The Last Run

I grew up in a tiny community called Araivapa. In 1882 more than 150 women, children, and men were slaughtered. It is known as Camp Grant Massacre, you can Google it and read for yourself.

Since I was a little girl the house and property always had fear that something was gonna grab me or being watched and the feeling that something is walking right behind you. Most of my family had experiences that were questionable, I guess you can say anyways this is one of my most scary experiences.

It was July and my husband and I went to sleep in my old room. Everything was fine until no kidding we both woke up at the same time choking on smoke. I yelled the house is on fire, yelling for my dad to get up when we opened our bedroom door there was no smoke no fire. I was so scared to go back to bed.

I think whatever is in this house is trying to scare or warn us. All I know is we were literally choking on smoke and smelling it as if our fireplace was on it smelled like burning mesquite wood.

A while later my husband went to the bathroom and said he heard people talking to each other he thought my dad was up watching TV. He started to walk towards the voices wondering who is talking he said the voices were manly and at least three different men were arguing and cursing. He opened my brother's bedroom door and there was nobody.

I never spent the night again, I believe it was a warning to me because "THEY" know I know that they are there and it knows that I was planning a cleansing of the house with the help of my Catacisum teacher Mary and my mother-in-law Carmen but it never happened.

Ten years now since the experience and my dad passed so I no longer go back to the house. I have so many more stories of my experiences there.