How to tell a story when there is no ending. My continuous torture may be my fate. Or at least it feels that way. This has been escalating for nine years. It began with playful fun with aOuija board. I was in my early thirties at that time and haven't played with it since I was 14. But it turned horribly wrong.
A male friend of mine was intoxicated and always showing off. He interrupted my girlfriend's question to the board with a mistake. He commanded for the most evil thing to show itself into the mirror on my wall. Immediately, I closed the board and put it back on the shelf. It was a child's game and was given to me for my 13th birthday.
When I turned around, I noticed my girlfriend's face. It was straight shock. I looked toward where her attention was. I became seriously ill and unable to move. Then my male friend turned to see what he succeeded in demanding.
There were people walking around behind a funeral carriage, dressed in those full southern bell dresses. Then a full-sized man walked up from inside my mirror. He looked right at him and then placed a hand on the outside frame. This man that now was coming out of my mirror stopped and looked at me with his solid black eyes. The room filled with this vibrating, echoing, evil laugh.
Nine years have passed and I have moved five times to get away from whatever came through. I left everything I worked hard to save up and buy. I was a single mother and I looked forward to my personal rewards, such as a new couch, bedroom furniture for my son's room. Extra money is always nice.
I've left all of it and didn't blink an eye. I lost my son to my family because they automatically assumed drugs and alcohol. I drank with friends and I knew at that point of my life I couldn't bare disappointing my family by telling them I see demons and evil spirits. I knew that would keep my son away by courts without the blink of an eye. So for all these years I've allowed this torture... until a few months ago.
I now have a 4-year-old daughter and my son is now 15. He knows what happened and to this day brings it up. I made this decision for help because I have been through hell and all its levels. I have had two home blessings and neither held. They have returned within days. I've been bitten, scratched, pushed, pinched, pushed, pulled, slapped, punched, and sexually violated. Smells, sounds, the shadows of small to almost 9-foot-tall evil creatures everywhere. I have seen yellow, red, black, and recently emerald eyes appearing.
I'm not going to allow this evil to separate me from my second child. I want to fight. I want a normal life. I want to live. Yes, many unbelievable incidents have occurred and I don't have time to speak of all events. My story one day will have a back cover and I can close the book. Until then, I am a prisoner of the dark abyss.
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