A few weeks ago I went to view a rental property but although the key fitted the lock, it would not open. I and the other hopeful tenant could not look around. Two days later that same key worked but the other person could not make the viewing.
I entered the premises and instantly felt an icy presence. Could I live with this entity? With no other rentals available, did I really have an option?
A fortnight later I moved in. I had the house smudged before I brought my belongings in but that first night, aside from being in a new and strange place, I could not sleep.
The entity kept knocking on the wall behind the bed. Knock. Knock. KNOCK. Persistent. getting louder.
Ear putty did not work. Hiding under the covers was futile. I couldn’t scream as words and sound can’t escape a tight throat. Each night after that I would ask for protection from my guides, archangels, my grandparents. I’d burn candles, incense, leave my salt lamp on permanently, and sometimes if I was lucky, I’d snatch a few hours sleep before she decided it was time for me to wake up.
On the rare occasion I was allowed to sleep until daylight, I actually thanked her for letting me rest!
The first weekend I had a party. Lots of good energy filled the place and my unwelcome house share stayed away.
But the next Saturday night she was back. ANGRY. She chased me away and I had to sleep elsewhere. Sunday afternoon I braved the return. I opened the door trying to be positive and even considered calling out, ‘honey, I’m home,’ but I quickly changed my mind.
Soon afterwards, some friends arrived with smudge sticks, drums and bells and the three of us chased the spirit away. The next morning I looked in the bathroom mirror and thought there was something missing. Although I’d never seen the spirit, I realised it was her reflection that was missing. She was no longer behind me and I was finally alone!
For days the house was clear and warm and I began to settle. Then one night, sitting alone at my computer, I began to write. Words flowed from me, surprising me as I hadn’t written in months.
A story was unravelling and I was rapt at the fluency but also a little wary of the content. It was the story of the house, the story of the spirit, her life, her making sure I was the only one to be allowed to view it. She wanted me to live here. Wanted me to experience real poltergeist activity. Wanted me to tell her tale.
Then suddenly, knock, knock, KNOCK. I was a little annoyed as I was going so well at writing that I didn’t want to be disturbed. But there was someone at the front door and I had to go see who it was.
The front verandah was deserted.
But there was someone there …