The Creepy Stuff That Happened When I Was A Kid by: Brandy L. Rivers
Have you ever believed in ghosts or haunted houses? How about witches and curses? I believe in haunted houses, and ghosts. Witches and curses, I won’t swear to those, but I won’t write them off either.
In high school, I lived in a house that I swear to this day was haunted.
Whatever the presence was, it was wrong, evil even. There were certain rooms I avoided because it felt like someone was always watching me, even when I was the only one there. My sister would wake up from nightmares about demons scratching at her back in her room. She never had that nightmare anywhere else.
My Dad told me once that someone was murdered in the house, and that another man had died under strange circumstances. He wasn’t the type of person to make stuff up, and he wasn’t into scary stories, so I believe it.
Anyway, I could write off the creepy feeling until the day he told me about a curse. I was standing in the door way to my Dad’s room. It was one of the two rooms I avoided. In the guest room, I always felt like someone was watching me, but in my Dad’s room, I felt like someone was breathing down my neck.
I used to have these long conversations about anything and everything with my Dad. Okay, so some of his theories bordered on conspiracy theory… or wandered far beyond into slightly nuts, but the conversations always made me think. Other times we talked about the paranormal. Considering what I write about, this should come as no surprise.
That was the day he told me about the curse, and about that the unpleasant woman who lived behind us was a witch. He was convinced that she placed a curse on him in his early twenties. I didn’t believe it at the time, but I indulged him and we discussed of curses and black magic.
He told me that he would die by the time he was 48, that he would never live to his 49th birthday because the witch cursed him. Of course, I didn’t believe it at the time.
So we’re talking, and he’s explaining why this woman cursed him, but he never really finished because something pushed him. I mean, he’s standing there, rambling on about whatever he did twenty plus years ago when I see imprints of hands on his shirt, pushing into his flesh. This happened just before he hits the ground.
I could have sworn I heard an evil laugh, but at that point I might have been freaked out and imagining stuff. The hands, I know I saw. I rushed in, and helped him up and convinced him it was time to make dinner. In reality, I just wanted far away from his room and whatever the hell was in there with him. The kitchen was on the opposite side of the house.
He took that incident as proof of his curse. Curse or not, something pushed him.
Well, that night, he started coughing. In fact he was coughing up blood. The next day he was running a temperature of 105, and it only got worse. He refused to let us take him to the hospital.
That was a Sunday. As usual, I went with my friend to church, and later youth group. Because I was worried about my dad, I had everyone pray for him because he was really ill. I wasn’t thinking about the fact that his 49th birthday was fast approaching, just the fact that he was sicker than I’d ever seen.
The next night, when he seemed even worse off than before, I heard the sirens and stepped outside. There was an ambulance and cop cars parked in front of the old woman’s house.
Me, being curious as I’ve always been, walked over to see what was going on. A man was there, he was about my Dad’s age. I overheard him telling the cops that he found his mother dead in the middle of her room. There was no signs of struggle, no wounds, no obvious signs of sickness or anything. She just seemed to keel over.
I didn’t think much of her death at the time, she was elderly. Beside, she had been an unpleasant old woman who glared at everyone and muttered horrible things if you tried to say hello. I never went out of my way to be rude to her, but I didn’t try to talk to her either. In fact, I pretty much avoided her when I could.
My Dad’s fever broke that night. He was feeling better by the next day. And by the second he was fine as if nothing ever happened. His birthday was the day after, and he’s still with us.
It could have all been coincidence, but you have to admit, it was a little weird, and kind of creepy
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