This is another incident where I am reaching out in trust to my fellow YGS readers for your insight or speculation as to what in actual heck happened. Likewise, it probably is not scary to read, but it was bizarre and frightening when it happened. I have shared one other incident, which happened here. I will set the scene, in case you haven't read it.
When I was 18 I shared a flat in Boise's historic Warm Springs neighborhood with two of my younger brothers. The house we lived in was old for the area, divided into our upstairs apartment and our neighbor's below. We were smack dab between a hospital, the old Idaho State Penitentiary, and the Old Fort Boise cemetary, a few blocks or so from what is left of historic downtown Boise and the tunnels where Asian immigrants were forced to trade. Plenty of history roaming about.
We all loved that house even though it's odd division mean that our "living room" was formerly an upstairs porch, complete with a front door and windows which opened into the main house. The porch had been closed off with more windows all along the 3 outer walls. We rallied some milk crates, a boom box, a hideous pink rescue couch, and a posh, velvety, spinning, 1970's, thrift store rocker/recliner. We tacked up a few yards of gauze as curtains and considered ourselves smartly furnished.
The only way the couch really fit into the narrow room was along a shorter wall, facing the length of the room and three walls of windows. The rocker we put in the middle just even with the door, beneath the front set of windows. It was humble, but homey, in the way only a grubby punk bachelor pad can be.
One warm autumn day, I came home from work to find my brother's girlfriend K waiting for him. She was sitting on the couch, so I plopped in the rocker and chucked off my shoes. It was sunny and hot and we did not say much. Just listening to music and smoking cigs. We did not know each other real well, either, so we were just kind of both awkwardly waiting for the guys to come back.
Lazy and sweaty from biking home... I was shoving the rocker slowly side to side, back and forth, pushing with my stocking feet on the windowsills. Several times as I came around the "back" side I imagined that I saw a grumpy little wrinkly face staring into the sunny upstairs window. As that is impossible, I assumed tricks of contrast or reflection and just kept rocking back around.
Then I had to stop and stare out the window. Floating away from the window and turning to my left was a clear or pale, very skinny, small, wizened figure with the face of a grumpy old person. It had like a ruffle nightcap, like Little House on the Prairie. The figure was very small, maybe two feet. It glided with its arms drawn up stiffly, gnarled fists at at chest level. It sort of clouded and trailed off at the waist. I could not even believe what I was seeing. It stared straight ahead, unhappy, so I turned away with a childish hope that it had not "seen" me. I had goosebumps all over, sitting in the sun.
I sort of mentally chastised my wild imagination and just kept sitting there quietly with K. The last thing I wanted was to make things more awkward. Then out of the blue she's like "did you just now see that banshee behind you in the window?" It had looked sort of like the banshee in Darby O Gill. She had been watching it float outside behind me.
Freaking out, we both described seeing basically the same thing as one another. She was in tears. We went downstairs and sat outside until my brothers came home. K was still very upset, and one of our friends (army medic) treated her for shock. As far as I know, neither of us has "the sight" but she was young and troubled. I did not know then, that that age can be sort of a magnet for weird energy.
Other weird, unrelated things happened at that house. Before and after, my brothers heard footsteps in the empty kitchen on the other end of the house. They did not tell me until years later, or that at our neighbors house one could sometimes hear laughing or a party-the house had been a brothel. I don't think what K and I saw was an actual banshee, but I cannot say if it was a ghost, or what. It was so small. Wouldn't a person ghost be person sized? It did not seem like it was trying to get in or be seen.
Progeria is a really awful illness, and I am very sorry for having described who or what I saw as as "inhuman". Now I know that sometimes alive people may look like that under harsh rare effects. Hopefully a cure is near.
When I looked up info suggested by CreamTea's comment my whole brain heaved in weird sympathy- such a way that resolves a lot of uncertainty.