Speaker 1: I dated a girl who lived in a haunted trailer
Speaker 1: in the middle of nowhere. She had one bedroom that
Speaker 1: was inexplicably dark, even with all the lights on and
Speaker 1: the shades open. No matter how hard she tried, she
Speaker 1: couldn't keep a roommate. Everyone who tried to stay in
Speaker 1: that room couldn't last the night. They'd ended up sleeping
Speaker 1: on the couch and leaving the next morning. The only
Speaker 1: guy who actually did manage to stay for a while,
Speaker 1: he started going crazy and she had to ask him
Speaker 1: to move out after a couple of months. Well, maybe
Speaker 1: she's a nut living in the middle of nowhere in
Speaker 1: a trailer. I don't know. Maybe she just couldn't afford
Speaker 1: anywhere else. But a lot of times, when these girls
Speaker 1: are crazy and people can't last even one day with them,
Speaker 1: it's not the ghost that we're about to read about.
Speaker 1: It's because the girl's a nut and you shouldn't be
Speaker 1: shacking up. You shouldn't be doing that. You should marry
Speaker 1: the girl Mary. The girls quit shacking up with these
Speaker 1: women guys. Okay, enough of my social commentary for the day.
Speaker 1: Move on with the story. One night I was staying
Speaker 1: over at her place and I got up to get
Speaker 1: something to drink. As soon as I walked out of
Speaker 1: the bedroom, I heard whispering from a whole bunch of people.
Speaker 1: It was all around me. I looked into the kitchen
Speaker 1: and saw what appeared to be twenty silvery ghosts having
Speaker 1: a party. Some were holding plates and some were holding drinks.
Speaker 1: I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I slammed my
Speaker 1: hand on the light switch and they disappeared. Another time,
Speaker 1: I saw something shadowy standing at the edge of the woods.
Speaker 1: It was only as tall as a large dog, but
Speaker 1: there was something off about this thing. I told my girlfriend,
Speaker 1: who knew all about it, and she told me that
Speaker 1: it didn't like me. She said that many nights it
Speaker 1: would come right up to her trailer, but when I
Speaker 1: was around, it would retreat into the woods and wait
Speaker 1: for me to leave. The final straw for me happened
Speaker 1: in the middle of the day when we heard a
Speaker 1: little girl singing at the top of her lungs. There
Speaker 1: were no other trailers or neighbors in sight, so I
Speaker 1: went outside to check it out, thinking she might have
Speaker 1: been lost, But as hard as I looked, I couldn't
Speaker 1: find her anywhere. I heard her singing but I couldn't
Speaker 1: see her. I circled the entire trailer, and when I
Speaker 1: got back to the front door, it went quiet again.
Speaker 1: After that, I stopped spending time there. Now. When I
Speaker 1: was a little kid, we had a burn pit about
Speaker 1: one hundred yards from the house. One night, my dad
Speaker 1: was carrying the trash down there and I went with him.
Speaker 1: When we got there, we saw something that scared the
Speaker 1: hell out of both of us. It was the color
Speaker 1: of blue gray smoke, and it looked like a genie
Speaker 1: out of a lamp. It was skinny at the bottom,
Speaker 1: but toward the top it widened, forming a human torso
Speaker 1: with the arms and a head. My dad was not
Speaker 1: particularly a fit man, but he dropped the trash can,
Speaker 1: grabbed me like a football under his arm, and sprinted
Speaker 1: up the hill to the house. Not long after that,
Speaker 1: my grandmother died. While we were going through her things,
Speaker 1: we found out she had been practicing witchcraft. We found
Speaker 1: letters where she had been channeling her dead. She would
Speaker 1: write out a bunch of questions and then channel a
Speaker 1: spirit who would answer them for her. The creepiest part
Speaker 1: of all was that the questions were written out in
Speaker 1: my grandmother's nice flowing handwriting, but the responses were in
Speaker 1: a man's rough handwriting. He gave me goosebumps reading it.
Speaker 1: When my friends and I were fifteen, we were heading
Speaker 1: up a hill to a bluff, and as we were walking,
Speaker 1: something hitting me across the back of my head with
Speaker 1: a stick, breaking it in two. We turned around, ready
Speaker 1: to fight, and I saw a young bigfoot standing there,
Speaker 1: six feet tall, broad at the shoulders, with hair hanging
Speaker 1: off his arms and legs. He took off running and
Speaker 1: we went after him, though it was useless because he
Speaker 1: had disappeared up the hill in a matter of seconds,
Speaker 1: out of sight. Late one night, my friend and I
Speaker 1: were walking home. We were nearly at the last street
Speaker 1: light before my house when something walked into the road
Speaker 1: in front of us. It looked like a demonic grimlin.
Speaker 1: It was almost black with white stripes and had kind
Speaker 1: of an egg shaped head. Its knee bent backwards over
Speaker 1: long feet, and its back had an unnatural arch. As
Speaker 1: soon as it appeared, it vanished again on the other
Speaker 1: side of the road. My friend took off running like
Speaker 1: a scared little girl. It took me a minute to
Speaker 1: catch up with him. Later, I described it to a
Speaker 1: friend of mine who informed me that I had seen
Speaker 1: a schup of cabra. Where I live, you'll meet more
Speaker 1: people who have had strange encounter. Every other person out
Speaker 1: here has had their own personal experience, whether with a bigfoot,
Speaker 1: a white thing, a chupacabra, or something else that'll make
Speaker 1: you lose sleep. It's comforting on the one hand knowing
Speaker 1: that I'm not the only one seeing these things, but
Speaker 1: it is disturbing too, knowing I live in a hotspot.
Speaker 1: I love your show. I think you do a fantastic job,
Speaker 1: and I've probably heard every one of your episodes. I
Speaker 1: heard you say once that you don't like your accent,
Speaker 1: but I don't think the show would be the same
Speaker 1: if some Yankee was reading it. Have a good day
Speaker 1: of peace, be with you. Well, thanks for the story.
Speaker 1: This is I get these every once in a while,
Speaker 1: and there are some people in this world that just
Speaker 1: have event after event after event in their lives with
Speaker 1: things that nobody else believes. I don't make a call
Speaker 1: on this story one way or another, but I just
Speaker 1: sometimes I'm going to just be candid with you. Sometimes
Speaker 1: it's kind of odd. I'm not saying it didn't happen.
Speaker 1: This guy knows whether it happened or not. But if
Speaker 1: you think this story is not believable or believable, let
Speaker 1: me know in the comments. Hey ya got everybody, just
Speaker 1: feel free to say whatever you want to say. It
Speaker 1: was a good story at any rate, and that's why
Speaker 1: I read it, so I appreciate the writer sending it. Hello. Hello,
Speaker 1: welcome to the podcast. My name's Cam Buckner. This is
Speaker 1: a Dixie Cryptid YouTube podcast. We also have a podcast
Speaker 1: on your podcast app called the what If It's True? Podcast.
Speaker 1: You can look it up and search anywhere. Probably a
Speaker 1: lot less ads, a lot less data usage, and it's easy, easy,
Speaker 1: easy on your phone battery if you use a phone
Speaker 1: to listen to the podcast. Hey, what is it about
Speaker 1: YouTube videos that just drives you crazy? What do you
Speaker 1: hate about YouTube videos? I'm curious what everybody will say. Now,
Speaker 1: you can't say ads, because ads this is just a
Speaker 1: natural part of all of these platforms. You cannot go
Speaker 1: on a single platform Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, YouTube, Rumble, Twitter,
Speaker 1: any of them and not encounter ads. Now, I know
Speaker 1: the ads are annoying in the YouTube videos because you
Speaker 1: are into a story or into a video and an
Speaker 1: ad pops up. But there's a way to solve that.
Speaker 1: You can just get the YouTube premium for seven ninety
Speaker 1: nine a month and you don't have to ever deal
Speaker 1: with ads, and I can't live without it. But other
Speaker 1: than that, what drives you crazy about a YouTube video?
Speaker 1: I'm gonna tell you my biggest pet peeve is when
Speaker 1: I click on something that I want to see and
Speaker 1: it takes the creator in a ten minute video seven
Speaker 1: minutes to get to the effing point. It drives me insane.
Speaker 1: Now I used to do that on this channel. I'm
Speaker 1: kind of doing it right now. And that is the
Speaker 1: main reason I quit talking so much in these videos,
Speaker 1: is because it drives me nuts when other people do it.
Speaker 1: I'd rather them just get to the point. I clicked
Speaker 1: on the video to listen to a story, to watch
Speaker 1: something on a particular topic. I don't need to know
Speaker 1: everything about their life. I don't need to know. I
Speaker 1: don't need all the apologies that the sound is bad.
Speaker 1: I don't need. I don't need them to tell me
Speaker 1: to subscribe, because I know how to subscribe to a channel.
Speaker 1: If you put out good content, I'll subscribe. That is
Speaker 1: what drives me nuts about YouTube videos, and I've seen
Speaker 1: them on TikTok, seen them on YouTube shorts. You can
Speaker 1: just go down the line and people just blab or
Speaker 1: blab or brib or until they get to the point.
Speaker 1: So I'm gonna stop blabbering, but I'm gonna look forward
Speaker 1: to hearing what your pet peeves are on YouTube videos
Speaker 1: that you watch. So let me know. Let me know
Speaker 1: in the comment section. All right, we got a couple
Speaker 1: one or two more stories in this podcast. Hope you
Speaker 1: enjoy it. All right, here we go. The first flash
Speaker 1: pulled me from a drunk slumber. I lay there in
Speaker 1: the tent next to my wife wondering what I had
Speaker 1: heard till the second splash woke her up. What was that,
Speaker 1: she asked. I quietly shushed her, and I listened intently
Speaker 1: to something shuffling and mumbling on the other side of
Speaker 1: the river. I chose our camping spot because it was
Speaker 1: an island in the river. If something were to approach
Speaker 1: our tent, it would have to wade through the channel
Speaker 1: on either side of us. My fault was I'd hear
Speaker 1: it and wake up if something crossed. I take these
Speaker 1: precautions after growing up and spending my spare time in
Speaker 1: grizzly country. The third splash sounded as I unholstered my
Speaker 1: big Boar revolver and found my flashlight. My wife asked
Speaker 1: me again what it was. I could tell by her
Speaker 1: voice that she was shaken. Earlier that evening, we had
Speaker 1: fished and swam next to the camp. I didn't recall
Speaker 1: seeing any evidence of a beaver. The size of the
Speaker 1: splash was not just from an average sized rock. It
Speaker 1: would have been a very large rock thrown high in
Speaker 1: the air hitting the water. It sounded like shuffling and mumbling.
Speaker 1: I heard rocks rolling down the slope and what sounded
Speaker 1: like footsteps. The mumbling was low and mixed with a grunting,
Speaker 1: and I couldn't make out any specific words. In the distance,
Speaker 1: I heard a train approaching, and soon the train was
Speaker 1: all we could hear. After it passed, we lay in
Speaker 1: the tent listening. I realized right then that if something
Speaker 1: had crossed one of the channels while the train was close,
Speaker 1: I wouldn't have been able to hear it in the water.
Speaker 1: I told my wife everything was fine and I was
Speaker 1: just going to have a look around, and I un
Speaker 1: zipup the tent and I stepped out the flashlight was
Speaker 1: on and my pistol was raised. I scanned three hundred
Speaker 1: and sixty degrees and didn't see anything. We were alone
Speaker 1: on that island. I head back into the tent to
Speaker 1: tell my wife everything was all right. When I heard
Speaker 1: something crashing off through the brush up the slope. I
Speaker 1: tried to get the flashlight on it, but it was
Speaker 1: far enough away that I couldn't see anything now. I
Speaker 1: spent the rest of the night feeding the campfire, sitting
Speaker 1: in a long chair with my back to the flames,
Speaker 1: with a pistol and the flashlight in my lap, while
Speaker 1: my wife slept. The following morning, we tore the camp
Speaker 1: down and quickly loaded everything into the raft. Before leaving,
Speaker 1: I walked up and down our side of the river channel,
Speaker 1: once again looking for evidence of beavers, but nothing I
Speaker 1: saw led me to believe that there was any in
Speaker 1: the area. We floated out of there before even cooking breakfast,
Speaker 1: and a few miles down stream, my wife asked me
Speaker 1: what I thought it had been. I told her it
Speaker 1: was probably a bear or a moose. She said, bears
Speaker 1: and moose don't throw rocks, and she was right. I
Speaker 1: felt my eyes wander toward either bank on alert, hoping
Speaker 1: I would and catch a glimpse of something tracking us.
Speaker 1: We finally determined that someone was walking along the train tracks,
Speaker 1: a vagrant maybe, who happened to see our campfire and
Speaker 1: thought it would be funny to throw rocks in the
Speaker 1: water close to us. This would be extremely foolish to
Speaker 1: do to anyone camping in Bear country, but it was
Speaker 1: the only logical conclusion we could come up with. This
Speaker 1: happened a few years ago, and since then I've had
Speaker 1: more encounters, including an experience I had bow hunting in
Speaker 1: northwestern Montana. I have never been one to go to
Speaker 1: church or really give God much thought. Throughout the last
Speaker 1: forty one years of my life. Although I had a
Speaker 1: strong belief in God, I generally had the mindset that
Speaker 1: if I kept out of his business, he would keep
Speaker 1: out of mind. This was all about to change, however,
Speaker 1: and I feel compelled to share my story in the
Speaker 1: hopes that maybe it will be of some used to
Speaker 1: others who were struggling or sitting on the fence. When
Speaker 1: it comes to handing the reins over to Jesus, my
Speaker 1: introduction to truly believing in God did not start with him.
Speaker 1: It started with something else, something that still makes my
Speaker 1: blood run cold just thinking about it. In July of
Speaker 1: last year, my family moved from Calgary, Alberta, to my
Speaker 1: parents' home near Edmonton. We wanted to assist my mother
Speaker 1: and father since they lived on a large piece of
Speaker 1: property by themselves. My father was ill and dealing with
Speaker 1: that much land was exceedingly difficult for them to manage.
Speaker 1: My dad had smoked for sixty years, and the result
Speaker 1: of that decision was unfortunately drawing to its inevitable conclusion.
Speaker 1: Dad was an old school stored of fella and refused
Speaker 1: oxygen or any other help from its doctors. As we
Speaker 1: were settling in for our recent move, I noticed that
Speaker 1: over several nights, my mother was sleeping with the loan
Speaker 1: lights on in her bedroom. She and my father had
Speaker 1: slept in separate bedrooms due to his coffee. I thought
Speaker 1: her keeping the lights on was a little odd, and
Speaker 1: I inquired about it. I was surprised by what she
Speaker 1: told me. Now, my mother is an eternal optimist, and
Speaker 1: I can barely recall when unbridled fear ever touched her face.
Speaker 1: She told me one evening prior to our arrival that
Speaker 1: she entered her room to use the washroom. She turned
Speaker 1: around to grab a book, and there in the corner
Speaker 1: of the room, just behind the partially open door, stood
Speaker 1: a black figure. She described it as being so tall
Speaker 1: that it hunched forward to fit in the room. It
Speaker 1: had big hands and long fingers, and no facial features
Speaker 1: except for two deep black bits where the eyes should
Speaker 1: have been. Although its body was bent forward, she could
Speaker 1: tell it was looking at her, and she quickly ran
Speaker 1: into the bathroom slammed the door. She didn't stay in
Speaker 1: the bathroom long because she was worried about whatever that
Speaker 1: bloody thing was getting at my dad, and when she
Speaker 1: re entered her bedroom, the figure was gone. And after
Speaker 1: checking on my father, she tried to reason out what
Speaker 1: she had just witnessed. From that moment on. If she
Speaker 1: slept at all, she slept with her lights on, and
Speaker 1: she wouldn't go into that room without a dog with her.
Speaker 1: I attributed this story to the deterioration of her mind
Speaker 1: from what we thought was Parkinson's at the time, and
Speaker 1: although I tried to comfort her, I simply dismissed the
Speaker 1: whole thing as a trick of light, and I got
Speaker 1: one with the evening. A few weeks passed without anything
Speaker 1: notable happening. I was responsible for my father's care and
Speaker 1: that took up most of my time. Watching someone else
Speaker 1: die from lung cancer is an ugly business, and I
Speaker 1: feel for anyone who has experienced a loved one dying
Speaker 1: from that cancer. But one night everything changed, and it
Speaker 1: started with bugs. I would lie in bed with my
Speaker 1: wife and it would feel like bugs were crawling all
Speaker 1: over me. I could feel them on my back and chest,
Speaker 1: and arms and legs. I could feel them everywhere. I
Speaker 1: did find a spiderbar bed the third night that started,
Speaker 1: and I merely pounded it into oblivion with my hand,
Speaker 1: thinking this was the cause of my problems. But the
Speaker 1: next night, the same thing happened. I asked my wife
Speaker 1: about it, but she didn't notice anything out of the ordinary.
Speaker 1: It became a nightly routine to check my bed for
Speaker 1: non existent bugs, only to feel them crawl across my
Speaker 1: face shortly after I turned in. The only reprieve seemed
Speaker 1: to be moving to the couch, and when I went
Speaker 1: to the couch, the crawling would cease, but another issue
Speaker 1: would soon start. I would fall asleep and my dreams
Speaker 1: would be awful, and I'd often wake up sweating and
Speaker 1: in a panic. Other times the nightmares would leave me
Speaker 1: feeling angry or depressed. So that's how it went for
Speaker 1: a while, Bugs the couch, nightmares, and repeat. This went
Speaker 1: on for weeks, and then the next regular occurrence started,
Speaker 1: a bad feeling followed by little pokes all over my body.
Speaker 1: This happened whether my eyes were open or closed, and
Speaker 1: as the days progressed, things got worse. The light poking
Speaker 1: became more aggressive and turned into jabbing and grabbing and
Speaker 1: squeezing and pulling and pushing. I was getting less sleep,
Speaker 1: and tending to my daily duties became increasingly difficult. I
Speaker 1: occasionally asked my wife and mother if they noticed anything strange,
Speaker 1: but they never experienced anything. I never told my nine
Speaker 1: year old son about what was happening, except that if
Speaker 1: he noticed anything out of the ordinary, he was to
Speaker 1: let me know. I shared everything with my wife that
Speaker 1: was happening at the time, and I can't thank her
Speaker 1: enough for not calling the men in the white coats.
Speaker 1: But I told my father nothing because I figured he
Speaker 1: had had enough to worry about. While this was happening,
Speaker 1: I contemplated my own sanity, and I attributed most of
Speaker 1: the issue to the stress of watching my father slowly
Speaker 1: deteriorate and my lack of sleep. One event, however, got
Speaker 1: my full attention and charged my mindset from that day forward.
Speaker 1: Once again, I ended up on the couch one night
Speaker 1: trying to sleep. I was on my right side when
Speaker 1: that old, familiar feeling crept in. However, this night was
Speaker 1: very different from the previous nights. Instead of the usual routine,
Speaker 1: I felt a hand grabbed the side of my face
Speaker 1: and pushed my head down into the pillow. The hand
Speaker 1: felt large and cold and rough, with extremely long fingers.
Speaker 1: The palm of it covered the side of my face
Speaker 1: from my chin to the top of my head, with
Speaker 1: the fingers wrapping around my head and running down my jaw.
Speaker 1: We always leave a light on for my sun at
Speaker 1: night in case he needs to use the bathroom. So
Speaker 1: when my eyes snapped open and I could see but
Speaker 1: there was no one there, the force came straight down
Speaker 1: and there was pressure from what I can only describe
Speaker 1: as a gigantic hand squeezing my head tightly. This time
Speaker 1: there was pain both from my neck and head being
Speaker 1: pushed down hard. From the pressure around my face, I
Speaker 1: could feel my hair and skin moving in response to
Speaker 1: the hand moving and pushing and squeezing, but I still
Speaker 1: saw nothing. I let out a muffled, startled cry instinctively
Speaker 1: threw my arms up over my head. Surprisingly, this seemed
Speaker 1: to stop whatever was happening, and I rolled on my
Speaker 1: back and I looked around wildly, and I could feel
Speaker 1: something walk down the link of the couch toward my feet,
Speaker 1: kind of like when someone walks by you when your
Speaker 1: eyes are closed. There wasn't any sound either, no footsteps
Speaker 1: or anything. I turned my head to look at my feet,
Speaker 1: which were now placed on the arm set opposite my head,
Speaker 1: when I felt something grab both of my ankles. This time,
Speaker 1: I did see something. As I was watching my feet,
Speaker 1: I saw the material of the sweatpants that I was
Speaker 1: wearing move, as if someone was painfully squeezing my ankles.
Speaker 1: I began kicking my legs and uttering a series of curses,
Speaker 1: and then it stopped. I sat up and rubbed my
Speaker 1: neck and my jaw on my ankles because they hurt
Speaker 1: like hell. There wasn't any bruising that I could see,
Speaker 1: but my head and ankles felt that they had been
Speaker 1: placed in a vice. I didn't sleep at all after that.
Speaker 1: My routine changed, and I stayed up every night after
Speaker 1: that for as long as possible, checking in on my
Speaker 1: family constantly and making sure they were okay. Now, this
Speaker 1: happened to no one else in the family at the time.
Speaker 1: Other than that, I did nothing else. I didn't seek
Speaker 1: out any help from the outside sources, and I kept
Speaker 1: what happened to me relatively quiet, even though I was
Speaker 1: pretty scared. After that, thing seemed to die down a
Speaker 1: bit and reverted to bugs and poking again in the
Speaker 1: wee hours of the morning. I was running on months
Speaker 1: of no sleep while trying to care for my father,
Speaker 1: and now I knew that there was something seriously wrong
Speaker 1: going on. Early in the morning a few weeks later,
Speaker 1: I was having a cigarette in the garage. Our garage
Speaker 1: has a work bench in front of a big window.
Speaker 1: When I was watching YouTube and drinking coffee with my
Speaker 1: leg on top of the bench to stretch my back
Speaker 1: while I was looking at my phone, the bad feeling return.
Speaker 1: This time, however, it was much worse than before. What
Speaker 1: I felt was pure malevolence. I wanted to run, but
Speaker 1: I was afraid to move. I could feel it coming closer,
Speaker 1: and I suddenly noticed that I was cold. I couldn't
Speaker 1: see my breath, but I was shaking from the drop
Speaker 1: in the temperature. I felt it come up behind me
Speaker 1: and managed to turn my head and look, and there
Speaker 1: was nothing there. Then I felt it grabbed my upper thigh,
Speaker 1: and I panicked, and I spun around and I swung
Speaker 1: my fist through the air, and then I ran to
Speaker 1: the garage door and entered the house. I made my
Speaker 1: way through the house and I could feel that bloody
Speaker 1: thing behind me the whole time. Again. I saw nothing
Speaker 1: and heard nothing from whatever this was, but I could
Speaker 1: feel it. So I just sat in my chair and
Speaker 1: I waited, knowing that something more was likely to happen.
Speaker 1: My breathing was labored and sporadic, as I was beyond terrified. Again,
Speaker 1: it grabbed me, this time around the back of my neck.
Speaker 1: It squeezed hard, and that was when I started to pray.
Speaker 1: First in my mind, I started to say our Father,
Speaker 1: and then I started whispering it aloud. The pressure and
Speaker 1: the grip looted and then let go all together, and
Speaker 1: that awful feeling dissipated warmth returned to me. While I
Speaker 1: sat there whispering that prayer for quite some time, not
Speaker 1: wanting to move. I was done in every way I
Speaker 1: can think of, and I had had enough. Like so
Speaker 1: many times before, I did not sleep that night, and
Speaker 1: in the morning, I drove off the property and made
Speaker 1: a call to my aunt and uncle, who were both pastors.
Speaker 1: After telling them everything and on the verge of tears,
Speaker 1: I was surprised that they weren't as alarmed as I
Speaker 1: thought they would be. They asked me a few basic questions,
Speaker 1: like had this ever happened before? And if I had
Speaker 1: ever prayed or spoken to Jesus out loud. Well up
Speaker 1: until the previous night, I couldn't recall ever praying out loud,
Speaker 1: except on rare occasions that I would go to church
Speaker 1: for something like a funeral. They told me of its importance.
Speaker 1: I repeated a prayer offering both myself and my son
Speaker 1: to Jesus. I met what I said, and although I
Speaker 1: did not understand it fully, things again were about to change.
Speaker 1: When I went home, I felt better, but wasn't expecting
Speaker 1: any kind of change. As the evening loomed, I readied
Speaker 1: myself for the worst. I was exhausted, and early in
Speaker 1: the evening I tried to lay down for a nap
Speaker 1: as I was expecting the night to be a long one. However,
Speaker 1: when I went to bed, nothing happened. There were no
Speaker 1: bugs crawling on me, no poking or prodding. I wasn't
Speaker 1: even anxious. I was just tired. For the first time
Speaker 1: in months, I fell fast asleep. There were no awful
Speaker 1: nightmares or experiences, and when I woke it was light outside.
Speaker 1: I slept through the entire night without an incident. At
Speaker 1: that point I dared to dream that my ordeal was over,
Speaker 1: but it wasn't. It happened again. Three weeks later. My
Speaker 1: aunt and uncle had told me that I had the
Speaker 1: authority to send anything un gone out of my house
Speaker 1: by speaking the words I had spoken in the car
Speaker 1: of weeks earlier with them. As I felt the presence
Speaker 1: move up beside me, I felt that old, familiar hand
Speaker 1: grab the top of my head. My breath caught, and
Speaker 1: I went to say the words my aunt and uncle
Speaker 1: had taught me, but nothing came out of my mouth.
Speaker 1: And in my mind I heard the words say it,
Speaker 1: say it, You've got to say it, but I couldn't
Speaker 1: find my voice. I was becoming more alarmed as the
Speaker 1: presence felt increasingly hostile toward me, the grip tightened and
Speaker 1: I was on the verge of sheer panic. It took
Speaker 1: everything I had to get it out, and I blurted
Speaker 1: out what I was instructed to say. The result was instantaneous.
Speaker 1: The grip on my head immediately lifted, and I could
Speaker 1: feel that malevolent presence move away from me. It did, however,
Speaker 1: leave me a gift. My right knee exploded in pain,
Speaker 1: and I felt as if a knife was twisting inside
Speaker 1: of it. It took my breath away, but as quickly
Speaker 1: as it started it stop. Laying there panting and sweating,
Speaker 1: I felt something significant had just happened. That was the
Speaker 1: last time it ever bothered me, and the first time
Speaker 1: I truly felt God's presence. Unfortunately, a week later, my
Speaker 1: father was admitted to the hospital, and soon after that
Speaker 1: he died. The months following my father's death were confusing,
Speaker 1: and it took me a long time to put the
Speaker 1: pieces together. My son came to me a few weeks
Speaker 1: after my dad passed, complaining that he couldn't sleep. He
Speaker 1: told me that it felt like he was being watched
Speaker 1: and that he got a bad feeling while he was
Speaker 1: trying to fall asleep. And when I heard this, I
Speaker 1: immediately took him to his room, and he repeated the
Speaker 1: same words I had spoken twice before. There's been no
Speaker 1: disturbance in the house since. My son has never again
Speaker 1: mentioned any kind of disturbance. He just turned ten years old. Now.
Speaker 1: I never told him of the experiences I had months earlier.
Speaker 1: And as for my mother, she too never had any
Speaker 1: other experiences. Now. I read the Bible one or two
Speaker 1: times a day, and I pray several times throughout the day.
Speaker 1: We now sit together as a family to read and
Speaker 1: discuss the scripture. My son and I pray together every
Speaker 1: night before he goes to bed. Even reminds me if
Speaker 1: I forget up. Until a few months ago, I had
Speaker 1: never cracked open a Bible. I call myself a believer,
Speaker 1: only to find that I was far from it. I've
Speaker 1: done some awful things in my life, and I guess fundamentally,
Speaker 1: I never thought redemption was an option for me because
Speaker 1: I didn't deserve it. But not only was I forgiven,
Speaker 1: but God was there when I needed him the most.
Speaker 1: And to discover that God is there will help you
Speaker 1: if you ask is mind blowing, as is the realization
Speaker 1: that the devil and his minions are also real I
Speaker 1: still struggle with what happened to me daily, and it
Speaker 1: is only through the grace of God that I can
Speaker 1: continue to remain sane. To say the last year has
Speaker 1: been difficult is likely the biggest understatement of my life.
Speaker 1: But through prayer, I have learned that if you talk
Speaker 1: to God, he might answer you, which is both wonderful
Speaker 1: and terrifying all on its own. Again, I consulted my
Speaker 1: aunt and uncle about whether this sort of thing happens,
Speaker 1: and they assured me that it indeed does. I sent
Speaker 1: my story to you because I was instructed to talk
Speaker 1: about my experience and tell others about it. For reasons
Speaker 1: I can only guess. As I've stated before, I'm new
Speaker 1: to this sort of thing and I don't really understand it.
Speaker 1: I hope that as this journey progresses, I will gain
Speaker 1: some clarity, but only time will tell. Thank you for
Speaker 1: your time in reading this. I truly appreciate you sharing
Speaker 1: my experience. Take care, and may God bless you and
Speaker 1: he signs his at the end. And as a terrifying story,
Speaker 1: I actually believe the story one hundred percent. Anyway, for
Speaker 1: people who might be having these problems, listen to what
Speaker 1: this man wrote he's found the secret to getting rid
Speaker 1: of some kind of evil spirit, and I think it's
Speaker 1: worth taking seriously and I think it's worth listening to.
Speaker 1: So thank you to the writer. It's a horrifying story,
Speaker 1: but I'm glad everything is okay. Thank you, Hey, thanks
Speaker 1: for hanging with me this far on this podcast. Hope
Speaker 1: you enjoyed it and we will see you on the
Speaker 1: next one. Love you all see it. M. Thanks