I was never one to believe in spiritual or supernatural things. It just seemed like made-up nonsense some people cling to, hoping there is more beyond this life. For lack of a better label, you could’ve called me a ‘skeptic’. Maybe it was that viewpoint which ironically positioned me to be the recipient of some very unwanted attention. That being of the terrifying, ‘paranormal’ variety.
Now, I’vs come to realize there are intangible things which exist outside the realm of this physical world we see around us. This is my account of when I first became aware of the metaphysical world. I’ll start at the most relevant point. It’s my job to tour unoccupied real estate properties. I assess their suitability to be cleaned up or remodeled, and then put back on the housing market.
Some are fairly new, but most of my assignments fall under the category of foreclosures. Bank repossessions are depressing to process. On rare occasions however, I get to analyze lovely antique homes which have been empty for extended periods after the owner passed away. Those rare ‘diamonds in the rough’ used to be a real treat because they are so desirable to explore. When I read the property notes from my employer about the stately home they wanted me to examine in the countryside, I was genuinely excited. Therein is when the trouble started.
I couldn’t believe the door key was one of those ornate, ‘jail keys’ like they show in old movies. I thought those were either made up for film props, or had long since fallen out of favor in real life. It definitely matched the fine antique craftsmanship and admirable charm evident throughout. The front porch was rock solid and the hand-carved oak-paneled door was breathtaking. They definitely don’t build them that way anymore. At that point in my property assessment, I couldn’t understand why it had been empty so long.
Now I know.
Walking around the empty manor, didn’t feel like work at all. It was a genuine thrill to visit a ‘museum of days gone by’. Especially one which was preserved in pristine condition. That is, until I started to get a ‘weird’ little feeling on the back of my neck. Something definitely didn’t seem ‘right’ about it. Everywhere I went, I felt an uncanny sensation I wasn’t alone. You know what I mean. We’ve all had that creepy ‘being followed itch’; at one time or another.
At least a half-dozen times I spun around dramatically, expecting to discover a nosy neighbor or vintage architecture admirer lurking in the wings behind me. After witnessing no evidence to corroborate my lingering suspicions, I begrudgingly accepted there wasn’t anyone else around. Regardless of my visible verification, I couldn’t bring myself to quit looking over my shoulder occasionally in self doubt. The ‘voodoo vibe’ in the air was intense.
A few days later on my second walk-through, is when things transitioned from disconcerting, to downright insane. Without warning, I felt an unseen hand tug insistently on my shirt tail! Presumably so, to summon my attention. I looked all around in bewilderment. The living room was definitely vacant. I convinced myself it was my imagination again playing tricks on me, but then something wrapped itself tightly around my legs and wouldn’t let go! ‘It’ clung to me like a terrified child hugging a parent who’d abandoned it for an extended period.
As much as I wanted it to be a case of unexplained paranoia, I wasn’t imagining things. It was happening!
I kicked and screamed bloody murder; and toppled helplessly to the floor as my balance was compromised. I’m certain my feral shrieks and writhing spasms could’ve been heard from a half mile away; if anyone lived nearby. Unfortunately, there was no one else around to come to my aid. No matter how hard I thrashed around to pry the invisible ‘anaconda’ away from me, I couldn’t wrestle free. All I could do was lie there in full-blown panic, and helplessly whimper.
Judging from its relative center of gravity, it was roughly the size of a three year old, but bore the inhuman strength of giant octopus. What was it? I could almost feel the outline of tiny ‘arms’ gripping my body. Just as I made headway in getting loose, the unseen apparition reinforced it’s hold on my thighs until my circulation was fully cut off. As if I wasn’t restrained enough, every interior door slammed shut with a mechanical precision which betrayed no coincidence. ‘It’ wanted me to remain right there.
I had no choice in the matter.
There’s probably a moment near the end of an insect’s life where it has heightened clarity before the spider kills it. It knows the end has arrived and recognizes the pointlessness of fighting back any longer. I’d resigned myself to my unknown fate but that wasn’t the end for me. As I eased my resistance to the assault, my captor loosened its iron grip on my body and surprisingly backed away in parallel. It offered the false illusion that I was free again, but deep down I knew better. It was a cunning test to see if I would try to flee. Like a sadistic cat toying with its prey, this unworldly entity (which literally attached itself to me like a parasite), was teasing false hope of escape. Somehow I had the wherewithal to resist the urge to bolt out of there like a madman.
Knowing what I know now, that saved my life.
In less than two dramatic minutes, I transitioned from being an avowed, convinced atheist, to fully accepting the paranormal realm without doubt. It was impossible to remain a skeptic any longer when something ‘not of this Earth’ held me securely at its mercy. ‘Brave denial’ had already left the building. ‘Cowardly acceptance’ had signed the lease and moved right in.
I thought my heart might explode out of my throat as I lay there prostrate on the floor. All I could do was force myself to calm down and drink-in the surreal supernatural experience as a ‘learning moment’. Hopefully I’d still have the opportunity to benefit from that terrifying little life lesson. It most assuredly took place, and more importantly; whatever had captured me was still waiting nearby.
I was certain of that.
Despite being a hot summer afternoon in an old house with no electricity, the air around me was blustery cold and musty. I could almost pinpoint the location of the tiny phantom by awareness of the temperature around the vicinity. There was no sense in pretending I was alone any longer. With a hollow facade of cardboard courage, I addressed the other occupant of the ‘empty’ room.
In personal conflicts within the material world, it pays to negotiate with your adversary. To let them know you are reasonable. I saw no reason why those same principles wouldn’t also apply to an impasse between the living, and whatever I’d inadvertently stumbled upon. It was worth a shot. I had nothing left to lose. We were at a stalemate.
I felt a wave of cold air drift toward me so I tensed up for another round of ‘wrestling with the dead’. Instead of another vicious binding of my legs, the same ‘arms’ encircled my torso this time. Surprisingly, the embrace was quite gentle, in comparison. I sensed the apparition appreciated my straightforward response and was showing more restraint and gratitude. In what had to be the most dramatic change of heart I’d ever experienced, I felt my emotions began to soften. My phantom attacker really did seem like the frustrated spirit of a small child, desperate for human interaction.
The experience had all the earmarks of how you’d expect a lonely soul to react to encountering the first visitor there in quite some time. Once the initial wave of built-up frustration had passed, there was almost a feminine gentleness there holding me. No one was more surprised than myself when I returned the affection by hugging ‘her’ back. The room temperature dramatically warmed up my skin. I assumed the mutual act of loving care and concern for another being that was suffering, was the catalyst for the sudden environmental shift.
For lack of more information, and also due to my natural tendency to label or categorize things, I decided to call the clingy, pint-sized apparition: ‘La Nina’. It suited my modest observations and preconceived notions perfectly about the unknown spirit I’d just shared an awkward paranormal encounter with. Assuming a toddler’s mentality and maturity level, I addressed La Niña in a calm, non-threatening voice. I could empathize with the monumental frustration which would fester within a lost child spirit who was trapped and alone for many years. With no one else around to interact with, it was understandable that their first instinct would be to hold on for dear life.
My heart ached at the thought of that crippling level of loneliness and fear. The little one’s family had moved on to ‘the afterlife’, while they remained behind, for reasons unknown. There were no parents or siblings left to comfort or guide ‘her’. It was an extraordinary case of abandonment issues and with that context, it made perfect sense. I couldn’t imagine the wellspring of sadness and anger that would build up.
Unfortunately I was faced with a new set of challenges. How could I explain the reality of those circumstances to a child apparition with limited cognitive development? How would my eventual need to leave, be received? ‘Not well’, I was sure. Despite its small stature, it possessed supernatural strength and telekinetic powers to slam doors and throw objects across the room. I could only guess what other abilities it had. Would there be a massive paranormal toddler’s temper tantrum?
Of that, I was certain.
I began laying the subtle groundwork for an exit. As I spoke, I made passive suggestions that at some point in the near future, I would have to leave. Immediately, tension in the air spiked. The grip on me intensified until it was uncomfortable again but I kept talking in my most soothing voice. I promised to return to her as soon as I could. The crushing stranglehold loosened ever-so-slightly, but it was obvious La Niña didn’t believe me. Maybe others had made those same promises in the past and reneged. I felt smothered by the desperation of an innocent child caught in mortal limbo, which couldn’t understand or accept the reality of the situation.
Over the next hour or so, we went through several alternating cycles of loose hugs, and then ‘mortal death grips’. The severity of each lessened as I gradually desensitized her to the idea of letting me go. I felt silly calling a non-corporal thing ‘La Niña’, but I didn’t know it’s former name. There was no opportunity to address her properly. As far as I knew, she didn’t speak but obviously understood what I said by how tightly my body was held. It occurred to me that if I researched La Niña’s past, I could possibly help her ‘move on’, as they say in spiritualist circles.
When I arose to leave, all the doors of the house began to rattle and shake violently. The knobs simultaneously turned back and forth, as if to warn me of how stressed she was. Believe me when I tell you, I already knew! I promised to return and bring some toys. Even as I walked out the door, I expected to be dragged back inside kicking and screaming. It was probably an unnecessary act, but I started my car and drove away very slowly. I didn’t want to convey how anxious I was to leave. For all I knew, she wasn’t even bound to the house and could follow me.
At the courthouse records building, I requested ownership listings to figure out who ‘La Niña’ was. From the date the house was first built until it’s final owner, I studied every family member who had ever lived there. That’s when my modest research efforts hit a dead end. There were no recorded deaths in the house, and none of the owners officially suffered the loss of a child. Either there was an undocumented fatality which wasn’t listed in the public records, or my theory was incorrect.
I didn’t know what to believe.
The way the apparition appeared to take comfort in my soothing words and adjusted how it held on to me, helped reinforce my thought process. Verifying the truth was a crapshoot since we had no means of two-way communication. I wanted to know her name and help out a tortured soul, so I concentrated on how to achieve that challenging milestone. I found a battery-operated communication tablet which speaks aloud words and phrases. It seemed perfect to bridge the corporeal gap. I also brought along a small tricycle and a teddy bear as practical gifts since La Niña could easily manipulate objects.
Nervously, I returned to the quaint Victorian estate in the countryside. I carried in the communication tablet first, then returned to the car for the tricycle and teddy bear. I don’t know what I expected to happen. The whole ‘plan’ was made up as I went. Would the two-dimensional gesture of giving a few toys meant for the living, ease the monumental frustration of an angry spirit trapped in this physical world? If nothing else, I hoped it would show I genuinely cared and really wanted to help.
The living room bore tell-tale hints of its aloof presence hiding nearby in the shadows. It was abnormally cold there but nothing happened at first. Perhaps it was genuinely surprised I’d kept my word and returned. Saint, or fool; I’ll allow you to decide. The tablet was no sooner switched on, than the keys lit up and it began to speak what its phantom user requested it to say. The simulated human voice might’ve been amusing to witness, had it not been dictated by cold, disembodied fingertips.
“You came back! Excellent. I thought you’d be just like the others who abandoned me here in this vacant dwelling.”
Immediately, I took serious notice of something. I recognized what I heard coming from the speaker wasn’t the limited vocabulary of a young child. That made me queasy. My stomach churned at the strong possibility I’d misjudged the situation, entirely. The tablet continued to deliver a number of telling statements which further eroded my confidence. Like a proud simpleton unwilling to admit he’d made a deadly mistake, I clung to the naive idea ‘La Niña’ needed me to save ‘her’. As more time passed, it appeared I might need someone to save ME.
“Tell me your name ‘little one’, so that I can finally address you properly.”; I inquired with a hint of pretense in my quavering voice. I was afraid to ask anything that would further erode the fairytale I’d constructed for myself, but still holding on to the denial for comfort.
The tablet keys lit up again after a noticeable delay. There hadn’t been any hesitation on other things. The lapse in response to that question added more weight to my suspicions but what came next cleared it all up.
“I don’t have a name, you fool! I was never a human, so your patronizing words and misguided worry over my emotional state were pointless. It helped soothe your worries to think I used to be a child, so I led you to believe that pathetic conclusion. It was the only way you would return. I require your body as a human host to leave this place. Your desire to fight back should be diminished enough by now that you won’t resist me any longer. Submit!”
I’m here to testify that the malevolent entity I ignorantly assumed was just a small phantom spirit, was dead wrong in its estimation. I didn’t just roll over and allow it to possess my body. Nope! I fought back. Hard! I tossed the tricycle at the spot where the tablet sat on the floor. I may be no paranormal researcher, but I can tell you that any supernatural entity that can physically squeeze a living body, can also feel pain when struck by a metal object. I ran for the door and didn’t stop until I reached the city limits.
If you are ever called to inspect a stately Victorian estate in the rural countryside with a decorative key, beware of the evil which lurks inside. I swear to you, the peaceful exterior and exceptional craftsmanship is a ruse. There’s a malicious spirit inside which will grab you, and never, ever let go. Possibly, with the avatar of a stuffed teddy bear.