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Before You Pack Those Bags....

Sunday, January 30, 2011

This is a re-post that I thought I needed to read over again. You see I'm leaving for Hawaii on Wednesday and I had to remind myself of what needed to be done before I leave and after I come home. Wolves,  kids, I tell ya, they're around every corner with their bags of tricks.

Raising a pack of wolves big family has taught me what to do before, and after, parental vacations. I feel it's my obligation to pass along these handy tips, all gathered by personal experience, to parents everywhere considering a getaway.

Before leaving:
Always inform neighbors and give them written permission to call police. Drop hints of this in casual conversation with kids.

Supply neighbors with binoculars and/or telescopes. 

Count number of children and pets before leaving.

Note mileage, gas level and radio station of the parental vehicles.

Always take note of the amount of garbage (and recycle) in the outside can(s) before leaving and upon return. If there’s less when you return you can be certain that someone has some 'splainin' to do.

Give kids your itinerary showing you'll return one day later than you actually will.

Be sure to leave emergency money/credit card and check receipts against change/statements.

Hide all duct tape and rope.

If the bedspread, comforter on the parental bed is upside down, big trouble is ahead for lucky unlucky kid(s).

Count bottles of beer in the refrigerator and mark level of all liquor bottles. 

Upon return:

If kids are overly anxious to greet you, suspect that they're engaging in a distraction technique.

Make sure parental TV lock has not been hacked.

Look through digital cameras, cell phone pictures and Facebook pages. Kids tend to be dumb and will take pictures and post evidence of their dirty deeds.

Always check to see if those little indentations in the carpet from the furniture are showing. If they are the furniture has been moved.

Search all cabinets and walls, even behind plants, for signs of cherry tomato fights.

Check grout lines, and beneath items on kitchen counter, for a white powdery substance that was most probably used in a flour fight.

Check youngest kids for bruises.

Examine all picture frames to see if they've been changed out.

Search the house for new bottles of Super Glue.

Make sure dogs still have whiskers and eyelashes.

If house is sparkling clean, you know that something's up.

Always peruse

If all else fails pay off the weakest link.


The Winners And Sugar

Friday, January 28, 2011

The polling was a success the winners are:



So those will go with me to Hawaii and will be featured in all drunken photos and videos.

Now for my challenge. When I get to 500 followers I'm going to do a vlog ala Cheeseboy. I will vlog, most of but not all, of my next sugaring hair removal. See, since it's a Brazilian I can't vlog the entire thing, but you'll get the picture, well some of it.

What is sugaring you might ask? Well it's like waxing hair removal except it uses sugar, lemon and water that's cooked into a ball. It's really, really cool. I'll never wax again!

Then I may just vlog when I get my new tattoo. I seem to be in a vlogging mood lately.

I seem to be having a touch of a panic attack today, Where in the hell is my xanex?


You Tell Me Which Bikini!

Thursday, January 27, 2011

I'm having a hard time picking two to take to Hawaii with me. Tell me which you like best. Pick the winners!






Not Really The Same Thing

Some of the keywords that led to my blog this week were "murderous thoughts" and "bipolar murderous thoughts."

I can't say I really had murderous thoughts this week, but I did have a few "I wish you would freaking die" thoughts, so not really the same thing.

Actually the "I wish you would freaking die" thoughts have pretty much consumed me. Hmmm, can those be considered "murderous thoughts?"

I need to get some really cool keyword searches. Like, I don't know, you tell me. 


All Is Good

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Had more blood work today.

No cancer, no infections, no bone marrow problems. Just a little anemia and unexplained weight loss.

Oh and my white blood count is back up to normal.

Major changes coming in my life, but it's good.

That's all until I can come up with something entertaining to say.

Oh, I asked my friend, Cheeseboy, if I could copy an idea of his. When I get to 500 followers I'll do a vlog on my sugaring, well, maybe not all of the sugaring, but a good bit of it.

Thank you Cheeseboy!


Invincible? Me?

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Diva? Bipolar? Bipolar? Diva? What the hell? I did a post on the similarities of the two parts of my personality a while ago, but yesterday I had to try to explain it to my psychiatrist. That was a challenge. You should have seen her face. It was priceless. Her expression left me scrambling for words, but being invincible I think I succeeded.

Invincible, that word came up a time or two. You see if you're one of the lucky ones to have the URL for my other blog you know everything, but on this one I have to be a little more careful so I'll try to explain what happened yesterday while being a bit vague. I'll explain in much more detail on the other site tonight. By the way if you want that URL, and meet my crazy criteria, email me at and I'll send you the top secret application. Well, not really I'll just make sure you can handle what you read and not judge me.

I must be manic, I keep getting off track, I just love mania and I love that I'm mostly manic, it makes me who I am and I think that's a good thing. Luckily my bipolar is very mild and I'm 99% on the happy, outgoing side. The other part has been almost totally controlled with the meds, so hey, I win. If I win, everyone wins.

Off track again. So I'm explaining to her this decision I've made. She asked me about the consequences and if I'd thought of them. I told her I had and they really didn't seem that bad to me. She gave me that look and I knew I was sunk.

"Teri, does that maybe sound like you think you're invincible?"

Oh shit! I was busted. Invincible, a huge bipolar symptom. I thought I was so over that, but she made sense. I'm stubborn, and I guess I was feeling invincible. I tried to justify my decision, didn't work. She won. I would say I lost, but I really didn't. It was a win-win situation. She rocks.

And anyway, being invincible isn't so bad. I take on challenges, I have fun and isn't invincibility a super power? Ha, I win. 


Diva Rules Redux

Friday, January 21, 2011

One of my way cool friends saw my last post and made this for me. Yes, he rocks!

Also I got this cool award, because I rock, from Cat over at Tattered Rebel. I LOVE her! Go for a visit, you will too!

Anyway, now I'm supposed to tell you seven totally random things about me. That's hard, because, I mean, what is there that you don't know already? I'll give it a shot. There are some things you don't know, but I can't share those secrets since I haven't told the affected person yet. Damn!

1. I'm totally crushing, in a major way, on someone right now!

2. I've lost fifty pounds and have no idea why.

3. I'm seeing an oncologist on Tuesday to see if they can figure something out.

4. I've bought plane tickets and made hotel reservations for Texas! I leave Feb. 22!

5. I'm going to be a great-aunt any minute now and I'm ecstatic!

6. My bestest friend lives 2300 miles away.

7. I can't wait for warm weather to quench my lust for motorcycle  :)


Diva Rules

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Just in case you've ever wondered, here are the rules for having a happy Diva.



In A House Possessed, The End

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

If you're new to my site, or this true story, you'll need to start at the beginning so you're not lost.  part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight.  You'll be hooked!

No sooner than we had walked in the house, after leaving the police station, than someone knocked at the door.

I peeked out of the window and saw two women standing there looking around at the house. One lady had her hands up and was moving them as if she were feeling an imaginary wall. The other one looked on and occasionally nodded her head.

The strange way they were behaving made me suspicious. I told the kids to stay inside and I went out onto the screened in porch.

“Can I help you?

“Yes, we’d like to talk to you about your house.”

“My house?”

“Yes, you see my sister is a psychic.” She pointed to the woman that had been waving her hands. She had long, frizzy, red hair pulled into a haphazard braid. She was clutching the crystal that hung from her neck by a chain.

“A psychic?” I said with more than a little apprehension.

“Yes, do you mind if we come in. My sister said she felt a strong spiritual presence when she drove past this house.”

“Yes I did,” said the psychic sister, “as a matter of fact I think this house is possessed by entities.”

Entities? Really, entities? No, it’s a freaking murdered woman and, truthfully, it was her house first. I wasn’t so sure I wanted these people in the house but curiosity got the best of me.

“Come on in. Excuse the mess.” The house was cluttered with Barbies, baby toys and various other kid associated items.

“It’s not the human mess that bothers me,” said the psychic. “This house is teeming with energy, none of it pleasant. Can you have the children leave the room please?”

I had the kids grab some of their toys and sent them to their bedroom.

The psychic continued, “I’ve driven by this house several times and each time the energy feels stronger than the time before. Was there a murder here?”

“You’re not from around here are you?” I said sarcastically.

“No, no. My sister and I came to visit our aunt. We’ve only been in town a week. But this house keeps pulling me toward it. There are spirits here that want to speak. Do you know any of the history?”

“Yes, three years ago a teenager murdered his mother in the kitchen.”

The frizzy haired psychic nodded her head and asked about the child.

“What child? A child was murdered?”

“No, I feel the child was allowed to live. She was protected.”

I was officially freaked out then. I was never going to sleep again.

“The mother is here," she said. "She’s not sure why people are in her home, but she's adjusting. She loves your kids, she's protected them. There are invited entities here too. They’re getting angry. They feel you’ve taken their home. Have you noticed anything? Heard anything, seen anything?”

I gave her a run down on what had happened since we moved in.

“They want you out of here. The incidents are only going to escalate. It sounds as if they have chosen your husband as their puppet. I feel energy in the back, coming from that house. What is it?"

I told her that it had been a garage that was turned into a guest house. I told her we thought that Tony had lived there. I also mentioned her that Mrs. Flores had caught her son summoning spirits in that house.

She walked around the house cocking her head as if she were listening to some one, something. She didn’t say a word, but it looked as if she was communicating with whatever was there.

“Ma’am, you need to leave here. It's going to get worse the longer you stay. These spirits were invited in by the boy. They’ve claimed this property as their own. I feel the lives of your family are at stake. They’ve controlled your husband once, just like they did Tony, they’ll do it again.”

“We decided this week that we would be moving out.”

The psychic looked me straight in the eye. Putting her hand on my shoulder she said, “The sooner, the better.”

My heart was racing, my breathing was labored, my thinking was muddled. I felt the room swirling around me. I couldn’t speak.

“Ma’am, you need to understand the seriousness of this. They want you out. They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want. They’ve murdered once for this house, they’ll do it again.”

“We are leaving. Please, tell them we’re leaving!” I was hysterically crying and pleading with the psychic to tell them we were leaving. “Please tell them not to hurt the kids, we’re leaving as soon as we can.”

The psychic walked through the house with one hand on her crystal and the other one waving in the air. She was communicating, although not with words.

“They have heard your pleas. Their attempts to get you to leave will cease, but you have to leave soon.”

With that they said their goodbyes and thanked me for allowing them inside.

In the days that followed we packed and moved things from the house and into a small apartment several blocks away. It seemed the psychic was correct, the feeling of evil and dread had lifted some. Maybe we were just concentrating on getting away or maybe the spirits were satisfied that they would have the house to themselves soon.

Near the end of that week everything was out of the house except for a few pieces of bedroom furniture and some miscellaneous boxes. The truck we had borrowed was not available over the weekend so we decided to return the following week to finish moving things and to clean the house.

That weekend was the most peaceful one we had experienced since moving to Port Isabel six months earlier. The kids laughed and played, the tension had left the family and we felt free once again. No longer did I feel a presence following me. Karli said the lady was gone and the dog was no longer barking. I could not wait to get our remaining items and be rid of the house and its supernatural occupants forever.

The following Monday we borrowed the truck again for our final trip to the house. As soon as we pulled up into the driveway it felt as if we were being enveloped in a thick, cold fog. Ed and I looked at each other, drew in long breaths and gathered our courage to enter the house once more. We walked up the broken concrete pathway. Each step felt more labored than the last. As we opened the screen door the presence was back. It seemed more evil, more aggressive than before.

Ed put the key into the lock, turned it and opened the front door. As we entered the house the existence of evil was overwhelming. This time it wasn't just evil that we felt, but danger. Whatever it was did not want us back into that house. It had reclaimed the dwelling, human residents would no longer be tolerated.  Together Ed and I ran from the home not bothering to retrieve the last of our belongings. We were gone. We were free and we would never return.  


In A House Possessed, Pt 8

Friday, January 14, 2011

If you're new to my site, or this true story, you'll need to start at the beginning so you're not lost.  part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven.  You'll be hooked!

Karli when she was about four.
I woke up early the morning after the attack. I laid there, in my blood splattered bedroom, for several long minutes trying to make sense of the night before. I looked at the blood that was everywhere, on the walls, the curtains, on the furniture. All the pictures in the room had been destroyed. I thought of the kids and went to wake them. Karli and Cole were already up and dressed. They were in the kitchen eating tortillas and cheese.

"Hi mommy," Karli said, "the lady said we had lots to do today. I made Cole some breakfast." I wasn't ready to hear what Mrs. Flores wanted us to do. That could wait. Karli seemed happy so no need to pry at the moment.

"It looks like you've done a great job."  I told her as looked out of the kitchen window to the guest house. I hadn't been near it since that day Eric was there. He had warned me and he was right. I could feel the evil seeping out of it as I looked on. Quickly I turned back toward the kids and led them from the kitchen.

I sat them in front of the TV, I didn't want them wandering back to see the mayhem in my bedroom. I went to get dressed. It didn't take me long to throw on a pair of cut off shorts and a tee shirt. I brushed my teeth, pulled my hair into a ponytail and we were on our way.  I was going to follow the officer's recommendation and get a restraining order.

Since it was early, and not yet too hot, we decided to walk. I put Cole in his stroller and we began our trek to the police station. Karli ran ahead picking up rocks, stuffing them into her pockets and singing songs of a happy child. Cole chattered and giggled. The walk was nice. Port Isabel really was a quaint little coastal town. Too bad we hadn't been able to truly enjoy it.

Within a few minutes we were at the police station. Karli ran up to the door and held it open so I could push Cole through. We were only in the station a few short minutes when I saw what this small station called its evidence locker. It was more of a glass display case than an evidence locker.

I guess they didn't need a lot of room seeing that nothing much ever happened there. We had to walk past the case to go into the main office area. The case was nearly full of various bits of evidence but the only item in it that I focused on was a blue and silver, badly dented, metal baseball bat.

"No," I thought, "surely that can't be the bat Tony used on his mom." As we neared the locked case I saw that the bat was even more dented than it originally appeared and had brown stains on it, blood stains. I began to feel sick. Then I saw the tag that read "Flores" about that same time Karli said

"Look mommy, it's Tony's bat!"

I grabbed Karli by the shoulders and knelt down to look in her eyes. "Karli, how do you know about Tony?"

"The lady told me" she answered.

"Has she told you anything else?" She thought for a minute before she answered.

"Just that she and the others want the house back. They want us to leave. She doesn’t know why we’re staying in her house."  So there were others in the house, just as the priest had said.

“Karli, what else did the lady say about Tony?”

“That she loved him a lot and didn’t know why he was so mad at her. She thinks that it was the devil and not Tony that hurt her. How did Tony hurt her mommy?”

I stood up and looked back at the bat. There would be no need for a restraining order. I had to wonder if she and her friends were the reason that Ed had changed so much, the reason for the fight, the blood and the soulless eyes. I knew it was the reason for the dog going crazy. What was needed was to get out of the house as soon as possible. We left the station and went to find Ed to tell him that we had to get out.


A Favor Before I Finish

Thursday, January 13, 2011

I want to ask you all a big favor. My grandson has a blog and I'm his only follower. He really wants more. The reason this is so important to me is that this boy has been through hell and back. Maybe you remember me writing about my grandson being "hurt." That was him. Special Victims Unit is actively looking for the offender.

His baby brother was Isaiah, the one that we lost. Then his next brother and sister were born three months early and the possibility of their deaths was with him every day. His mom, Karli, has to endure surgery after surgery.

Jake needs something he can feel proud of, something that he can use as an escape. If you could follow him, I would be forever grateful.

He doesn't write much and his posts are the short posts of a 10 year old boy. His blog is called "House of Monkies."

Thanks guys, I love you all.


In A House Possessed, Pt 7

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

If you're new to my site, or this true story, you'll need to start at the beginning so you're not lost.  part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six. You'll be hooked!

Over the next several days my feeling of uneasiness grew. Although it was relatively quiet, there seemed to be a growing presence of evil in the house. The kids were cranky. The dog was barking continually and I could feel something following me throughout the house. I was scared to move, I was scared to breathe.

I had to get away, if even for one evening. On one of Ed's rare nights off we made plans to go out for dinner in Mexico with friends.

Yolanda, a girl that he worked with, came to watch the kids while we were out. She had no fear and assured me that all would be well. We were off to Matamoros for cabrito and margaritas. As we traveled through the narrow cobblestone streets to the open air restaurant the stress of the Flores house was lifted away into the warm summer breeze.

For a wonderful few hours laughter took the place of dread and margaritas quelled the fear.  All too soon it was over and we were home. Yolanda reported nothing strange and the kids were sound asleep. I walked the sitter to her car and as I returned to the house I began to feel the effects of the night's dinner. I felt sick and needed to lie down.

I went to the couch and Ed offered to get me ice cream in the hopes that it would calm my upset stomach. While he was in the kitchen scooping out the dessert, the baby began to cry. He stuck the spoon he was using deep into the ice cream and went to check on Cole.

He was only gone a few seconds when I heard a crash in the kitchen. I got up from the couch thinking that the cat had gotten into something. When I stepped into the kitchen I saw the spoon Ed had been using laying on the tile floor across the room from the counter the ice cream was on.

On the wall about five feet above the floor was fresh ice cream dripping down. I stood there looking first at the counter where the ice cream was and then back to the wall,  over ten feet away,  where the spoon had hit. I screamed and Ed came running into the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" he yelled as he spun me around. I began to cry uncontrollably as I tried to tell him what had happened. I didn't think I could take it any longer. After a few minutes I was calm enough to tell him what had I’d witnessed.

He began laughing and teasing me about spirits and demons. His laughter soon turned dark and his teasing more hateful. I looked into his eyes as he laughed. They were black and soulless. I started praying for God to protect me, obviously the priest’s prayer wasn’t working all that well.

 He mocked me saying there was no God.

His laughter continued. I turned to run. He caught me by my hair and pulled me back. I was fighting with all I had. I was able to get away and into the bedroom. I slammed the door shut and was able to lock it before he could get in.

I was frantically searching for the phone when he kicked the door open and burst in. He slammed it shut and locked it behind him. He had a screwdriver in his hand and a look of bitter hatred in his eyes. He ripped the phone from it's outlet and started coming after me. There was no way of escape and I had a lunatic coming at me with a screwdriver.

He grabbed me and pinned me to the wall. As he raised the screwdriver into the air I was crying out  for him to stop. Suddenly he let me go and began stabbing his own hand over and over again.

Blood splashed into my face and onto the wall behind me. He left me and started to slash the pictures of the children that were on the dresser. With his attention on the pictures, I was able to get out of the room.

I grabbed the phone in the hallway and punched the zero before I ran out of the house.  I was in the street when he caught up with me. I turned to fight back before he reached me. I felt I was fighting for my life.

In the distance I heard a siren and I screamed for help. Suddenly a patrol car was in front of me. Ed stopped and the hatred was gone. He had a look of bewilderment on his face.

The officers were the same ones that had come the first night. Ed was told to leave until morning. The officers stayed with me until I had stopped crying. They told me that I should get a restraining order and outlined the steps that were needed to obtain one.

As they were leaving the shorter officer took me aside and said that in his opinion I needed to take my kids and leave the house, that my husband had fallen victim to the spirits. I was thinking of what he said as I went to check on the kids. Cole was asleep. Karli was awake and nodding her head to something being whispered in her ear by someone unseen to me. 


In A House Possessed, Pt 6

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

If you're new to my site, or this true story, you'll need to start at the beginning of this tale.  part one, part two, part three, part four, part five. You'll be hooked!

Well I had news for the police. Mrs. Flores wasn't outside of the house, she was inside. Somehow I had to get her, or whatever it was, out.

That next morning I went to see the town priest. He welcomed me into his small, cluttered office and listened intently as I told him all that had happened in the short time we had lived in the Flores Family's old home.

When I finished he removed his glasses and placed them on his old wooden desk. He leaned back in his chair and began to tell me about Mrs. Flores.

She was a kind woman that had been actively involved in the church for many years. She had adored Tony, her only son, and was a wonderful mother to him and his younger sister.

He didn't see any way that what we were experiencing was the spirit of Mrs. Flores. He was certain that upon her death she was instantly in the presence of her Lord. He then leaned forward, folded his arms and leaned on the desk.

He was looking me square in the eye when he asked me what I knew of Tony.  I said I knew nothing. "The boy got involved with the occult. His mother came to me about a week before her death," he said as he shook his head.

"She caught Tony and several friends trying to summon spirits, in fact she believed they had succeeded. She was devastated and pleaded for my help. I prayed for her and tried to talk to Tony but he wouldn't listen to me at all. The next week he killed her."

 As he finished he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped tears from his eyes before putting his glasses back on and continuing with his story. "I believe what you are dealing with are spirits, perhaps demons,  that Tony and his friends invited in. I'm not sure if you are aware that spirits can't just show up. They need an invitation. Once they're in it's hard to get them to leave. They claim ownership."

I could feel the hair on the back on my neck stand on end as he spoke. Goosebumps covered my body and I felt a chill in the air. I stared at him not knowing what to do or what to say. He asked if I would like him to come to the house and pray for the spirits to leave and for our protection.

"Yes, please. How soon can you be there?" He canceled his appointments for the afternoon and accompanied me back to the house.

He pulled his old station wagon into the driveway behind my car. When he got out he went to the edge of the property and began to pray, chant and sprinkle holy water on the ground. After several minutes we went into the home.

He went from room to room and praying and chanting.  He sprinkled holy water from a tiny glass jar in each doorway and on the sill of each window. He then prayed for me and my family, and for our protection.

"You shouldn't experience any further problem" he said as he smiled and shook my hand. As I watched him climb into his old car I wondered why,  if he had truly believed we wouldn't have any further problems, he had prayed for our protection.


In A House Possessed, Pt 5

Monday, January 10, 2011

If you're new to my site, or this true story, you'll need to start at the beginning of this tale.  part one, part two, part three, part four. You'll be hooked!

Several days went by with no obvious signs that Mrs. Flores was still in her home. Oh the dog was continuing to bark continually at nothing in the kitchen and the doors would choose whether or not they would open, but nothing that I could look at objectively and say "this place is haunted!"

I found two parts of myself constantly at battle. The logical side was telling me that there was always a reasonable, natural answer to everything. The spiritual side knew that we don't fight against flesh and blood but against principalities, wicked spirits and rulers in high places. But I had never experienced a wicked spirit that I had known of, so I brushed it off as much as was possible.

Deep inside though I knew it was true. There was something else in my home and just because I couldn't see it didn't make it any less real. I could feel the presence. I could sense the evil. My animals knew it was there and my children knew it was there.

During the day I could deal with it, but at night when the kids were in bed and the house was dark and quiet I was petrified. I kept the lights on, the TV on and the phone by my side. I stayed on the couch with my feet off the floor for hours until my husband came home or until I fell asleep.

One evening as I was sitting on the couch writing a letter to a friend I glanced out of the window and could see the lights flicker as they do when the wind blows the leaves of a tree, which is what I thought it was. That was until I remembered that the only trees in front of the house were palm trees and perhaps 30-40 feet tall.

Then I thought of the next logical thing. The cat must be trying to get in the house. As soon as I calmed, the cat sauntered out of the kids' room. It wasn't the cat. I got up off of the couch and went to check on the kids.

When I got to their room I saw a shadowy figure in the window. It was outside looking in. I panicked. I grabbed the phone and called police. I was frantic. Every scary movie that I had seen was running through my mind. I was about to be killed with an axe and my kids sold on the adoption black market.
I was sure that the phone line was going to be cut. I backed out of the room and slid down the wall. I sat in the floor hysterically crying to the police woman on the other end of the line.

After what seemed like an eternity she told me that I needed to hang up the phone, that the officers were at my front door. I couldn't move, I was frozen with fear. Suddenly there was pounding at the door. The officers were yelling for me to open the door. I dropped the phone and tiptoed into the living room. Maybe the intruder had heard me and was pretending to be the police. I leaned around the corner just enough to be able to see what was on the porch, to see if it was the police.

I saw a flashlight shining through the screen door. Then the officer that was holding the light shone it on his partner. I could see the flashing lights of the patrol car in the street. It was the police. I rushed to the door to let them in. As I opened the door I realized that they were on the outside of the screen door. It was still locked. The figure had been on the inside of the screen, it couldn’t have locked it again on it's way out. I went onto the porch to let the officers into the house.

The taller of the two followed me into the house, the shorter stayed outside. They were both Mexican but had no accent. The officer that came into the house had me explain what had happened. He asked me if the person looked like a “wetback.” As I was trying to figure out what he had meant I saw the shorter officer cautiously walk up to the door.

I was explaining that I wasn't sure I knew what a wetback looked like when the shorter of the two asked me if the figure had shorter curly hair.

"Yes, yes it did" I answered. Then he wanted to know how tall the figure was.  I told him that it appeared to be short, about 5'2" and heavy. I noticed as I spoke he became more pale and backed out of the door and away from the house. The other officer and I followed him into the yard.

"Ma'am,” he said, "do you know what day this is?" I thought about it but wasn't sure what he was talking about. I shook my head no. "Have you heard of Tony Flores?" I nodded. "This is the third anniversary of the day he murdered his mother here at this house. I believe what you saw was Mrs. Flores returning to her home."


In A House Possessed, Pt 4

Sunday, January 9, 2011

If you're new to my site or this story you need to begin with part one, part two and part three to catch up. You'll be hooked!

I awoke the following morning to a tropical breeze gently whispering through my bedroom. The white curtains were swaying as I lay in bed. I was gazing out of the window at the banana tree and thinking about what the babysitter had revealed the night before.

So what a woman was murdered in my kitchen? That had been three years before. The person responsible was in prison, he couldn't hurt us. The people in that town were superstitious and there was nothing to worry about. It could all be attributed to some weird shift in the paradigm.

I got out of bed and dressed for the day. The kids were already awake. I dressed them and made them something to eat. After breakfast we got our things together and went to buy groceries.

As I was pushing the cart through the aisles of the market Karli looked worried. I briefly thought that she may have heard what the sitter said but quickly dismissed it. We made certain that the kids could not have heard what was being discussed. There was no need to scare them. I asked my blonde, curly haired daughter what was bothering her. What she said sent chills through my body.

"Mommy the lady that lives in our house said that we need to move back to where we came from. She said that Ed is going to get mean."

"Karli, what are you talking about?" I asked.

"The lady, mommy, she comes into our room at night. She said we have to leave because Ed is going to hurt you." I tried to assure her that there was no lady. She must have been dreaming, but she was adamant.

I couldn't imagine Ed hurting me. He was very much a pacifist, and was never home. He had never laid a finger on me in the past and I was sure that he wouldn't in the future.

I wasn't ready to believe there were spirits in our home. Little things happened that I was all too ready to find some logical reason for. The trouble was that there weren't many logical reasons for the things that were happening.

The bathroom door would fly open. My first reaction was that a breeze must have blown it open, but there was no opening window in the bathroom. Lights would come on and go off. That had to be an electrical problem. I could feel someone in the room with me, but no one was there. I had to be playing into what the babysitter said.

No matter how much I tried to justify what was happening and ignore the words of the babysitter, I was beginning to become afraid. I was beginning to believe that there might be something to the words we had heard that night and, worse, I was beginning to believe that Karli was seeing someone, or something.

Maybe it was Mrs. Flores, or worse yet, maybe it was the result of the teenagers summoning spirits.

I had to face the fact that we were not alone.


In A House Possessed, Pt 3

Friday, January 7, 2011

If you're new to my site or this story you need to begin with part one and part two to catch up. You'll be hooked!

"No, and I don't want to know."

As I shouted those words I knew that I would have to know. All the weird little things that had been happening ran screaming through my head.

A closet door that was stuck and could not be opened would suddenly almost fly off the hinges. The bathroom window would be open or shut at one moment would be shut or open the next.  We had heard singing that we attributed to the neighbors next door. Our dog would bark and growl incessantly at something in the kitchen, but she refused to actually go in the kitchen. There was also an occasional feeling of someone else being in the room, of being watched. I'd never put them together, until then.

"OK, I have to know," I said as I gasped for breath. She asked us to remove the children from the room before she would tell us her story. I picked up the baby, grabbed Karli's hand and took them into their bedroom to play, shutting their door as I left. I quickly went back into the living room to find out the story of our home.

"Three years ago," she began, "a teenager named Tony Flores murdered his mother in the kitchen with a baseball bat."

"Oh holy shit," I thought, "this has no where to go but down."

It seems that Tony, then 15, had always been a wonderful boy and extremely devoted to his parents. He had been especially close to his mother. A year or so before the murder he fallen in with a group of kids that were heavily involved with drugs, and the occult.

Tony had been living in the guest house. That was where they boys would get high and call upon spirits and demons. That’s what Eric felt, the oppression of whatever was still there.

One afternoon, while his mother, was cooking he walked up behind her and, for no reason ever mentioned, bludgeoned her to death with a metal baseball bat. That explained the stains on the ceiling and curtains. It also explained the new vinyl floor in a house that had been vacant for three years.

Tony was sentenced as an adult and is now sitting in the State Prison. That was three years before we moved in. The house had been empty since the most horrifying murder that the sleepy little town had ever experienced. No one dared go near it. The babysitter began to tell us of the singing that had been heard coming from the house, and faces that had been seen in the windows.

"That is why I was so late. I was afraid to come over." We looked at her as she spoke not knowing what to think or what to say. After a few moments to let everything soak in, we asked if she was still up to watching our children. She said she was as long as we weren't late. We agreed to make it a quick dinner and return promptly.

Sitting over a dinner of fresh stone crab and Shrimp Louis I asked Ed if he knew about the history of the house.

"Yes," he said, "But it was such a good deal."

No wonder it was a good deal! It sat empty for three years with spirits running rampant.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I wanted to know, I needed to know. His answer was accurate. He said I wouldn't have moved in. Well hell no I wouldn't have moved in! It's not that I really believed in haunted houses, it's just that the whole thing was creepy.

We returned home early and the babysitter nearly bolted out of the house. The kids were safely asleep tucked into their beds. We thought all would be well, after all no one had actually seen any apparitions, yet.


In A House Possessed, pt 2

Thursday, January 6, 2011

If you're new to my site or this story you need to begin with part one to catch up. You'll be hooked!

Port Isabel, Texas. Our house is marked by the red pin.
The next few days were spent unpacking boxes, setting up house and getting to know the area.  The town was small and almost everything was within walking distance.  Coconut palms lined the narrow streets and the scent of the ocean filled the air. Ed was never home it. Being a chef meant longs nights working, an hour or two at the bar afterward to "unwind" and sleeping late the next morning.

The kids and I were generally on our own. Karli and I would put chubby baby Cole in his stroller and take long walks exploring all corners of this little South Texas vacation destination, Port Isabel. There were lagoons and state parks, colorful corner markets and a “festive” cemetery. The people we met were friendly and helpful and there were children everywhere. "The perfect place for my kids" I thought.

We began to make friends and the kids would play for hours in the street with the neighbor children. Karli's 4th birthday was nearing so we planned a big party. We hand made the invitations and took them to all the children on the block.  We threw ourselves into planning the party.

The large backyard of our home would be the perfect place for a children's party.  I hadn't been out there since Eric helped us move in. Although I didn't really put any stock in what he had to say about the guest house, I stayed away from it just in case.  I cut the overgrown grass and took the weed eater to trim around the house and the guest house. We picked up the fallen fruit and found a great place for a piƱata. As the day of the party neared we still had not heard back from anyone we’d invited.

We went to the children's homes one by one to make sure they received the invitations and to get a head count of those that would be attending. The first home we came to was a little orange stucco house.  The door behind the screen door was open and we could smell the heavenly scent of that evening's dinner being prepared. We knocked on the purple screen door frame and were greeted by the grandmother. 

Her little round face showed signs of nervousness as she saw us. We asked her about the party and I sensed the anxiety in her voice when she politely declined. "The children had plans" she told us.  She smiled politely but in her eyes there was fear. She backed away from the screen door, closed the wooden one and locked it.

 At the next two houses we had the same experience. I wasn't sure what was happening except that there wouldn't be any children at Karli's party besides my own.  With our invitations declined we took Karli to dinner to celebrate her day.

Our wedding anniversary was the same week as Karli's birthday. Ed and I had planned dinner at a cute little place on the beach to be followed by a night of dancing. We had been making calls to girls that his co-workers had suggested  for babysitters. One by one we were turned down as soon as they learned where we lived. This was beginning to get a little strange. I know that we were the new people in this close-knit, small town, but this was weird.

Finally we found a girl that said yes. We asked her to be at the house at 7 the following evening.  7 came and went with no girl and no phone call. Finally around 7:45 there was a knock at the door. The girl was finally there. She was a beautiful girl, about 21. She was Mexican with huge brown eyes framed by thick, dark lashes. Her hair was long, black and shiny.  She had it pulled back with a bow. She seemed very shy.

She listened intently as we explained about our children, their bedtimes and where we would be. When we were finished she asked us a unsettling question.

"Is this a scary house?"

"What?" I asked her trying to understand what she was talking about.

"You mean you don't know what happened here?"


In A House Possessed

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

 Twenty five years ago, in another life, I moved to an area outside South Padre Island, Texas. What I thought was going to be an adventure of sun, sand and beach fun turned out to be anything but. This is part one of our experience.

"Eric do you think this is the house?" My brother and I were parked in front of a small stucco home with a screened in front porch. The house number couldn’t be seen so Eric walked up to peek in the windows. "There are boxes in here. This must be it."

The house looked creepy. The trim on the house and the screened in porch was painted a dark terra cotta color. The paint was peeling off in big chunks. The yard was unkempt and overcome with weeds. The house looked cold, even in the 110 degree Texas heat.

My 17 year old brother and I had been driving for 12 hours on our way from Dallas to Port Isabel, Texas. We had a U-Haul truck, a packed car and two little kids. Karli was 3 and Cole had just turned one. My (ex) husband, Ed,  had taken a job in Port Isabel as a chef at the Yacht Club. He left weeks earlier to find a suitable home for the family. The kids and I stayed behind to get things in order and ready ourselves for the big move.

I unbuckled car seats and got the kids out of the car. Holding Cole in my arms and Karli by the hand we walked up the small pathway of cracked cement. Eric opened the ripped screen door for me and I went to the front door. I bent over and looked under the tattered mat. There was a key beneath it. Being a chef, Ed worked evenings so he wouldn't be home for hours. I picked up the key and opened the door. 

A feeling that I had never experienced rushed over me as I stepped into the house. It was a feeling of dread and uncertainty. The hairs on the back on my neck stood on end. I looked at my brother and was shocked. The color had drained from his face. He had beads of sweat forming on his brow. "Eric did you feel that?”  He looked at me, his eyes full of fear, and nodded yes. As quickly as the feeling came it was gone.

We shook it aside and began to look around. There was a nice sized living room that led into an over sized kitchen. There was a small master bedroom and a tiny room for the kids. The house had one bathroom with a shower and no bathtub.

Eric went out of the back door in the kitchen to check out the yard and the guest house. I found the kids something to snack on.  I could see from the kitchen window that there were banana trees, orange trees and a lime tree. Across the street was a coconut palm. It would be fun having those fruit trees on the property.

Eric opened the back door and stepped back into the kitchen. He was more pale then I'd ever seen him. He was trembling and looked as if he might fall at any moment. He caught himself on the edge of the tiled counter top. After a few minutes he was able to speak.

"Teri, don't ever go to the guest house.  There's something really bad back there."  I laughed trying to lighten up the situation.  "Oh, yeah? What's back there, a ghost?"   Eric wasn’t amused. He told me that he had never been as afraid as he was when he looked through the window and into black painted rooms.  "Teri, I'm telling you that something bad happened here."

It looks a lot different than when we were there.


A Wee Bit Pregnant

Life's been getting in the way here. Sorry I've been gone so long from posting and reading, but things are a wee bit upside down at the moment. I wonder if that's like being a wee bit pregnant?

Anyway, working on an amazing true-life story that you're not gonna believe. Hope to have the first part up tonight or tomorrow.


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