Is My Family Cursed?
Pamela Grace, Texas, USA
My name is Pamela Williams. I guess I will start when things began happening to me before I knew about the history of my family.
I was about fifteen years old and at my best friend at the time's house. She had just gotten a Ouija board for her birthday and wanted to play. I had always thought those things were pretty cheesy. But she wanted to set the mood. We lit about ten candles and turned out the lights. I remember how hot it was. Her air conditioner had been broken for a week and the combined heat of the candles was making me break out in a sweat. I begged her to open the window but she didn't want to let mosquitoes in. So, on the floor, in the middle of the room, she and I sat across from each other. We were playing with the thing, the tips of our fingers on the planchette. We were giggling and laughing until it started to move... We accused each other, "You're moving it!" "No, you're moving it!" But we tried to play along, both convinced the other was playing a prank. We began asking it questions. But it answered every question, "No." Such as we'd ask it it's name and it'd say, "No."
"How old are you?"
The room, I recall, had turned cold. The type of cold that comes with being afraid. When your hair stands up on your neck and such. But I wasn't afraid. It was the oddest feeling. Like a word on the tip of my tongue. I can almost describe it but not quite. BriAnne kept accusing me of moving the planchette but I saw goose bumps arise on her flesh before me.And I remember these words jumping into my head. Words that I didn't seem to think but had suddenly just been there inside my mind. Like I was listening to someone else's thoughts. "...The cold breath of the dead..." I shivered. "Ok." BriAnne said. "If you're really here prove it. Blow out all of the candles." Simultaneously the candles all went out. Everyone of them. With no wind in the room. No breeze. No air conditioner. Not even an open door. She and I jumped up and ran out of the room, too afraid to even scream until we were across the house. We slept in the living room that night.
That wasn't the only experience I've had. I believe I have actually seen a ghost. One night I was in my home sleeping. I woke in the night as I usually do and looked at the clock. It was around midnight. That night there had been a full moon and moon light poured in through my large window. Then something across the room caught my eye. I saw something move. It was by my door. A form. A figure. It came towards me and as it did it resembled more of a man. But the way it walked, how can I even describe it? It was like in slow motion. Like it was a step behind itself or the rest of it would catch up as it moved forward. I blinked and it was standing over me. It was a dark form against a moon lit room. But it doesn't sound quite right to describe it as a dark form. It was more like a darkness in itself. I couldn't see its face. I thought it was, perhaps, a burglar or intruder. "God," I prayed, terrified. "Please, help me. Don't let him hurt me." I opened my eyes and he was gone. The room was empty. I got up and turned on the lights, searching the room. No one there. I searched the rest of the house. I was alone. And all of the doors and windows were untampered with and locked from the inside... I began to get afraid that I was going crazy. I finally told my mother about the things I had experienced, afraid she wouldn't believe me. But I was shocked when she began to tell me what she did. Apparently such things have been happening down my family line for some time.
My great-grandmother would have these dreams (like I have) about things and then they would come true. Small, insignificant things like conversations friends have and such. But then she would have dreams about a collie, a dog, on the wall and with in three days someone close in the family would die. Then her daughter, my grandmother, got sick. She told her husband that she had had the dream again and that she thought her daughter was going to die. She told him to watch her closely since she couldn't herself. She had been ill. Then, with in three days, she herself died. She had unknowingly predicted her own death. And I believe I have seen my own death.
I asked my mother all kinds of questions. Why was our family plagued with such things? When did it start? What was the source of it all. And all of such. She only said, "Do not mess with such things or they will be able to mess with you." She believed that if I found out some truth about all of this I would be in great danger. That something terrible would happen to me. But needing to know I prodded further into my family's past. It turns out that my aunt had witnessed a man possessed. She was hesitant to say anything about it, full of fear. But, at the same time, she seemed relieved to confide in someone. That she needed someone to share this terrifying secret with her. She said the man was screaming and howling. That he was convulsing and foaming at the mouth. That he spoke in tongues and in different voices. A doctor came to examine him, it was back when doctors still made house calls. He said he could find nothing physically wrong with him but quickly fled, afraid of him.
I tried to learn more of this from my aunt but that's all she would say. She would not go into any further detail. Supposedly these things go farther back in my family but I am still unsure of the rest. But these things I need to know. For they have some impact on me. They have influenced my life in a way that I do not know. All of my life I have been different and I must know how and why. The things I see and know... The predictions and dreams... I have to know. But still my mother's words ring in my head. "The more you mess with such things the more they can mess with you." It fills me with a fear, a certain dread that I am headed towards something dark. That I am chasing something bad, which is chasing me. Something that I cannot avoid, no matter how afraid I am.
I know this all sounds like double talk. If only I could describe it better. If only I could make more sense of it. All I can say is I have seen these things and I know what I know, seeing a truth like an image through a fogged mirror. But I know one day that mirror will clear, but I have to ask myself, "At what price?"