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.”
“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.