Ever since I can remember I have been prone to feeling psychic energies, the good and the bad. My friends tell me I have the uncanny ability to read people without as much as speaking to them. This ability is especially observed in my mother's family, both an aunt and two cousins have declared to seeing, hearing and feeling some things quite beyond the veil of the living.
I grew up in a town called Worcester, in the Western Cape. Settled between mountains it always reminded me of a witch's cauldron, extremely hot in the summer, and freezing with snow on the mountains in the winter. We lived in a large house on the foot of a mountain in an area called Panorama.
Let me explain the layout of the house: The front door was situated at the end of an enclosed veranda, and led into a long foyer with a large open planned dining/sitting room area. To the right further down the foyer were french doors leading to a large TV-room, entertainment area with a bar, kitchen, study and large master bedroom. I always felt safest in this area of the house, most likely because it was a newer addition. The rest of the bedrooms were situated at the end of the foyer, that turned into a long hallway, with the first large on-suite bedroom at the start of the hallway, and the last bedroom across from it. My bedroom was the first to the left when turning into the hallway, and used to have a window facing outside, but after the additions, it faced the entertainment area. When we moved in (I was about a year old) My mom thought it the best room for a baby/toddler,as it was also the smallest bedroom, but when we moved in it was a ghastly purple colour.
I have no recollection of what happened there until I was about 4 years old. I was told I was always a quiet baby, I had to be woken up to be fed. But as soon as we moved into that house, and my mother left me in that room, I used to scream and cry non-stop. The result was that I slept in a small room connected to the master bedroom. So for years I was quite content. I always avoided the other side of the house, never venturing in the hallway. My sister, who is 12 years my senior, stayed in the large en-suite bedroom, and always complained to my parents that something was off there. She always felt watched. Now, my mother is quite a practical, no-nonsense woman, and told her to stop seeking attention. Naturally, she thought my sister put me up when I said I also felt uncomfortable in that area.
Fast forward a few years. When I was 5 years old it was time to start pre-primary, so my parents said it's time to move into my bedroom. The small bedroom was in about the center of the house, being built around it, yet the light from the entertainment area was enough to make one forget the window wasn't actually facing outside. I remember vividly not wanting to go into that room, the negativity was such that I struggled to breathe. So I avoided it until I had to go to bed. I used to sleep with the bedside light on, and always drew the covers right over my head, come winter or summer, and I used to pray until I fell asleep. Yet the negativity never relented. Now being alone on that side of the house, my sister used to come fetch me during the night and we'd sleep together in her double bed. Her room didn't feel as oppressive, but uncomfortable in the sense that something was always watching you, making the hair in your nape stand up together with goosebumps. And the shadows would move around all night. I used to wonder why there were so many, seeing that I couldn't ascertain where they came from.
My mother's family used to come visit over Christmas, and my two cousins would sleep with my sister in her room. One particular night there was a loud bang, like a window being knocked out, and then the screams. My sister and cousins ran out of the room. After they calmed down they said they were awakened by the bang and then all three of them saw a dark figure standing in the corner near the built-in-cupboards. It stared at them, then suddenly started laughing in deep, malignant voice. They got up and ran out. Of course, with inspection the adults found nothing. But after that night the negativity increased dramatically. So much so that I was too scared to even go into my room alone. My sister used to come in with me just so that I could get clothes, and then shut the door.
One night, when I was seven, my sister slept over at a friend's, and I was forced to sleep in that room. I awoke in the middle of the night with my heart racing, feeling ill and ice cold. Then, a few seconds later there was a crash as a stationary holder fell off my small bookcase to the floor... Then a few toy cars also made it onto the floor, like someone was swiping them off the bookcase with their hands. And then, a low, deep chuckle that literally made my flesh crawl. I was frozen, could hardly breathe, alternatively getting hot and cold. I just drew the covers more tightly and prayed. The next day my mother was quite adamant that I had a nightmare, and that the things fell because they were probably too close to the edge,
About a month later, my sister was yet again away and I had to sleep alone. During the night I awoke again, heart pounding, with a feeling of dread. This time I felt a presence, so malignant and evil I wanted to vomit. Then, I felt the bed covers move on my left (the bed was against the wall, with about 15cm space between.) I was facing the wall, so I slowly forced my eyes open and saw, quite clearly (seeing I slept with the bedside lamp on) a hand, coming up from underneath the bed, feeling up. It was grey-slightly green in colour, with long fingers. I started hitting it, and it felt quite real, hard. I heard a hissing sound and then started screaming bloody murder. My mother burst in a couple of seconds later and I just got up and ran past her. From that night onward, I refused to go into that room, and slept on a blowup mattress next to my parent's bed. After that night my mother simply removed my clothes and locked the room.
Years later I asked her what she saw, and said she didn't see anything, but heard something hiss and snarl and felt a very oppressive presence. Being a woman who always thought ghost stories were hogwash, and never really felt anything tangible before, she was quite terrified. For weeks thereafter our priest would come and even attempted a cleaning and blessing. My sister's room felt safer for quite a while, yet the negativity radiating through that one closed door only got worse. My parents never told me what the priest said about the whole ordeal, but years later I heard my grandmother say (as they discussed that house) that house is a portal to hell.
There has been many more experiences, in that house, and in another one in Worcester. But since this story is getting long, I'll leave it to another time.