So a few things to note about me. First off, I’m indigenous, I’ve been digging into my family line for the past 4 years trying to dig up enough evidence to apply for a status card. Secondly, every woman in my family has been spiritually inclined, from feelings of dread as warning, to seeing and having full discussions with ghosts.
Now to my story;
When I was a kid I would see ghosts often, according to my parents I had been adamant about a best friend who lived across the street from me. However my parents couldn’t see her. My understanding now is that she likely fell and passed in the ravine behind our neighborhood like my cousin almost did. (He was seriously injured however survived)
As I got older I could hear and see them around, I never was frightened of anyone until I was about 13. I was home alone when my parents were on vacation to Mexico, a few nights earlier there had been a minor earth quake however living on the fourth floor of an apartment it shook quite aggressively. Throwing things from the walls and ceilings. While they were away I thought we had a secondary earthquake however what I actually heard was more chilling. Clear as day, it was bare feet running across a hardwood floor. This is a very distinct sound and hearing this when alone in our flat was terrifying. The worst part of that was for the next days of their vacation I could hear these footsteps all through the flat.
Since then I’ve been more weary of spirits.
The worst instances have recently happened. My grandfather passed away, thus leading to a funeral. I have been fortunate enough as to never need to attend a funeral until this year. I had never even visited a cemetery prior to the celebration.
When I arrived it was quiet. Windy but still and calm. Once the stories began of my grandfather I could hear soft voices who I couldn’t see start to share. I was a bit worried so without really thinking I repeated what I heard aloud. My grandmother looked like she had just seen a ghost, all the blood drained from her face and she asked me,
“How do you know that story?”
I was confused at the time, I told her I didn’t know and at that point my family decided to tell me that my entire family has been buried in the same cemetery.
As soon as I knew this fact I could hear screaming. Shrilling, blood curdling screams. I couldn’t hear I got incredibly dizzy. I told them I needed a moment and went to the other side of the lot, at this point I stumbled across my indigenous ancestors graves. Everything got so much more intense. They were no longer screaming, but rather talking loudly over each-other. Everyone’s words and stories directed at me.
The last thing I remember from my time at the cemetery was being surrounded by women in dark dresses down to their feet. They all seemed very blurry. I then remember being in my grandmothers car.
She told me I passed out in the cemetery and I was now on my way home.
Since then, things have been so much worse. I hear more things I don’t think I should be hearing and I see more things I know I shouldn’t be seeing. And I think someone- no…something followed me home.
I think I can hear her now.