BySarah Elizabeth Gibson, writer at

Now before I start this out, I'd just like to say that my friend is the only witness. Nothing visual, or audible occurred that could at all back up or substantiate my claims. Nonetheless, this happened and it was one of the most terrifying days of my life.

Let's begin...

From about thirteen to fourteen years of age, my friend and I were very interested in tarot cards, Ouija boards, "magic" and any sort of supernatural phenomena. We both struggled with depression so we saw it as an escape. If there was something other than our earthly existence it must mean we had a purpose. Yes, a bit of a sad state of mind, but it was what it was. My friend (let's call her Mary) delved into the whole thing much more than I did. I was raised in a Mormon household and you didn't mess with anything that could invite an ill willed spirit into your home. Aside from the Mormon culture, both my parents were raised Protestant. Christianity in general pretty much forbids any sort of contact with those who have passed. Aside from prayer. When you open up that spiritual door, anything can cross the threshold. Not just Great Grandma Becky.

One night after a long day of doing whatever 14 year old girls do, Mary and I were sitting in her dim lit room listening to the radio. "Hey There Delilah" played carelessly in the background, leaving enough room for Mary and I to ebb in and out of tired conversation. After a few wordless minutes, Mary pulls out the small, wooden box that contained her tarot cards. Before opening the box she pulls a small bundle of sage and a flip book of matches from her dresser drawer. She then removes the top of the tarot box, lights the sage and begins waving the blue tinted smoke over each individual card.

"What are you doing?" I asked, propping my head up on my arm. I was laying on Mary's bed, my left side bearing most of my weight.

"I'm cleaning them," 'them' being the tarot cards."They're mad at me."

Interesting, I thought to myself. I didn't realize cards had feelings. Just because I found the paranormal interesting didn't mean I wasn't skeptical.

"Ahmm," I groaned listlessly. "How come?"

Mary shrugged, turning to face me momentarily before returning to her card cleansing. "I've been using them for stupid things."

I chuckle, rolling onto my back, my eyes tracing shapes in the rough spackle of the ceiling. "Asking for boy advice?" I muse, not taking any seriousness from the situation.

"Ahmm. Yeah, kinda." Mary smiles, ignoring my sass.

I felt a bit bad for brushing off her obvious concern and decide to dig a little deeper. "What are they doing to make you think they're angry?

Mary pauses, the smoke from the sage drifting idly towards the ceiling vents. "They aren't really doing anything. They just feel angry. Their energy." This peaks my interest.

"Are you sure you're not just tired? It's the middle of the night," I believe it was around 2:00 or 3:00 am, but I can't be sure.

"I'm probably tired to," we both grow silent; Mary too focused to say much of anything, me too tired to do anything about it.

I let my eyes focus on the soft smoke of the sage. I watched it rise and fall with the air flow in Mary's room. I watched as it crossed paths with the drug store incense burning in the corner, muddying the light of the hooded desk lamp. As I watched I felt myself grow more and more tired. I felt no need to move, or breath, or do anything really. I was wrapped up in a warm cocoon of exhaustion and nestled consciousness. But I couldn't sleep. I was too aware of myself. Of my own presence. As I acknowledged this, the internal warmth I felt began to intensify. It grew so strong that I would have thought I was on fire. Oddly enough I felt no pain. It wasn't a physical heat. Believe me, I know how this sounds, but this fire like heat that kept me paralyzed was exclusively mental or spiritual... or something! It was nothing tangible. I couldn't even identify it's source. Not at first at least. I began to focus on the odd sensation. What was I feeling? Why wasn't I moving? Did I just not want to move or did I not have the ability to? The more i realized how strange I felt, the clearer everything became until something popped. Again, nothing physical. It popped and the most awful feeling of hatred crashed into my being like a tsunami. The presence of a completely hateful being was showing itself to me. I saw nothing, but I can't imagine it being as awful as I felt. The presence needled its way into my mind until It wasn't just communicating, but part of me. I was experiencing thoughts that weren't my own. Feeling that weren't my own. I wanted to wretch.

"Umm. Yeah," I stammered feebly. "They're mad at you."

"The cards?" Mary asked.

Not really. I mean yes? But no. I looked to Mary for a response when I realized I hadn't spoken, "Yes." was all I managed to get out. But it wasn't the cards. It was something attached to the cards. Something feeding off the cards.

"Yeah I know," Mary chuckled, still focused on her task.

"But I mean," I licked my lips. They were so dry. "They're REALLY mad at you." At at this point "they" was the perfect word, for I now had quite a few more squatters intruding on my spirit. The hate. God. I have never experienced something so repulsive and all encompassing in my life. I wasn't only feeling their emotions and garbled thoughts, but I was now seeing graphic scenes of Mary dying over and over again. In every way possible. Car crashes, mutilation, suicide. It was horrific. They fucking hated her. They wanted her dead. They wanted her extinguished; never to have been born. They wanted her strewn in pieces across the floor. They wanted to devour her.

I couldn't lay motionless anymore. I was going to vomit. I shot up, coughing violently from the sheer shock of the movement. "We need to get the fuck out of this room," I screamed, tears bursting from my eyes. Mary's face was nothing less than horrified as I dragged her into the hall, slamming the door behind us.

"What is going on?" Mary stammered. "You're scaring me." But I was crying too hard to respond. My body shook and tensed, my muscles contracting and releasing on their own accord.

"I... We need to get out of the house."

"Just calm down," Mary urged, grabbing my shoulder's in an attempt to keep me vertical. I searched my mind, trying to stabilize myself. Trying to find an anchor and to my surprise....

the intruders were gone.

"Wha..." Was I okay? Was I safe? What had just happened? Was I insane? "Can we go outside?" I asked, motioning down to stairs towards the front door.

"Yeah. Uh sure." Mary was obviously confused, but I was too exhausted to explain.

We began to make our way down the stairs when it hit me again, but this time it was worse than before. It crippled me, knocking me down to the floor. They were in my head. I couldn't make them leave. They just kept playing my friend's gruesome murder over and over again. Tears and snot streamed down my face as Mary dragged me outside into the middle of the street.

I gasped.


Complete and utter quiet.

In my mind.

On the street.

I don't remember the next 10 minutes of this experience as well as I would like. I was in a great deal of shock. It's nothing I can really explain. I remember vaguely explaining what I felt and what had happened. Mary was understanding. Scared, but kind. Eventually we made it back into the house. I got some water and sat in the kitchen for awhile before Mary suggested we go back up to her room. I agreed.

When we opened the door to her room I could feel them in there. They were as much apart of the room as the air we breathed. It wasn't as overwhelming though. They were no longer part of my mind. They just lurked around our bodies like vultures. Waiting for us to break.

"They're still here," I said calmly, pulling myself onto Mary's bed.

"Who are they?"

"I don't know, but you're important enough for them to want you dead. They want you dead. It's awful. I was watching you die." A few tears escaped as I spoke.

"Why do they hate me?" Mary nearly whispered.

I thought for a moment, and then I realized.

"You have a body." the second I said that they were back in my head, showing me those gruesome images. I started to panic. "I'm gonna call my mom!"

My hands shook as I sifted through my contacts, looking for my mother's number.



"Sarah? What are you doing up? " I squeezed my eyes shut, looking for a way out of this cluster fuck of spiritual bombardment.

"Mom", it took me a moment, but I explained what was going on.

Her voice grew very serious, "Sarah. I need you to listen to me. Raise your right arm in the square (A 90 degree angle) and say, "In the name of Jesus Christ I command you to leave." I hesitated.

"Okay," I replied. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetie. Call me back so I know you're okay." I nodded and hung up the phone.

I sat in silence for a moment, contemplating my next move.





"Okay," I sighed. "I'm gong to do something, but you can't make fun of me." Mary nodded, nervously biting at her thumb nail.

I raised my arm. "In the name of Jesus Christ I command you to leave." and they certainly retreated, but they weren't completely gone. They sat grinding their teeth in the corners of the room. I could almost see them hissing; furious.

6 years later this still shakes me. I have never experienced anything like this since then. In fact, quite soon after that experience I ended up distancing myself from Mary all together. We reconnected a few years ago, but we aren't very close.

That experience did prove one thing to me though. There is something other than our earthly life and if even one of those creatures can hate a 14 year old girl with that level of intensity, then we are ANYTHING but unimportant.



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