Improper hauntings

This is  a story that was never meant to be published on my blog for a couple of reasons: a) I do believe that the story is much better told in person (as in the tradition of the genre) and b) the subject is of  an intimate sort (those of delicate minds consider yourself warned). But as my tale has recently gained unforeseen popularity by others telling it and circulating it forward (without naming any names, Jackson and Morales, you know what I am talking about), I want to claim authorship and give you, my dear reader, the original tale.

What you are about to read is a true story.  It happened to yours truly, truly. For the record, at the time the events took place I was not intoxicated nor by alcohol or drugs of any sort. Also, as a background information, let it be known, that in general I consider myself to be an atheist and I do not believe in any supernatural or paranormal things.  (I need evidence.) Having gotten all that out of my system it´s time to tell the story of how I was haunted by a self-pleasuring ghost.

This  happened a couple of years ago. The day must have been just an ordinary day as I have no recollection of it, what I do remember is what happened during the night.

I was sleeping on my belly, arms under pillow, other leg stretched, the other bended.  Suddenly I woke up to a feeling that somebody was sitting on my lower back and pressing me hard from the shoulder blades to the mattress. And I mean hard, I could hardly breathe. Needless to say, I was quite scared. I mean, how could anybody have broken into my apartment, gotten past the shoe traps in the vestibule without me hearing a thing and waking up.  I tried to turn my head and see who it was that was the cause of this distress, but I could not see anybody.

So there I was lying on the bed, afraid, not being able to move a muscle, feeling a weight of an invisible person on me, thinking frantically what the heck was going on, when suddenly I heard a sound. (The sound could perhaps be best described as a very soft and lazy “clacking” sound.)  A sound that sounded like a happy union of a man, his hand and his erm…overhang having a jolly good time.

At that point I started to get angry. It´s bad enough to have a ghost in one´s house, but to have a masturbating one is just insufferable.

I mustered  all the strength I could find, pushed my upper body from the mattress and told the unidentified male spirit with a stern voice and firm words that I did not approve of his doings and that I wanted him gone. (This is something that I had picked up from Sex and the City, apparently one has to acknowledge the ghost and then tell them to change scenery if one wants to get rid of them.) As soon as I had done that the sound stopped, the pressure eased and I could stand up.

I was quite shaken by all that. I turned on the lights and checked my apartment but I could not find anybody there. I went to the kitchen and started rummaging through my spices in hopes of finding some sage. (Another bit of “information” that I have learned from some TV-series, burning sage is supposed to cleanse the atmosphere.) I had run fresh out of it, so I had to settle for some pizza seasoning potpourri that I springled around my apartment. (Even the non-believers get scared and resort to extreme measures.)

For the rest of the night I kept the lights on (actually I slept with the lights on for a good couple of months, for some reason I though electric light to be a good spirit person repellent), but could not really sleep, not even dream. (The adrenalin rush took care of that.)

If that visit would have been the only instance I was harrassed by an unseen person, I could have written it off with a shrug, but the ghost game back. And the second time we “met” was even worse.

It happened not long after I had started to sleep with lights off again. This time I was laying on my back, arm over my eys, when I woke to a very moviesque sound. It was like there was a big book open on my floor with wind going through the pages. (Quiet flap flap flap flap flap.)

I opened my eyes, and then I felt it: a big hairy arm coming from under my bed. It went through my mouth into my throat and lungs and I got a distinctive feeling that it wanted to take my voice, maybe even my life.  It hurt, I was paralyzed,  it felt like I was being sucked inside the mattress. Also, once again I had to will myself to an upright position and told the the ghost very, very firmly to go away and leave me alone.  And as soon as I had done that, the pain eased.  Again I checked every possible nook and corner to see if somebody was indeed hiding in my tiny flat, but to no avail. I was alone.

After the last incident, the house has not been haunted again (to my knowledge at least, and I should know as I continue living there.) But I have been perplexed ever since: what happened? In both instances I was awake,  my consciousness was not altered by any chemical means etc. and the physical and auditive experiences were very real.

So the chances are that there might be some supernatural things after all and I actually was molested by a meat-beating phantom. It´s either that – or a case of  really bad heartburn.

“There was always drama on her footsteps”

Sometime ago I stumbled across a quotation by Jane Austen: “Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings” (or actually the form of the quotation was “her life became a succession of busy nothings”). The picture that Jane Austen paints of her heroines life with that little sentence is somewhat chilling in the emptiness it reveals but at the same time it is also wonderfully dramatic and strangely elating.

The line prompted me to a quest of making up a one-liner that would somehow describe me or my life as poetically as hers did. That is how I came up with “there was always drama on her footsteps”.

For sometime I reveled in the sentence, repeating it over and over like the name of a new lover. All in all, I was quite pleased with myself. I felt a new, more lyrical aura around myself had risen.

But as I am a person with some sort of  lite commitment issues (I could never make an all top something lists as I feel if you do those you need to stick by them  for ever and ever, and I need to be able to maintain my freedom to change my mind on stuff), and appetite for diversion so when I was faced (in these uncertain times I may add) with the choice of making the sensible decision or the not-so-sensible decision, I naturally opted for the latter.  And that is how I discovered (or rather came into realization of one aspect of my personality)  “she was never one to shy away from an adventure”.  (She being me.)

With a sense for drama and a taste for adventure on my side, I think am pretty well set on the tag line front. And life.

ps.

I do not I deliberately seek to create drama around me, and I  certainly  like my relationships with friends and family to be even-tempered and mellow (and for the most part and most of the time they really are) but perhaps I do tend to respond to things and situations (life) with somewhat of a poetic approach or an excessive zest.

I would also like to add, that am not about making irresponsible or poor choices. It is just that if an opportunity to see the world or live life knocks on my door am apt to say yes.