This story is one of the few that I will be telling you were a majority of the activity did not happen to me. However, it is a landmark in the progression of my life, which is why I feel it is important. It started after my parents joined a new church. They people in the church were odd people. The told my parents what foods to eat, what shows the could watch, even what music they could and could listen too. As godly as my parents were they had their flaws and they were not always that way. In fact they were huge KISS fans. These new church people came to our home when they heard about how my house was full of paranormal activity. They burned all of my parents KISS CD's, posters, and blankets.
It was in that visit that my parents realized they may have gotten themselves into something they would have a much harder time getting out. They seemed more of a cult for the lord than a congregation. The church told my parents that it was not a fit home for my sister and me until they cleared it once and for all of the evil in its walls. So my parents packed my sister and me up, and shipped us off to my grandmothers for the weekend. From what I understand my parents and the church went through a deep spiritual cleansing that night.
The church warned my mother that it would probably be best to keep my sister and me out just one more day; they never gave her a reason why which made my parents sketchy. After all, they seemed out of the ordinary in every other way as well. But for a reason I will never understand... They listened. The story begins.
My mother and father sat in the living room in the front of the house. A long narrow hallway and a single step separated my parents from mine and my sister's rooms from my parents. There was nothing out of the usual in my parents evening schedule. They ordered dinner, ate, and at this point were watching TV talking about the odd people who had been in their home. When my mother relays the story to my sister and me she tells us that every so often a voice would come to attention from the darkness of the hall. My father turned down the television but nothing. It repeated several times. The voice would speak then hush to a light whisper, but stop in the silence. My father went to bed soon after leaving my mother to stay up alone and write in her diary.
From the corner of her eye my mother saw me appear from the door to the living room and whisper "what are you doing mom?" my voice just the same as it would be any other time. She never looked from her diary but could see my features and hear my voice. "Writing in my diary" she told the figure. By the time she remembered that neither my sister nor me were home the figure was gone. My mother yelled for my father, when he came she told him of the being that took the shape of his daughter and of me. As they sat and tried to make something out of what had happened they heard the carpet shuffling in the hall.
My father stood away from the door but stared intently at the floor, my mother sat on the couch behind him. Only seconds passed before my eight ball rolled through the door and stopped at my father's foot. My mother is not a scared person. A spirit had gone right through her once before and it didn't even phase her. But this encounter made her fear whatever it was that was in our house. It first took the shape of her daughter and now was moving things on its own. Up the stairs and down the hallway. My father took the ball and tried his hardest to smash it with the hammer but it wouldn't break. The next day they took it to the church. These people had angered whatever it was that was in my house, and I will never know why my parents chose to go back to them with this problem. They blessed the magic eight ball and with that, they through it in the fire and watched it melt. Fire seemed to be their specialty.
The next day my sister and I were finally allowed back in our own home. My sister went off to her room to work out and I went off to mine to watch TV. I was still eleven and caught in the transition of child to teenager. I still had a majority of my toys, one of my most amusing, to ask it what I wish no matter how inappropriate the question without my parents knowing, was that of my magic eight ball.
Into my closet, on the top shelf, under my cat in the hat costume, was my magic eight ball. Right where I had left it. I sat on the bed and asked it whatever came to mind. When my mother walked in to say it was time for bed she paused. That ball also went to the church that night, and every one after that. We never knew where the second ball came from or how it got into my closet. What I do know is after the church came the activity in the house became worse and far more threatening. My parents left the church that year, and we avoided every eight ball in sight until a year later, when we would end up moving out of the house on Claymoore Street. See you next time on my... Or in this case my parents Ghosts Stories.