by: Daryel S.
I am writing about this for the first time. It has been 23 years ago, and I have never spoken of
it before. I was reading some of the accounts on your site; I thought this may be the time to
write about this event, so that I can bury it so to speak.
In 1984, I was 22 years old. I had moved in with my best friend, Justin and we shared the
expense of his mobile home. We did not rent the mobile home, as it was a used unit that
Justin purchased. He and I spent most of our free time partying with as many girls as we
could. The typical bachelor pad would best describe our home, although it was just a
temporary place to live - we still called it home. We had lived there about six months when
strange things began to happen. Justin and I were folding clothes in the master bedroom. It
was about 6:00 pm on a Thursday evening and everything was normal. We had the stereo
on and were playing albums. My stereo was a Monteverdi system which had a mute button
on the front. It was a large square button, which when pressed in, locked it into mute mode.
In the middle of a song the house went quiet. We looked at each other, and began to walk
down the hallway to the living room. When we looked at the stereo to determine what had
happened, we saw that the mute button had been pressed in and locked into place. We both
just looked at each other, because we were both together when this happened and the doors
to the outside were locked. We released the mute button and went on about our evening.
A few days later, things began to happen that had never happened before. Dishes, pots,
pans and glasses would start rattling in the kitchen. They made enough noise that it drowned
out the TV. It sounded like someone was having a fight with our dishes. We would walk into
the kitchen and as soon as we stepped in the room, the noise would stop. This occurred
almost every night thereafter, even when we had friends over. Most of our friends, except
those who were too scared, tried to sneak into the kitchen to catch a glimpse of the noise
maker. As soon as someone went into the kitchen, the noise would stop.
As the weeks rolled on, things started to escalate. One night I was dozing off to sleep and I
heard the sound of crystal, as if someone was ringing a crystal bell. I stepped out of bed and
the noise stopped. This continued each night at exactly the stroke of midnight. Justin
worked third shift, thus I was alone in the house most nights from 10:30, until I left for work in
the morning. After about two weeks of this, I had gotten use to the sound and gave up trying
to find the source. Then the worst haunting occurred. I was drifting off to sleep and I heard
the crystal again. I opened my eyes, and standing at the foot of the bed was a figure of an
entity. It was so black...blacker than pitch black. I slept with no lights on in the house, even
the outside lights had to be turned off. Yet, this entity which stood at the foot of my bed was
blacker than the darkness in the room. It had the shape of a person dressed in a hooded
robe. It began to stretch its hand out to me. Actually, as the figure was so dark, all I could
see was an arm. I sat up in the bed, but it did not disappear as one might expect. I sat there
frozen in fear; I could feel the presence of this entity so strongly that all I could say was, “In the
name of Jesus. I rebuke you.” You must understand that although I have a Christian
background, at that time I was a partier and was not a person you would describe as a
Christian. Yet from somewhere deep within me, these words came out. As soon as I spoke
them it disappeared, but not before I heard, “Death is very close.” I heard this, I think more
in my mind than with my natural ears. Again, it scared me so bad, I had to get up and make
me a drink to calm my nerves.
A few weeks later, my friends and I were on our way to a bonfire/campout. We had planned
this outing all summer and we had found a perfect spot on a friend’s land. On the first
evening of the outing, tragedy struck. My friends, Justin and Scott, collided head on while
riding trail bikes. Justin lost use of his arm permanently, and Scott was in the hospital four
months. They both lived, but to this day they carry the scars of that evening in the arm that is
no longer functioning, and in a knee and hip that requires braces.
I have read that similar encounters have resulted in some kind of warning to help prevent
tragedy. I do not believe this was the intention in this case. I never felt anything good during
this whole ordeal, but rather I felt that something had set out to harm us.
The next day after the accident, I moved out. I never went back and I have never experienced
a haunting since. All I can say is that even though no one died, two very close friends live
with permanent scars due to the accident.
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