Ghosts from the Old Cemetery
This first occurred October, 2010 and lasted until May, 2012. It may seem hard to believe, and trust me it is -- even for me. But I swear it's all 100% true.
I would have been 15 at the time and I was living with my father in his two-story log home. I should probably explain a little about the history of the land. We lived on a 200-acre farm that had once been a battle ground in the Civil War. Not only that, but before the Revolution it had belonged to Native Americans.
When settlers came, they took the land and killed any Native Americans that resisted, while the rest were forced to head west.
Ever since the mid-1900s, people around the land have claimed to see soldiers fighting and patrolling. Some say they can see Native Americans as well. And if you get close enough to them, they will run at you and try to chase you off of what they believe is still their land. I never believed any of it, as I was always a very skeptical person. But after what happened to me for two and a half years, I became a believer in the supernatural.
I was lying in bed around 10 o'clock on a Saturday night. (I've always been nocturnal, and so sleeping at night is difficult for me.) I finally dozed off and fell into a dreamless sleep, which is very strange for me because I always dream. I awoke suddenly, very sweaty and extremely frightened -- of what, I can not tell you. I tried to move, but found that I could not. I couldn't scream or make a sound. In fact, the only thing I could do was move my eyeballs.
I rolled them to the side as far as they would go so I could check the time. It was 2 o'clock a.m. exactly. All I could do was lie there until I could move again, which wasn't until 4.
I shrugged it off as sleep paralysis. I had never had a history of it, but I did get night terrors as a child. I figured that the two could be linked somehow. I didn't have an episode again until the next month, on the very same date as the previous month (the third Saturday of the month) - except this time I had a dream. A very very strange dream. Now mind you, I've always had weird dreams, but this dream wasn't weird so much as it was... unexplainably unexplainable.
In the dream, I was sitting at my computer when my closet door opened. I got up and closed it, but when I turned back around I was standing in the front yard. A teenage boy who was dressed in animal skin and was barefoot (obviously Native American) approached me and shook my hand. He told me that he was 14 and that he was dead. He said the last part like it was just something that happened and he was perfectly ok with it. I asked him if he was buried close by and he said yes. I then asked him to show me where, and he pointed at my house.
I woke up sweating and frightened (and again I don't know what of), and without the ability to move. Earlier that day I had positioned my clock to face me, and it again read 2 o'clock a.m. exactly.
Later during the day, I researched the land on the internet and found some very shocking news. Now, the driveway to the house is very long -- about a quarter of a mile -- because the house is so far back from the road. But from the 1800s to the early 1900s it wasn't a driveway at all, it was a road. To be more specific, it was a cemetery road, and it ended right where the house is now.
According to the website, Native Americans and settlers were buried there right up until the early 1900s. I told my father about it and he was just as surprised as I was. He wanted to know if there could have been a cemetery under the house, so he crawled under it to see.
After a while, he crawled out and said what I feared (and knew) he would: "There are definitely stones underneath there that look like broken up grave stones." So not only was there a cemetery directly under the house, but whoever built it hadn't even bothered to clear the grave stones out.
I didn't tell my father about the dream, rather I told him that I had been browsing Google maps and stumbled on the old road name. As I knew it would, the next episode came the third Saturday of the next month. And that is where it got horribly frightening.
I dreamed of a ghost girl in a white nightgown who was begging me to let her possess me so she could save us both from "it". I kept telling her no, but she kept on begging. The funny thing was, I didn't get the sense that she was harmful at all. I just didn't want her in my body.
She possessed me anyway and I tried to move to get out of my room. I felt that if I could only get to the hallway I could get her out of me. It was so hard to move my limbs, but I finally made it to the hallway. She let out a horrible shriek and left my body.
All of a sudden, my step-mother slammed into me and knocked me to the floor. She looked like herself, but not like herself at the same time. I can't explain it. I just knew that whatever this thing was, it wasn't her. She leaned over me and whispered in a not-so-human voice, "We are all evil down here." And then I woke up in my bed.
I couldn't move again and my clock said 1:55 a.m. All of a sudden, a dark, shawdowy figure came out of the wall beside my bed and lay down beside me. It whispered in my ear, "You're going to die, and then you're coming with us..." and started laughing. It just kept laughing at me and then I woke up again.
That time I could move and my clock said 2 o'clock a.m., so I knew I was really awake and it was over -- until the third Saturday of the next month. I still didn't go back to sleep.
After that I had an episode once a month, always on the third Saturday. My father and step-mother grew worried about me and tried to get me to come out, but I wouldn't. I just felt like I had to be in it at all possible times. Over the course of those two and a half years, I grew horribly possessive of my room. I would get unusually angry if anyone went into it without me there -- and even when I was in it, I would seldom let anyone in.
I never really left my room, save to eat and go to school. And I always had my episodes on schedule, but I never dreamed about the ghost girl, the Native American boy, or my demonized step-mother again. I did, however, see shadowy figures all over my room. They were always laughing at me, like they knew something about me that I didn't. It was horrible. To not be able to move so you can't protect yourself. You can't talk, so you can't pray. True helplessness.
I had never really been bothered by demons or the devil. My family had all had "experiences" with demons and angels, but I had always chosen to go with the scientific explanation to things. After these things started happening, however, I didn't know if I could deny it. If it were coincidence, then why did it happen once a month on the same night, and why did I always wake up at the same time?
What about the cemetery under the house? Did I somehow already know about it? And how could I have? I hadn't even known the history of the land until my father told me. And he hadn't known about the cemetery until I told him.
I asked myself all of these questions, but nothing seemed logical enough to explain any of it. After a while, I came to three conclusions: I was crazy; I was having hallucinations that can sometimes accompany sleep paralysis; or I was haunted by entities.
The episodes occurred up until I moved out of my father's house in May, 2012. I never spent the night out (because I was always in my room) and so my episodes always happened without interruption. But when I spent my first third Saturday in a new house, I prepared for an episode that never came. Since moving out, I haven't had one at all. I haven't seen any shadows or ghost kids either.
Crazy? I know now I am not crazy, because I would hallucinate no matter where I was if I were insane. Sleep disorder induced hallucinations? No matter how logical, it just doesn't explain the Native American boy showing me the cemetery (that I had absolutely no knowledge of before the dream). And so I'm faced with the only logical explanation: I believe what I was experiencing was sleep paralysis caused by paranormal entities.
I truly believe that Native American boy was one of the Native Americans killed when they were forced off their land. I believe he told me about the cemetery because he just wanted someone to know that they had existed. I believe the girl in the white nightgown was a settler buried in the cemetery whose ghost came to warn me of the shadows that were essentially demons.
Why I was the only one with the episodes, I don't know. But I am no longer possessive of my old room in that house. The last time I was over there, I felt an overwhelming desire to go into my old room and just stay there, and ever since then have decided to not go back. I am now almost a full year without an episode, and doing everything I can to keep it that way.
Previous story | Next story
Back to index
I would have been 15 at the time and I was living with my father in his two-story log home. I should probably explain a little about the history of the land. We lived on a 200-acre farm that had once been a battle ground in the Civil War. Not only that, but before the Revolution it had belonged to Native Americans.
When settlers came, they took the land and killed any Native Americans that resisted, while the rest were forced to head west.
Ever since the mid-1900s, people around the land have claimed to see soldiers fighting and patrolling. Some say they can see Native Americans as well. And if you get close enough to them, they will run at you and try to chase you off of what they believe is still their land. I never believed any of it, as I was always a very skeptical person. But after what happened to me for two and a half years, I became a believer in the supernatural.
I was lying in bed around 10 o'clock on a Saturday night. (I've always been nocturnal, and so sleeping at night is difficult for me.) I finally dozed off and fell into a dreamless sleep, which is very strange for me because I always dream. I awoke suddenly, very sweaty and extremely frightened -- of what, I can not tell you. I tried to move, but found that I could not. I couldn't scream or make a sound. In fact, the only thing I could do was move my eyeballs.
I rolled them to the side as far as they would go so I could check the time. It was 2 o'clock a.m. exactly. All I could do was lie there until I could move again, which wasn't until 4.
I shrugged it off as sleep paralysis. I had never had a history of it, but I did get night terrors as a child. I figured that the two could be linked somehow. I didn't have an episode again until the next month, on the very same date as the previous month (the third Saturday of the month) - except this time I had a dream. A very very strange dream. Now mind you, I've always had weird dreams, but this dream wasn't weird so much as it was... unexplainably unexplainable.
In the dream, I was sitting at my computer when my closet door opened. I got up and closed it, but when I turned back around I was standing in the front yard. A teenage boy who was dressed in animal skin and was barefoot (obviously Native American) approached me and shook my hand. He told me that he was 14 and that he was dead. He said the last part like it was just something that happened and he was perfectly ok with it. I asked him if he was buried close by and he said yes. I then asked him to show me where, and he pointed at my house.
I woke up sweating and frightened (and again I don't know what of), and without the ability to move. Earlier that day I had positioned my clock to face me, and it again read 2 o'clock a.m. exactly.
Later during the day, I researched the land on the internet and found some very shocking news. Now, the driveway to the house is very long -- about a quarter of a mile -- because the house is so far back from the road. But from the 1800s to the early 1900s it wasn't a driveway at all, it was a road. To be more specific, it was a cemetery road, and it ended right where the house is now.
According to the website, Native Americans and settlers were buried there right up until the early 1900s. I told my father about it and he was just as surprised as I was. He wanted to know if there could have been a cemetery under the house, so he crawled under it to see.
After a while, he crawled out and said what I feared (and knew) he would: "There are definitely stones underneath there that look like broken up grave stones." So not only was there a cemetery directly under the house, but whoever built it hadn't even bothered to clear the grave stones out.
I didn't tell my father about the dream, rather I told him that I had been browsing Google maps and stumbled on the old road name. As I knew it would, the next episode came the third Saturday of the next month. And that is where it got horribly frightening.
I dreamed of a ghost girl in a white nightgown who was begging me to let her possess me so she could save us both from "it". I kept telling her no, but she kept on begging. The funny thing was, I didn't get the sense that she was harmful at all. I just didn't want her in my body.
She possessed me anyway and I tried to move to get out of my room. I felt that if I could only get to the hallway I could get her out of me. It was so hard to move my limbs, but I finally made it to the hallway. She let out a horrible shriek and left my body.
All of a sudden, my step-mother slammed into me and knocked me to the floor. She looked like herself, but not like herself at the same time. I can't explain it. I just knew that whatever this thing was, it wasn't her. She leaned over me and whispered in a not-so-human voice, "We are all evil down here." And then I woke up in my bed.
I couldn't move again and my clock said 1:55 a.m. All of a sudden, a dark, shawdowy figure came out of the wall beside my bed and lay down beside me. It whispered in my ear, "You're going to die, and then you're coming with us..." and started laughing. It just kept laughing at me and then I woke up again.
That time I could move and my clock said 2 o'clock a.m., so I knew I was really awake and it was over -- until the third Saturday of the next month. I still didn't go back to sleep.
After that I had an episode once a month, always on the third Saturday. My father and step-mother grew worried about me and tried to get me to come out, but I wouldn't. I just felt like I had to be in it at all possible times. Over the course of those two and a half years, I grew horribly possessive of my room. I would get unusually angry if anyone went into it without me there -- and even when I was in it, I would seldom let anyone in.
I never really left my room, save to eat and go to school. And I always had my episodes on schedule, but I never dreamed about the ghost girl, the Native American boy, or my demonized step-mother again. I did, however, see shadowy figures all over my room. They were always laughing at me, like they knew something about me that I didn't. It was horrible. To not be able to move so you can't protect yourself. You can't talk, so you can't pray. True helplessness.
I had never really been bothered by demons or the devil. My family had all had "experiences" with demons and angels, but I had always chosen to go with the scientific explanation to things. After these things started happening, however, I didn't know if I could deny it. If it were coincidence, then why did it happen once a month on the same night, and why did I always wake up at the same time?
What about the cemetery under the house? Did I somehow already know about it? And how could I have? I hadn't even known the history of the land until my father told me. And he hadn't known about the cemetery until I told him.
I asked myself all of these questions, but nothing seemed logical enough to explain any of it. After a while, I came to three conclusions: I was crazy; I was having hallucinations that can sometimes accompany sleep paralysis; or I was haunted by entities.
The episodes occurred up until I moved out of my father's house in May, 2012. I never spent the night out (because I was always in my room) and so my episodes always happened without interruption. But when I spent my first third Saturday in a new house, I prepared for an episode that never came. Since moving out, I haven't had one at all. I haven't seen any shadows or ghost kids either.
Crazy? I know now I am not crazy, because I would hallucinate no matter where I was if I were insane. Sleep disorder induced hallucinations? No matter how logical, it just doesn't explain the Native American boy showing me the cemetery (that I had absolutely no knowledge of before the dream). And so I'm faced with the only logical explanation: I believe what I was experiencing was sleep paralysis caused by paranormal entities.
I truly believe that Native American boy was one of the Native Americans killed when they were forced off their land. I believe he told me about the cemetery because he just wanted someone to know that they had existed. I believe the girl in the white nightgown was a settler buried in the cemetery whose ghost came to warn me of the shadows that were essentially demons.
Why I was the only one with the episodes, I don't know. But I am no longer possessive of my old room in that house. The last time I was over there, I felt an overwhelming desire to go into my old room and just stay there, and ever since then have decided to not go back. I am now almost a full year without an episode, and doing everything I can to keep it that way.
Previous story | Next story
Back to index