James S. Ostrander, NY, USA
I'm trying to remember the first time. The first time the hair on my neck raised when I was alone. The chills that would follow, my nervousness. I'm thirty four now, it started so long ago. The very first time I remember I was about five. I was playing in my driveway at night with a flashlight. I don't know why but I turned around pointing the flashlight ahead of me. The light caught a set of eyes hanging in the darkness. I ran almost wetting myself I'm sure!
I remember my parents asking what is wrong? Then having the Whole thing written off as a deer. I embraced this solution with open arms, my body warmed in the simple idea. I was being silly, floating eyeballs get a grip. I accepted this solution or part of me did, looking back I wonder what did happen.
The teenage years
My parents parted ways when I was ten. I felt more alone than ever in my life. I became rebellious and cool, or so I thought anyway. I was feared and felt intoxicated by it. I'm a Scorpio and probed the darkness often. The necronomicon became good reading. I remember several presences around this time. My friend whose name I won't mention and I, where in a cabin of ours. It had lighting and electrical outlets. I believe my girlfriend at the time was also present. We drank beer, smoked and joked and yes we rocked and rolled. I think we listened to U2 or someone else at the time. We where enthraled in conversation about something and nothing I'm sure of that!, when all of a sudden something ran by the outside of the cabin and banged on all four sides! We stopped mouths open from mid sentence. We looked at each other and all said about the same, what the f***!. We went out to find nothing. I made some comment about my brother and how I was going to get him.
It happened again and I waited by the door to spring it open and whip my young brother senseless. I followed it around timing it perfectly I opened the door. A cold horrible wind chilled like a winter night caught my face and body. I trembled and looked back to see I wasn't alone in my horror. My friends where pale. We summoned strength in numbers and marched forth in the August night.
We walked around straining senses probing the area. After circling without finding we stood near the door. This is where you find our what you are made of believe me.
We stood in front of the cabin, ahead a small babbling brook and at right a foot bridge we built. All at once something heavy and driven ran across that bridge. We all strained to see what was right in front of us within ten feet! Nothing was there, nothing all agreed and all agreed something had happened that none had ever witnessed before. We all felt chilled, hair straight up like shoots of grass in early spring.
We never talked much about it, we wanted to forget.
Next incident I remember is the Succubus, look it up if you don't know what it is. I lay down to bed and I'm almost asleep, at the cat nap stage. I feel a weight on my feet which I consider to be our dog. I start to think how I never felt the bed move though. I next feel the weight slowly spread across me, dead weight, lifeless. A surge off fear and panic. The weight now at my chest I push my hands skyward, my hands are compressed deep into my chest. I almost loose my air. I fall into a restless sleep, I awake bathed in sweat. Off to grandmas house we go.
I get into fights with mom, and it's decided I live with my great grandmother and father. I make a discovery right away, the bed feels unnaturally cold. It's not long before a heart beat is added for my horrifying pleasure. Then I'm kept awake by what sounds like ping pong balls dropped in the attic. I hear it over and over again. The ball is raised then dropped, then repeated. I scramble by day to locate it but never do. I finally leave grandma's and go back to Mom. Some fifteen years later a new teenager in the purchased home complains of similar noises.
I write off all these things off to food, wine anything I can think of. I thought the days where over of seeing and hearing. But some three years ago I worked on a house which had lost someone recently. I was in the basement working. I was looking at items I thought might have belonged to the departed. I think it was tools and a book. Setting them down I proceeded back to work. I got that chill up my spine and turned, a waft of the strangest smoke I ever seen curled by and disappeared. I stood rigid and couldn't relax until my helper came down. I told him and he told me I was nuts and we laughed it off.
What are the things that go bump in the night and cause a sane man madness?