Another Bedtime Story.
Now I've never had a problem with dealing with the "supernatural" or plainly said "Dead Folk" whatsoever, in fact I've always had a love for the macabre and all things dead or undead, but the last 2 nights I've been contemplating just how much I really care for these denizens of the supernatural.
Last night began rather boring and mundane as usual. Throughout the course of the night I did my job as usual making sure all the little furry lab rats and "secret recipes" were under lock and key. Eventually of course I came across some rather odd happenings. Odd here constitutes more than hair raising or just out and out creepy so when I say "odd" I mean shit hit the fan.
From opened doors to random motion censored lights being triggered the building in question seemed to come alive as I watched in almost horror knowing that I had just been where these events were now taking place. It wasn't the first time this has happened and assuredly not the last.
Tonight I found myself standing at the main entrance asking myself "Ok man you gonna let this shit get to you and get yourself all worked up or you just gonna do business as usual and get it over with? " . That in itself became a rather disturbing thought which lead to many others, but I won’t go there.
Of course my mind alive with the scenes of gore and death from a recent trip to the movies I chuckled and entered the building waiting to see what this night would hold. It wasn't more than 20 feet and I was granted the first hair raising of the evening, while walking through the auditorium my latest of "friends" who is not of benevolent nature whatsoever felt it appropriate to assure me I wasn't alone. Now shadows and things moving out of the corner of ones eye are rather common, but to see directly the shadow of something not really present can give 1 the creeps I'll tell ya.
Stopped in my tracks and contemplating once again "Ok man your psychin yourself out here, nice job you should write horror for a living..." and maybe I should? However I decided ok if these things are going to get to me I might as well really enjoy it. I decided to keep on with my trek through the building. From that point on every step and every breath was kept as quiet and careful as possible, I wanted to hear every sound that went through the building and feel every vibration. This was going to be "fun" right? Sure.
The parking garage was all but silent tonight, each passing of machinery or lights resulted in flickering or motors whirring up to speed. Ok it could be just coincidence I agree.....
Floor 2, The Bastard. This floor is the "hair raising, spine tingling, ultimate delight of my night" most nights, and tonight was no different. Opening the door to the floor I took a deep breath and chuckled to myself "man your really mental.. your gonna force yourself to see n hear shit" well I didn't expect to make wind. The lab coats were like laundry hanging on a clothesline in a slight summer breeze, slowly methodically floating back and forth as if pushed by some unseen force. I waited to see the coat rack come or go sailing in any given direction with a sarcastic laugh I started walking the floor.
Now as I write mind you the building I'm in now is currently alive as well... yeah kinda creepy, but alas back to the walk.
The entire passage of floor 2 was with goose bumps, raised hair, which if you've ever met me know there isn’t much hair to raise... and that overwhelming urge to just up n split. However I find I love this shit so much yeah I have to push it.
Floor 2 finally over! It's time to go up to floor 3, the "other floor". Quietly and methodically climbing the stairs to floor 3 I hear the repercussions of my journey echoing on floor 2, odd sounds I can't explain. Floor 3 is no better. Calling out to try and provoke a response I realize "shit I should bring some electronic recording devices for this shit" and I now plan to as once again every hair on my body is at full attention, the presence of "someone" constantly behind me lurking and following me as if I'm intruding in it's space. More breeze and more noise go on as I wander a little faster through floor 3 now and up to floor 4, The Bastard. I've never liked floors 2 or 4 as they seem to have the most negative energy of the building but tonight floor 4 is really rather peaceful feeling. Almost beckoning, which sets my alert level to Red. It's not right.
The boiler room is my first stop as usual and it was indeed rather calm and peaceful, thinking to myself as usual "man, see? This is all good you’re trippin yourself out" I close the boiler room door and proceed down the last hallway to the far stairs. It was then I lost it. I don't know what went ape shit in the boiler room tonight but it wasn't just some random noise. It was like a football game was going on and a major play was in progress or perhaps a hockey brawl? There about 20 feet in front of me was the elevator and 60 feet further through the office spaces was my last stop on the walk. The elevator won. Waiting for what seemed 20 minutes for the elevator to come up from Floor 2 hmm.. it was a relief to get on and hit "Lobby". The noise in the boiler room grew and my anticipation on getting the fuck out of that building did as well. Which of course as I'm writing this I did make it out quite fine indeed, shaken not stirred.
As I stare now at the area of floor 2 waiting to see the lights come on as yet another sign that ..holy shit....
I hesitate to even speak of what I saw when I looked up from my desk. It's never easy to believe the words of others when speaking of matters of the unknown, and more times than not falls into the category of disbelief. With that in mind I expect that each person takes into perspective what indeed the differences are between reality and fantasy.
The old man stood there in the 2nd floor window. Strangely illuminated by what appeared to be some sort of personal spotlight as there were no lights on floor 2. It was plainly visible the flannel shirt, worn out overalls and the brown leather hat with the brim rather misshapen from water damage. How clearly I could see his form shaking as if in some sort of hyper seizure as my skin crawled hearing what was chuckling? How could this be? My desk here is located at least 50 feet from the other building and of course windows in both buildings would surely negate any sound of that slightness from reaching my ears. Yet he stood there leaving a deep scar in my mind of yet 1 more thing I never needed to see.
Now rather than sit in disbelief I grabbed my jacket and headed outside to make sure I was really seeing this or perhaps I just needed some rest. It had been a long week, and as I slung my jacket on and grabbed for my smokes the old man was gone.
I had to be really psyching myself out to see this I figured so with a faint hearted chuckle myself I walked outside for a much needed smoke. The drizzle was welcoming and refreshing, the air cold and full of the smells of the city life.
My eyes couldn't take themselves off the 2nd floor windows as I waited for the return of the old man. Alas I was left waiting and decided to take a breather and a nice walk in the wonderful weather.
Contemplating this evenings events raised a specific point in my mind that what we choose to believe and what we choose to disbelieve are a matter of personal perspective and not altogether a matter of reality or fantasy. I'd guess some would strike the notion that this couldn't have happened and others would dredge up stories of their own experiences with the mysterious and unknown, however I personally walked quietly, alone and sucking down 3 smokes faster than I'd ever managed to smoke 1. The visual of the old man standing there now haunting my mind and the sound of that chuckling... how the hell did I even hear that? Cars passed in the rain and I found myself back to point A once again starring up at the windows on floor 2.
Nothing to satisfy my craving for closure, nothing to debunk what I'd seen and nothing to stop my mind from constantly reliving the moments of the last 2 nights.
I'd figured at this point to follow my own advice I'd talked with some reverence earlier about reading my log reports from the past few weeks as this isn't a significant occurrence here and signed my self off for lunch. I felt like I needed coffee but the coffee here is total crap and I mean crap. Maybe it was best I steer clear of any other anxiety causing agents this evening.
I wait loathingly now for the next trek thru that building, what am I to cope with next? As I sit and watch the building like some buzzard waiting for a baby calf to drop and become the next warm meal I can't help but ask myself "Why am I still even here?"
Answer?
Because this is what I enjoy in Life.
The Tree house
A Personal Paranormal Experience.
So now I ask myself... "Just how can I define a ghost?"
Answer: I prefer not to use the term at all.
Most things in the universe can be explained with a scientific answer.
They can of course be explained with fairy tales as well.
Defining the line between fact and fiction, science and fairy tale
becomes a matter once again as always of personal perspective.
Now granted for some things a scientific answer is absolute, your not going
to convince many that small gnome like creatures live in your microwave
powering it with magick. Agreed, however there are times we can concoct
a mixture of both to come to an answer, for instance "ghosts".
Things that go bump in the night....
I remember the first experience or encounter I had with a "ghost",
as I was roughly 7 3/4 years old (you remember the days of ages in fractions "Hi.. I'm 13 and a half...") and on my way home from school. I'd always stopped by the tree house behind the playing fields after school before heading home so that I could get detailed recon on just where Brad Howard and Bobby Pierce were hiding in wait with whoever they managed to get to assist them in their after
school activities which of course included trying to beat my ass down for of course beating the holy crap out of both of them in the sandbox. Now Brad he wasn't much of an opponent, lethargic, fat, and slapped like a bitch. However Bobby had passion, he had more reason than anyone to want to kick my ass. I broke the poor kids nose for being a dick to my 1st grade crush. .Laurie "She moved to Igan" Shadey. Without fail these 2 would be laying in wait somewhere every day after school for me to head home and as soon as I was off school grounds they would of course try and ambush me. It never worked. Needless to say I was quite surprised that as I climbed as I had daily into my snipers perch tree house to get a nice little reminder to never underestimate the power of the handicapped in the form of a sneaker to the face as my head popped into view of the tree house door.
Now I don't mind heights whatsoever it's that falling shit I don't really care too much for and this was no fun fall. I'm certain I'd hit every branch on that tree on the way down to of course the wonderfully unforgiving ground. The impact definitely stunned me which was most likely for the best really. I heard the laughing from above with as much reverb as the Jimi Hendrix - All Along The Watchtower guitar solo has. It was pretty weird.
Laying there stunned I could see Brad's fat ass coming out the tree house door and watching him try to get footing was quite a site. He was afraid of heights I'd known this for quite some time, but the hate and determination compelled him to great heights indeed.. so high in fact he died from a crack overdose in 94. Good things come to those who deserve them. As he climbed down the branches I could hear them snapping and crunching almost more noise than my skinny ass falling thru them. I waited patiently as I really had no choice I couldn't move at this point, and watched as Bobby, Tommy ,Steve and Steven (yes they were adamant about that too) came climbing out of the tree house to join in the "Let's kick Rob's ass" party. Ok I started to get pretty worried.
Amazing Grace....
Brad had made it to the ground amazingly, and had now directed his attention in my direction. I could see the look in his eyes and it reminded me of Wiley E. Coyote just before he was gonna chow down on the good ol' Roadrunner.
The rest of the entourage making their way down to join him.
I'd gotten my breath back about the time Brad was 2 steps away.. story of my life.
As I scurried to get to my feet it was a pretty well placed kick to the head that knocked me for a little spin. I don't really get angry often anymore and with good reason. That kick to the head was just "it". This daily crap routine of fighting my way home each day was going to come to a serious halt today and I didn't care how. I grabbed a chunk of branch that was quite available next to me and somehow managed to get to my feet while Brad had his back turned laughing at the fact he was "winning" the fight.
The look on Bobby and Tommy's faces tied for most shocked look of all time as Brad turned around questioning why they looked shocked he received a full force blow to the face with this rather sturdy branch. Brad was now out of view. Bobby and Tommy were next. Bobby of course driven by passion proceeded to wet his pants as I ran at him screaming "I'm gonna kill you mother fuckers once and for all". Tommy, Mike, Steve and Steven promptly fled. I felt no pity as I blasted Bobby in the face with the branch, once again splattering his now twice autographed nose against his face. He went down sobbing.
I stood above both Brad and Bobby laying side by side with the branch posed
for the final series of blows. As Bobby sobbed and smeared blood all over himself in an attempt to clear his vision and Brad lay motionless I decided to take Bobby out once and for all. I raised that branch and with every ounce of hatred and contempt I let my rage loose. The branch wouldn't fall. I tried harder to deal that final blow not thinking but simply in a rage but the branch would not fall the final blow. At this point logic set in that something had trapped the branch and all I had to do was simply free it.
I turned to find the branch had indeed been trapped, in mid air.
This of course slightly subdued my rage and gave Brad and Bobby a reprieve from death. I'd let go of the branch and it fell to the ground as if it was now ok to do so.
At that point I got a chill throughout my body as if I'd just dropped my body temperature 50 degrees. Talk about hot to cold. It creeped me out. There was this feeling of being part of something "bigger" at that moment and I left Bobby and Brad to their ends. I heard Bobby was shot in Iraq in Desert Storm. Hopefully he met his fate happy. It may have been the adrenaline or the realization that something was going on around me that I'd never experienced before or both, but I stood there shaking uncontrollably both in fear and in anger with this feeling that there was definitely "something" else present. There was a sudden flood of emotions I had no reason at all to feel. Sorrow, loathing, depression that my mindset had now changed focus from Executioner to unsuspecting victim of some ghostly threat.
As I crossed the playing field at a new all time speed record I never looked back.
I never went back to the tree house nor did I ever have problems after school.
The first encounter with the paranormal in my history of it was indeed a life changing moment.
Nothing was the same after that.
