Life After A Haunting
The anxiety in the dark never really goes away.
Sixteen years ago, the unexplained happened. In the early hours of the morning, myself, my then housemate, and her little boy, climbed out of my bedroom window to escape the attack of darkness that happened throughout that entire night. We were met with laughter and accusations of lying.
I’m a true horror movie fan. To this day, I watch them alone and with all of the lights out. I love getting caught up in the feeling of fear and dread that oozes from the screen. It’s a fun ride. Then, when the movie is over, I return back to reality. I assume most would never watch a scary movie again after a night of real-life terror. I guess I’m just a bit weird
Looking back on that night, it is the most frightened I’ve ever been. I actually feared for my life. The madness one feels when things are happening around them that the brain cannot explain is wild. When confusion is intertwined with red hot fear, it’s an unexplainable feeling. I still think of that night. I still check my closet.
The habits that one forms after such a night are daunting. Turning lights off create an immediate sense of minor panic. That maybe I’ll see something that wasn’t there before I switched the light off. The inability to have my closet door stand open. These are just a couple of examples of how life changed in the aftermath.
The only thing that truly helped me hold onto my sanity afterward was my housemate. She was there. She saw things also. Things she couldn’t explain either. We both felt a feeling of stagnant dread throughout the night, even before the ghosts, spirits, entities, whatever you want to call them, appeared.
I researched the paranormal after that night. We were attacked. I was attacked. This was a hostile experience. I can’t explain why. I have my ideas, but they are just that, ideas. It has never happened to me since, and I believe the same is true for my then housemate.
After something like this happens, not being believed is almost worse than the experience. To have others not believe what you tell them is painful. Frustrating. Maddening. We, of course, had no proof to show others. And that’s what they really want. They want to see anything that will explain what they’re being told.
Trying to convince those who are skeptical of what you’re telling them is a total waste of time. My housemate and I decided, not long after the start of telling people what happened, that we weren’t going to talk about it to others anymore. I personally got very upset and angry when I wasn’t believed.
I’m not a religious person, but we even brought a priest to the house the day after that night. We stayed in a hotel for over a week. My housemate wanted to sell the house. When we finally went back to the house, we spent the entire day moving the furniture around, and re-hanging pictures on the walls to different parts of the house. We took every measure to make the house not look the way it did that night.
A shadow man, an old woman with deepened eye sockets and the appearance of a melting face, significant drops in temperature, and choking are just a few things that filled that night. It’s been years since I’ve spoken about what happened. As time passed, it was just pushed to the back of my mind.
Every now and then, while trying to go to sleep, I will lay with my eyes closed and fear opening them, in case I see that woman again. It never truly goes away, the underlined fear. It probably never will. It’s certainly not a night that I will ever forget. It’s hard to remember specific details of events that are over a decade old, but I have been able to recall the exact details of that night with no problem.
Recently I was asked if I had ever seen a ghost before. I told this friend that I had a story to tell if they would be open-minded. I dove into the story after all of this time, and my friend replied when I’d finished, ”You could write a book about that.”
What a novel idea. So, I’ve begun writing said book. It is proving to be pretty therapeutic. I’m sixteen years older than I was then, and although that was the scariest experience of my life, it’s not as scary anymore for me to think about it. I’ve always wanted to write a book, so I’m amazed I never thought to write one based on that night.
I don’t tell the story often. Barely at all, really. So it’s an interesting development for me to be putting pen to paper about it. At the end of the day, though, I’m a horror movie and scary story lover. It’s rather exciting to have a story to add to a genre I love so much. A silver lining I’m grateful to have found.
So, next time someone tells you a story of something paranormal that happened to them, do them a kindness and believe them. Most people wouldn’t make something like that up. Also, pay attention to the details. The details are never forgotten. So if you hear them tell the story to someone else, you’ll probably hear the exact amount of details being told to that person that was told to you.
We’re approaching October. The best part of the year (in my opinion). So do yourself a favor, shut off the lights, and put on a scary movie. Just remember, it never hurts to check under the bed or in the closet… just in case.
