Ghost Stories & Paranormal Encounters

So, this one is going to be a little awkward for me to write and a little different in context than the last time I wrote (Just The Beginning).

Oh, gosh, um… Where do I begin? This story scares me (and I lived through it). Every bit of it is true, no matter if you try to exclude just a tiny bit of it. The story begins when I was thirteen and when my Dad still drove a semi-truck.

We (my Mom, Me, Brother, and Dad) lived in Weaver at the time and my parent’s marriage had been “on the rocks” for quite some time now. Now, nothing “paranormal” is going to happen until just about the end of this story, so, if you wanna skip ahead, that’s fine with me. Ha-ha. Anyway, my Dad and Mom had re-acquainted themselves with an old friend named Jim (changed to hide his identity). He was younger than both of them, had red hair and blue eyes; really skinny and really Southern (if you lived in the South, you know what I mean). Well, on a weekend that my Dad was home, my Mom, Dad and Jim was outside on the porch. My brother and I were inside and shortly after the adults left, we went to bed. I had no idea what had happened until the next day.

When I woke up, Dad was gone and Mom was angry. For weeks, she stayed angry with Dad and would not accept any apologies or gifts from him. What had happened on the porch was this: my Dad gave my Mother to Jim (metaphorically). He told Jim that he could do anything he wanted with my Mother, EXCEPT sing to her. Now, my Mother is the faithful type and does not/did not accept what my Dad had done. So, she waited and sure enough, a few days later, my Dad called her and asked for a divorce.

By the time November came around (the month the divorce was finalized), I was completely comfortable with the idea of my parents no longer being together. My Dad, in front of me had called my Mother an adulteress and a liar. Me being more like my Mom than my Dad, I refuted what he said and yelled at him to shut-up.

Let me explain this to you: I was not a ‘sneak out at night and risk being grounded for life because I wanna go to this party’ kinda gal. I was an in-your-face, this-is-me-and-my-attitude rebel. If you did something I didn’t like, I confronted you about it (ask my friends/family. They will back this up). So, when I raised my voice at my Dad, it was natural. I was proud and angry. Proud that I stood in what I believed and knew to be right (my Mom and I are best-friends) and angry that my Dad would lie to me and try to turn me away from my Dad.

What I did not expect was this: two weeks after the divorce was finalized, my Dad called me over a cell phone and disowned me. It rocked my world and set everything “nice” on fire. I was angry when he hung up abruptly on me. I remember looking at the phone and wanting to throw it at the wall in front of me. I remember walking into the living room and explaining what he had done to my Mother and Jim (who had become more than friends after the divorce was finalized).

If you have never been disowned, let me explain how this goes: every little girl wants to be loved and comforted by the strong arms of her Dad. EVERY little girl does. Her Dad, until she walks down the aisle and says, “I do.” Is her strong man, her crutch, her gentleman, her everything. Her Dad is the one that she should go to when things go awry, right? Even though my Dad did not fill most of these spots for me, I still loved him. I still depended on him. I still watched him drive away when it was his time to leave home. He was still my human knight in shining armor because he was the type of man I always knew. So, when you (the little girl) get disowned, everything crashes and crumbles. When once you were something, you feel like nothing. When once you were full of worth, you are naught but a speck of dirt. Personally, I felt like I was on the edge of a cliff and instead of my Dad rescuing me, he plunged a sword through my heart and pushed me off of the mountain and into the darkest world I never thought I’d come to know.

After the disownment, my Mom and Jim got married, which angered my Brother and I, but I figured, “Maybe Jim is the one that I can be something/someone to?” In a matter of a few short weeks, my theory was proven wrong. My brother and I were no one and nothing but his slaves. He pushed us to do work in a certain time limit and punished us when we didn’t get it done. He yelled at us for standing up for ourselves/each other and berated us when we told our mother something and he wanted us to do something else. When we would tell our Mom what was going on, she would ignore it so… we stopped telling her about it and it grew worse. By this time, I was fed up with men and decided to leave Jesus for the.. um.. darker side of things. I began doing things I KNEW were wrong: conversing with demons, talking to witches, etc, etc. Although I had one rule: I would NEVER doubt Jesus’ existence, but as time went by, I began to have doubts about that. I was FOURTEEN, people. This went on for months. I hated the world of men and tolerated everyone else. I was getting into things that teens my age SHOULD NOT be getting into. Then, Jesus hit me with a fish (NOT literally). My conscience kicked me in the butt and, painfully aware of the consequences, I told my Mom and Jim what I had been doing. My Mother told me to go talk to Christ.

So, here I am, outside of my house, talking to Jesus and immediately, He showed me what the end result would be: six years from that time, an EMT team would be wheeling me into a hospital while I was bleeding and dying and screaming out for Jesus to save me. I am twenty years old. You do the math. When He showed me that scene, it hit me and I ran back inside the house and told my Mom what I had seen. She told me that it was MY choice and that Jesus would step out of the way and let me dance with the devil if I truly wanted Him to do so. After that, she went outside, hopped onto the lawnmower and began to pray. As my family did yard-work, I went behind the house and sat down on a small, dirt hill in the middle of the woods. Gritting my teeth, I began, “Jesus, I don’t want You, but I have to have You. Give me a reason to live.” Almost like a whisper, He said, “Love others so that you can be loved.” At that moment, I broke. I cried and told Him that I would come and stay with Him.

Eventually, I forgave my Dad and no longer hated men. Rather, I have standards for them and the following is why: During the four years that my Mother and Jim were married, all of us learned quite a lot about him and ourselves. Jim was into things that should not be mentioned on any website and he had passed it upon me, which had been a major bursting point (spiritually) for me and when I forgave my Dad of his wrong(s), my fight with Lust began. For almost two years, I was tormented to the point of tears and near insanity. While my Mother, my Brother and I fought for our freedom from this spirit, Jim was not and continued down his way-ward path. The Lord appointed the Husband to be the Head of the Household and because of this, any spirit he lets into the house, torments and tries to ravage the family. I remember hunkering down next to my bed, Vicki Yohe singing through the radio, me begging God to just let me have SOME peace and crying all at the same time.

There was a night where I had laid down in my bed, closed my eyes, and felt that something was not right. When I opened my eyes, I saw (in my mind-this is the way I see demons most times) a little grunge, demon boy at the foot of my bed (I HAVE NOT watched that movie, by the way). Soon after the boy “disappeared,” there appeared a black cloaked figure. This figure walked from one wall to the beginning of my bedroom door and slightly turned towards me. I couldn’t see its face, but I knew what it was saying. In the morning, I told my Mother who told Jim. Jim, thinking that he could do something, immediately anointed his hands and rushed into my bedroom. Although, I have not seen Lust in THAT form again, it was still present.

Another incident was when I was angry and I was talking to my Mother about Lust. She suddenly grabbed my face with both hands and just stood there, looking into my eyes. She smiled and said, “It doesn’t like this.” I pulled away and asked her what she meant and why and she replied, “Your skin around your eyes grew dark. It doesn’t like it because it knows you could be delivered from it.” Since that time, I would go into the bathroom and get REAL close to the mirror and rebuke Lust. My pupils would grow and the coloring in my eyes would turn into glass, almost see-through. I would remind Lust that it was going to leave me and very clearly, I would hear, “No.” Again, I would rebuke it until I got tired and then, I would leave the bathroom.

During my stay at Jim’s house, like I said, I battled with this spirit. It was not all his fault, for I had done things I wasn’t allowed to do too. However, one day while driving home from (somewhere), I was talking to the Lord and He suddenly (and out-of-the-blue) said, “You’re free.” I couldn’t believe what He had said and asked Him to repeat it. Again, He said, “You’re free.” I hurried home and told my Mom. Both of us were so excited.

Shortly thereafter, I graduated from High School and she divorced Jim.

All of this is true and because of all of it, I understand.

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