My name is Kimberly, I live in the states and I’m 26. I think something weird happened last night, I live alone and was in my house. It began with a sensation, I felt that something was up. Something dark, I didn’t do anything at the time, I was just walking around in the house. I felt it, the atmosphere was serious. Then I started thinking, it’s just not the situation, it’s something causing what I could sense. Something was on its way or already there, not something aggressive, possible potentially aggressive, I mean I didn’t know.
Something intellectually sharp, but who could enter without being seen. That was it, my limit was reached, enough of that sort of thinking I thought. So my intention was to pay attention to something else but I wondered, would it come, is it here, could it demonstrate its existence? Was I really imagining, it got more intensed.
Then, quite fast, there was no doubt how the situation appeared, it was there, right there, paying attention to a situation with just me and it. But what could it possible want? Why did it even exist?
Sure, I was just imagining but it didn’t matter because it didn’t make a difference if it was there or if I imagined it. It was like a story, you don’t have to figure anything out, there is already an answer. You’re just waiting to see it and sometimes you think you know that there can’t be anything there. It will just end eventually but hopefully you might enjoy the ride. I was thinking, this can’t make sense in a way that is in my interest, so I was just waiting for the only possible thing, a disappointing end, hopefully without a psychiatric diagnosis.
I’m not being fair, I was enjoying the ride, maybe it could outsmart me. Sometimes that sort of thing happens, in the entertainment industry or in real life.
“Is someone there?”
I asked and waited for a reply, nothing happened. I kept asking, I mean come on, just turn off the lamp and that sort of thing. Then I thought the ghost stories genre is impossible, that’s why there isn’t any ghost movie success, it’s just not possible to make a story out of it. Then after a few seconds I felt a breeze but I didn’t have any windows open. I was on my feet to check things out, I thought that I had forgot about opening some window, it would be the first time. I was almost right, a window was open but I never open that window. Then everything became confusing, was someone in the house, was that what I was sensing?
I closed the window, called a friend and had her on the phone so I could ask her to could call for help if something happened while I was checking the house. Nothing, no one was there, when I was finished talking to my friend I got up and headed to the kitchen. Then I stopped the window was open again. It was windy outside so the curtains moved in the wind. I called my friend again who didn’t know what to say, nor did I.
My friend said: “Do you want to come here or should I come over?”
I said: “Yeah, please come, that would be great!”
My friend, Deborah, came over at once and we checked the house again. It was Friday night so she intended to stay over the night.
Deborah said: “Do you remember in high school or junior high when we played with you know that sort of board and paranormal things?”
I said: “Yeah.”
I never said anything about what I was up before I saw the opened window but whatever.
She continued: “When it got creepy, it felt just like it does here right now. Can you feel it?”
I said: “Yes.”
She said: “So creepy.”
Then she said: “I noticed that when things in our lives got weird, because they did over and over, I got this sensation.”
Then I told her about what I felt earlier.
And then I said: “What would something want? What would be interesting to achieve?”
Deborah said: “That is an interesting question. …. One thing is sure though, it got real weird. And it never stoped, there was something several times a year.”
I said: “I remember the fear in their eyes, some of the guys, especially this big football guy who right after moved.”
Deborah said: “You do look scary, black hair with such a pale face”
I said with laughter: “Maybe, they kept saying the same thing, the more scared they looked the more they said it.”
Deborah said with laughter: “I know! There is no Deborah, There is no Deborah, There is no Deborah.”
I said: “How do I even know that they were wrong?”
Deborah said: “Well, have you ever heard of that sort of psychosis?”
I said: “No, but that doesn’t mean that’s impossible.”
Deborah said: “It’s certainly a real good indication.”
I said: “But if they thought you were my imagination and you’re not, how couldn’t they see you?”
Deborah said: “You only see what you want to see right? …. Maybe they just didn’t have any respect for me.”
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