I “get” things from time to time and have some amazing stories which
usualy tally with reality but this was the first time I’d actually seen a
ghost.
Lying curled up in bed, Adam behind me – spooning. I felt warm and
loved. As he cuddled into me I turned to kiss him “Hello, its ME”.
This wasn’t Adam this was a swarthy man with dark features, black hair, foul
breath and rotting teeth! I leapt from the bed – only he’d gone – and
lying at the other side of the bed, sweetly sleeping, was my lover.
“Cheese”, I thought, or maybe that virus going around. Two evenings of
peaceful sleep passed when in the blackness, I heard a creaking sound and
out of the corner of my eye, the wardrobe door at the foot of my bed was
slowly opening. There he was, gypsy man. He was grinning like an
idiot, his black eyes twinkling in the half moonlight. I screamed and
he just disappeared. THIS time I was awake. I knew I was awake.
I shoved Adam to wake him up and babbled about these two encounters but of
course he said I was just dreaming- oh but I knew better. I lay awake
staring at the wardrobe door till the sun came up.
Over the next couple of days, I thought of little else. I hardly
slept, listening to every creak of the floorboards and staring at that
wardrobe. A week later as I lay on my side, facing the wall only two
or three feet from my face, I had at last fallen asleep when I could SMELL
him. My eyes flew open and his face was so close he was almost nose to
nose with me. I literally threw my body backwards, clattering on top
of Adam who was not best pleased. Of course Gypsy Man had disappeared.
Adam thought I was losing my mind and suggested I saw a doctor. Well
gee thanks for the support dear.
I read everything on the 'net about ghosts, spirits, mediumship and
learned that one school of thought was that spirits kinda HAVE to do what
they’re told and that this guy was actually completely harmless. He was the
sort of spirit who “fed” on fear. I thought it was entirely
possible this entity was getting his kicks from watching me poop myself.
So I was ready for him. In fact I really didn’t think I was scared any
more because it was true, he didn’t do anything. He just cackled like
a loon at me screaming the place down.
Eventually though he tried to reappear. Months had passed since he’d
paid me a visit. As I once again lay on my side one night, in a deep
sleep, my eyes suddenly flew open. Between me and the bedroom wall a
dark cloud began to gradually congeal into what was going to be a human
shape. This was my chance. I sat up and yelled at him.
“Get lost you silly little man, I’m not afraid of you so there’s no point in
coming here any more so just DO ONE!” The cloud just “went”. I
knew he wouldn’t be back.
Epilogue
Months later, I visited an Aunt I hadn’t seen in years. We’d never had
“that conversation” when she asked “Are YOU ‘spooky’?” I said yes, of
course. We shared many stories but she had seen more than I. I’m
still sceptical and think that’s a very healthy mindset so I gave nothing
away but let her describe her experience. She told me about a dark,
curly headed gypsy type that used to pop out of nowhere to scare her.
She banished him much the same way I did but she used the F word as well.
Well they say you must be forceful, you must really mean it. There
were other people in the room (quivering in fear) when we were exchanging
our tales of spookdom so I lied when she asked “Tell me, has he ever popped
out of the wardrobe?”
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