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Florida: 2017 A False Memoir

Part One: The Presence

*Trigger Warnings: Parental Death, Grief-Related Psychosis, Paranormal*

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After my mother passed away in the master bedroom, my family and I did not return to the house until after the funeral. We stayed at a dog-friendly hotel a few miles down the interstate with our dog for about a week. When we did return it was in the middle of the night. Despite the Florida heat and the lack of air-conditioning, the house was pervasively cold as we stepped inside. As we all began to settle in for the night, tension grew in the shadows. No words were shared that night. There was only silence.

My father spent the night in the master bedroom with the door locked. My younger brother slept in his room with the dog. I spent the night in the living room on the couch. I did not sleep at all that night. My mother’s passing kept playing over and over in my head. In my mind’s eye, I could vividly see the paramedics rolling the gurney with her body through the master bedroom door, past the back of the couch, and out the front door. Now that it’s been about seven years, I sometimes catch myself wondering if my moments of pondering really were just acts of imagination. Because as I laid on that couch processing the death of my mother, something stirred in the dark.

It began around midnight.

I had just closed my eyes for about fifteen minutes when I was startled awake by something bumping up against the back of the furniture. Thinking it was the dog, I sat up and looked over the back of the couch. To my grand confusion there was nothing there. I distinctly remember then turning my head to look to my left towards the kitchen. The open floor plan allowed me to see the two separate bedroom doors. I could see that my brother's bedroom door was securely shut. Whatever had bumped up against the couch could not have possibly been the dog, my brother, or even my father.

Once realizing this, I developed this guttural sensation of being watched. There was some type of presence. It was watching me and it was very close. So close that I could feel a cold dense body of air hovering over the back of the couch. It was almost as if a person was leaning over the couch to stare menacingly down at me.

I was just about to scream for my father when suddenly the couch lurched. Something or someone had either kicked it or thrown themselves against it. Effectively silenced by terror, I couldn’t do anything but pray that I would not die from heart failure. While I prayed, the living room echoed with the horrible sound of hurried pacing.

The footsteps grew louder and louder and heavier and heavier and faster and faster. The footsteps were so strong I could feel the vibrations from the floor through the couch. It pushed against the couch over and over and over. It ran back and forth from the master bedroom to the couch, to the front door, to the kitchen, to my bedroom. Everywhere.

It was everywhere and only I could hear it.

I laid there paralyzed with fear for about five and a half hours. When the 5:30 alarm on my phone finally went off, the presence disappeared just as quickly as it had made itself known. I spent the rest of the morning getting ready for school. And somehow between 5:30 and 6:00, I convinced myself that what I had experienced was just an extreme and terrifying case of paradoxical insomnia and or parasomnia.

Unfortunately, this was not the case.

[freshbasementcollection]

Off topic, but definitely end of an era😔

[freshbasementcollection]

About Me:

At the age of seventeen, I was terrorized by something that I could not explain. My childhood home became a paranormal hell for nearly two years. I have been on a quest for answers ever since.

My goal for this blog is to develop an archive of folklore, urban legends, and paranormal investigations. I will be mainly posting content related to places I visit or have visited. I think camping will be a great way to gradually navigate the supernatural underbelly of the United States.

Disclaimer:

Due to my current life circumstances, I wish to be anonymous. Half of my family are also unaware of what happened in my childhood home. I know they would be devastated if they were to ever find out. Because of this, posts of my personal experiences will be censored.

[freshbasementcollection]

I have finally graduated college. I am now free to write whatever the fuck I want and to live however the fuck I want and nobody except god and crippling debt can stop me