The Face And The Fist

I originally submitted a story to this site in March 2005, listed on the site as 'Graveyard Mayhem'. Since then, I have come to experience some new occurrences in our house, and I thought I would share them here.

In late 2005, I sustained a back injury that forced me to exit the working environment and, more or less, become a shut in. I find it hard to move and can do very little, so it goes without saying that the idea of experiencing things such as what I wrote about in my original story is not entirely appealing to me. It was all fine and well when I was physically healthy, but it's a terrifying prospect being powerless to defend myself. Thankfully, as of this writing, nothing has happened that has been overly violent or terrifying, but it's still rather chilling.

Several months back, I got a call from my best friend, during which he tells me that he will be driving over to pay me a visit. Well I'm thrilled, because I rarely have the opportunity to get out of the house. So I get off the phone with him, I lay back in my bed, and I watch some TV while I'm waiting for him to arrive. About thirty five minutes pass, and I decide to put something different in the DVD player, so I crawl out of bed, walk across the room, and kneel (painfully) down in front of my television. The thing is situated against a massive window, so I can look just past the TV and see the front driveway. It's dark by this point, and I can't see much beyond the front porch. I change the DVD, close the DVD player, and prepare to stand back up. I don't quite make it on the first try, and as I prepare to do it again, I freeze, my eyes locked on the window, just to the right of my television set. Looking in on me from outside is my best friend. He's smiling at me in a way that doesn't at all make me comfortable or happy to see him. It's also worth noting that his face is entirely blue, as though there is a light bar beneath him, shining up on his skin. It's quite surreal to be looking at. I say his name and finally force myself back to my feet. As I do, my friend watches me for a moment, that grin never leaving his face, and then he leans back and vanishes from in front of the window. I assume he's walking to the front door, which is a couple of feet to the right of my room. The door doesn't open, nor is there any knock, so I lean closer to the window and peer out into the driveway. There is no car parked there, so I sit down on the bed, pick up the phone, and call my friend. He's still about five minutes from the house, and so could not have been peering in through my window.

It's the first and only time I've seen this face in my window, but the people who lived her before us have mentioned similar experiences. Something they haven't mentioned, however, is the pounding fist, which my entire family has experienced twice.

Once, I was sitting at the kitchen table, which is directly adjacent to the living room. My mother, father and sister were all watching television while I ate some breakfast. Suddenly, from the very rear of the house, an extremely loud banging could be heard. It sounded like someone desperately beating on the wall with their fist. The walls are all made of plaster and wood, so when you pound on it, you can hear it well. As all of us were in the front of the house, we chalked it up to the ghost.

It was nearly year between that instance and the most recent, which happened on December 23rd, 2006. I was in my bedroom, watching television with my friend, and what sounded like someone frantically beating on the front door filled the house. All of our dogs went mad, barking and and trying desperately to separate themselves from the front of the house, which is odd. Normally when someone knocks, they're desperate to see who is at the door. My friend and my mother went to the front door to check, and I went to my window and looked through. Nothing. There was no one there, but we all heard it clear as day, like someone desperate to get into our home, as though being chased. I don't think the pounding has ever sounded as desperate as it did that night. I'm not certain whether this activity is related to the activity I experienced in my other home, or somehow connected to my friend (who was involved with the tale I shared about the graveyard), but it's never been as frightening as the things that happened in the March 2005 story. I eagerly await the chance to see the face in the window once again, or perhaps the source of the pounding that seems to emanate from various places in this house.

The people who lived her before us claim that the specter of a little boy can sometimes be seen in the garage (which is separated from the living room by a sliding glass door), and from time to time our dogs will stand at the garage entrance and bark, so perhaps it's that little boy, desperate to make passage into the home? Though why it would mimic my best friend's face is quite beyond me. Perhaps it hopes taking the face of a loved one will convince us to allow it safe entrance?