I was about 10 years old when this happened. And growing up both sides of my family were always super into the occult because both my grandparents were said to be witches. It was always strange to me how everyone in my family always treated things like ghosts and demonic hauntings as something so casual.
And all my life my mother would tell me I have the gift of my grandmother of a talent for satanic magics and occult. But I always stayed away from it because NOPE.
I was at my father’s house for a week because my parents were divorced at my birth. He worked late nights and it was summer break for me. He inherited an hold ventriloquist dummy from his great grandfather who found in Germany during WWII. He was named Deen. I was always around Deen growing up.
And you know that instinct feeling you get when something about an object or a person weren’t right? Like something bad was attached to them? Well Deen NEVER gave me those vibes. Which was strange considering i was always weary of dolls and things to that nature.
One day I was watching SpongeBob. And I wasnt just watching I was BINGING the whole series of SpongeBob. And Deen would sit on a shelf above and to the right of the TV stand where the TV sat. Im not sure what it was, but something in my head kept telling me to look up.
Once I finally did, my entire heart sank to my gut as I looked up to see Deen looking down at me. Not just in my direction, bit DIRECT into my eyes. Deen looked rough. Half of his mouth was gone and one of his eyes were upside down in his right socket. So, he wasnt the friendliest looking fella.
But when I look up to see him staring at me, i was frozen with Fear. As I always was tought to believe in ghosts and demons. I was very familiar with things satanic even as a young child. Deen has not been moved from the shelf in years. And he always sat slumped back against thr wall behind him, looking kind of upwards.
So, seeing how he had been watching me, looking into thise souless eyes and his creepy face, I was so afraid. Terrified to my core, as, in that instant, Deen had filled my soul and being with that instinctual feeling of dread and uneasyness.
My father had an old camera in the room, recording the whole event. So very slowly i made myself towards it to see if he had moved. So, I look at the recording, and sure enough, he slowly looks down at me and locks in place.
Even worse, as I went to see the camera, his head followed me as I went to get the camera, but as I look back at him, I nearly passed out to see he was back to his normal position. Being in so much fear I was cursing Deen. I was so afraid I was almost angry. And I began to call him a little Bitch.
And as I was saying Fuck you Deen, before i could finish my sentence, he snaps his head, in such a quick movement that he nearly falls down from the shelf, and looks dead at my face. In this moment I was so afraid that I wet myself and screamed louder than In my life.
I ran into my room, locked the door, and sat in the corner furthest from the door with my fathers baseball bat. Frozen in fear I could hear pitter patter of little wooden feet running in the hall to my door. It was about 2 am during all of this and home alone.
I jumped through my opened window and sprinted to the neighbors in frantic tears and stayed there for them to call my father home. Once he got there, I was zoned out, replaying what had happened in my mind only 20 minutes before. He told me to go on home with him and I yelled NO I CANT. He was frustrated with me at first, but his face quickly changed when he saw the fear in me. As if he already knew. We went home after a talk and asking me what happened.
I told him everything. Periodically breaking into tears telling the story to him. We went home, and the doll was back in its original position. However, my father still believed me, without a doubt. He told me to grab the camera and he yanked Deen down from the shelf and we went outside. He looked over the tape, and sure enough, everything that happened, was all there. At least up to the point where i checked the camera myself beforehand.
The video didnt bother him one bit, as if he were used to something like this. Without hesitation, he threw Deen and the camera into a hole in the ground and doused them in lighter fluid setting them ablaze.
After a moment of silence watching the fire, my father turns to me with the calmest and firmest voice and says, “Deen must have had something evil with him. I am sorry that I never warned you about the dangers that our family’s talent can bring.” Before I could ask what he meant he said “You must condition yourself for this, because it wont be the last time.”
Him saying that made my heart sink. Sadly that didnt stop the house from coming alive over the course of the next few days. Things would fly at you, grab you and you would see shadow people walking around the house. Fed up, and fearing for my safety, my father decided that it was time to move. But before we left officially, we blessed ourselves and demanded whoever was there to not follow us.
Unfortunately, my family was NEVER religious. We believe God exists, yes. However we dont exactly follow him, as most my family has deep rooted interest in the occult and black magics. Which are things I have tried to avoid my whole life, yet always seems to follow me around.
After we moved, I had to get unruly amounts of therapy and meds for anxiety and paranoia. For years I was in counseling and took meds, but it never worked. The trauma stayed for years. Even to this day, I feel something following me around and that I am always being watched.
Even writing this, I can feel someone watching me, and a feeling of dread. Im not sure how much longer i can take it. The psychological torture is getting to be too much. This wont go away. I only hope I can find a way to free myself from the demon, before they get rid of me.