Submitted by Tara Fox HallNew York 2014
Tara Fox Hall is dear friend and comrade in the world of writing. We came into this together, and she's been a great supporter of The Fox True Ghost Tales Project. She's always been sensitive to spirits, so we can usually count on a story once a season.
We are more open to spiritual experiences during times of meditation, when our minds turn off the noise the world. Shamans have been doing this for centuries, and a good writing session, which Tara specializes in, is much like meditating. Try it sometime and see through this world.
I was up at my family cabin this past September, putting finishing touches on the latest Promise Me Tale, Eye of the Storm. Per usual, I had worked well beyond dusk, lulled by the gentle breeze coming through the screens and the almost absolute silence, and my craft had taken hold, pushing me to finish.
As I hit save, and went to switch off my computer, I looked up from the screen and felt eyes staring at me. Nothing was visible through the windows surrounding me but pitch blackness. Spooked, I shut the windows, blew out the three candles I’d been using for ambiance, and locked up, bolting the door.
I headed upstairs and got ready for bed, telling myself that I was completely alone, that even if there was some peeping tom skulking around outside, there was no way he was getting in without making a lot of noise. But the feeling of something watching me remained. It was strong enough that I left a floor lamp burning in a bedroom down the hall as a nightlight.
Sometime in the night, I was awakened by the sounds of something moving about in that same room down the hall, something too big to be a mouse. Terrified, I reached up for my own light, fumbling at the switch. It clicked multiple times, but wouldn’t turn on. The sounds down the hall were getting louder, as something crept toward my door.
In panic, I reached for my cell phone, only to have it come alive in my hand, “You’re the One” scrolling repeatedly across the screen as static and a man’s voice talking in a low tone filled the silence. I took breath to scream and felt myself propelled out of bed by some unseen force. Unable to get air, I flailed, weakly croaking, “Stop it!” as I was moved toward the dark doorway and the remaining unlit bedroom.
With a gasp, I came awake, flailed for the light switch and turned it on. Drawing ragged breaths, I sat up and looked down the hall. Everything was as it should be, the light burning, no signs of anything disturbed. I got out of bed and turned on the other bedroom light, and everything was okay. Relieved, I got back into bed, and settled back to sleep. As I was drifting off, I heard faint sounds again from that same bedroom.
I dozed fitfully the rest of the night with all the lights on.
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