Archive 64 Paranormal

somewhere in Strafford County. We were using a spotlight to look for deer and other wildlife that inhabited the area. We were not illegally poaching the deer, We were just looking for them. By the way, if you even shine a light down here in Mississippi, you're going to jail. Whether you have a life with you or not. You can't spotlight down here. I don't know what the laws are of there. Nobody rides around the woods shining lights

in fields and woods around here because you going to jail. Brother. Anyway, on with the story. At around eleven thirty PM, we came to a valley where we could get out and stretch our legs next to a swamp surrounded by young oaks, maples, beech trees, and pines. My friend Dan had to relieve himself and went over to the edge of the swamp

out of sight. My other friend, Andrew and I were considering pranking Dan by driving off and leaving him in the dark for five minutes when we heard something rounding the other side of the swamp. It was clearly walking on two feet, and we thought it was Dan. Why the heck did you go out that far? We shouted, and the walking stop. I'm only over here, Dan answered, as he approached us from the opposite direction. I quickly grabbed the blot light and scanned the other side of

the swamp at our one o'clock. The light reflected two auburn eyes that were almost completely concealed by cattail, reeds and saplings. We figured it was some kind of predator, but we weren't sure. Well the heck is that, Andrew asked. The words had barely left his mouth when the thing stood up. Our view of the thing was still mostly blocked by the trees and leaves, but now we could see a silhouette of a large upright figure. The eyes were still shining at us through the leaves, though much

higher up. At this point, the only clearly visible part of it were two black tree trunk sized legs, and then it took a step back and it melted into the trees. For the next ten to fifteen seconds, we could hear it crashing and stomping deeper into the forest at what seemed like an almost supernatural speed, and then the sound was gone. We all looked at each other in amazed silence. What did we just see? I ask everyone.

It definitely wasn't a bear. The sheer size and speed at which it moved eliminated the possibility of it being a human. We debated the possibilities during the car ride home, but we never came to any logical conclusion as to what it might be. Two months later, a coworker who lives near that spot told me that her husband had seen a bigfoot cross the road on Christmas Eve two years before. It was less than a mile from where my friends and I had seen this creature. Since then,

I have accepted that we saw bigfoot that night. Sadly, Andrew died in a car accident in twenty eighteen, but the subject has now become a hobby for me and my friend Dan. We now spend a great deal of time looking out for the elusive creature. I have one other encounter, along with some other occurrences I would love to share. Since our state doesn't have any established research organizations on the subject, it doesn't matter to me if you ever used this story on your channel. It's not

a Bigfoot story. It's just something I was thinking about and I felt like talking kind of straightened it out in my own mind, I suppose, so I decided to write it down. By all accounts, my grandfather was not a very nice man. He was a strict disciplinarian, a man who beat his wife and kids. By today's standards, he'd be a criminal. But I think maybe he was a victim of his times. Born somewhere around eighteen eighty, he was of a time when it was the job

of the man to keep his house in order. A man who failed to keep his house in order could not be the deacon of a church, and was looked upon as week. Any failings in his family would have been his fail as a man. Now I'm not making excuses for him. God knows I have my own reasons to question his actions, and I try not to view him too harshly. My grandfather died when I was two.

I was the only grandchild that he lived to see, and by all accounts, in my one memory of him, he loved me very much and he was very proud of me, even though at the time my greatest achievement was in having been born. Mama told me that he died lying on the sofa in the living room of the house he built and owned. He owned and built another home for my uncle and his wife just behind us. Now that's no small feet for a black man born

only sixteen years after slavery. On the day he died, the corner was playing golf and no one could move the body until the corner pronounced him dead. And this house was out in the country, and the corner didn't see any and to interrupt his golf game, after all, Granddaddy wasn't going anywhere. And he laid there for hours, and finally the corner showed up and verified the obvious, and the funeral home was called. And while they waited for the hers, Grandpa sat up. Everybody in the house

saw it. He stood up, and he walked over to his rocking chair. He sat down in it. And started rocking, and after a few minutes of rocking, the chair slowed to a stop. A little while later, the funeral home picked him up from that chair, and when they got there, everybody told them what had happened, and the director nodded, and he says, these things can happen sometimes. That should have marked the end of my time with my grandfather,

but that was not the case. When I was three or four, I was playing in the dirt in the front yard when someone blew in my ear. First, I was engrossed in my game and I didn't paying much mine. As it happened again and again. I tried to absently to brush it away, and finally I stopped playing entirely, and I looked around. It now had my full attention. I knew this wasn't the wind. For one thing, the air was still in For another, the wind doesn't blow

directly into your ear. There was no one there. I stood up and I ran in the house and I told my grandmother that someone was blowing in my ear, but nobody was there. Oh, that's just your grandfather, She said, don't worry, he won't hurt you. Well. I was shocked, and I tried to process that information. I knew my granddaddy was dead and he didn't have any business blowing in my ear, But mother acted as if it was normal, and I was used to taking my cue from her,

and I decided to let it go. But it troubled me, and I didn't go back outside all day. I didn't know then that my grandmother was both right and wrong. It wouldn't hurt me, but he would most definitely try. In fact, he would try to kill me. For the most part, the things that happened during my years of being shadowed by my grandpa's ghost were innocuous. Once, when I was turning flips on the sofa, I heard a voice that sounded just like my uncle, my grandfather's brother,

say stop that right now. I looked over and no one was there. There wasn't even a car in the yard. I found my grandmother in the back of the house hanging out the wash, and I stayed outside with her. Another time, it got into my head to try to see my face in the bottom of the well. I was about six at the time, and I noticed that I could see a round circle of blue sky in the dark depths of the well. I figured if I could lean over far enough I could see my face

in the middle of that Sir. Now, I knew I might fall, and I knew I couldn't swim. So I let the bucket down into the water, believing that I could grab the rope and scream until my grandmother came and found me. But it never occurred to me that I could hit my head on the way down, or that the rope may come loose when I grabbed it. I scrambled my way up the side of the well and I leaned over, and I couldn't see my face.

I needed to get higher, and I pushed and scraped and pulled my way up the stone sides, and I still wasn't high enough. I took a deep breath and I tried again. This time I heard a loud, stern voice shout, get down. I let go of the well and I dropped back to the ground, fully expecting to get a good chewing out from my uncle, But there was nobody. I didn't learn until a few months ago that my baby brother had also heard the same voice,

and he too thought it was our uncle. The last thing to happen before my grandfather's force departure happened in front of my friends, Brenda and Benny, who lived up the hill. My mother was friends with their mother, and one day she walked up to the hill to visit, and I went with her. We were playing on the swing set in their yard while our mothers talked outside. They were both older than me, and they could swing higher than me, and I was desperate to get as

high as they did. But no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't do it. And then suddenly my swing froze in mid air. The chain attached to the seat was outstretched and taut. Brenda and Bennie jumped off their swings and stared up at me, and I looked down at them, and I needed a lighter or something, and my swing went four feet higher, and I started to kick and scream, and my swing came loose from whatever force held it, and I swooped backwards through the air.

More than anything in the world, I did not want that swing to go up again, and I dug my feet in the dirt to stop it, while my friends watched, wide eyed and frozen. And when I managed to get off, we all stood there, looking at the swing, in each other and in the way of children who have just experienced something they know adults will not believe. We went and played somewhere else. We never got back on that swing, not that day, not ever, And that brings me to

the culmination of these events. My grandfather's house was in a small country town where there wasn't much by the way of employment. A granddaddy had been a farmer, an occupation my father had no interest in continuing, so Daddy and Mama both worked in the larger town about an hour away, and sometimes they stayed there, and sometimes they came home, and on this night they were home. But I was used to my grandmother taking care of me, so when I woke up in pain that night, I

tried to wake her. There were sharp pains in my stomach, as if my intestines were being pulled out of my body. I shook my grandmother and I called her, but I couldn't wake her, and this was unusual because Grandmother was a very light sleeper. And finally I gave up and got out of bed and went to the door of

the room where my parents were sleeping. And I was crying when I opened the door, and Mama heard me immediately what's wrong, she asked, Sleepy, I told her my stomach hurts, and I was crying from the ache and tears were streaming down my face. Mama threw back the

covers and got out of bed. They went to the bathroom and pulled a peptipismo from the medicine cabinet, and we went to the kitchen for a spoon and sat down on the sofa in the living room, and she gave me a dose from the bottle, and I fell asleep with my head in her lap. I don't know how long I slept, but she woke me up and sent me off to bed, saying, you'll feel better, now, go get some rest. I did feel better, but not for long. As soon as I climbed into bed, the

horrible jerking and pulling pain started again. I felt as if I was dying, and I sat up in bed crying, and I saw Mother struggle to open her eyes, but she fell back to sleep. It was the only time in my life that I felt she didn't really care about me, but I knew that wasn't true, so I thought she must really be tired. I didn't want to go back to Mama's room, but I didn't have a choice. This happened a time when television played the Star Spangled Banner when it went off at night, and I never

thought of sitting up in the dark alone. Now opened the bedroom door, hoping that Mama wouldn't get impatient with me. It still hurts, I said again. Mama threw back the covers, and I heard Daddy Mama, what's wrong with her? She says, she's sick. Mama answered. This time Daddy got up and came with us. We were all in the living room and I was sniffling on the sofa with Mama rubbing

my stomach. Daddy was sitting in a chair, skimming through a magazine and talking to Mama, And after a while I went to sleep, listening to the soft sound of their voices as they whispered back and forth. I was later shaken awake by Mama, who was telling me to go back to bed, and I looked around and I saw that Daddy was gone. I didn't want to go back to bed. Something was happening in that bed, and every time I got into bed, those horrible pains would start.

I walked slowly down the hallway to my grandmother's room as soon as I was back in the bed, the torture and my stomach began again. I held it, curling into a ball and willing it to stop, willing myself to be stronger so that I could endure it. That is the first time I heard the voice. It was a man's voice, and it seemed to be speaking to me telepathically. I had no idea at the time what telepathy was, but someone was talking to me inside my head. Again,

I was six or seven years old. I didn't question that. It's the same way we didn't question it when that swing stopped in mid air and the voice told me that my grandfather wanted to take me with him. You have to stay awake, it said. I spoke back to it the same way it spoke to me, with a thought. But I have to sleep, I said. I can't stay awake forever, and he'll get me. He only has tonight, the voice answered, If you'll live till the morning, you'll

live well. I wanted to ask why he had any time at all, but Mama had taught us about messing in grown folks business, and this seemed to be grown folks business. If ever, there was any besides the voice, could read my mind too. It knew the question I wanted to ask, and it had not answered, and I decided to leave well enough alone. Crying loudly now from the pain in my stomach, I struggled out of bed.

This time. Mama met me at the door to her room, Margaret in She said, why is it that you only seem to be sick when you go back to bed, As long as you're in the living room, you seem fine. I wanted to ask her, well, if you know that, why do you keep sending me back to bed? But I knew better than to say that. She might consider it back talking and send me to bed, saying and you better not get up again, which would probably be

the end of me. So I stood there silently, staring up at her while she looked down into my tears stained face, and finally she sighed and took me back into the living room again. I went to sleep. I don't know how long we were there, but she woke me up, saying, it's almost day. Go back to bed now. I got up, and as we walked through the still dark house, I looked toward the kitchen window, which faced east. I could just make out a pencil edge of daylight

on the horizon. The sun was coming up. Wouldn't be much longer. The voice had told me that he had till morning. So I climbed back in bed next to my grandmother, and immediately the pain in my stomach began even harder than before, and I buried my face in my pillow and I cried while I held my stomach, and I tried not to go back to my parents' room. The sun was coming up fast now, and soon the pain began to go away, And as it drifted away, I drifted off to sleep. I never saw or heard

from my grandfather after that. In later years, I read something in the Bible that said, when the silver cord is loosed, the connection between life and after life. I also heard someone speaking on an astral projection talk about silver chords connecting the spirit body to the physical body, and when it comes loose, that's the end of life in this world. He said that it seemed to be around the navel or in the stomach area. I wonder

about that and that horrible pulling. But more than that, I wondered why my grandfather would try to kill me. He could have just let me fall into the well years before. I've come to the conclusion that he wanted to take me because he loved me and he wanted me to be with him. I don't think he really believed Mom and Daddy would take care of me. He did know my grandmother would, which is why I think

she wasn't allowed to wake up that night. Granddaddy was certain the family would fall apart without him, and that's why he fought so hard to live, and that's why his spirit reanimated his dead body. But he couldn't make it live. He could only make it move in a way. He was right. My uncle and his wife divorced shortly after his death, and my parents divorced five years later. If he had lived, could he have stopped all that? I don't think so. He may have delayed it, but

it would have happened anyway. That was the whole point. That was what the owner of that voice I heard was trying to teach him. People are in charge of their own destinies. He could even control a seven year old girl. And as for that voice, I still hear it sometimes. When I do, I always listen