Hmmm.
One month before we arrived in West Virginia, Shane was pointing to pictures of little devils (billboards, yearbooks, etc.) and saying that Tony Princeton (hereafter abbreviated as T.P.) looked like those little picture except that 'he had hair and had more eyebrow.' He was also pointing at pictures of scrolls and saying that T.P. was reading from one. And then we arrived.....
Our arrival sparked an interest by TP. TP told Shane that 'He would use a man to shoot an eight-year-old and that he would run through the woods in the rain to get away.' Our stay was spiced by an oiuja board that a family friend had brought over. As 10-13 year olds might do, they aggrevated the spirits. Suddenly, Shane's sister (Rachel) walked into the bedroom and announced that her foot was hurting. I looked down and noticed that there was blood EVERYWHERE. During house cleaning, we were storing the garbage bags in the house to keep the dogs out of them. Somehow, a glass bottle-neck had 'appeared' in the floor and she had sliced her foot to the bone...in the arch. After getting her to the hospital , I examined the glass AND the garbage. The garbage bags had NO holes, rips, or tears. There was no feasible way for any glass to escape. To add to the matter, there was no glass in any of the bags nor had anybody put glass in the bags.
That night, and for the three following nights, I awoke from deep sleep unable to breathe for at least two minutes. I don't have breathing problems and never have. The next mornig, my right ear would hurt (no medication would take the pain away) and Shane woudl come up to me and urgently insist that he had seen TP dance around my bed, chant, and hold his right ear.
During this time of ear pain and breathlessness, me and my cousin, Marie had found a BB gun. Bored as we were, we would shoot anything and everything we could. We eventually ran out of BB's. I was so bored that I kept checking that gun for at least an hours hoping that another BB might pop out and give me one more shot. No such luck. My aunt Annette's boyfriend's brother came to visit and brought Stacy (age 8) and Trish (age 12) with him. Like all eight -year-olds, Stacy had a facination with guns of any sort (BB guns especially). Knowing for a fact that the BB gun was empty (I'd stake my life on it), we were playing like I was going to shoot her. I pumped up the BB gun with 1 pump so that it would make the sound of shooting so that she would hear it and be pleased with our little game. She hid behind a rather large wooden post in the yard. She was hid completely. I pulled the trigger so that she could say 'You missed me' and laugh in that happy little way that she was kn!
own to do. From behind the post she started crying. I looked at where she said it hurt and lo and behold...a red spot appeared on her shoulder as though I had shot her. I almost got my butt whipped by her Dad but luck was on my side that day, as I would later find out.
In order to make you, the reader, understand the significance of what happened next, I must tell you of a story 36 years in the past.
My mother grew up in one of many coal mining towns in West Virginia, in the very same house that all these events that I have described took place. When she was a child of 10 years old, she, her sister June, her cousins Carol and Denise would pick flowers and placed them on top of the sealed off mine shaft in memory of the miners killed during a large collapse of the mine tunnels (which ran under the entire village). One day, Carol notice a small hole (about the size of a man's thumb). Being a curious child, she peered in...and started screaming hysterically. June jumped down from the top of the mine shaft, shoved Carol out of the way, and looked in for herself. She too began to scream. My mother, being the tomboy of the group (she still is for that matter) shoved June out the way and proceeded to scream her lungs out. She grabbed Denise off the mine shaft, shoved both Carol and June towards the direction of house and ran like crazy. When they arrived back at the house, the!
y related their story. Grandpa and his brother Jim went to examine the mine shaft. They found the hole but no light could enter the shaft and there was no other entrance. What the girls saw was a skeleton floating towards them. To this day they swear it as the truth and have always wanted another look at that hole.
This mine shaft was within a mile of the house that we were staying at (mom's old house) and she was just itching to find it again. So me and my cousin, Terrance decided to go on an epedition to find this mine shaft. Well, we found it in a small section of woods. I will give a brief description of this mine shaft. There were two above-ground open rooms, both exactly the same in layout and size (10X10X10). It was made out of cinder blocks and mortor. The third room, however, was a hallway with the dimensions of about 5' wide by 15' long and about 10' high. There was a stairway on the left about 6' in. This stairway led up to a bricked off doorway. Once we found the mine shaft, we immediately proceeded to get my mother and a camera. We fetched both and made our way back to the shaft. We reached the shaft and it started to thunder and rain. I went to snatch a picture of the stairway. When I got to the stairway, I notice that there was many broken cinder blocks on the floor, whe!
re as before there were none. Also, the walls were still pristene and undamaged. When the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, I ran. Through the woods. To get away.
After that, there was no more real trouble until we reached North Carolina. We visited a campground that we had been to for twelve years with Dad. We decide to stay the night for memory purposes. During the night, the horses in they area woke up and started going crazy. They ran off. We were in the tent during this time and thought it would be safer to remain there. The next thing that happened still chills me to the bone, four years later. If you've ever watched the movie Ghost, the sound that the 'after-death' shadows made...the screaming...I heard that. I looked up and notice that on a cloudless, full-moon night, there was a localize patch of ink-black clouds forming directly over the tent. We decided to make a break for our truck and drive (race?) to the nearest church. When we got into the church parking lot we looked back. The black cloud was following us. When it reached the parking lot it disappated and reformed over the campground. It disappeared after a couple of!
hours. We then went back and retrieved our stuff...
For four years now, the ghost or demon that resides there has sent both itself and 'minions' after us over 20 miles. The latest incident involved my mother.
She went to let our two dogs into the house. They didn't want to come in. She then heard a crunching in the leaves as if someone was walking. She promptly closed the door, turned off the lights and went to various windows to see if she could see who it was. She reached the kitchen and slowly entered. Halfway into the kitchen, she noticed two little red lights about 200 yds distant in the yard. Then she realized that it couldn't be car tail lights. It was at about that time that they started moving towards her. She says she screamed six times, but both me and my friend that was there that night testify to hearing her scream only once. If you've ever heard a person scream, you know that a scream will say something specific. Her scream said 'Get away from me.'
Our house is haunted. Lights turn on and off. Plaques spin on the wall and they stop, dead. They don't sway back and forth slowing down...they just STOP. Things move, disappear and I have even seen the ghost of a child myself. Our house even plays music through the walls, played BY the house. My stepfather, who does not believe in this sort of thing, has heard the music, and cannot find the source of the music nor can he explain it. On a more humorous note, the house seems to favor Yanni for it constantly plays it in the computer room. These things even happen in front of my friends.
Maybe some of you out there knows someone who is a type of paranormal investigator or maybe a real-life 'ghostbuster' of sorts. We do desparetly need help with this problem, although the music isn't so bad.
I swear to you, on my father AND my grandfather's grave that this story is true.
The only things changed in this story are the names of my relatives. Shane doesn't need the memories of this brought back.
