Many years ago, my husband and I moved to southern Colorado for his job. We settled into this quaint little two-bedroom apartment in a 75-year-old house in an old mining town. At first everything seemed so nice. It was small but quaint, lots of windows, a nice little fenced in yard for our dogs to play and hang out. We had a nice view of the town and the surrounding mountains. I busied myself with unpacking and setting up our humble abode while my husband went to work each day, often coming home late due to a very busy schedule.
I became acquainted with the neighbors and a few towns folk that I had met while shopping at the local stores. I started to learn about the history of this old mining town. The town had a colorful history, cowboy life, saloon girls, a lot of violence and death and a darkness loomed over this small town. As life slowed down for me a bit, I turned myself to learning more about this "quaint" little town.
I often strolled the streets to hunt for antiques or unique gifts to send home to family. While our little town wasn't a huge tourist mecca, it still catered to the "just passing through" crowd that stopped off the highway for dining and fuel. During my jaunts around town I began to notice that most of the churches were closed up or for sale. There were a lot of boarded up businesses and just as many bars to drown one's sorrows in. My rose-colored glasses had slowly started to slide down my nose and I began to see and feel what was not so "quaint" about this town.
My whole life, I have also had the curse of being able to "feel" and "see" what I didn't want to. Being empathic is not a gift and I work hard to keep it turned off as much as possible, especially when it comes to the spirit world. It served me well when I was a pagan but as a Christian, it is not welcome. This town came alive to me in a way I didn't want it to. I went from being enchanted and interested to counting the days until we could leave.
On a very cold but sunny day in January, I happen to be heading to my favorite antique store to break up the monotony of my day. Just ahead of me, was a person walking in the same direction. Dark knee length coat with the collar turned up, dark pants and shoes. I couldn't make out if it was a woman or man but at the time it didn't matter. This lone figure turned into the store I was headed to. I was a little excited because it would give me a opportunity to talk to a new person to gleam more history. Less than a minute later, I entered the antique store. I was greeted by the owner, Mandie. I greeted her back and looked around the shop, which wasn't very big and only had one other side room that you could see into from the front entrance. She asked me who I was looking for and I said the person in the black coat that just came in before me. Her face went a little white, she gave me an uncomfortable smile and said that there had not been anyone else in the shop until just now, when I walked in. We stood there staring at each other and she said quietly, "you will see a lot of that around here", and walked into the other room. I know what I saw, clear as the website I am typing this story on. We never spoke of it again.
I dismissed the incident and forgot to mention it to my husband until a few nights later. We were relaxing in our tiny living room watching TV with the dogs when there was an overwhelming smell of freshly brewed coffee coming through the doorway of the kitchen. We are both coffee drinkers but not at night. As I sniffed the air, my husband asked me what was wrong. I asked him if he could smell the coffee and he couldn't. He was sitting less than 10 feet from me; he shook his head and suggested that maybe it was the downstairs neighbor. There were two apartments below us, one was unoccupied and the other had a young fellow living there who attended a small college nearby. I reminded my husband that there was no interlocking venting system in this old house, we had base-board heat and no AC. But as we discussed it, the smell went away. I don't know why we dismissed it so easily at that point, the dogs showed no reaction and we went back to our program.
Incidents like the coffee and stranger that disappears were becoming frequent occurrences. Often times, there would be the strong smell of a freshly lit cigarette right next to me on the couch. Or I would hear movement in the bedroom just down a short hall from the living room but the dogs were with me in the kitchen. I walk in the direction of the bedroom but it was empty and the dogs would look at me with curiosity but would not enter the room until I did. It was these little, seemingly innocuous occurrences that never unnerved me enough to want to bolt out of the apartment. They didn't happen to my husband and dogs never responded with any warning or aggression. I had had the opportunity to chat with the neighbor downstairs one day and then things got really interesting and terrifying!
We had to access the basement through the downstairs apartment. The young man, Ken, showed us through his spacious apartment to the basement trapdoor on his screened in locked porch. We chatted about his course work as we walked down the stairs into stone basement and then I realized he wasn't with me and my husband anymore. I turned around as I reached the bottom step and noticed he stayed upstairs looking down at me with a fearful look in his eyes. My husband and the landlord walked deeper into the basement and were busy talking about the underground sprinklers for the yard and didn't notice that Ken and I were not with them. Suddenly I felt like I was caught, quite literally, in the middle of the three men and I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe either! My chest felt heavy, my breath was shallow, and I couldn't fill my lungs enough to ask for help. I looked at Ken and he came down a few steps and reached his hand out to me. Somehow, I managed to raise my arm up and take his hand, he pulled me up the stairs and out of my "prison". He guided me into his kitchen and gave me a glass of water. When the feeling of impending doom passed, we spoke about the incidences he had experienced. Missing keys, banging in the back bedroom, lights not working, things being moved or disappearing around his apartment. The basement was totally off limits to him, he stated. "You couldn't pay me enough to go into that place". He said the back bedroom always had this oppressive feel to him and that the place scared his girlfriend so much that she would not return there to visit him. As we chatted in the kitchen, I noticed that Ken did not own a coffee pot, nor did he drink coffee as he stated when I asked about it. My husband and the landlord finished their business in the basement and joined us in the kitchen. Neither of them noticed what had happened to me. Over dinner that evening I told my husband what had happened, he looked concerned, but I felt that he didn't quite believe me. Keep in mind, he had experienced nothing other than smelling perfume that didn't smell like mine and just dismissed it.
Days turned into weeks, and I waited for the other shoe to drop. I knew an ambush was coming because all had been quiet. No strange noises, no unexplained smells, no disappearing strangers. One day I noticed that Ken had left. I never saw any activity that suggested he was moving, no trucks, no boxes, no sounds of people moving furniture. I inquired with the landlord, and he told me Ken had decided to move home and had left within a couple of days of his announcement to our landlord. Now the whole house was vacant except for us. I felt so alone and isolated. My husband was working longer hours and had some work travel. I had the dogs for company and comfort.
My bedtime routine is pretty simple, let the dogs out, brush my teeth and wash my face, let the dogs in, make sure all doors are locked, check the security system and head off to bed. But many nights I always felt like somebody was watching me while I went about my routine. The pantry did not have a door on it and you had to pass by it moving from the kitchen to the living room. I always felt like someone was tucked away in the back of it, hidden in the shadow. The small hallway also left me with that feeling as well, somebody was standing in that hallway watching. And THAT... Was a feeling I always had with that hallway. I always read before I go to sleep. As I lay propped up in bed, the dogs curled up in their beds, my eyes were always drawn to the bedroom door. To the hallway. I would leave lights on from the small lamp in the kitchen through the living room and the small night light in the bathroom. It drove my husband crazy because "electricity is not free". At least he never accused me of being crazy or over-reacting. Sometimes I doubted my sanity after being in that apartment.
One night, the feeling was overwhelming! I tried to ignore it. I spoke to it, the first time ever. I said, "you are not welcome here. I want you to leave!" I spoke this as I walked to the bedroom door and closed it in "its" face. I called the dogs up on the bed, said a prayer and the door opened. The feeling I picked up was anger, intense burning anger and it was the first time I had felt such a level of fear since we had moved in. I prayed again, harder and invoked the name of Jesus over the house and all present. Suddenly, my fear was gone and the energy went from very heavy to just a normal level. But the dogs were focused on the bedroom doorway. They were in guard mode and were not going to relax. I fought sleep but eventually it won and the next thing I knew, the sun was streaming through the window. One thing about that place, mornings were always so lovely. Bright, airy, comfortable and I felt safe.
My husband had been gone for a few days and upon his return, he got an earful! I told him it was time to look for another place. I didn't care what it cost but I could not and would not stay in that place any longer. We started to argue about moving and money and he became so angry and the look in his eyes was not like anything I had seen before and the feeling that emanated from him was dark. I felt like I wasn't talking to my husband, my love and protector but a stranger! I backed out of it and said he was right. Yes, let's stay, I proclaimed; I'm just being a silly woman. I kissed him on the cheek and said, "I'll get dinner started". At that time, I didn't realize that that was the appetizer to the real entrée that would be served later that night.
After dinner, we quietly sat and watched some TV and then readied for bed. I went through my normal routine and by the time I finished, my husband was already tucked away in bed. I climbed in next to him, the dogs curled up in their beds and we said good night. I read for a bit but sleep crept up on me pretty fast and soon I had turned out the light and rolled over to snuggle up to my husband. I didn't feel that dark mood from him, it was his usual warm, cuddly bear self again. This is where the night turned...
I cannot clearly state if I was dreaming, in a waking dream or fully awake until I had the full realization of being awake. I hope this makes sense to you because it does not make sense to me. It was like being on two different plains of existence. In my dream state, a dark mass was swirling above the bed. But I could also see to the left and right of me and the floor as well. The mass was focused on me. I noted that any ambient light from the street through the windows were present but were blocked out by the darkest darkness I had ever seen. I saw no face on this mass, no outline of a body... It was a black mass! It moved in closer to me and I could feel it looking into me, pulling at me and pushing on me at the same time, like it was trying to turn me inside out. That was when I felt the pressure on my chest and stomach, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't swallow, the pain in my chest was excruciating and for a brief moment I thought I was having a heart attack. As I stated before, "in my dream" but at this point, I was not dreaming. I was fully awake and engaged with this entity. I tried to scream! In my mind, I had to push fear away and call out to Jesus. I prayed the blood of Jesus over me, I spoke to this thing with my mind and rebuked it. I called out, "in the name of Jesus, you are not welcome here. This house belongs to God!" And then my voice finally came..."In the name of Jesus, Satan get thee behind me! I rebuke you in the name of Jesus, I am a child of God! Leave this house NOW!" As I yelled that at top of my lungs, my husband sprang from the bed, grabbed a gun and the dogs were at his side ready to kill. When he realized nobody was there but us and I was sobbing in the bed, he came and wrapped his arms around me. I told him everything from the time of our argument, which he did not recall at all to this immense oppression. I begged him to please find us a new place to live.
Shortly after this latest incident, I had to go on a trip for a new job. When I returned a month later, he had found us a new place and had moved us in.
I have had many paranormal experiences in my life. I am 67 years old and I take it all very seriously. The spirit world is not something to play with. It is a dangerous place, especially for those unprotected and lack knowledge. I have had attachments, as have some of my family members. I lived in a dark world for almost two decades before I gave my life to Jesus. If you are not a believer, that is your business and I do not judge you and I expect the same kindness. Thank you.
Thank you for reading my story, I do apologize for the length.
NOTE: I have changed names to protect the kind and innocent, I have excluded names to protect my privacy.