So in my family the paranormal is just the normal. But more so for me specifically. I have many encounters, haunting, and even attempted possession. It may stem from being heavily Native American, in the most haunted states (Colorado). Possible intensified by my great grand father being a witch hunter. Who really knows, other then the all mighty father.
So here we go!! This story is from shortly after turning 4. My parents moved me from the closet under the stares to my eldest sister’s room. Yes I was kept in a closet till I was 4. My crib fit perfectly, my parents were directly above me. This made it easy for them to tell when I woke up or was in need well maintaining their privacy.
It was a fantastic room for an energetic toddler. In the back corner of the house. A waterbed 2-3 feet tall, two sets of three drawers on top of one another. A tunnel that ran behind the drawers, perfect clubhouse for my exploits of toddlerdom. With a small window at the foot of the bed. That looks in to the backyard. This story is centered around this window.
I was rolling around on this massive waterbed. Trying to make the falling sound, with my sliding whistle. You know the sound from the Looney Tunes, the sound you hear every time the roadrunner tricks Wiley coyote over th cliff. But then I just start chasing melodies of no origins. When I noticed a man looking in at me. I slide the window open. I don’t really notice but his face is completely white and featureless. No albino he didn’t seem to have eyes nor a mouth. His jaw still moves as he spoke, you could clearly tell where he was looking. But most of all the shade of white he was seemed to exorb all light near him. Similar to mat black but white. I probably didn’t notice because he didn’t want me to. But in my memory it becomes so obvious.
He spoke to me, “Where’d you get that whistle? You play it well.” I follow with, my auntie bought it for. I know I am, I can make cartoon nosies.” I proceed to half hazardly blow into the whistle. The man tried to speak over the sound. But gave up. As soon as he stop speaking my whistle just stopped. He stared at me for a moment. Then just swiftly asked. “You know you’ll never be happy with these people. They don’t love you. You’re just a toy. Would you like to come with me? You’ll be very happy.” I looked back at him and said, “You’re stupid, I’m happy. You’re dumb.” I hand him my whistle and demanded he fix it. I didn’t think it was his fault I just thought and adult would know. My mom realizing I’m talking to someone shouts, “Who are you talking to?” From the kitchen. I look back to the man and he said my uncle’s name. Then walked away. And in mind from that point he was in that memory. Till I recently I remembered his real face.
I wonder was he a fairy? Why’d he keep my whistle? I’m very confused about why he came to me. Though it’s hard to believe I remember something from when I was 4. But don’t you think you would as well. It was very surreal. I kinda wish I had gone with him.
Anyways I have plenty more stories. Newer and older.