About a year and half ago, I was at home babysitting my little brother.
My parents had just gone to the supermarket for food, so wouldn't be gone for very long.
My brother is autistic so it was important I stayed with him constantly.
At first, everything was normal and relaxed.
We were sat together in the living room watching children's tv shows.
Then, all of a sudden, the electricity cut out.
The house was black and silent.
I knew that my parents wouldn't be very long, so I thought it was best that we just
sat and waited for them to return.
I was comfortable with the darkness.
However, before too long my very young brother became uneasy.
He told me that there was a monster in the house.
I presumed that he had heard a noise and thought the worst.
After all, we lived in an old house, and old houses make noises all the time.
I decided to have a little fun with him.
It's okay, I told him, you're safe with me.
I asked him about the monster.
Where is he?
What's he doing?
My heart skipped a little when my brother whispered that the monster was waiting in
the dark upstairs in Dad's bedroom.
At this point my brother began to cry.
So, enough was enough: no more fooling around.
In an attempt to calm his tears, I took his hand and led him upstairs.
I wanted to show him that there was no monster - it was just the dark that was scaring him.
I turned on the torch on my phone and shined it into our dad's bedroom.
Its bright white light punctured through the darkness of the room.
There was nothing there.
I assured my brother that everything was alright.
I could see that he believed me.
We turned our backs to the room and began to make our way downstairs.
Then we heard it.
A noise.
Coming from Dad's bedroom.
I felt my little brother's hand tighten in mine.
How strange, I thought.
Could there be an intruder in the house?
I told my brother to wait on the stairs, reassuring him that I would be back.
I made my way back to the bedroom, but did not go inside.
Instead, I stayed outside, peering my phone around the door in order to take photos, in
the hope that the flash would make whoever was inside say something or move.
There was nothing but silence.
I went downstairs with my brother, who was now strangely quiet.
A little spooked, I thought that I might as well look at the photos which I had just taken.
Most of them looked normal.
Most.
When I looked at the last photo I felt my heart sink to the pit of my stomach.
The photo was dark, half of it obscured by the bedroom door.
But there, just above the door handle, was a face.
It was extremely thin and grey, with large, deep black eyes.
I couldn't see a mouth...
I am glad that I couldn't...
Still in darkness, I cuddled with my brother and waited until our parents came home.
When they did, I showed them the photo.
They told me that it was probably just my phone playing up.
But I knew different.
Since then photographs taken in that house have always produced 'anomalies'.
There is always someone in them who shouldn't be.
A face that was never there when the shutter snapped.
The house gives me the chills: I always feel like I am exposed.
Like I am being watched.
It was the summer of 2011 and I was 21 years old, living in New Jersey.
I lived in a somewhat old house with my mom and roommate.
My roommate was often out, so it was mainly my mom and I.
We had been living there for just a few months.
Nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened there.
Just day to day life, as you would expect.
However, over the course of about 18 months things would happen that I just could not
explain.
It started out pretty simple.
We would be sitting downstairs then all of a sudden we would hear footsteps from upstairs.
Pictures would go crooked on the walls, despite us fixing them constantly.
Over time, the activity got more intense.
We would feel faint, breath-like, breezes on the back of our necks.
Or tugging on our clothes.
One time, it even felt as though someone placed their hand on my mom's back and lightly
pushed her.
It was like someone was standing right behind her.
But, there was no one there.
It was not just us who sensed that things were not as they should be.
My roommate owned a few birds.
Sometimes they would start to panic for no reason.
It was like something had spooked them.
Although I was there to witness a lot of these happenings, things mostly happened around
my mom.
The day had ended and I was sleeping on my pull out couch downstairs.
It was a deep sleep - I was completely knocked out.
It was around 3 am. when my mom started downstairs to get herself a drink of water.
Suddenly she tumbled down the stairs, barely missing the radiator at the bottom.
Afterwards, she said that something had pushed her in the back.
That something had pushed her hard.
Was my mom being targeted by whatever was in that house with us?
All I know is that she was very lucky to walk away from the fall with only temporary bruises.
I will never forget how the suddenness of her fall shocked me awake.
Later, a doctor told me that I woke so suddenly that I actually bruised my heart from rapid
pulse change.
It was after this that we started to take these happenings more seriously.
I was now concerned for my mom's safety.
So, my mom and I decided to do an EVP session the very next night.
It started with the usual stuff…
'What's your name?'...
no reply.
'When did you die?'...
no reply.
'Do you even know that you are dead?'...
no reply.
Nothing.
Slightly disheartened, I decided that for the second half of the session I would be
more creative.
I suggested that, if the spirit needed energy to communicate, then it should channel some
from me.
As soon as I asked, I felt a little strange.
After asking a few more questions, I played back what we had recorded.
There was a voice on the recording after I asked if the spirit was low on energy.
Clear as day it said: 'I'd like to use it.'
I had never heard that voice before in my life.
We showed the recording to our landlady.
She was shocked when she heard it.
She said that it was, without a doubt, the voice of her late mother.
It was then that we found out that this lady had died in the house before we moved in.
This is not the end of my story.
After this the activity in the house only began to increase.
Despite doing more EVP sessions, we would never record the voice again.
However, something far stranger did happen.
It was around noon and the sun was shining.
My mom and I were in the living room when all of a sudden a glowing orb of light, the
size of a basketball, appeared on one side of the room.
It moved around the room for about 2 or 3 full seconds, looping and flying in all directions.
Then it flew into the old, grandmother style clock on the other side of the room.
It disappeared.
The hands on the clock stopped.
Only, they were not accurate to the real time.
Was this a time of death…?
My mom and I decided right then that it was time to move out of this house.
A month later we did just that, and neither of us have been back since.
Like most 21 year olds, I was obsessed with the idea of carving out my own path.
It was this compulsion which led me to apply to every American university in Europe that
I could find.
One accepted me immediately: it was in Prague.
I knew nothing about Prague.
I barely even knew which country it was in.
It wasn't until I arrived that I realised every apartment, every street, every corner
of that city had a dark story to tell…
I had decided to rent a room closest to the oldest area of the city.
The district was beautiful, but my bedroom was not.
In fact it was not even a bedroom: it was an unused sitting room that smelled musty
and forgotten.
It's furnishings consisted of a small gas kitchenette, a single, old wooden chair and
a sofa bed that had a hole in the middle.
The owner was a young woman who wanted nothing to do with the room.
She tossed me the keys and quickly left.
Upon being alone, I was immediately hit by a sensation that everything was not as it
seemed.
Behind the crumbling furniture and peeling wallpaper there was a some sort of dark aura;
a lingering sense of dread that lurked in the background.
That first night I did not sleep well.
I had used my luggage and a coat to fill in the hole in the bed.
After much discomfort, I drifted into a heavy sleep.
I had dreams of being in my new room.
The room was half in shadow, half in light.
The curtain rippled against the window as the coolness of the night squeezed its way
in from outside.
All of a sudden, the silence was shattered by the bloodcurdling scream of a man.
He cried out in a language that I had no hope of understanding.
My eyes moved to the hallway.
A great darkness emanated from it.
It seemed to grow the more I looked into it.
The blackness soon enveloped me.
It was pulsating and loud, voices contained within it, angry voices, yelling at me.
I awoke as though I had not slept for a minute.
After this, sleep became a chore.
Each night, I was held a prisoner.
I knew that as soon as my head hit the pillow the darkness would find me and I would hear
those voices again.
For the first few nights, I was able to resist sleep.
A mixture of coffee and energy drinks saw to that.
However, after the third night I could no longer fight it.
The comfort of slumber was too strong…
When I awoke the next morning I realised that I had dreamt of nothing.
No darkness, no voices.
I was so glad I could have jumped out of bed.
It was then that I realised I couldn't move.
My hands felt like they were glued to the bed.
My head would not lift from the pillow.
My legs weighed down like they were made of lead.
The only thing that I could move were my eyes.
Even my heart felt heavy.
I was paralysed.
The same sense of dread that I felt from the darkness in my dream washed over me.
It was like the stuff of my nightmare had found a way to permeate reality.
I tried to scream but my lips would not move.
I could only scream inside of my head.
I screamed so hard it felt like my skull would implode.
Then, just as quickly as it had began, it was over.
I was released.
I could move again.
That day I committed myself to relaxation.
I was convinced that I was only making matters worse by fretting about them.
So, no more coffee, no more energy drinks.
I would confront sleep like an ordinary person.
By the time the sun set I had banished the previous night's happenings to the back
of my mind.
That night I began to dream normally.
I felt peace.
But, not for long.
There was a jerk.
My body was pulled downwards from the bed and I was ripped out from my peaceful slumber.
The piece of luggage that I had been using to prop the bed up had slipped out, and I
was now poking through its shabby mattress.
I laughed to myself and rearranged the luggage.
However, when I lay down I noticed something on the ceiling of the bedroom, right above
me.
It was a shadow.
Or rather, it was the shadow - the shadow from my dream.
The very same abysmal darkness that had engulfed me.
It started to grow.
I looked to the hallway.
It was there too.
Multiplying, swallowing everything as it moved across the room towards me.
My eyes dimmed and then in a flash I awoke.
I realised that I was having a layered dream.
The repetition of the shadow and the waking up haunted me for several more times that
night.
I was caught in my worst nightmare: was I awake, or was I dreaming?
I do not even know how many times I woke up that night.
It was when I heard the familiar stop-start whirring of the morning traffic outside my
window that I knew I had awoken for real.
Faint light trickled in from under my curtain as the sun started to rise.
My body, however, was paralysed just like before.
Yet, this time, I was not alone.
A shadowy humanoid mass materialised on top of me.
It's body was hunched over, pressing down against my chest.
All I could do was look on in frozen terror as its limbs stretched out towards my neck.
I felt its grip tighten against my skin.
With every squeeze I could feel its anger.
It felt as though it hated me.
Like it wanted me gone from this place.
Its grip was so strong that I began to think that it was not trying to strangle me, but
rather tear my very head from my body.
Before too long, the pain started to subside, replaced by dizziness and confusion.
Oxygen was leaving me.
The room and the figure were spinning.
I was about to blackout.
In my final attempt to free myself from this creature, I used all of my remaining strength
to force sound from my lips.
I utter a deep, primordial growl, commanding this being to get off me.
That was enough to make its grip on my neck slacken.
I could open my mouth to scream.
I yelled.
I am not sure how it disappeared - my vision was too blurry for that - but disappear it
did.
The weight on my chest lifted and the shadow figure was gone.
I sat up panting, searching for my breath for a very long time.
Later that day, I moved out into a hotel.
I could no longer stay in that place.
After that, I never saw my shadowy assailant again.
In my 33 years of existence, I have only ever shared this experience with a handful of people.
It is not something that I am able to talk about easily.
Some have doubted.
Some have even laughed.
But, it was never funny to me - and it never will be.
I was only about four or five years old.
My father and step-mother had put me to bed as they usually did each night.
A few hours later they went to bed themselves.
And so, the house entered its nightly hibernation.
A strange noise made me stir from my sleep.
My bedroom was dark, except for a slither of light that trickled in from the hallway.
With sleepy eyes I looked out from my bed to the doorway.
I expected to see one of my parents checking on me - as they did - as they got up to use
the bathroom.
My eyes did not find my father or step-mother.
There was a creature standing there.
It looked like a humanoid pile of mud: filthy and viscous.
The smell was repulsive, like a sewage plant had exploded.
I was terrified.
I screamed.
It disappeared.
My father and step-mother came running from their bedroom.
In fits of tears, I was able to tell my dad what I had seen.
He searched the house, came back and told me that he had got rid of the monster.
I believed him and was soothed.
Before too long, my eyes drew heavy and I drifted back to sleep.
I do not know for how long I was asleep, but I was once more awoken.
This time by a terrible stench.
I peered down to the foot of my bed: the creature was waiting there.
Fear gripped my heart.
I thought my dad had killed the creature, but there it was again.
I tried to scream by no noise came out.
It started moving closer to me.
As it was about to touch me I let out a blood-curdling scream.
Just as before it disappeared.
And, just as before my father and step-mother ran into my room.
I told them what had happened, and yet again my dad searched the house only to come back
and tell me the same thing as before.
This terrifying routine happened a few more times that night.
I would awake to see the revolting creature, it would get close to me, I would scream and
it would disappear.
By now my parents were tired.
My dad comforted me and said I had to try to sleep.
"Everything would be okay."
However, that time when I awoke the creature was closer than it ever had been before.
Its big, stinking hands were on me, as though trying to drag me from the bed.
The smell was overpowering.
But, fear made my childish muscles stronger, and I was able to pull myself out of its grip.
Screaming, I jumped from my bed and ran to climb on top of my dresser.
My father and step-mother entered my room.
Only this time the creature had not yet disappeared.
They saw the beast that had been terrorising me that night.
It looked straight at my dad with a sickly grin on its hideous face.
Its smile revealed a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth.
Before it disappeared, it growled.
The sound was unearthly.
My father instantly scooped me from the dresser and ran from the house.
We went to my grandmother's house.
My grandmother was a very spiritual woman from Ireland.
Some would call her a witch.
But, whatever power she had, she never used it for bad.
When my father told her what had happened, her eyes grew wide with fear.
She whispered something in his ear, then took a pendant of Michael and Gabriel the Archangels
from an old jewellery box.
After placing it around my neck, the incident was not spoken of again.
We never returned to that house.
Not even to collect our possessions.
Years later I asked my grandmother about that night.
She told me that the creature was a demon, and that it had wanted to kill me.
I cried so hard when my grandmother passed away: I know that if it had not been for her
and my dad, I would not be here to tell you this.
I work the graveyard shift.
I am a doorman for a residency and every now and then I'll get the strange sensation that
I am being watched.
Sometimes I'll see something out of the corner of my eye: a flicker of something dark.
A wisp of a shadowy entity.
When I'm not directly looking at the security cameras, it will sometimes seem like there
are people standing around in the vicinity.
But, whenever I look, they vanish.
However, the darkest part of my story is not the shadows themselves.
It is the fact that I pay them no mind.
After all, I am used to them.
They have been with me since I was 14 years old.
Have you ever had sleep paralysis?
I have.
But it's never been anything like what people have described.
I have suffered from it on way more than just one occasion.
The first few times it happened I saw an apparition in the corner of my bedroom.
It was as dark as the room itself, but protruded from the blackness with a mass of its own.
As my eyes were drawn to it, it would begin to move closer to me.
It felt as though its energy was drowning all of my senses.
Each time this happened, it was as though the shadow would get closer to me before it
dispersed.
These encounters used to be rare.
However, once I reached my mid-twenties they began to happen on a regular basis.
Because of this I sought out mental health evaluations and the like.
But nothing.
Nor does my family have any history of mental health illness.
I cannot explain what it happening to me.
A few months ago, I felt it worse than ever before.
The dark heaviness of its presence.
This time whatever it was was right in top of me, pinning me down.
It was humanoid and really tall.
Its face was close to mine, and it was staring deep into my eyes.
Then I realised it was grinning.
This thing was grinning at me as it pinned me down.
Yet, the worst thing of all was the sound it was making… the growling.
I do not know if it was meant to sound threatening, but there was definitely growling and whispers.
It was pinning me down with such incredible strength.
The pressure of its grip was nothing like what I have heard from other people's experiences
with sleep paralysis.
It felt like there were hands holding me down.
I got mad.
Really mad.
Normally I cannot even muster enough strength to make a sound, but the eerie grin on this
creature's face made me fight it.
I fought back.
I fought back hard.
The more I fought the more I could see the grin shrink from this thing's face.
Finally, I managed to get a full set of words out.
I remember them with such clarity: never have I put so much conviction into the words I
have said.
"If you don't get off me I swear on every deity you can imagine that I will make you
regret me even noticing you.
I will destroy you, I will tear you apart, and if you ever touch me again, I will make
you suffer far more than any hell you can come up with."
The grin dissolved from its face.
Next it did what I can only describe as a hop backwards into the air, before sinking
into the shadow of my bedroom wall.
It hasn't bothered me since.
On occasion, I catch sight of it lurking in the darkness, just before I have to wake up
and get ready for work.
However, this was not the end of my encounters.
Last month, I lost my father.
Before he passed away I swear that my dad suffered from this too.
He was a depressed alcoholic with several health issues, but I have always felt like
there was more to his story.
Now that he is gone, the activity has increased.
Whatever it was that has been stalking me since the age of fourteen has now shifted
all of its attention onto me and my mom.
My mother refuses to sleep with the lights off.
She makes excuses about my nieces and nephews needing the light so that they don't get
scared when they stay over.
However, they rarely visit to spend the night.
I feel like there is something she is not telling me.
In the pitch blackness of my bedroom, I will awake to see five, six - maybe even more - shadows.
They haunt the dark corners, just standing and staring at me.
Their presence is suffocating.
When I turn on any source of light, they disperse.
They do not vanish or disappear: they slowly wisp into nothingness, like if you were to
blow into a cloud of smoke.
Now, things are worse than they have ever been.
I was in a deep sleep.
Floating through a dream.
It was pleasant: peaceful and light.
All of a sudden I felt as though I was being yanked out of a cloud.
The bubble burst and I was shocked awake.
When my eyes opened, I saw and felt something I had never experienced before.
The room was the darkest it had ever been, and I was staring into the face of something
completely different.
The closest description I can offer is that it was a hag-like being.
But, it wasn't female.
It wasn't anything.
Whatever it was, it was glaring at me with such intensity as it pinned me down against
the bed.
My heart was really racing.
Yet, I resisted the urge to panic.
I jerked back and pulled my hand out of its grip to reach my phone.
As soon as the screen lit up, the creature reacted.
It jumped back and retreated to the corner of my room.
The shadow's form dispersed to mingle with all the rest of the blackness.
It doesn't matter where I am, these things seem to follow me.
They are with me at work.
I recently moved into a new apartment, and I see them there as well.
Yet, they always wait until I am asleep to make their move.
It is like they know I am vulnerable.
I always feel like I am being watched.
Like they are there, just waiting for the darkness...
I don't know where to begin…
It was the July of 1982 and I had just started a new career at the California Rehabilitation
Center.
One evening I was returning from the kitchen galley when I noticed a light coming from
a room.
Any other time I would have thought nothing of it.
However, when I began my shift earlier in the day at 3.00pm, no one had said to expect
a patient there.
Curious, I entered.
With my back to the door, I inspected the room.
It appeared to be an operating room.
Suddenly, the door creaked behind me.
I turned to see a man in scrubs.
Paying me no attention, he walked towards the operating table.
Then, as soon as he appeared, he was gone.
My head began to spin.
What had I just seen?
Did I imagine this?
I was so scared that I could not move.
After regaining composure, I grabbed a pair of sutures from the tray besides the operating
table.
I stepped back out into the corridor to ask a nurse or officer why these were left unsecured.
The entire ward was empty.
No doctors.
No nurses.
Not a single officer.
My heart still racing, I turned back to the operating room to make sure it was secured.
To my total shock, there was no door.
No room… nothing.
It had completely vanished.
I went weak at the knees.
The air knocked from my lungs.
I felt like I was going to be sick.
Or, maybe I was going to faint.
Or both.
Had I imagined the whole thing?
Then it hit me: I still had the sutures from the room in my hand.
Had I not have been holding them, I would have questioned the entire thing.
I would have thought I was going insane.
I have only shared this with my husband and another co-worker.
This same thing had also happened to her.
During the twenty-one years that I spent working at that facility, I encountered that same
room two more times.
Each time, I would enter and leave.
And each time, the room would disappear…
I had endured morning sickness the entire pregnancy.
I had gained only 11 pounds which put me in the high risk category.
Needless to say, the birth didn't go as planned.
I was induced into labor at 36 weeks because she had stopped growing.
Thankfully after 4 hours of labour I delivered a surprisingly healthy, beautiful, baby girl.
Three hours after delivery I started hemorrhaging severely.
My blood pressure dropped dangerously low.
My husband and I were told if the bleeding didn't stop within the next few hours, I would
have to have surgery.
My nurse, Wendy, began giving me shots of Pitocin every 30 minutes.
After two shots nothing had changed.
I couldn't focus, everything was surreal.
I guess because of my low blood pressure.
I remember thinking I was going to die, but I was very calm.
Wendy came in to let me know her shift would be over soon but someone else would come in
to give me shots.
She promised to come check in on me the next morning.
It was 6 O'clock in the evening when she came to my room.
Her name tag read 'Maria'.
She was a short lady, about 5 feet.
She had short brown hair with grey streaks, and beautiful blue eyes.
Her voice was soft and comforting: unlike any other that I have ever heard before or
since.
As soon as she entered the room, I felt some of my strength return to me.
Only moments before I could not even lift my arms because I was so weak.
I rolled over to my side, thinking she was there to give me my next shot.
She said: "Oh honey, I'm not giving you a shot, you don't need another one.
You're going to be just fine."
She stood next to my bed, smiling, as she rubbed my legs for a few minutes.
I glanced over at my husband, intending on asking him if he heard what she had said.
He was sat in a chair, sound to sleep.
She smiled at me once more, patted my leg, and turned towards the door.
Then, she was gone.
I didn't see her walk out the door, she just sort of vanished.
I again looked over at my husband, in the hope that he would acknowledge she had really
been in the room.
He was still sleeping.
I tried to wake him by calling his name.
He didn't stir.
I picked up a thermometer from the bedside table and threw it at him.
He still didn't wake up.
At that moment another nurse called Sheila walked into the room carrying the familiar
needle.
I told her I didn't need any more Pitocin.
After all, that is what the last nurse had told me.
Confused, she said that she was my only nurse for the night.
She asked me questions about the other nurse.
What did she look like?
Did I know her name?
She looked over at the empty cradle at the foot of my bed.
She asked if my baby was in the nursery, to which I replied yes.
I saw the relief wash over her face.
She told me that she would be back in a minute before quickly rushing out of the door.
A short time later I saw her standing at my door along with two other nurses.
They were all whispering and looking in at me.
Finally they all walked into the room and came over to my bed.
One nurse looked to be in her mid twenties, the other was surely in her fifties.
Her name was Sarah.
They started to fire questions at me so rapidly it frightened me.
By now all I could think was that the mysterious lady had probably been trying to kidnap my
little girl.
Fearing the worst, I began demanding that I was allowed to see my baby.
My cries finally roused my husband from his sleep.
He was initially bewildered, having no memory of falling asleep.
I was demanding very loudly as the nurses assured me that my baby was safe in the nursery.
The elder nurse, Sarah, told the younger to bring her to me.
As we waited Nurse Sarah took my blood pressure.
She turned to Nurse Sheila and told her to put away the syringe and call my doctor.
I wouldn't be needing that shot.
My blood pressure was normal.
Relief washed over me when the young nurse finally returned, carrying my baby.
She placed her in my arms then left the room.
Nurse Sarah pulled up a chair and sat down next to my bed.
She sat there smiling as I held my baby.
She asked if she was my first child.
When I replied fourth, she asked about my older children.
I felt like she was about to tell me something important when the doctor came in.
As soon as he entered the room, he started in with his own questions.
They were mostly directed at Nurse Sarah.
When she explained to him what it was he wanted to know, he simply smiled and said: "Ok then."
He checked me over, and told me he was amazed by my recovery.
He told me that the colour had even returned to my face.
He stood there staring at me for a minute or so then suddenly he asked if I was hungry
to which I replied 'starving'.
He told me he would order a pizza on his way out.
After he left Nurse Sarah turned to me and said: "I have never talked to anyone who Maria
has visited."
She was inspecting my face, as if she was trying to decide whether she should keep talking
or not.
I silently stared back at her.
Maria had been a nurse on the maternity floor years ago.
Nurse Sarah explained solemnly, "The story I've heard is that Maria got called into work
one stormy night, and she never made it here.
The rumors are that she sometimes visits the new moms.
All the descriptions of her are the same."
The nurse looked silently at the floor.
I remember thinking she was saying a prayer.
She shook her head and whispered, "Who am I to question these things?"
I wanted to question her to find out more, but I could tell she had said all that she
was going to.
She rose from the chair and patted my leg.
Just as she left the room she winked and said, "They say she only visits special people."
The next day, to everyone's surprise, I was released from hospital in excellent health.
As my husband and I walked down the corridor with our baby daughter, we could feel everyone's
eyes on us.
Some were whispering, others were just staring.
Perhaps they were thinking I was a lunatic, or maybe they were wondering, "Why her?"
This story is a special part of me.
I know that night I experienced something most people never do.
That night I met Maria.
For that I am extremely grateful.
In September 2013, I was hospitalized with a severe case of the flu.
I had been sick for several days, but the illness reached such a peak that hospital
was my only choice.
The doctors gave me morphine, and kept me on it for a few days.
At the time, it was hard for me to know how many because all the days bled together in
a haze.
The morphine gave fevered dreams.
Swirling tentacles, faces, black shadows...
I was experiencing many hallucinations.
One of the nights, I woke up terrified.
A voice had woken me.
I felt someone was in the room with me.
I was completely panicked, gripped by fear, on the verge of hysteria.
Sweat was hot on my brow.
I knew that I wasn't alone in that room: I could feel a presence.
A presence which was entirely unlike any of my hallucinations.
Frantically, I called for my nurse and turned on the lights.
There was no one there.
I did not know what to think.
Two days later I was released from hospital.
I attributed my nighttime panic to the morphine.
After all, I had been very sick.
That evening my mom came to stay with me, as I was still suffering from the last few
symptoms of the flu.
Around 10pm we were washing the dishes.
We set the sink stopper in the sink.
It was a heavy metal one.
I was sitting on top of the washing machine, and my mom was walking across the kitchen
when the sink stopper flew across the room.
It passed right in between us, moving with such force that we were both splattered with
water and the wind it created was enough to move my hair.
It travelled directly to the corner of the room, but instead of bouncing back and rolling
around as a normal object would, it fell to the floor, perfectly straight, and landed
flat side down.
It was like someone or something was trying to get my attention.
The next day I found out that one of my close friends had died of an accidental drug overdose
whilst I was in hospital, at approximately the same time I felt someone with me in the
room.
I think it was him who came to visit me.
I think it was him who threw the sink stopper across the room two days afterwards.
Later, I told his mother about what had happened.
She said that right after he died, her computer turned on in the middle of the day, and printed
a picture of both of them together.
In my mind, there is no shadow of a doubt that our spirit has the ability to linger
after death and communicate with the living.
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