Last week I made a discovery that has changed my home. A discovery that I was hesitant to believe at first. A discovery that I was hesitant to act on. A discovery that I don't think I could have dreamed up in 1,000 years.
* * * * *
For the past seven years, my home has creaked, groaned, popped, snapped, emitted strange smells, and in general, let me know that we are not alone. Growing up, I thought all homes did that, but then we moved into this pace, and for the first three years, all was quiet.
* * * * *
It was about 10:30 one evening in the week before TheWrangler was born. My sister had come up to help out, and we were sitting up chatting, when there was a loud pop from the picture window. It seemed as though a shaft of light had shot through it and been absorbed by the living room carpet.
"That's weird," I stared at the window, wondering what to make of it. "Nothing like that has ever happened here before."
"Something must be up," she replied, and I agreed, wondering what.
Over the next few weeks pops, groans and snapping sounds became the norm. My mother came up to join us, after the baby was born, and I figured a house full of people had uncovered things that had lay hidden.
Some of it calmed down after they left and we settled into life, accepting the new noises as a part of everyday life. Then stranger things began to happen. Children were tripping over air. Fights would break out, as someone swore that someone else -- who had been across the room -- had hit them.
I didn't know what to make of these things. It was early spring and the snow had lost all of its luster. No one wanted to play outside. No one wanted to be civil. Cabin fever... or so I thought, until one afternoon.
I was watching some children drawing at the table. One little boy had pushed his chair aside and was standing up, concentrating on his project, when suddenly his knees crumpled and his feet flew out from under him, landing him on his back. It was like he had been hit in the legs with a pole.
It was at this point that I decided these 'noises' were not acceptable, and began researching their causes. Most sources said that the noises were caused by excess energy or residual memories. The smells and other occurrences were linked to entities, which are thought to be linked to the ground and thrive on electricity. The more people in the house, the greater chance of seeing/hearing something. Basically, it added up. But it wasn't things I could live with.
I couldn't stand by and watch the children get hurt. I talked to a good friend of mine, who isn't squeamish about such things, and she talked to some others. I took their advice and began implementing it. It made a difference, one tiny bit at a time... but after several years of working at things and remodeling at least 1/3 of our house, the problem was far from gone.
Discouraged by this, I talked to my friend again. She said, "I hate to say this, but you have done everything. If things don't change, I think you should consider moving."
In my heart, I knew she was right. I had tried everything that was suppose to make a difference. I didn't want to move. This house has finally become our home, and there was this nagging feeling: What if it follows us? What if we do move, but the problems don't stay behind? And, could I in good conscious, sell the home?
Last week, I was sitting up reading, aggravated that the kids wouldn't stay in bed and go to sleep. Several times I had hollered for them to get in bed and go to sleep. This brought a moments silence, but that was all. I was just about to go down and make them get in bed, when I realized it might not be them...
"MrMuscles!" I called, knowing he was the most likely to tell all. "Come here!"
He stumbled up the stairs, "What Mom?" He looked so tired.
"What's going on down there?"
"What do you mean? We were sleeping."
"All of you?"
"Yeah. Or think so. Everyone was quiet."
"Why didn't anyone respond when I told you all to get back in your beds?"
"I didn't hear you. When did you holler?"
"Several times over the last half hour."
"But we were sleeping."
"You want to sit down and talk to me?"
"Sure Mom." He took a seat, and for the next while we talked about this and that. I continued glancing at my book from time to time, hoping that curiosity would lure any awake boy out of bed. That I could catch them. I hear the fireplace making noise -- it sounded like the door had been opened and a log added. "Giggles must not be sleeping," MrMuscles commented.
I snuck down the stairs, sure I would catch someone, but the room was empty. The other boys appeared to be asleep. Returning upstairs, I shook my head, wondering what to do. Moving seemed like the only option. Then the idea came: There were never any noises in this house until your sister came.
What's that got to do with anything? I questioned.
What if all of this was brought here by her? What if it has nothing to do with the house?
There was a time when I would have thrown such thoughts out. I would have utterly rejected them. But, knowing what I know now about her... dealing with her lies, ridding myself of the misinformation she fed me for years, knowing that she wasn't the friend I believed her to be, I thought, "What if?" It couldn't hurt to pray.
I interrupted my son's talking, "Give me a moment. I've got to figure something out."
"Okay," he shrugged, looking at the book in my hands.
"Lord," I prayed, "I don't know what to make of this idea, but I ask You to remove anything in this house that is here because of my sister's influence. I ask you to remove it completely or send it back to her, which ever is better. Amen."
I continued to stare at my book for a moment, waiting. I couldn't hear a single creak. There was only silence. Resuming the conversation with my son, I continued to wait. I wasn't ready to believe anything yet.
After 15 minutes or so, MrMuscles asked, "What did you do? It is quiet in here."
"I prayed," was the only answer I gave him.
He nodded, "Things are gone. There is nothing in this room. I can't feel anything in the house."
I nodded in agreement. It seemed to good to be true.
About half an hour after I prayed, I felt a presence enter the house. "
Your sister's here," MrMuscles pointed towards the dinning room wall, where the shadow of a woman was clearly visible.
"I know." I told him.
He looked from me to her shadow, putting two and two together. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know." Again, I began praying, asking for wisdom.
She stalked around the house, looking here and there, then she came near me. I knew that when she traveled in spirit she often had the ability to read what someone else was reading or writing, so I picked up my phone and wrote her a note, telling her that this was my house and that she had no jurisdiction in it.
I could feel her anger and resentment boiling. I started to defend myself with words, when I realized there was no need for such. I didn't need to explain myself to her. Suddenly I remembered something my son had been telling me before she showed up, "
Our cousin says that his mom practices magic. When she is angry, she can slap him without even being in the same room as him. I've seen it too. She knocked him down one time when we were there. You all were in the house and we were outside, but you could see her, and she hit him. She slapped me too." I hadn't known what to make of his words. Imaginative, or something more? I know he doesn't like his aunt...
But... if she could hit him, then *pow!* I sent my fist right through her nose. For a moment it was like I had hit something solid, then my hand passed through it to the wall behind.
"You got her!" he cheered.
It was true, and best of all, she was gone.
* * * * *
Like I said at the beginning, it has been a week now. The house is silent, except for the noises we make. It is peaceful too. Peaceful everywhere -- not just where we have remodeled. Furthermore, I haven't smelled anything strange all week.
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Psionic:
adj. pertaining to the psychic, telepathic, or paranormal, especially related to such phenomena that is under a person's conscious control ( i.e. a psion ). [Wordnik]
Psionics refers to the practice, study, or psychic ability of using the mind to induce paranormal phenomena. Examples of this includes empathy, telepathy, telekinesis, and other workings of the outside world through the psyche. [
Wikipedia]
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Xx Molly
One thing I hate about keeping a journal is that it is hard to know what is truly significant. What is going to impact your life in the long run? Is it the events of the day or that stray thought you can't shake? Maybe it is a daydream that causes you to look at life in a different way, or maybe it is someone you meet, that you don't think you'll ever come across again...
