Note: Names followed by "*" have been changed for
confidentiality issues.
This is a true story which happened to me at the
age of 13. Please forgive me if this story does
not supply enough information.
To this day my friends and I still have a mild
cases of Eisoptrophobia (fear of mirrors), but they
have improved by far since our encounter with the
paranormal.
Our experience took place in a
friend's large house in the quiet suburb of
Redlynch, which he still lives in today. I
remember it being three weeks after my 13th
birthday, and, as a joke, my good friend Dean*
gave me a dodgy old Ouija board that had been in
his garage for years, even before his family had
moved into the house. He knew that this board was
the only thing keeping me from helping him clean
out the garage, because it always gave me an
anxious feeling when I saw it. But, by then, I had
gotten over my fear of the board.
One of my other
friends, Harry*, had suggested that ourselves and
three others go 'round to Dean's and use the Ouija
board (his parents were the only ones who approved
of us using one). I was having second thoughts,
but my friends seemed to talk me into it quite
well. So well, in fact, that I found myself looking
forward to it.
We arrived at Dean's at about 7pm, just as the sun
began to go down. After about four hours of
playing X box and a movie, we decided it was
finally time to hold our seance. It was decided
that the seance would be held in the garage, which
was full of old junk, and was (surprise surprise)
the darkest in the house. I felt quite
uncomfortable in the room, but didn't want to be
the stereotypical youngest-and-most-afraid out of
the group, so I didn't mention it.
After the whole
process you normally go through in a seance (it
will take too long to explain, and most readers
will know how it goes anyway), Harry asked the
first question; "is anyone there?" and the
planchette moved to "NO". We all knew that this
was quite absurd, as there must've been SOMETHING
moving the planchette. Another question was asked
by Harry; "Who is moving the planchette?" which it
replied, "Arn". We all took turns in asking
questions such as "Do we know you?", "Were you a
student at our school?", and then two questions
with quite interesting answers...I asked, "How did
you die?" to which this 'Arn' character replied,
"Sickle". My first thought was that this could
have been the blood cell disease named sickle, but
was curious as to if it was, so I asked another
question; "Which type of sickle?" which was
replied with the word, "Harvest tool". It didn't
take us long to figure out what Arn meant by the
word HARVEST TOOL. In case you didn't know, a Sickle
is also a hook shaped, hand held tool used to
harvest grain crops, if a harvesting machine was
not handy at the time. By this time, we were all a
bit shocked about the death of this spirit. Dean
asked quite a personal question about the spirit;
"Who killed you?" to which Arn replied, "Myself".
This brought a bit more shock to the group.
Reluctant to find out more, I asked where the
death was, which was replied with the word,
"Show". I got the feeling that this ghost wanted
us to see where it happened, so I asked, "Would
you like to show us?" to which he replied, "Yes".
As soon as our question was answered, a rattling
noise was heard coming from one of the old
cabinets that was going to waste in the garage,
and a box full of Dean's old toys fell off the top
of the cupboard, with one tennis ball strangely
rolling about 5 meters away from the cabinet and
coming to an immediate stop. The planchette moved
around to form the word "ball". We all looked over
to where the ball had rolled to, just above a
large, dark stain on the floor. Harry asked Dean
if that stain was there before, to which Dean
replied that it had been like that since before
they had moved in. We were all extremely curious
by now, so much to the extent where the most
idiotic question was asked; "Can you show
yourself?" with a reply that made me want to run
out of that house at full speed; "YES". Before I
could get up and leave, I felt a voice in my head
telling me I needed to stay and see what happened.
There was a full sized mirror across the room that
began to rattle. As soon as we all looked over,
there was a figure in the mirror that did not
appear in real form, this was in the MIRROR ONLY.
This freaked the hell out of me, but the figure in
the mirror continued to hold my gaze. It had to be
the most horrific thing I had ever witnessed. In
the mirror was a boy who looked about the age of
15, and had raggedy old clothes on. He seemed to
resemble a farmer. In his left hand, he held a
sickle. The right hand was covered in blood, and
his face, I will NEVER forget. His flesh looked to
have been torn, almost all off his face. He was
drenched in blood, and he seemed to be laughing.
Quickly thinking, we all moved the planchette to
goodbye, bolted upstairs and into the bedroom,
where we hid in the cupboard until the early hours
of the morning, when Dean's parents found us
huddled up in the cupboard, still scared out of
our minds.
We told Dean's parents what had happened, and they
seemed to understand. They knew that it was
possible for this kind of thing to happen. They
did not want Dean to be excluded from our close
circle of 6 friends, so they told all the other
parents that the Ouija board had nothing to do
with it, and that we were all just looking for an
old game in the garage when we had seen this
thing. They seemed to understand, and each of us
were getting psychological counseling to control
our phobias of mirrors.
After this incident, I have tried to look in
mirrors a bit more often, but still see random
things that may have to do with the whole Ouija
incident, for example: a boy (with a normal face)
crying, a hand reaching out of the wall behind me,
and many other things that have made my phobia
worse.
I am getting better, and there have not
been any recent things I have seen in the mirror.
If there are any people out there who are planning
on having a seance, never ask for a spirit to show
themselves or communicate through you, unless you
are ready for living hell. |