As I child, I was very much into ghosts and the afterlife, as was the rest of my family. If people could inherit the gift of seeing the dead, I definitely got it. I would see people that looked ‘out of place’ and describe them to my father, who would then proceed to find a book of pictures of our family, and I would point out who I saw. For context, everyone in my family was dead accept for father and I. And we were the only ones who could see the dead, even when the rest of my family was alive.
Growing up, I had my family with me all the time, I could feel them and hear them. A tap on the shoulder when I was about to get yelled at by my teacher, an inaudible whisper in my right ear whenever I achieved something, a shadow in the distance or a shimmer across a wall when I was feeling lonely. People thought I was crazy when I told them, so I kept my mouth shut most of the time. The less I talked about it, the less these events would occur, and I could feel them drifting away. I’m 19 now, and I hadn’t had a paranormal experience for 7 years, until last year.
My father always told me my family wouldn’t hurt me, but I still should never try and communicate with them. He never told me why, but I didn’t question it. I never spoke to them, until my father passed. He was the only family I had, and he was gone. It was a car crash, 110 km/hr into a tree. I shouldn’t have survived, I died actually. For a brief minute, my father was already dead, and I flatlined as I lied unconcious in the hospital bed. The nurse that was taking care of me told me a while later, that while I was dead, she saw my father in the reflection of the mirror next to my bed. As soon as he disappeared, the light above my bed flickered dramatically for a few seconds, and then returned to normal as my heart started to beat again. Whatever the ghost of my father did, kept me alive. But it wasn’t supposed to, i’m not meant to be here right now. It’s making the others mad, and i’m not safe. Not here, not with them either. They’re trying to drag me back with them, to the spirit world, and it’s working.
Whatever my father did, it messed up my life. I’m slowly fading away with them, and i’m not physically dead. Somehow, because I died for a minute or so, I am able to be in both worlds, the dead and the undead. I can see them, it’s not just my family, it’s everyone. I asked them where my father was, and that’s when everything got scary. I went against my fathers wishes and I tried to communicate, I still don’t know why specifically i’m not supposed to do that, but only bad things have come from it. They are everywhere now. I can block them out most of the time, but the minute I push the thought of them to the back of my mind, they break through and try to drag me permanently back to their spirit realm. They want me to die. It started as just seeing sickly-looking pale people staring at me from across the roads, but now they run at me. They try and corner me and bring me back to the world of the dead, and they are getting stronger and stronger, and I wont be able to escape them for much longer.
I don’t know how much longer I have left, but I want someone to know my actual story. The real truth. Not something that makes me seem normal or sane, because this is the real shit. I’m warning you guys because I don’t want you to go like me. I know this sounds fake, but please take it seriously, the dead can get really angry man. don’t piss them off, leave them alone, always. unless I come and visit you, I definitely won’t drag you back with me…