Glass Doors and Slippery Floors

Helen & I met during our second year of high school and became instant friends.
Two years after we met, Helen introduced me to the Ouija board; a tool I soon found addictive since the death of my three close friends, Scott, Martin & Aaron.

Scott had been hit by a car at the age of 17; at the time, I had not seen or spoken with him for 1 year. Both Martin & Aaron had chosen to take their own lives, within six months of each other. During the brief time I knew Scott, I fell in love. Following his death, I had subconsciously refused to allow myself to grieve. Needless to say, I fell to pieces completely when I received news of Martin, and then of Aaron. It was all compounded into one big loss.

Our Ouija conversations were always brief and quite juvenile - as Helen & I were only 17 years old at the time and I was almost always too overwhelmed with sadness to be of much use. Following every conversation, we said goodbye and immediately prepared to clear & put the board away. However, one night after we had said goodbye and blown kisses etc, we were visited by a spirit we had never encountered before.

He introduced himself as Gerry and he seemed incredibly rude. Helen was curious, and instead of clearing the board [as I had suggested] she decided to ask Mr. Gerry some questions. Gerry dresses himself in a black & white tuxedo, with a top hat & walking stick. I thought [and still do, despite all of this] that his outfit was a little cliched. He was in his late forties and point blank refused to acknowledge Helens repeated requests to know how he died. Evidently, her request seemed to upset him as the board spelled out various swear words in quick succession. Helen decided it was time to end the conversation and watch some telly instead. So, we put the board away and settled onto the couch.

Half an hour later, the sliding glass door leading outside began to bang as if someone was giving it a big kick - then the whole door shook in its frame. Was someone was trying to get in? This progressed to all the sliding doors throughout the entire house [Helen has four of these around her home]. Once one door would stop shaking, there would be a period of ten seconds before the other one would start. Finally, the laundry door opened and closed with a loud bang & footsteps could be heard walking inside as far as the kitchen. We were home along that evening. Whatever was in the kitchen, would be able to clearly see Helen & I sitting on the couch - now pretending to watch Neighbours.

Nothing else happened. Several hours later, we had calmed down and went to sleep.

That's when the laundry flooded.
Perhaps 'flooded' is the wrong word. It was a puddle of water that covered the whole laundry floor about half a centimeter in depth.
The water didn't go any further than the doorway into the kitchen, or the other doorway at the other end of the laundry. It was a perfect rectangle. The taps weren't leaking. They were off tight.
Gerry? We like to think so.

Needless to say, I found other ways to deal with my grief and haven't participated in a seance since. But I'll sit and take notes.

I have since found help dealing with my friends' passing; reading this over makes me wonder whether I will truly get over this feeling of loss.

Perhaps my fragile frame of mind at this time allowed Gerry to enter. Or maybe I subconsciously created him as guilt free a way of escaping my increasing addiction to the Ouija board. But how does that explain the glass doors & slippery floors?

Submitted by Australia