Hi, it's me again. Just a few quick answers to what I read in the replies to my posts. Someone asked why I deleted his/her post--it wasn't me. I don't delete anything that I find in the replies. Even if it is negative, I leave it there because it is the honest response that someone has had to what I've written. Everyone's entitled to an opinion, and you can't please everyone all the time. Apparently the host of this site has deleted a few--or at least one that I know about, because I remember reading a reply that started out,"Read this--your storrie sucx crap!!..." (their spelling, not mine). I did not delete that reply, but when I clicked back on that story at a different time (to see if there were any new replies), I discovered that the above-mentioned reply was gone. Oh, and to the reader who asked about the stories of Marlayna Williams, she is Author 1029. You can find them through the "AuthorId Search" box. Also, to the reader who thought that the entity might have some sexual purpose in it's focusing it's attention on my abdomen, I'm pretty sure that wasn't the intent of the entity. From subsequent reading that I did on the subject of psychic attack, I found that most researchers into this phenomenon say that the negative, harmful energies that are directed at the victim of such an attack will enter the physical, as well as the spiritual body of the victim in the abdominal region--also in the forehead and the top of the head. And to all of you who reply to my postings, again thank you. I appreciate the fact that you take the time to write to me. Several of the replies to this series of postings state that the readers believe that this account is "a fake." I can understand that. What happened at Vinnie's house sounds pretty unbelievable. If I was the one reading it, I might also have that point of view. The difference is, I lived this. I know that it's for real. But, like I said--everyone's entitled to an opinion. Also, someone asked why I don't show my comments. I do--it's just that I usually include them in the text here instead of in the replies down below. Why? I don't know, except that it seems faster--I'm almost always writing these posts in between doing one thing and another. Being a single mom, never having five minutes to myself, etc, etc. And, to the reader who mentioned the ouija--yes, indeed the ouija was used in the house. Vinnie's parents bought it for their kids as a game, not realizing that it could be an invitation to trouble. In fact, I often see boxes of these things in toy stores, like they're totally harmless. Using one is like playing Russian roulette. Sometimes nothing happens, other times bad stuff happens. Also, when Vinnie was a young teen (around 13 or 14, I think he said), he and his family were having a lot of the teenage conflict thing going on. And, not just with him, but with his two older sisters, too. The whole tension issue became so unbearable between the people in the house that Vinnie decided to try a few spells to see if he could improve the problem any. At one point, and this is where it gets hairy, in desperation he asked, "If there's anybody out there, please help me." BIG MISTAKE. Who knows what came in answer to that misguided plea? If you invite them, they will come...OK, here's what happened next...After the incidents at Vinnie's house, I felt caught in a jam. I really wanted to be with my friend, but I hated being in his house. Over time, I came to understand that Vinnie hated being there, too--at least alone, anyway. Which was why he'd gone out of his way to line up friends to be houseguests during his parents' absence. That was also the reason that he had chosen the particular friends that he did. With the exception of myself, all of the others had no other options, when it came to having a roof over their heads. Deep down, I think that he was hoping that they'd feel kind of cornered into staying, even after they'd found out what it was like. I needed a little objective advice. So, I went to a couple of my other friends. They were brother and sister--Monica was the oldest of four siblings and Eddie was the youngest. Their maternal grandmother had been a healer in the Mexican town where she'd been born, and a spiritually curative ability seemed to have been passed on through the family. Maria, Monica's mother, used various herbs and plants to make soups, poultices and drinks to speed a person's recovery from many kinds of minor ailments--colds, migraines, aches and pains. Monica had a more psychic ability to heal, in that she used prayer (the entire family was Catholic), laying on of the hands and concentration of her will. In these ways, Monica could sometimes relieve a friend or family member of a cold, or flu, although the healing was obtained at the price of her own well-being. For several days after she helped someone in this way, she would feel weak and ill. One evening, after dinner at my friends' home, we were all sitting around talking. I described what had been happening at Vinnie's house. Monica listened, asking an occasional question. When I told her about the night that Vinnie and I had returned from the mountains, I remember saying, "It was his face, but it was like it wasn't Vinnie looking at me." She sipped her coffee, then half-smilingly replied, "That's because it wasn't." I asked Monica what she thought this all sounded like to her. "Well," she said, "If it's able to enter him and leave again that easily, obviously this is a bad thing." But, she needed to know more if she was to really tell me anything useful. I called Vinnie (it was about 2 A.M.) and he was barely able to mumble, "Yeah, whatever..." when I asked permission to bring Monica by the house. "I'll go unlock the door. Lock it again when you leave..." his voice trailed off as he hung up the phone. We drove up the winding road to Vinnie's house in Monica's 4x4. Now, this was a trip that I had made so many times that I could practically find my way blindfolded. Yet, this time, I was so disoriented that I could barely keep track of where we were. The closer we came to the house, the more nauseated and cold I became. I was so dizzy that I had to close my eyes and rest my head back on the seat. I told Monica how I felt, and she said, "I know. I feel it, too. I'm very cold." But she was dealing with it much better I was. At least she was still able to drive. It was a good thing that I wasn't driving. When we parked in front of Vinnie's house, mercifully, the vertigo and nausea began to fade. The cold sensation remained, but it was much reduced. As promised, the porchlight was on and the front door was unlocked. Vinnie had left a few strategic lights on for us, like in the kitchen, the hallway, etc. I walked through the house with Monica (feeling safe with her near), opening doors and pointing out where this or that had happened. We paused in the dining room, sitting at the table for a few moments. While we were talking, I felt a touch on my hair, near the top of my head. I was so interested in answering Monica's questions about one thing and another, that I absently brushed the touch away and went on talking. Then it happened again. This time I turned around, but of course, there was nothing to seen. A wave of goosebumps passed over me. Astoundingly, I wasn't afraid. I said, "Monica, something just touched me. Twice." That's when she said, "I've seen enough. We should go now." Before we left, I went to Vinnie's room, opened the door and said, "Thanks, Vin. Sorry to wake you." He didn't respond, so I assume that he slept through it. The drive back to Monica's house was uneventful. I asked her what she thought, and she replied, "Not now. The dark is when it's strongest--which is why you couldn't look away from the dark doorway that night you were alone there. Without knowing it in your mind, your instincts told you that's where it was, where it was waiting. You should also know that talking about it can call it to you, which is why we should not be talking about it now, when it's at it's strongest. I'll talk to you more about this tomorrow." "There's something I have to ask you now, though," I said, "Is Vinnie in danger? He's alone there, you know..." "No, he'll be alright for now. It's not dangerous--yet." "You mean it could be?" "If it wanted to," she answered. "I'll tell you more tomorrow." The next day, with comforting sunlight in the windows and steaming coffee mugs between us, she told me what she had felt at Vinnie's house. Was it a ghost? No, it had never been human. A demon? She said that might be going a little too far, but that there was the possibility that it was only revealing what it wanted to, that there might be more to it than she felt. I wondered out loud what had touched my hair the night before. She told me that she had seen the pale image of a man's hand, seeming to extend from the glass doors of the china cabinet (which had been behind the chair where I had been sitting). I said that it was odd that the touch had not frightened me. Then the realization hit me--that presence had been Vinnie. In his spiritual self, he had been staying close to me (even as his body slept upstairs) to watch over me. Monica agreed that this was the most likely explanation. What puzzled me was the cold and nausea that we experienced during our drive up to Vinnie's house. I was pretty sure that this was an attempt by the thing to repel us from going to the house. But, why did it stop when we arrived? Once we were that close, why hadn't it become stronger, instead of going away? Monica said that she got the feeling that once there, the whatever-it-was had let her come in and look around as far as it wanted, then it let her know that she should go. Sort of like the incident with the blow dryer, followed by briefly letting me see it enter and leave Vinnie. It showed just a little of itself, to let us know who was boss, so to speak. Also, I believe that, once we had arrived on the property, Vinnie's astral self came close to us to protect us from ill effects. OK, it's pretty late now, so I'm going to call it a night. I'll post more in a day or two. Goodnight.
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