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Showing posts with label ghosts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ghosts. Show all posts

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.  


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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."


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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.


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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.

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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?"

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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.



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