When I was younger, and my middle sister was still sleeping in a crib, my mother and father moved us into a house with my grandparents in Colerain Township, a suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio. The house was large, and beautiful with a huge backyard and a very large tree in the front of the house. Being a child at the time, I was in awe when we first moved in. It was the first house that I had ever lived in; coming from a poor family, we only ever lived in small apartments. We hadn't moved outside of my school district at the time, so there was no real trauma that could explain my experiences in that house, and nothing can explain my family's combined experiences.
Let me begin my story with the introduction of all the members of my family that lived in that house. My mother, my father, my younger sister (Gabby), my grandmother, grandfather, and my uncle David.
The first experience that I personally remember was the sudden illness of my younger sister, Gabby. As I said before, she was still in diapers. Within a week of moving into this house, she grew very ill. It was distressing, as I shared a room with her, and she would cry non-stop all day and all night long. The poor child never slept, and when she did, it was not for long. My family has always been very religious, raising us kids in church every Sunday, and always teaching us to love the Lord and to live our lives for him. We had many pictures of Jesus around our house, as well as crosses and other various Christian symbols. Even so, they were no such form of protection for what was about to happen to our family. And none of us would ever be the same afterwards.
One evening, before my mother had fallen asleep, she was sitting in her bed with my father, who HAD fallen asleep. She was reading her bible. She closed to book, and glanced toward the floor. She was obviously stressed out over the fact that my younger sister, her baby (at the time), has had no breakthroughs in her illness. No doctor could figure out what was plaguing the child, and my mother was growing more noticeably helpless everyday. I could tell that she was very sad, and so could everyone else around her. So she began to pray her nightly prayers, and I can remember that during this time, she had been saying, "Dear God, please cast out the spirit of sickness from my child, and make her healthy again..." I assume that her prayers remained the same this night, as they had been for many months. As she was saying these prayers for my baby sister, she heard a noise that made her look up, but not cease in her praying. She looked down the hallway, towards our room (mine and my sister's). At this point, I was awoken by the sound of our door creaking. I promptly turned over, thinking it was my mother, not wanting to get into trouble for being awake. As the door creaked open, I heard slow footsteps, and I giggled to myself, again, thinking that this was my mother checking on us, trying not to wake us up. (From this point in the story, it is my mother's experience, but she has told me about it so many times, I can recall in as my own.)
As my mother stared down the hallway, praying for God to cast out the spirit of sickness from my sister, something very large moved slowly out of our doorway and into the hall. She could not believe her eyes, and tried to smack my father to awaken him, but he didn't even roll over. As this thing came into her full view, my mother realized this was no human. Her nostrils were overloaded with an overwhelming smell of rotting meat. Whatever this thing was that she saw (we believe that it was a demon) moved around to face her. It stood up to its full height, as my mother remembers; it was tall enough for its head to brush the ceiling. Its eyes were flashing and bright; red eyes. She describes this "demon" as having pieces of its flesh hanging off. It began walking towards the front door, very slowly, but still staring my mother directly in the eyes. She prayed softly, no noise escaping her lips. As the "demon" neared the front door, it laughed at my mother. Its voice was deep and not of this world. And as suddenly as it had come out of our room, the "demon" opened our front door of our house, and left.
My mother, being scared out of her mind, ran into our room and awoke both me and my sister, and we slept in her room with her and my father for nearly a month afterwards. She told my father, and he did not believe her at all. When she told my grandparents, my grandma got a very concerned look on her face. She called the pastor that ran the church that we attended. Being a kind man, he agreed to come and bless our house. My sister and I were sent to stay with my aunt while the priest was there, so I'm not quite sure what happened, and my family has never told me. All I know for sure is, the blessing not only didn't work on the entities that possessed our home, but it angered them severely.
Part II will come shortly. Thank you for reading, and I hope that no one thinks that we are crazy. When I can work out exactly how to put the many experiences I have had into words, I will post more.