Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Tales From Wallachian Fables & My Reality - Volume 2

This boy stepped out of the car to walk upon the seemingly endless lawn of poison ivy, to look over the ugliest house that God had ever created, cast dead center to the wretched plot of land from which the poison ivy sprang. The largest, and in it’s own right, very ugly oak tree off to the side of the house, was not a warm and welcoming sight either. The setting is Selinsgrove Pennsylvania, a little hamlet, just outside of Shamokin Dam {which in and of itself is no metropolis either} beside the bank of what was the most tranquil river I had ever seen, until we reached this point. The river rushed past this point, as if it were trying to escape the ugly, half rotten, carcass that at one time was probably a beautiful house, and looking over this little property, I could see why. From the outside, the house appeared to be in need of an exterminator, as well as a painter. I gathered that it could possibly have been a white house at one time, but I wasn’t quite ready to venture a guess.

I still to this day could never understand the maniacal fascination that my mother had with this place, nor could I understand the way her second husband {the entertainment attorney, who doubled as Ronald McDonald} humored her as well. Swimming through the unworthy sea of poison ivy, that was a cleverly disguised in places as a lawn, brought us to the front door, where I stood standing for a period of time, not wanting to enter whatsoever. If there was one thing that crazy old lady I grew up with had taught me, it was to stay AWAY from places that made me feel like this. With that feeling I had, I could sense in every way, why the water would want to get away from this place, and turn into the mighty Colorado River, if only at this point in it’s meandering little point of existence. The door opened and I could see everything that my mother and step-father could not, and all I could do was stand there in stunned disillusionment, when my mother had the ability to see this disaster as charming.

The paint hung from the ceiling in large strips and eerily reminded me of bats that had come in for the night. The walls that used to stand, were nothing more than studs, as who knows what had actually happened to the large pieces of walls that had once blocked your views of the other rooms. Again, the pounding in my head, as I sort of peeked inside, but refused to partake in the joys of dancing around a house that quite frankly was hiding some terrible secrets, that to this day, I haven’t a clue or a care to discover. The old lady, I had spoken of that taught me to understand places like this was not a relative, she was the friend, of my father and mine that had taught me how to sense ghosts, for she was one. This was the first time in my life I had learned {the hard way mind you} the feelings of dread that fill your inner core, when you enter the home of a ghost that is up to no good. What it was doing there or why, again, I do not care, I just knew things that these two people who dragged me here just couldn’t understand, and I pray that they never do.

My mother simply kept emoting all of the wonderful things that could be done to this horrifying place, and it included, many coats of paint, some nice curtains, the right furniture, and of course that cute little swing hanging from the half dead, many century oak, out back. I have yet to enter this house, and I stand there with the feeling of the arctic ocean, screaming out of that house upon me. I seriously wanted to run, and not in that panic attack sort of way, as this was real, and something was doing it to me. I couldn’t get the fact that the nearest house was a good mile away, out of my head, as I started thinking about the screaming that once came from this house in reality. It wasn’t half as brutal as the screaming that comes from this house now, as my mother starts downright insisting that I walk inside. I stand my ground quite well on the front porch, as one of the few things my pathetic excuse for a mother was to be very stubborn at times.

The spooky feeling that the poison ivy lurking around behind me didn’t scare me enough to enter this place, so I imagine that it wasn’t really going to be inspired by a woman acting like a lunatic, that I rarely pay attention to in the first place. She, meaning the woman disguised as my mother at the moment, was fretting about trying to encourage me into the house, and my step-father was also acting rather peculiar, even by his standards. My whole body is just ice, my blood is full of tacks as it rips through my system. I never could quite explain the feelings that I get when there is a presence correctly, but I try, this was the worst feeling any of them have ever given me, and I wasn’t about to find out if it gets worse. The feelings of dread engulf me, as my mother finally comes over to me with her hand extended, wishing to guide me into the infernal place. My lips clenched, my hands balling into fists, I was ready to make my stand when she finally said to me “What is the matter with you?” and I gave her my reply in 10 year old boy speak “There is something in there like the lady at the house only really really mean,” and that was all it took, for my mother to simply call to my step father, and say “We’ve got to leave David, just trust me on this one.”

Other than a few nightmares, I have never seen that house again, like myself my mother spent her entire life being filled with the Wallachian tales, and she doesn’t question the “gifts” that were handed down to us. The only things she does know is that we have them for a reason, and my intuition on these matters are not to be trifled with. In return, when she calls me out of the blue with some sort of spooky premonition, that is cryptic at best, it is one of the rare times I listen to her, and head what she has to say. It’s when she isn’t talking in riddles that she is full of shit. When she speaks of things that are confusing and scary her gift of “Sight” comes out quite alarmingly, and thanks to my crazy old Wallachian great grand mothers ramblings, we at least have some respect for each other on something. ;8o)

Question … Is there anything {or at least a good example of something} that happens to you often of a paranormal nature, that you would like to share? You know this cast of characters hanging out in this blog will never judge you for it, and we always need to share stuff :D

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