Delving Deep

By:  Veronica  •  one week ago  •  7 comments

Delving Deep
I was always talking to an "imaginary friend", 

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When I was very young we moved into the house I grew up in (a different one from the article "Let Us Begin").  It was an old farmhouse sitting on 19 acres with 2 barns and a chicken coop.  My sister and I shared a room, but we got new twin beds.  Two of my brothers shared a room and the two oldest each had their own room.  I hated the closet in our room - it was one of two closets in the whole house.It always freaked me out - as if there was always something peeking out at me.  It didn't feel friendly.  Of course with brothers thinking that scaring the shit out of me was HILARIOUS I was very skittish.  

When I played in my room I always felt as if someone was watching me from that damn closet.  Sometimes I would think I heard whispers.  I was always too scared to go look, but my sister always checked the closet and under my bed before I went to sleep.  She didn't see anything.  My parents never believed a word I said, but when I was older they often told stories of how I was always talking to an "imaginary friend".

We used to play Hide and Go Seek upstairs with the lights off (against my mother's rules) when my parents had their weekly bowling night and my oldest brother was in charge.  He stayed in his room, listening to music & smoking weed - his door was closed.  One night I was the seeker and did my counting downstairs.  When I came upstairs I went to the room of my second oldest brother and looked around in there.  He had an old bureau for his clothes  and I went to check the other side of it.  There crouched down in the corner was something.  It was not any of my siblings.  My mind tried to make sense of what I was seeing & eventually it formed into Jesus.  I screamed and ran out of the room.  All the lights came on as my sister came out of hiding to find out what happened.  I told her & we went back into the room.  We walked to the other side of the bureau and she said nothing was there.  I went over & looked as all my brothers piled into the room.  I told them all what I saw and they all looked at me as if I was crazy.  In fact my one brother said I was nuts.  My sister smacked him.  I ran to my room and went under the covers & cried.  None of us told my parents.  I was told later in life when I would relate that story and other things that happened in that house that "the devil" wears many clothes.  

In the basement of that house (horrid place) was the furnace and a root cellar.  I hated going down there to get jars of food or the root vegis we stored down there, not just because of the spiders.  As I descended the stairs I began hearing scuffling (my parents said mice - I always thought "BIG MICE).  It would start behind the furnace and move towards the root cellar as I made it to the bottom of the steps.  Of course there was nothing to see when I got to the door.  I would prop open the door, but 9 times out of 10 t would slam shut with me inside.  The worst of the worse was when the lightbulbs blew.  It was pitch black down there.  At those times every sound was amplified. There was also a crawl space near the furnace that allowed access to the pipes.  I never went over there.  I just knew that is where the scuffler came from. 

As I got older I heard the noises less - I think I became immune to them.  I guess being told that if you hear or see things others cannot means you are nuts has a way of making you not hear or see them.  It makes me sad to think that I may have missed an important conversation.


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Junior Guide
1  author  Veronica    one week ago

The old homestead.

MsAubrey (aka Ahyoka)
Sophomore Principal
2  MsAubrey (aka Ahyoka)    one week ago
Of course with brothers thinking that scaring the shit out of me was HILARIOUS I was very skittish. 

My one older stepbrother found out that it was a bad idea to scare me. I broke his nose. People often never find out if they're the fight or flight type... I'm the fighter. As soon as my brother jumped out from behind the 50 blue spruce in our front yard [it was dark too], I started swinging. I caught him in the nose first, that made him yell and crouch and that's when I started kicking. Then he yelled, "IT'S COREY! STOP KICKING ME!" I slapped him a couple more times and then went in the house, where my mom and stepdad were laughing their asses off. He walked in behind me, holding his bloodied nose and said, "She can take care of herself." After he got himself cleaned up, he told me never to hit anyone ever again... unless I absolutely had to. I was never scared by either older stepbrother again.

It sounds like you were the only one with a "gift" in your house. That's a tough one to contend with sometimes. It's always better when you get some sort of confirmation. My stepdad and I were sitting in the living room... let me preface first. My mom has a mouth like a trucker. If she knocks something over, bangs a knee, spills something, loses something, etc. she will cuss up a storm, very loudly I might add. Well, my stepdad and I were watching TV in the living room when we heard this loud clatter from the bathroom. It sounded like my mom knocked a bunch of stuff out of the medicine cabinet and into the sink. We waited to hear a stream of explicit content / vulgarities. We heard nothing. The bathroom door was mostly closed and the bathroom light was on. I hollered, "Mom, you okay? What did you knock down?" No answer. I knock on the bathroom door... nothing. I open it to find nothing in the sink and my mom was not there. I left the door open and shut off the light. I searched the house for my mom. She was in the basement doing laundry. I asked her why she left the door closed and light on... and I told her what we heard. To this day, we don't know who shut the door, turned the light on, or made noises like things falling in the sink. But... I wasn't the only one that heard it.

We seemed to have a poltergeist that liked the bathroom for some reason. My bedroom was next to the bathroom. One morning, I awoke to find Vaseline on my dresser open with the lid sitting next to it. I asked my mom why the hell she had Vaseline in my bedroom. She said, "I didn't have Vaseline in your bedroom... why would I have Vaseline in your bedroom? That's the stupidest thing I have ever heard." 

We had a ton of weird things happen like that; no explanation or reasoning and it always seemed to revolve around something that typically belongs in the bathroom.

Everything that has happened in the house I'm in now, I'm not the only one that experiences them, so having that validation does help. You're not crazy... you're just in tune.

Junior Guide
3  author  Veronica    one week ago
It sounds like you were the only one with a "gift" in your house.

I think there were others, but they learned to hide it.  

MsAubrey (aka Ahyoka)
Sophomore Principal
3.1  MsAubrey (aka Ahyoka)  replied to  Veronica @3    one week ago

It sucks that they were afraid to share.

Junior Guide
3.1.1  author  Veronica  replied to  MsAubrey (aka Ahyoka) @3.1    one week ago

My one brother occasionally lets things slips that he has experienced & then pretends he is a skeptic. 

MsAubrey (aka Ahyoka)
Sophomore Principal
3.1.2  MsAubrey (aka Ahyoka)  replied to  Veronica @3.1.1    one week ago
then pretends he is a skeptic

Boo. People like that are afraid they'll be judged. 

Junior Guide
3.1.3  author  Veronica  replied to  MsAubrey (aka Ahyoka) @3.1.2    one week ago

I if we aren't all judged by someone for something every day we breathe.


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