.
I stayed out and away from that room for the duration of my time at that house. The teen was always there afterwards, waiting for me. I didn't go near her, and if I EVER went into the "hobby" room, I had someone with me. This makes the top ten of the scariest things I've come across so far in my life, and I don't mean on the lower half of my list. I don't know if she was human even, but I know she didn't like me, or she wanted something from me I was NOT willing to give. I eventually got out of Sadism on my 15th birthday. Putting away and sealing all doors I opened in order to join my mother in the Catholic Church for about a year, with the help of a shamanic friend of mine.
Again, I don't need help with this one. I'm just sharing an experience with you.
Loading comments....
No I didn't worship Satan. It's a little more complicated then that, and I'm sensitive as it is. Meaning that Spirits are drawn to me. They seek me for help sometimes. It's not something I can nessiceraly control. It's just something that happens.
As for the leaving the home. I was only 12 years of age when this happened and I didn't have a choice as to WERE we lived. It was not my choice. The fact that my mother was fasinated and wanted to 'explore' the house more just made things worse.
I've learned not to run from what scares me. Even though it's different or strange... Or see through... Dosent mean that it's bad. It may just need help, and we did have the house blessed SEVERAL times. It didn't do any good because of the fact that the spirits in the house were once human. A priest can only expel that that means us harm from an evil sorce. (a deamon or the like)
As for were you live. I have heard you have some beautiful land scapes. But in the south some employ the same tactics. People shone or turn their backs on what they don't understand or can't explain or don't think is 'right' or ' normal' And I can almost gareente you, I am considered nither. I'm a once devorced mother of two who see's those who have passed, amoung other things. I could, with certainty, say that you would not talk to me.