I Don't Think I'm Special

Can a person see ghosts or do ghosts reveal themselves?

I'm not going to pretend I'm gifted, and to be honest I question if anybody really is. I feel like if something really wants you to see it, then it will be seen. Some people don't have to work as hard to see spirits that want to be hidden. Some painters don't have to work as hard to paint, but everyone can learn.

I don't see ghosts and I don't feel anything extraordinary on a regular basis. If I get cold suddenly my first reaction is to turn off the ceiling fan. I don't believe people who tell me ghost stories, because I have quite a few and I haven't shared them. Why would I? I can't take anyone seriously if they introduce themselves to me and a few days later they're telling me how they see dead people with this grin on their face like they know they can whistle when you can't.

If you have really seen them, you take it more seriously than whistling. The topic demands a lot more respect than stupid, ignorant middle school kids could ever get from their idiotically inspired classmates. This is something that causes people real pain.

I get awful nightmares every night. They linger with me all day and I'm afraid to go to sleep again. I'll wake up in the middle of the night and think I'm finally up. I finally escaped. Only to fall asleep again to find I'm right where I left off. I've never had a good dream, not once. When I was in kindergarten I dreamed about things I hadn't been introduced to yet, things that a girl my age doesn't even have the words for. How could I pull my waking life into my dreams if my waking life never had these influences? There's no way I could have dreamed the horrors I dreamed as a small child.

I couldn't stand to have open doors in my house when I was little. I drove my mother crazy closing them all the time, but I was anxious. I hated the feeling that something was hiding from me. I didn't want to be caught off guard when it decided it was tired of hiding. I was protecting myself from a feeling, something I couldn't name. Even now, there's always that hush in the air like something is watching me, waiting. The apprehension is the worst part, because even though I can feel it around me, it's not me that's apprehensive. What will happen when the wait is over?

When I got older, physical things started to happen. When I was home alone sometimes something would pull my hair. Sometimes it would hurt. I fell down the stairs a lot. Most of the time it was just me being clumsy. Sometimes I felt something wrap around my ankle mid-step and make me miss the next stair. One time I was too heavy to pull myself out of the deep end of my pool. When I was finally able to breach the surface of the water and breathe, my neighbor's was dog standing outside the screen fence. It sounds stupid to say I think it saved me from drowning, but I think it did.

In high school, I started having experiences with opaque, black masses. They gave me different vibes so I can only assume there was more than one entity involved. One instance took place in the early morning. It was still dark at 6:00 am, but there was enough light from the street lamp outside the windows to see in the hallway.

I was just about to head down to the kitchen to get breakfast before school when I saw it crouching at the base of the staircase, blacker than the dark. I could not see the stairs underneath it, or the wall behind it. I was wide awake. I blinked but it was still there, and this time it was moving. It crawled on all fours, but it was humanoid. It moved like it had muscle, like every part of its body had a function to perform. That was the worst part for me. It moved like something real.

I was frozen in place long enough for it to get halfway up the stairs. Nothing I have ever felt before has ever wished me more harm. I knew in my gut that if it got a hold of me it was going to do whatever it could to make me suffer. I reached behind me for the light switch but I couldn't feel it and I couldn't take my eyes away to look for it. I started crying. It was getting closer. I sank to the floor. It was right in front of me. Desperate, I shined my iPod light in its face. I'm not sure when it disappeared, but by the time I got to my feet and found the light switch, it had vanished.

I've had people come to "cleanse" my house a few times before when my parents weren't home, but I can still feel that something is here. Whatever they did to fix it didn't work. They are still here. I can feel them waiting.

I don't think I'm special. I think I'm unlucky. I've moved three times, and each time my family was the first to live in that house. Are they following me? I also don't think they're ghosts. Ghosts were human once. These things. I don't think they were ever alive to begin with.