When I was about 17 or so I talked with my dad one night about magic and ghosts and stuff. He decided that if we were going to have this talk so late at night he wanted to put up some mental barriers around the house. When he was done doing this he had a curious look on his face he then asked me an odd question. "Is Grace under your bed?" I was startled badly. Grace was the name I had given the little girl ghost who didn't speak but lived in our kitchen for reasons unknown to us at the time. I was startled because dad didn't really speak about Grace when we talked about stuff like this he didn't hate or dislike her, but he felt uncomfortable about her because he couldn't sense her the way I said I could.
We were sitting in the living room so I was wondering how he had felt anything under my bed (I still had a ways to go in my training) but I reached out to get a feel for Grace, I didn't have to go far, the kitchen where she stayed usually was right next to the living-room, apparently our conversation had interested her because she was standing right behind the couch where I was sitting. After I made sure it was Grace I told my father that Grace wasn't under my bed, he hesitated before asking me the next question "Are there any other spirits in the house you know of who may be hiding under your bed?" now in my first story I spoke of an energy that followed me through the house, in this story I had been feeling that energy for a while but being the young untrained idiot that I was I didn't mention it. I told him "No there is no one else."
So we went to my room to find out what it was. My room was an Absolute Disaster I won't describe it for the faint of heart, under my bed was just as disgusting but thankfully we didn't have to look far, I pulled out a few memento boxes I had and then pulled out my purse that I used every day. (Please don't even ask why I put it under my bed; to this day I STILL can't answer that question.) You can imagine my surprise when my dad stops me from putting it aside and looks at it like it\'s a loaded gun or something. We take it to the kitchen and he watches as I pull out everything his attention was peaked by a necklace that had been my grandmothers that had a hidden pentagram in it (the five pointed star pointing up not down) but the problem really appeared when I pulled out a bracelet.
This bracelet was really nothing special in fact it was a movie prop replica (I won't say witch movie because you will mock me.) it was new not old and it was something that made my dad very unhappy, we sat down and he tried to get a feel on the bracelet but he couldn't see into it. Finally he got up and asked me to put the bracelet on. I did so hesitantly the bracelet scraped against my skin as I fought to get it on and I hissed. After a few moments my dad asked me to try to take it off. I tried to get it off but it was being even more stubborn than usual and it hurt more than usual to get it off.
My dad said "It hurts doesn't it?" I looked at him a little scared because he didn't sound like my dad for a minute and he went on to say "It doesn't want to be put on. But when you put it on it doesn't want to come off."
After I took it off he tried to cleanse it somehow, it think he was trying to cleanse it with only his energy, soon I was gasping for breath. I felt like I was in a small enclosed space with the world getting smaller around me I couldn't breathe properly I couldn't really even think, I told my dad to stop he was confused but he did as I asked. I began speaking without even thinking about what I was saying. "It was a little boy... He was trapped... Your spell... He couldn't break away. He was panicked."
I don't fully remember what my dad was doing but I was taking deep breaths and trying to calm down. I think I went into a trance of sorts because I saw a little boy and what seemed to be a demon I tried to protect the little boy by letting down my own mental shields and the next thing I know the little boy is morphing into this dark malevolent shadow.
I heard a young girl\'s voice scream "NO!" just before my shield went up entirely and the monster was pushed away from me.
The little girl had been Grace I remain convinced to this day that she either saved my life or my sanity possibly even both.
My dad and I came to the conclusion that the bracelet had been made from metal from a car that had a boy in it when it crashed and he had remained attached to the car angry and bitter at his death.
I put the bracelet in a sink full of water and table salt to clean it, but it did no good, I still have the bracelet. I showed it to a friend the other day and he asked me to put it away because every fibre of his being was telling him to take the bracelet and destroy it.