This is a true story my grand parents told me about my great great grand father. Jin are the middle eastern names for demons who lurk in our world, haunting and terrorising the souls who cannot defend themselves from them.
First of all I would like to give you some back ground information about me and my family. I live in Sydney Australia but I originally come from Lebanon in the Middle east, born and raised there. My family has a long history of catholic priests that go back centuries. this story occurs in the south of Lebanon where my family originates. My Great Great grand father was a priest for many years throughout the late 1800’s to the midd 19th century traveling from one village to another to serve at masses and the needs of the local town’s people such as the poor.
he would often stay for many days at a time in each village, so my family being him was a good opportunity to gain quality wisdom and knowledge which was extremely valuable considering the time of history where this occurred. our family always experienced strange supper natural anomalies which were both positive, and at times blood curdalingly frigthning. One year my great, great grand father was traveling a long distance to get from one village too another. It started to get late and his donkey which he was ridding was becoming restless as the blackening darkness began to settle over the land.
Read more “The Jin from Hell”
This story happened to me over the span of about 5 years, starting back in 1999 during my second year of middle school and ending near my 18th birthday. Before I begin, I’d like to apologize for the length of this story, as it really means a lot to me and I feel that I need to spend some time explaining all of the details. Now I’ve never been one to believe in ghosts and spirits and all that. Even now, I find it very hard to place my trust in the supposed paranormal encounters that I hear from time to time. However, these events that I’m about to share changed my life forever, and I will never think about life and death the same way again.
The story starts when I was 12 years old and attending 7th grade in Black Forest Colorado. I didn’t have many friends at the time because I was new to the area, and I was also a bit shy. I can’t even recall who I was friends with back then. However, I remember very clearly the day that I met her. She was a tall blonde girl who always had this sad and confused look in her eyes. Her name was Allie. I had seen her around the school before, and I knew that there was something a little off about her, like she had some kind of mental disability or something. Whenever I saw her she was always sitting somewhere by herself and drawing in her notebook.
People would make fun of her all the time because she was so quiet, like she literally never said a word to anyone. Ever. I actually thought that she might have been mute. It wasn’t until about half way through the semester when I noticed her standing near the school entrance, clutching her notebooks tightly to her chests, and looking as though she was about to cry. A few kids were holding up a picture that she had drawn, waving it around in the air while taunting her like a bunch of entitled assholes with nothing better to do than to humiliate this poor girl.
Read more “Homesick”