It’s in the Shadows

November 2009

This diary begins when I purchased my first house while being 8 months pregnant. The house was located in my hometown, a small quiet town of maybe 2500 hundred people who never locked their doors. It was a cute cottage style, 2 level home with 1 bedroom downstairs that was located off the kitchen area and the upstairs being an one room open area. The stairs were very small, about 2 1/2 feet wide (if that) and they basically went up into a hole in the floor upstairs. I had purchased the house from a guy I had went to highschool with, it had been in his family since the place was built. Yet, no one could really say exactly when it was built. Please excuse the long description, but it is important for the story.

My boyfriend and I decided to set up the nursery on the bedroom downstairs for obvious reasons, safety and convenience. The room was painted with 3 walls beige and 1 wall a deep maroon color. Despite the dark wall, the room was very bright and cheerful. Two small windows were on one wall and a door that opened out to the mudroom was on the adjacent wall. The closet was long and thin with no doors.  The corner furthest away from the entrance was always darker than the rest of the room, at first I thought it was because of the maroon and beige colors meeting on the corner. But, even when the sun shone directly in the room, the corner looked pitch black. Because the location of the closet to the dark corner, a little alcove was created. Perfect size for a dresser.

I was a first time new mom, everything had to be sterilized. So before moving any thing in the room, I scrubbed and vacuumed the entire room. When I started to move the dresser to its assigned corner, a sharp pain ran up the bottom of my bare foot. To my astonishment, I had stepped on a large piece of glass. The piece was thick, it looked like it came from a windshield, it even had the tempered coating. More large, thick pieces glistened along the floor board. I moved the dresser only to find more pieces of broken glass. I couldn’t believe it, I had just thoroughly vacuumed this whole room not less than 24 hours before. If the glass was there, I would have gotten it. I checked the dresser from top to bottom thinking the glass may have been dragged in with it. Since the glass was on the floor beneath one of the small windows, I thought maybe the window had been broken and replaced at one time. The pieces knocked loose off the sill (even though I had washed it) when I moved the large dresser near the wall. Nothing, nothing in that room hinted at where the glass could have come from. Once again, I vacuumed the entire carpet, taking great care to get the corners and along the floorboards. I finished setting the nursery up and went to make dinner.

The kitchen was open with a counter that looked into the dinning room, I began unpacking dishes, pots and pans, the usual. As I squatted down to put the pots away, I looked into the glass of the oven I saw the bottom of a white dress. It looked like a 1800’s dress, the type that ladies had to wear large petticoats underneath. Just as I realised what I was looking at, I felt as though someone bent over me as to cover me. I felt arms wrap around my shoulders to keep me from falling back onto my rear end from the surprise. Then it felt as though, whatever it was bending over me fell over and went through my body. Like when a person leans too far forward and loses balance. Even though the entire experience lasted mere seconds, I can feel the embrace to this day.  I slowly sat fully on the floor for a long while in disbelief, stunned, confused. I was in a daze, trying to comprehend what I had just experienced when my boyfriend came around the counter. He looked at my expression and immediately thought something had happened with the baby. He sat down on the floor with me and wrapped his arms around me asking if I was ok, this snapped me out of my stupor. I looked at him and told him what had just transpired. I knew he didn’t believe me even though I had different experiences my whole life and during our relationship. He was the ultimate skeptic (he finally became a true believer a few years later, but that is for another diary entry), he just told me to go lay down, I must have been overtired from the move and being so close to my due date. He made dinner, we ate and went to bed.

The next day, I was back in the nursery, putting baby clothes away in the dresser located in the dark corner when I felt a searing pain go through my foot yet again. More glass. It was the same type as before, located in the same place. I couldn’t believe it. Again, I moved all the furniture and vacuumed, I even vacuumed the window frame to make sure I got any that may have been left behind. I literally got down on my hands and knees to inspect the carpet for any remnants. Every little piece had been sucked up in the vacuum. I then called the friend I purchased the house from.

I knew that the first floor of the house had been totally renovated in the months before the purchase so I asked my friend if he had any problems with finding broken glass in the house. I made sure not to mention the bedroom specifically. There was long pause before he replied that no, there was never any broken windows. His exact words were “No, I have never found any random broken glass on the floor. I certainly never found any in the dark corner of the bedroom.”

His response sent cold electricity down my spine, beads of fear ran down my forehead and my body stiffened like a statue. I quietly thank him and hung up the phone. I couldn’t do anything but stand there wondering how the Hell I found myself in a B-rated horror movie.

I gave birth to my beautiful daughter, Avalon without complication. Her father and I brought her home and our new life as a family began. I would find more glass in the coming days and months, it appeared at random intervals. Sometimes, I would have to vacuum several days in a row, other times, weeks would go by without new discoveries. Each day, I would get up before the baby and inspect every millimeter of the carpet.

As time went on, I started to notice that the feeling of the room became different. The darkness in the corner became stronger, emitting a sense of danger and fear. Whenever I went into the room, it felt as though the air thickened and then was sucked out. The baby didn’t seem to be bothered, she was always happy no matter where she was so I thought maybe it was my imagination. However, it came to a point where I felt dread just walking by the room. At night, the rest of the room looked normal, with some light trickling in from street lamps. Yet, the corner seem devoid of light. There was darkness, then there was the corner. It seemed as though the light from street and the nightlight stopped abruptly before the corner. Fortunately, the dresser hid most of the corner, but I could see the edges of the abyss peaking out.There was no door, so I couldn’t just close it off. Besides, I didn’t want to leave my daughter in the room without some sort of escape.

I began sleeping downstairs on the couch so I could keep an eye and ear on the baby, then I started sleeping on her floor. I felt as though a madness was taking over me. The fear of a dark corner driving me insane. I always felt as though something terrible was in the corner, watching, waiting, taking refuge in the darkness. Some horrible creature was living in the shadow of that Goddamn corner and it was waiting for me to let my guard down. Perhaps it was leaving the glass for me to find, perhaps the glass was part of it, falling off as it moved around like shedding skin. I knew the glass and the corner was connected. I just couldn’t piece it together.

March 2011

Avalon was now 16 months old and a force of nature in her own right. Her crib, playpen, safety gates, or anything else could not hold her untamed character or anything else for that matter.

I couldn’t understand how she would get out of her crib. The crib was vintage, in order to slide the side of it down (to make it easier to pick her up or lay her down), I would have to reach underneath the bottom of the panel and push a lever that released the side. It was meant to be used with my foot, sort of a hands free feature so I could keep both hands on the baby as I laid her down. Every time I walked into her room, she would be playing happily on the floor, the side of the crib lowered.  I was still finding glass on a regular basis, so this was a big concern.

I tried to rope off the dark corner, the dresser that was placed there was a fairly good size so that was a bit of a consolation prize. However, by this time the darkness had almost covered an area extending about 10 feet from the corner to the middle of the walls on either side. Our cats seemed to agree with me about the fear and dread emanating from the corner and refused to go in the room even though they would always flank Avalon wherever she was elsewhere in the house. It was pretty cute watching her with her two furry body guards. One of the cats, QuiLaLa (yes, from Inuyasha) was a stray that had came trick or treating on Halloween in 2010 and got the treat of a new home. She was a beautiful cat, she lived up to her namesake. Her eyes were a deep, dark green, her soft, luxurious fur was mostly white with patches of tiger stripes, but her face, her face was striking. Her muzzle was long and boxy, like a fox. Her ears were similar to a fox as well, long and slender with black tufts playfully sticking up at the tapered ends. Not only was she unique in looks, but her size was certainly her most noticeable feature. 34 inches from the tip of her nose, to the tip of her tail, 19 inches on the vertical measure, add the extra long fur and she was a sight to behold.

After a check up at the vet, we introduced her to our other cat and then to Avalon. Qui walked up to her, sat down directly to Avalon’s right and stayed there motionless, like an Egyptian cat statue. That was her permanent post from that moment on. She never left Avalon’s side, no matter what. If a new person came to the house or if someone walked past, close to the house, I would hear a low guttural growl. I never knew cats could make a sound like that.

It was around this time that my fear of the dark corner was so immense that Avalon and I both started sleeping in the living room. Me on the couch, Avi in her playpen. I couldn’t go in the bedroom after dark and barely during the day. As mentioned before, the cats avoided the room more than I did. During the few times we did play in the bedroom, Qui would take her position with her paws on the very edge of the doorframe. Her gaze would never leave Avalon, she was a guard cat in every right.

My uncle had given Avalon a beautiful antique mirror, it was from an old vanity table. It had a large central mirror with two smaller mirrors hinged on the sides. I attached it to the wall in her bedroom as close to the door as possible.  When we did play in the bedroom, I kept Avalon as far away from the dark corner as possible.  Because of this, I never really sat in a way that allowed me to look directly into the mirror, I never really had a reason to anyway. Avalon would sit directly in front of the mirror, making faces and admiring herself as only a 16 month could.

On cleaning day, I would hurriedly go into the room, do my chores and get the Hell out of there. As I cleaned up the room, I dropped a toy that rolled under the crib. I had to almost lay down flat on the floor to reach the toy, as I went to pick myself up off the floor I happened to glance in the mirror. I don’t know how long I laid there on my stomach, mouth agape, completely shocked at what I saw.  The reflection of the dark corner in the mirror shimmered like the surface of a lake. Small ripples of shadow softly floating to the edges, tendrils of darkness floating outwards like the tentacles of an octopus floating in the ocean. If it hadn’t been such a source of fear, the image would have been one of serenity and calm.

I pulled myself up into a sitting position, never taking my eyes off the mirror. I couldn’t, and still can’t, fathom what I was looking at. My entire life has been full of experiences ranging from shadow beings to orbs, cryptids to possible UFOs, yet I couldn’t comprehend what I had witnessed in that mirror. I had found some information on finding broken glass, yet nothing about strange black portals and broken glass together. I knew the glass came from the darkness, but I just couldn’t figure it out. One of the downsides of living in a small town in northern Maine is the lack of alternative resources. I had no one turn to for answers, no where to research information. Even speaking to local church clergy and tribal leaders didn’t yield much help or hope.

The days went on, finding glass became the norm, the mirror was relocated the day I saw the horrifying reflection and life wasn’t to bad. Yet, by the end of March 2011, we would be leaving the little house for good.

March 2011

Avalon and I had been terribly sick for a week, it started with her vomiting uncontrollably, then the sickness spread to me. It had gotten to the point where, despite being ill myself, I slept on the floor right next to Avalon’s bed. I was terrified that she would choke on her own vomit in her sleep. I had just pulled my own head out of the hospital tub, the type they give out in the little “care package” when admitted to the hospital, when I looked into the dark corner. It was dark in the room, the only light coming from Avalon’s small Monster High night light. As usual, the light stopped abruptly at the edges of the mass, tonight it was a bit different, more ominous and dreadful. I sat and stared at the corner until poor Avalon started puking in her sleep, being 16 months old, she didn’t have the awareness to wake herself up. I got up and brought the bucket over to her, when she was done, I emptied it, got a cold washcloth, a bottled water and fresh PJ’s from the dryer. I walked groggily into the bedroom and dropped everything.

Avalon was out of her crib, standing in front her massive dresser with her back to me. She stood silently, motionless, just at the edge of the light, just where the darkness started to creep and stared into the corner. I slowly walked to her, in the state of sickness we both were in, I knew I didn’t have the strength for any b******t that night. I picked her up, she was cold and sweaty, just as a child as sick as she was should feel. It was a relief, for the moment. I washed her up, silence, changed her clothes and bed, she was silent, tried to give her some water, no sounds. Even though it was late and she was sick, Avalon was never silent. The border of the darkness in the corner moved out a few more inches as I sat on the floor with her in my arms and rocked her until morning.

The day after Avalon and I made it over the sickness hump, she went to her grandparents house for the day.  Being so sick for a week, things were extra messy, so I decided to clean the house. I decided to pull the dresser out to check for glass and to size up the dark stain in the corner. I was finally getting tired of this Goddamn thing and it was time for it to go. I yanked on the edge of the large, heavy dresser heard a sound come straight from the piece of furniture. Like a rotting piece of wood being yanked off of an old nail. Sort of half screech, half groan, the dresser held fast. Now, as most (Aroostook) county girls go, I am not a petite woman, furniture (or anything, or anyone) had never given me a hard time. Despite being so ill just a few days before, that dresser should have moved. I stepped back to asses the situation, I stared hard at the corner, letting it know that I wasn’t going to be deterred. I straightened my back, braced my feet and proceeded to move that damn dresser. The noise started low and gained volume as I pulled the dresser away from the alcove. It crescendoed into almost a scream of unimaginable horror as I finally got the large piece of furniture away from the wall and into the middle of the room. Then, deafening silence.

The corner it seemed, sat contemplative. I felt silly staring down a shadow that really hadn’t done anything except instill fear, sickness and disbelief into my soul. For a moment it just looked like a bright sunny room with no ominous overtones. I stood there wondering if I had really imagined it all. As I was lost in thought, a twinkle of light caught my eye, it was another piece of glass. It was stuck half way under the trim board, it was different than the previous pieces found, it was larger, had sharper edges, looked like a piece of volcanic glass. I turned the piece over in my fingers. As I turned to leave the room to add the piece to the collection, pain shot up the back of my leg. Another black piece found its way under the ball of my foot. I pulled it out, added it to the first piece and began the short walk to the kitchen again. Once again, pain. Another piece of black shiny glass. It seemed that each step I took, another piece of glass appeared just beneath my foot. I stood there scanning the floor for more pieces, yet the beige carpet was bare. Having been vacuumed each morning, there was little dust, dirt, or any other debris inhabiting the fibers. I slowly took another step, trying to see if anything would miraculously appear under my foot. As soon as my entire foot was placed on the floor, more pain. A piece of glass appeared only after I had completed the step. Trying to be clever, I raised up on tiptoes and took a few more steps. No glass, I made my way the 8 feet left to the door into the kitchen and grabbed the vacuum, again.

After doing the daily ritual of vacuuming the entire house, I entered into the room again. I stood in front of the corner, squaring off with it. I spoke to it out loud, if it had been something “living”, surely, it would hear me.

“Whatever the f**k you are, you need to leave me and my family alone. You are not welcome here, I don’t want you messing with Avalon, Dave, or myself. If you make us sick again or hurt us in anyway. I will burn down Heaven and Hell in order to make you suffer.” (Unknown to me at the time, this would be a speech I would make several times.)

At this point, it wasn’t an empty threat. Once crossed, I don’t take kindly to letting things go. Hurt anyone I care about, it may take years, decades, but I will have my revenge.

I moved the dresser to another point in the room. I wanted the corner opened in order to keep a closer eye on it. The noise it made when I moved the dresser made me feel as though as it felt safer hiding behind something. I vacuumed again and went to the library to do some research. I spent hours trying to find anything about the entity in the corner, I couldn’t find anything about dark spots and/or glass. I researched the history of the house and of Limestone, trying to find the lady in white. Nothing. Nothing. I went home defeated.

I walked into the house, around the corner into the kitchen and stopped at Avalon’s bedroom door. I looked at the corner, “I will find a way to get rid of you, destroy you, and get my house back, you sonofabitch.” I continued upstairs and sat on the top step. Something I did when I needed to think or get a moment of peace. As I sat in thought, I felt a cold wind come from the opposite side of the room. The hair on the back of my neck and arms stood up, the pages of a magazine sitting on the floor near the bed fluttered. I looked around and saw nothing. The cats, who had been napping on the bed, shot up and ran downstairs. Avalon’s brave little bodyguard, QiLala, nuzzled my arm and climbed into my lap. I could still feel the cold swirl around us. She sat rigid, on my legs, in her usual Egyptian cat stance, ears scanning independently, like little furry radars. She turned her head to look at the windows on the other side of the room. She scanned the area until both eyes and ears locked onto something. Her eyes followed something cross the room, arch behind me and then stopped. At that moment, the air was so cold, I could see my breath. Something ran fingers through my ponytail and tugged at the back of my shirt. I wasn’t scared, (I had experienced this before, but that is for another chronicle), Qi wasn’t freaking out, just observing. I sat staring dead ahead (pun intended), I tried to see out of the corner of my eye, to catch something in the periphery of my sight. I looked to my left as much as possible only to catch the lace and ruffles of a familiar dress. It was the lady in the white dress from the kitchen. Not daring to move, I looked up to catch a glimpse of her entire form. I could see as far up as her waist, that was all there was to her for me to see. She stepped down onto the staircase, by her second step, she was gone. Qi’s eyes followed her the rest of the way down the stairs and into the kitchen, right up to the spot I first encountered her. Qi then turned back to me and did her usual head bump and began to purr. We sat on the stairs, her sprawled in my lap, me rubbing her ears and tummy.

April 201
I tried to figure out what I was missing, was the corner and the lady in the white dress connected? Did something happen to her in that room? Was she murdered and left in the corner? I don’t watch many ghost or horror movies, so no inspiration there. I wasn’t very religious (not that clergy I had spoken to were any help, anyway), so no ideas there. The only thing I could think that may help was to smudge the house with sage. It couldn’t hurt, could it? It was better than doing nothing at all. The only problem? Living in northern Maine doesn’t allow for many specialty stops. That weekend, I made the four hour journey to a small shop in Augusta after speaking with the very helpful gentlemen that owned it. Merkaba Sol was the usual little hippy/metaphysical/Tibetan supply shop that had shelves of crystals, tarot cards, Tibetan prayer flags, hemp clothes and the like. After almost an hour of explaining my plight, receiving suggestions and instructions, I left with a large feather and a smudge stick. (For those who do not know what that is, it’s a cigar shaped bundle consisting of white sage, sometimes lavender and other cleansing plants. The feather is to direct the smoke as needed.) The next day I brought Avalon back to my parents house, waited for my boyfriend, Dave, to go to work and began the sweep.

I started upstairs, as instructed I smudged the windows and window sills, the door frames and for good measure, the entire damn room. I went room to room until the entire house was done, a smokey haze filled the air and the smell of sage was overpowering. I got to Avalon’s bedroom, I did the windows and the door leading out to the mud room. The closet was next and then the damn corner. That damn corner. I stood there, stick in one hand, feather in the other, squaring off like a showdown in an old western. I blew on the stick to get as much smoke as possible billowing out of it and went to work. I started in the direct middle of the dark spot, concentrating as much smoke as possible in one spot. The spot lightened, but the edges stayed dark. I pulled back and the spot became dark again. It was like one of those old color changing shirts, you blew on part of it to get it to change colors then it would gradually fade back to its original color, only this change was quick. I tried it again, pulling as much smoke as possible from the bundle and directing towards the center of the shadow. Only this time, I gave it everything I had. I kept the barrage of smoke going as long as could, the shadow beginning to fade from the center out to the edges. About an hour later, the shadow was gone completely. The entire room bright and sunny. I thought maybe this had done the trick, but I still had the feeling of dread and fear. I finished smoking out the entire house, I opened all the windows to let the bad spirits out as instructed.

Nothing felt different, no shadows throwing themselves out to get away from the cleansing smoke. No white lady appearing then disappearing with a thankful look of calmness to let me know she was able to leave this world. Nothing. Nothing but my neighbor walking up the driveway with a small bundle of fur in her arms.

Before I had begun the smudging, I put our cats outside. They had always been outdoor cats so this was nothing eventful. I live in a very small town of good people that always slowed down for the sign I had put on my lawn. “Cats and Kids at Play, Please Drive Slowly” The entire street was crammed full of the two aforementioned beings along with dogs and wild animals at night. I remembered seeing the two cats on the front lawn giving me dirty looks through the upstairs windows, I had woken them from deep slumber and they were not ready for their usual evening prowling. Smokey had continued his nap under some pine trees, Qi not far away under the same trees. She was sitting in her guard cat position. The both of them were roughly 20 feet from street and as I mentioned before, located under a batch of pine trees near the trunks. I knew they would lay there for hours, like a couple of old nosy neighbors, watching the world go by.

After the smudging process, I saw them again as I opened windows. They had never moved from their selected spots. From the time it took for me to walk down my very tiny staircase, across the kitchen and out the front door. My dear, sweet, brave little QiLala had died. My neighbor found her laying by the tree she was sitting at moments before. Smokey meowing next to her. That was the reason she decided to check on the cat to being with. She knew the cats very well, just seeing Qi in any position but her Egyptian cat guard pose was enough to raise concern. She had picked her up and brought her to me as I walked out the door. For a moment I thought, “Oh no, Qi got hit by a car.”, but when the neighbor explained to me what happened. All I could think was “This is war.”

The cause of death was acute respiratory failure and myocardial infarction, she suffocated and had a heart attack at the same time. The vet just couldn’t understand why a year old cat that she deemed healthy less than 3 weeks prior could just die suddenly. A heart attack, yes, it is possible in animals. Yes, it could happen just like that, however it was usually brought about by excessive adrenaline. Both the neighbor and I had seen Qi sitting under a tree just moments before her death, not terrified in fear or running crazily around the yard. Just sitting there, doing what she did best. And what about the suffocation? She shook her head, looked over her notes, reread the lab results. How could an animal suffocate with no obstructions in her breathing passages, no medical issues to speak of. Nothing. Nothing. There was so much nothing going on, I felt like I was in the Neverending Story. (Apologies for that, I’m the type to make bad jokes at funerals. It’s a coping mechanism.)

It was back to the library for more research. I looked up Shamanic recipes for cleansing the soul, spirit animals, spirit stones, spirit flowers,  crystals for cleaning Chakras, binaural beats, meditation music, Gregorian chants, African drum beats, candle colors, prayers in every language and religion. I found every possible bit of information regarding soul cleansing that was available. Fortunately for me, I’m a natural researcher and I’m able to retain information easily. I filled a notebook with what I thought I may need, made my list of “weapons” and headed back to Augusta. I came home with an arsenal that would have impressed any spiritualist and perhaps even the Dalai Lama himself. I spent about a week familiarizing myself with each and every rock, plant, prayer, chant and color I had purchased and logged previously. When I felt I was ready, I made sure that Dave and Avalon would be out of the house for at least the weekend. This was something I needed to do alone. Dave was a disbeliever (which in time, changed very drastically) and I didn’t want anything bad to Avalon. Seeing her sick was enough for me.

Finding myself alone in the house again, I set about constructing an altar of sorts in the corner. White candles lined the walls, incense and the smudge stick sat in the middle, various crystal stones were strewn about, a bowl of Holy Water to my right, an Athame to my left. I laid out the prayers and incantations in front of me and went to work. As I sat down, I felt silly again. I looked about the items and wondered if I had really just let my imagination get the best of me. I sat, eyes closed, and thought about all the previous experiences I had throughout my life. After a few minutes, my resolve strengthened and I knew the instinctual feelings swirling about my innards were correct and that this has to be done.

I poured a circle of salt around the altar and my sitting position. This was to create a circle of protection, something I had come across several times in my research. I sprinkled Holy water over everything, lit the white candles, incense and smudge stick, positioned the crystals in a small semicircle, sat crossed leg and began the first protection prayer. As I spoke the words out loud, I heard a faint screeching sound, like car tires coming from down the street, it grew louder as I spoke more of the prayer. Like when I tore the dresser from the wall, it turned into a howling roar. I continued the praying as a cold breeze picked and swirled around me, the howling became echo-ish, like it was coming from an old time radio. I kept my eyes closed and the words going. I was terrified inside, but I couldn’t let it surface. I can laugh a bit about it now, but it was almost like the ark opening scene in “Raiders of the Lost Ark”. I kept my posture rigid, head up, back straight, legs crossed, hands on my knees. I was coming to the end of the prayer and I knew I have to open my eyes to read the next set of notes. In hindsight, I probably should have memorized everything, but when your house kills your cat, the small details are easily overlooked. I finished the prayer, the howling started to die down and the breeze warmed. I knew I couldn’t stop or else something worse may happen. To terrified to open my eyes, I felt around for the vial of Holy water, sprinkled everything around me again and began the only prayer I knew somewhat by heart. The Lord’s Prayer.

I spoke loudly and angrily, corralling all the negative energy and events that had happened so far. I used the negativity to my advantage, as I spoke, my tone was as threatening as possible. I used the prayer as bullets. I finished the prayer, opened the vial again and splashed the entire thing at the wall, I began the prayer again. Speaking as though I was in a fight and throwing insults. I kept the thoughts of the past few months circulating in my head, using them as fuel to get myself worked into a murderous frenzy. I wanted to make the fear dissipate altogether, I wanted whatever it was in that corner to fear me as I had feared it. I was screaming by now, just repeating the Lord’s Prayer over and over, I couldn’t hear the howling over my own voice, the anger inside numbed me to the cold breeze. I just kept going, raising to my feet, clenching my fists, screaming at the top of my lungs. The entire time, my eyes were closed. Images of the dark corner shone brightly behind my eyelids, the shadow kept contorting, like looking into a sadistic kaleidoscope.

I don’t know how much time had passed before I finally fell to my knees exhausted, I slowly opened my eyes to see the shadow in the corner. It was about the size of a dessert plate, edges pulsating in a star burst. This made me as angry as ever before, hatred and revenge swelled up in me. I was literally so mad, I didn’t know what to do. I looked around at my arsenal, the holy water was depleted, candles burned down, incense long gone. Knowing I didn’t have much time before the shadow began regaining it’s own strength and exacting revenge as before, I ran upstairs, grabbed a small bible I had gotten when in basic training, ran back to the corner and placed the bible on the wall. A small moan shook the room. Leaning the book against the wall, I ran back to the kitchen, grabbed a roll of duct tape (yes, duct tape, its the universal tool), went back into the bedroom and taped the bible right over the center of the shadow. (when you are short on time, you gotta do what you gotta do). I ran out to my truck, tore out of the driveway, spitting rocks and squealing tires. I got to the grocery store, bought as many one gallon waters as I could carry, threw them into the truck and tore off to the church.

I grabbed the the water and ran into the church. The priest met me with concern, I must have looked like a crazy person, arms full of gallon jugs, eyes wide, face red, carrying on about how I needed him to bless me and the water. Since I had spoken to him before about my predicament, I was able to quickly give him the short explanation. He had refused to come bless the house before, thinking me crazy, it was probably for the best anyway. God knows what revenge would have been exacted on my family for that. Telling him that I would return to explain every little detail as soon as I could, I begged for him to fulfill my request of blessings. He said his little prayers, motioned with his hands and was done with the crazy woman in his church.

I pulled into the yard sideways, grabbed the water and ran into the house. I hadn’t even bother to close the doors when I left. I stopped inside the front door, it was as though time had slowed down, the house creaked and groaned like an old ship at sea. I stood and listened for a minute, it almost felt like I was on an old ship at sea. The floor seemed to rise and fall as though the waves was slowly rocking the house back and forth. “I finally lost my s**t.” I thought out loud, “I’m on the crazy boat to Hell.” I watched the pictures on the wall for movement, fortunately they stayed still. Nothing in the house seemed to pitching back and forth as if it were really on a boat. Yet, the floor felt like it was swaying back and forth. I tried to walk into the bedroom, it was like walking along the floor in a funhouse, on top of boards that shifted back and forth or up and down, trying to throw kids off balance. The floor didn’t move, it was my perception of the floor that was throwing me off. I held tight to the water jugs and made my way into the bedroom. The bible was still taped to the wall, edges of shadow poked out around it. I set the jugs down on the listing floor keeping one in my hands. I pulled the cap off the top and the bible off the wall, pouring the entire jug down the corner and along the walls. The shipped stopped swaying. I picked up the second jug in one hand, opened the bible with the other.

Not knowing where to start, I turned to the first page of Genesis and began to read. At this moment, I had no plan, I was going on some sort primal instinct. The Lord’s Prayer and Holy Water seemed to work the best, so I stuck with this form of battle. As I read about what God did on the seventh day, I poured water in the corner and along the walls. The ship tilted sharply to starboard, I almost lost my balance. I kept reading, the howling and chilly breeze started again. I closed my eyes and began letting myself get angry again. I kept reading, kept getting angrier and angrier. This thing made my daughter sick, killed my cat, made me live in fear. It pushed me to far and now it was my turn. I felt the hatred, anger and revenge spring up from soul once again, I worked myself into a frenzy of screaming words from the bible and pouring water into my hand to whip it at the walls. The ship pitched starboard, then to port. I struggled to keep my balance, I think the only thing that kept me upright was knowing that it was a matter of perception. I knew the shadow was messing with me. The house stayed still, the crazy boat was sailing.

I kept reading, kept splashing, but I was getting weak. Now, it was a matter of who would outlast the other. I threw the book on the floor, poured water into both hands and started painting the corner with my hands. Some sick, twisted form of finger painting. The walls were freezing, like sticking my hands onto a metal bar in the freezer. When my hands hit the wall, a wail of anger thundered through the house. Still screaming, I spoke of God getting rid of the beast and protecting my family. I felt like an evangelist going under the power. I repeated this over and over, again losing track of time. When I thought I couldn’t do anymore, I gained a second wind and kept going. The shadow would spread out across the walls, shrink into nothing, spread out again, shrink again. By this time I was shouting profanities, telling it to get out of my house, praying. The walls, floor and myself was soaked with holy water. I knew I couldn’t stop until this thing was gone for good. My family and I was in big trouble if I didn’t. I had one last idea.

I ran to my jewelry box and grabbed an old rosary and cross, they had belonged to my grandmother and was blessed so many times, Jesus himself knew the objects well. Back in the bedroom, I hung the cross up on a little nail in the same spot I had taped the bible. (Now that I think about it, why was that little nail in the exact spot I needed it to be? Had it been there all along? I don’t really remember.) I wrapped the rosary around my wrist, grabbed another jug of water and the now soaking pages of the bible and started again. I never let the anger waiver or the fear surface. I just let myself be mad, taking every frustration out on that damn shadow. The ship still listed back and forth, the house creaked and groaned, I stumbled a few times, but never fell. I kept going like a marathon runner.

In one last stand, the shadow swallow the corner and adjacent walls in mind altering blackness. The howling neared a glass breaking pitch and the house felt like it was going to cave in on me. Still screaming, I was down on my knees, hands planted on the floor. I was still on the crazy boat. Everything swayed and swirled around around me, I felt myself faltering. Then, silence. Once again, nothing. I couldn’t do anything more, I laid down and either passed out or fell asleep.

I awoke, I didn’t know if hours, days or seconds had passed by. Everything was still, quiet. I could hear birds, cars, kids playing outside. I sat up, the room was a mess. Jugs of water tipped over, candles, gemstones, notebook pages were splayed all over the ground. The bible was on the floor next to me, the rosary still around my wrist and the cross was up on the wall. I stared at it for a moment. Had I gotten rid of the shadow? The prior events came into mind and I stood up quickly, trying to figure out a new game plan. My thoughts raced as to what I should next, I grabbed the bible and a half full jug of holy water. As I went to start my siege once again, I noticed a flutter of white. Out of the corner of my eye, just outside the door of the bedroom was the bottom corner of a white lace dress. I turned to look at it straight on, but it disappeared. I turned back to throw water into the corner and paused.

The corner was light, the whole room was had a sunny glow to it. There was no feeling of dread, fear or hatred. I even felt happy. Not sure what to do, I cleaned up the bedroom, left the cross and rosary hanging on the wall and went to get my family.

We moved out of the little house about two weeks later. After that day, there was no more problems. I almost hated leaving the house. I still own it, people have rented it without incident and I hope to move back into it one day. The cross and rosary are still hanging in the corner.

I’m hoping that someone may have an idea about the glass found in the bedroom. I’ve done research, but couldn’t find any experience exactly like ours. (Spoiler alert- we still find glass in Avalon’s bedroom. Three new places from then until now and the same glass in every bedroom.)

As for the Shadow, I have theories that it may be related the Shadow Beings most people have heard of. I have had my share of encounters and will share them in their own post.

  • Ash Walker

    The glass could be the lady in white following her around
    It is also possible that she is a powerful human herself which draws in spirits which could lead to the glass

  • KTGamingYT

    Haaii

  • Russ Dex

    Damn good story

  • Headhunter

    When I got to the part with the cats I said damn I hope the cats don’t get hurt I don’t care about the humans

    • Headhunter

      I read further into the story NOOOOOO NOT THE CATS ANYTHING BUT THE CATS

      • Ranting Hippy

        On the bright side, the other cat, Smokey, is still alive and well. Despite being 18 years old, he’s as perky as a kitten.