My Experience With the Paranormal
by JSB, reddit.com
August 4 12:06 AM
First of all, let me say that I am a Christian. I was born and raised that way and will be forever. Even though I am a Christian, I have always been fascinated with the paranormal, ghost stories, and things of that nature. The idea of having a paranormal experience just seemed cool to me, until one day it finally happened.
When I was 17, I became strangely isolated from my family. My father's recent death, combined with a tough break-up was enough to send me over the edge. I began falling into the wrong crowd and was quickly developing an alcohol problem. This went on into my freshman year of college, and one day my friends and I made a decision that I will forever regret.
We all wanted to move out of our parents' houses so we would have a place to party. We decided to rent a house about 12 miles from our school that was kind of secluded in the woods. It was an old wooden two story, five bedroom house that four of us were going to live in. It only needed cleaning and was very affordable. The landlord lived a few states away, so we never really got into a deep conversation as to why it was so cheap. There were no neighbors with a driveway about half a mile long, so we had our party house to ourselves.
As we were cleaning, painting, etc; we discovered in one of the rooms upstairs, a vast collection of religious literature. Mormon books, bibles, demonology books were the main bulk of them. We kept a few bibles and decided to call the landlord about the rest to see if he knew whom they belonged to or if he had any preference as to what happened to them. We began a casual conversation over the phone, then I brought up all of the religious literature. He simply stated that he must go. We never spoke again. The only communication we had was when we mailed our rent and when he mailed the receipt. I never really let it bother me, and soon we just stored the literature in the closet of the extra bedroom which we had recently turned into our party room.
One night we had a party, and had several dozen people over. Almost everyone there was intoxicated, and we were having a great time in our new home. Mike, one of my roommates, thought it would be funny to go into the closet and dig up a demonology book. He brings it downstairs into the living room where most people were and began waving the book around and pretending to speak in some sort of demonic language. Everyone thought it was hilarious except one of my friends, Allen.
Allen stands up and walks out onto the porch and pours his drink out. I walk outside to ask him what is wrong and Mike follows me outside. Allen just stands there and Mike pulls out his pocket knife and begins cleaning under his finger nails. Allen begins hissing and says with a twisted, pale look on his face in a voice that I did not recognize, “Robert thinks you should put the knife up. It makes him uneasy.” Mike points the knife at his face and tells him to cut the shit.
To give y’all an idea of how amazing this really was, Mike is 6’3” and 230 pounds. Allen is about 5’9” and maybe 150 pounds. With one hand, Allen grabs Mike by the throat and picks him up with one arm and presses him against the wall.
I tried to pry Allen away, but with an almost lazy flick of his arm he knocks me a foot off the ground and it feels like he punched me with an iron clad fist in the stomach. It took four grown me to tear Allen’s hand away from Mike’s throat, and when we finally did, Mike had started to lose color in his face and was barely conscious. Allen began screaming profanity and crawling around the ground and reeling as if he was in pain. He still had the twisted voice, but we all shook it off as him being drunk off his ass. Allen leaves with his friend a few minutes later and the party shuts down after a little while.
We wake up the next morning, and begin cleaning the aftermath of the night before. Mike keeps complaining about a burning pain in his side. He goes in the bathroom and is petrified by what he sees. He comes back and shows us a cut in the shape of an upside down cross on his ribcage-. The next few days, things just got stranger.
The next night a car shows up outside in the driveway with the headlights on. We hear a man’s constant scream outside and Josh, another roommate, goes outside to check it out. It was Allen in his car with both hands on the steering wheel screaming at the top of his lungs. “ROBERT. ROBERT. ROBERT. ROBERT.” I opened his door and he throws his car in reverse and drives off. Not knowing what to make of the situation, we ignored it.
School started a couple of days later, so we all went the first day. We all rode back together, and when we got home our front door had been kicked open. Immediately, we thought Allen had a hand in this. I grabbed my pistol out of the truck and entered the house. I searched the whole house. No one was to be found and nothing was stolen or damaged.
We all sat in the living room to talk about the situation and heard a loud deep voice that echoed throughout the house shout “ROBERT!!!!” We immediately searched the house again, and found nothing until we entered our party room. A pentagram was drawn in chalk on the wood floor and several of the bibles in the room were ripped apart. Keep in mind five minutes before this, the room was clear. I glance at the window and see a face and I fired four shots through the window. After investigating outside, we found nothing. Throughly scared we contacted Allen’s family, only to found out he was arrested the night before for beating a guy named Robert half to death.
We had a lease so we could do nothing but clean the party room and continue living our day to day life. Things got better for about a week, but the nights became uneasy and the air in the house was heavy. Every time someone came over they felt a heavy, uneasy feeling and left soon after. During the nights we began hearing people arguing on the porch, and upon investigation we would find no one.
I felt as though I had eyes on me one night and, frustrated, I screamed, “i'm not scared of you!” I heard a deep voice say “You should be.” My mattress flipped with me on it, and I stood up petrified. I stayed in my roommates room the next four nights.
After three months of random voices, shadows, our front door being kicked open, kitchen drawers being pulled out at night, hearing a deep voice say Robert at least every other day, and waking up with physical pain, I went to the bank and borrowed the money to pay out my portion of the lease and moved out. I lived in the dorms at my college, and the occurrences, from what I understand, continued until my roommates finally followed the same path I did.
Mike and I visited the house a few weeks ago, and when we arrived the front door was wide open. The house had been abandoned since we moved out. In the party room was a penagram, just liked before with burnt sage all over the room. As we investigated, we heard a loud crash and the back door had flew off the hinges and landed in the backyard. We left and never returned.