Earlier this week my friend Judy asked in her post, "what's the scariest thing that's ever happened to you?" Without a doubt, the scariest time in my life was just a few years back when I dove head first into panic & anxiety. But I'm not going there, at least not now.
When I was 9 - 10 years old we lived in a haunted house. No joke; for real. You wanna talk scary? Especially for a 9 or 10 year old. And to add insult to injury, it appeared that the bedroom my baby sister and I shared was the only area in the house that the spirits called home.
I would wake in the middle of the night and "they" were taking a train through our room or they were hanging out waiting for the train. I apparently made them very angry when I woke and interrupted whatever they had going on. They'd pull the covers off my bed, throw my toys around the room, dive into (or through) my face, wreak their havoc, and simply terrorize me in general.
I hated bedtime. I was terrified of my room. I'd wake the house for any number of nights in a row. My mom wasn't buying any of this until one night when she came in to quiet me down, she saw 'the baby' - my sister - in her crib pointing at, and following with her eyes, something my mom couldn't see.
Unknown to me, my mom took a small bottle down to the catholic church; came back with holy water, and sprinkled the corners of my room. This kept things at bay and quiet for a month or two or three and then they returned. This became a routine; the haunting would start, my mom would sprinkle holy water in the corners of the room, the haunting would let up and the cycle would again repeat itself.
The day we moved from that house was one of my happiest. I never looked back nor went back. Even now I would not spend a night there for any amount of money ... I'm pretty sure you couldn't get me to go in there during the daytime. That, Judy, is my 'scariest memory'.
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