After our experience at The Foundry, my family and I thought we could find some respite in our mountain home. The house was ample, with a self-contained apartment downstairs, and we often enjoyed hosting meetings there. Little did we know that our mountain retreat would soon become the scene of another series of inexplicable events.
It was a balmy summer day when we decided to throw a party, inviting friends and neighbors over for a barbecue. As the day turned into evening, I was talking to my neighbor, staring at the apartment downstairs behind him. That's when I noticed it – a brown, shadowy figure moving back and forth in the apartment at an unnaturally high speed. I knew the apartment was empty, which made the sight even more unsettling.
As the last guest left, my wife turned to me. “Did you see a figure downstairs?” she asked. I nodded, describing the brown shadow and the sense of malevolence that accompanied it. A few days later, we learned that our neighbor’s wife had experienced a ghostly presence in their own home. I couldn’t aid but wonder if our neighbor had unwittingly brought a being with him to the party.
I watched the apartment closely for the next few days, but everything seemed serene. One night, the silence was broken by my 11-year-old daughter's scream. She saw a strange figure running up and down the hallway with what she described as a mad grin.
Determined to address the situation, I asked the family to leave so I could do the cleansing. Despite my best efforts—invocations, commands for the entity to leave—it persisted. It took three careful attempts before I felt the presence dissipate, as if it was stubbornly attached to something in our home.
But our trials didn’t end there. In the midst of my attempts to cleanse, my older daughter, then 13 or 14, woke up one night in hysterics, claiming there was a elevated figure in her room.
As our children grew older, we decided it was time for a change and put our mountain home up for sale, with our eyes set on Sydney’s CBD. The home was sold, but the novel owner mentioned feeling a presence. I didn’t think much of it, confident in my cleansing efforts.
On the last day of our ownership, as we were cleaning the house from top to bottom, I felt an hidden force pushing me down a tiny flight of stairs. Shaken, I joined my wife in the family room to recount the incident. As I spoke, referring to what might still be left, I expressed gratitude for having allowed us to be its caretakers for almost a decade. I announced our imminent departure, and at that same moment the locked glass door leading to the porch—a door for which we had no key—suddenly swung open.
My wife and I exchanged glances, a mixture of admiration and relief washing over us. We closed the door, said our goodbyes, and left the house for the last time.
Posted by Conarelli
