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So, my girlfriend told me that when I am not home, the sleep she has is amazing. However when I am home, there is a dark, foreboding feeling in the air. Surely I do not feel this, but she does. Apparently, there is an air of darkness around me. For those whom know me, know I am an easy going person, no issues with just about anything. I am kind, gentle, loving. But my girlfriend, well, she says I am clearly haunted; and well, I think she may be right.
Let us rewind a bit in my life, and I’ll tell you of all the really weird, outright otherworldly things that have transpired to draw the conclusion, that yes, I am indeed, haunted. Be prepared for a whirlwind ride here; I assure you, you won’t want to miss a single bit of it.
1982-1986, The first haunting
The first home I lived in was a dark and brooding home of random, crazy events, but why haunted? Well, let me tell you. Lets go with this.
This world is a dark one, and I started off experiencing darkness. It is known that some children suffer from night terrors. Screaming, frantically at night, unable to settle down. Mine came with me every night, staring into the corner of my room, I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. It freaked my mother out, every night, I would wake screaming, staring at the corner. The same corner.
But that wasn’t my only experience of darkness in this home.
Some experiences were different, so lets lay it down for you. We kept having things go missing from our house. As this housing was a military house, many people had lived there before us, we figured someone still had a key, and was coming in and stealing from us.
One day, my parents bought fresh dishwasher detergent, and like always, it was placed on top of the dishwasher. We went out in the back yard, for maybe 20-30 minutes to play. When we returned into the house, it was gone. My dad being military police, figured someone still had a key and the housing agency hadn’t changed the locks. Someone had clearly used the key and came into the house and taken our stuff. Since this wasn’t the first time someone went missing, my dad decided to get the locks replaced.
The housing agency replaced the locks, we confirmed they were working, and within 2 hours, both the front doors locks, and the back doors locks, were broken. Housing came and restored the old locks, because simply, our locks were destroyed. But by what? Nobody was there, we were in the house, and the doors were unlocked. So how did they break? Nobody knows.
To make things a little more weird, my brother and I would often eat in the basement with our Pound Puppy TV Trays.
After we were done eating, we would place our trays under the couch. This was a normal routine for us. For my brother though, he would put his favourite book on top of his tray. The night before Christmas. It was always on his tray. One day, it was simply gone. Not there, my parents pulled the couch out, lifted it, moved it, the book was just, well, gone. Another stolen item? But who steals a childs book, from under a couch, between breakfast, and lunch, while a whole family is home? Certainly a question to be asked. But it was simply gone.
The weird things kept adding up, my night terrors, disappearing items, what else could possibly happen? Well, bringing up my dad again, he would fall backwards down the stairs, while going up the stairs. He would often say, it felt like he was pushed, but would come up with some excuse for why and how it happened. Much like the windows we had in the bathroom, that would open themselves. My dad would always say something about air pressure causing the window (the old slider style, that slides up to open), would simply open itself due to change in air pressure. As a child, I believed him, as an adult. I don’t know.
But yet, there is even more, one day, shortly after the locks were broken and replaced, we left the house to buy more detergent for the dishwasher. As ours was well, stolen, missing, gone. When we got home, we found our stereo turned on, blaring louder than you could imagine, and the detergent that was missing, was clearly, on top of the dishwasher. Exactly where it was before it was taken. The box, still unopened. Now, we had two.
One of the last thins to happen before we moved though is truly the weirdest. One day, my mother was cleaning the basement, and a glint caught her eye, she got down onto the floor, and picked up a ring. A black, opal, ring. She said until the day she died, that it was a gift from the ghost of the house. Weirdly enough, the same day the opal ring appeared, my brothers Christmas book also reappeared on his TV Tray.
These random events happened continually between 1982 and 1986. We moved when I was 4, in 1986. After we moved, we learned that the person who lived in the house before us, had hung himself in the basement and the house had been empty for 5 years before we moved in.
But, does that mean the house is haunted, and not me? Lets continue down this road.
1986-1992, What the hell?
During the late 1980’s and early 1990’s, there were significantly less ‘hauntings’ and random things. My father stopped falling down stairs backwards, windows stopped opening, items stopped going missing, my night terrors, for the most part, stopped, for the most part that is. But I will touch on that shortly.
Whenever I would go to my grandparents house during this timeframe, my night terrors would return. Significantly different than in our first house as a family. But what had changed in this timeframe? What could possibly of been different? Well, the answer is, after we moved, my mom filled out house with angels, statues, prayer
1992-1995, The cold frontier
During this time, another military posting, we moved to a place called Goose Bay, Labrador. It was a cold and unforgiving atmosphere. And most of our possessions remained in storage. Including a large quantity of angels. My night terrors persisted, without the screaming of a young child. Just dark dreams. And in the dark, I would see faces, you heard me, faces, I thought it was my fears as a child playing tricks on me. And it very well could of been. They would appear far more often in the basement.
Further to that, nothing bad appeared to be happening to my family any more, only me. The demons of my sleep were all consuming. Sleep, well, wasn’t an option. I’d close my eyes and the terrors would begin.
These continued for well, my entire life, so I won’t bare to talk of them further. I believe I nailed that home.
Weird things continue to happen around me, from missing items, to night terrors. But, they simple hadn’t effected other people in my life after my first house. However; a recent event has made us wonder if I am haunted.
One night, about 6 months ago, my girlfriend was sleeping, I was gone to work for a midnight shift, she woke up, being choked as she describes it. The room was dark, cold, nobody else was there, but she describes the feeling as if two hands were wrapped around her neck, choking her out.
It would seem, the demon that haunts me, couldn’t find me and accosted her instead. Many times throughout my life I awoke unable to breath. As if being choked. But until this was told to me by her, I had never thought anything of it. I just figured I had sleep apnea or something. But the description she gave was all too familiar. All too scary. My demon, effecting those around me.
The dark, cold, feeling, the empty feeling, but yet, not alone, the words she used to describe it, put fear into me. What if, I am in fact, haunted. What if, the corner I stared into as a child, was me looking at the demon, looking at me? What if, it follows me in every walk of life?
Surely you must be wondering if I am off my rocker by this. I assure you, I am not.
The other day, she poised the idea that I was haunted, because she knows I cannot sleep, night terrors still plague my nights, she told me that I am clearly haunted. And I am starting to believe I am.
You decide if you think I am haunted, I feel as if I am. Evil, dark things are ever present in my life. Only one things is consistent in my life, that a dark entity has latched itself to my spirit, or perhaps, it is my very spirit. But the darkness plagues my life, and others, others are starting to see it.
There is something that you should know; correction, there are many things that you should know. I am, by no means, an authority on what knowledge is required, but, I do know that one something that you should know: Lard Queen is not my actual name.
Yes, consider it a confession, I live a lie on the internet, writing my opinion anonymously and haphazardly. Well now you can hold me to account, because I have a new book for sale that you might be interested in.
I have written a lot about ships on this site (Drawn to the Sea I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII), so it may not come as a surprise that I have written a book about nautical matters. Unlike those posts, this book is focused more on the supernatural, rather than the actual weird on-goings of ships and mariners.
Overall I have a weird relationship with the sea. I am very interested in ships, mariners, and the places where the land and sea meet; but, more than anything, I am interesting the strange and paranormal things that occur on the seas. This strange relationship of mine, I can’t explain it, but in this book, I don’t even try to explain it, I show it.
Anyway, here it is:
Are these true tales? Maybe you should consider asking yourself if anything is true. Think about, all you know is based on your frail human observations using your frail human senses. Even Descartes had to admit that everything beyond existence relies on believing, and…
The most important fact (that is, for me, who wants to sell books) is where you can get yourself a copy. Like many others, I have laid down any sense of honour or independence and submitted to Amazon for production and distribution (it’s not that bad) for the book. You can it available in the following formats:
– Canada: Physical, Ebook
– United States: Physical, Ebook
– Other Regions: please search on your platform!
Maybe you want to know what the content of the book is like, well, do I have a treat for you. Below is the whole of one of the stories that appears in the book, High Point Lighthouse.
“I want to go to the lighthouse,” said Zoe as she finished chewing on a mouthful of French fries.
“Great! Let’s drive down to the marina, we can get out on my boat in no time,” replied John as he threw into the trash the ketchup-soaked cardboard box that had only recently been full of French fries.
“No,” she paused, half smiling, “I mean, let’s drive to the actual lighthouse. We’ve seen it lots from the boat, but I want to see it close-up,” her half smile turning into a full smile, hoping to convince her boyfriend who went from enthusiastic to dour as she spoke.
“Why do you want to go there?” he asked as he stood up and reached into his pocket for his car keys.
“I don’t know,” she was being honest, “I just want to. Maybe you can take some pictures of me. You know, like those ones you took of me on your boat?”
The offer was compelling enough for John and in moments they were heading away from the chip truck and down the old highway towards the High Point Lighthouse. John liked to listen to political talk radio, even though it just made him angry, but he didn’t seem to be listening as he drove.
“Can we listen to some music?” asked Zoe, “if that’s alright with you?”
“Sure,” said John, his tone was dead, he kept staring straight ahead at the road as he blindly pushed buttons on the car radio until an upbeat pop song filled the car.
The drive was scenic, first passing along the coast, then slightly inland through some farming country before passing through a small stretch of forested land that started on a slight incline. Just a few moments later John turned the car onto the gravel road leading towards the rocky High Point. It never occurred or seemed strange to Zoe that John knew exactly how to get to the lighthouse as if he had been there before.
John rounded a bend in the gravel road and the High Point Lighthouse came into view. After stopping the car in the makeshift parking lot, Zoe and John got out and started heading towards the lighthouse.
“Oh, there is a gate in the fence!” Zoe noted, “Do you think anyone still lives here?”
“They made a gate in the fence after people kept breaking in,” John said in an even monotone, “the lighthouse was automated in the 1960’s and hasn’t had a keeper since.”
“Wow!” exclaimed Zoe, “how do you know so much about this lighthouse?”
John stopped in his tracks and turned to face Zoe directly; she also stopped, a slight look of confusion on her face.
“My grandfather was a fisherman,” said John.
“Oh, just like you!” Zoe replied happily – in all of the time she had been together with John he had barely mentioned his family at all.
“When he met my grandmother he became a lighthouse keeper; here, at High Point so that he could spend more time with her,” John said, his voice and tone still locked in dead evenness.
“Oh, that’s sweet,” Zoe said while clasping her hands together, miming a pose that she saw once on a cheap romance novel.
“After the lighthouse was automated he went back to trawling,” John continued, “and one time when he was returning from a long voyage he saw something peculiar in the light cast from this very lighthouse.”
John’s monotone broke, his voice became more sinister with each word he said; and as his tone grew more grim, Zoe grew more and more frightened by this dark side of her boyfriend that she had never seen before.
“When he reached the pier he immediately came here,” John thrust a pointing finger at the lighthouse behind him, his voice rising in anger, “he found his wife in the arms of another man, she had been cheating on him.”
“Oh God, that’s terrible!” Zoe said, her pulse raced as she felt sorrow and fear as John told his story.
“He, my grandfather,” John’s voice cracked slightly, and tears showed in the corners of his eyes, “he killed them both. Then, then he hanged himself in that very lighthouse…”
“No, it can’t be, you’re telling me a tall tale,” Zoe said as she folded her arms across her chest and unknowingly took a few small steps backwards.
“I think you’ve been cheating on me,” said John, the words dripping off his tongue like a bitter solvent, “I know you’ve been cheating on me!”
“W-What?” yelled Zoe in surprise.
The distant screech of metal grinding on metal could be heard from the lighthouse as the large bulb turned off of its normal pattern. The light, so powerfully bright, cast a shadow behind Zoe, even in the daylight of early afternoon.
“The lighthouse knows,” said John, his tone low, prophetic.
“No!” screamed Zoe as she turned to flee.
Just like his grandfather some 60 years earlier, he seized his lover. She resisted, but the source of his strength was preternatural and he gripped Zoe by the throat and squeezed the life from her.
“I understand,” said John as he let Zoe’s body droop to the ground.
The door unlocked for him as he approached, and inside he found a length of rope next to a sign warning workers that they need to tie off when performing periodic maintenance on the automatic lighting system. Like his forebear before him, John was found hanging from the neck.
*Not recommended for the ebook version.
All other images copyright 2020 Lee Santos
All text copyright 2020 Lee Santos