Friday, August 27, 2010

Fabrication Friday - Aug 27, 2010

The following is not true.

I think the main thing that made me a skeptic isn't any lack of experiences, but actually the opposite.  On a couple of occasions, I've had experiences that were a little too frightening for me to accept.

The main, number one experience was something that I didn't remember until recently.  I was in therapy, just for the sake of general mental health (or so I thought) and this old thing came up.  Now, it didn't come out through hypnosis, or anything like that.  I don't know if it was actually repressed.  I just know that, for the last ten years, I've chosen not to think about it, and have effectively forgotten it.  I think the only reason I'm willing to write it here is because I don't think anyone will believe me.  If I thought people would take it seriously, I would probably keep it to myself.

I was probably eighteen or nineteen, because I wasn't long out of high school.  There was a house (it's no longer there) on Yelm Highway that people simply called, "That old haunted house," and I used to drive by it on the way to Burger King, where I worked.  I was always curious about that house.  We had a party at my apartment one night, and my friend (call him Chad) had brought his Ouija board, and he was playing with that in the bedroom with some people, and I was playing Xbox in the living room, drinking way too much Miller High Life.  It was probably the board that got it into my head, but I found myself trying to talk everyone into an outing, to the haunted house on Yelm Highway.

Nobody went for it, except for Chad, his sister, and this other guy.  Now, I don't endorse drunk driving, and I have no remorse for a drunk driver.  This doesn't change the fact that, that night, I was driving drunk, and we somehow safely made it to the broken down old house.  There wasn't any good place to park (the original driveway actually had small trees growing in it!) but I eased the car over a shallow ditch and parked it behind a tree, where the car would be hidden.

The house felt cold, and not just cold on your skin.  Just being near it felt like there was literally a chilly hand inside of your stomach.  This was pretty much what everyone said.  It probably took us a half hour to get the balls to go from the car to the house.

To make a long story short, we were using the Ouija board inside of the house, and it wasn't giving us anything.  I was writing down the letters as they came up, and it was all a jumble.  I was about to have my second bright idea of the evening (getting out of there) when I saw that, as I'd been recording the letters, the board had spelled out the word GOOD.  The word ended up being GOODBYE.  I wanted to tell the others, but I saw that Chad was gone.

He was just gone.  Nobody saw him leave, and he'd been one of the three with their hands on the planchette. There was just no way he could have gotten up and left.  I remember we didn't look for him, or call his name. It was eery, but I think we were just trying to keep ourselves from freaking out, so we just got up, and walked out the front door, single-file, to the car, and drove off.  Another thing that's a little weird is that I remember seeing the three of us getting in the car, from the perspective of looking down from about ten feet up.  It's just an image I remember, but I don't know why.

We didn't make a pact of silence, or anything like that, but none of us said anything, ever, and I think the choosing to forget happened pretty soon after the event.  I remember hearing that the night Chad disappeared, his whole bedroom was ransacked the next morning, and it was full of ants.  I thought, when I heard that, that he must have went through his stuff to pack and run away, because I had already stopped thinking about the house on Yelm Highway.  I also remember that I ended up moving, because I didn't like driving down that road any more, and had started going miles out of my way to avoid it.  I never saw him again after that.

I don't know what I think I'm going to accomplish by sharing the story, but it is what it is.

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