The Demonic Entity
My son had an end-of-the-summer bash one year. The party ended with some friends sleeping over. While everyone lay scattered about in the living room, my son, wide awake while the other‘s slept, had experienced a terrifying moment.
As he lay amongst his friends, he heard the footsteps. They began at his sister’s old bedroom, now his room; the coldest room in the house. As the heavy steps passed the kitchen area, the candy dishes that decorated the counter top separating the kitchen from the living room began to vibrate and shake. Moving on to my desk, the items on my desk did the same followed by his father’s desk and his personal things. The footsteps rounded the corner of the furniture shaking the mantle and everything on it.
“They stopped right in front of me, Mom,” my son said to me the next morning. He was still shaken up.
“Did you see what it was?” I asked, afraid for my son.
“No. When they started coming by the mantle, I closed my eyes so tight. I was afraid to open them and look.”
“Did anyone wake up?”
“No one moved.”
It was so terrifying for him that he didn’t talk about it for years until after watching the movie Paranormal Activity. As we left the theater he said to me, “I can relate to that scene: the scene where the footsteps are vibrating and coming right at you and no one is there. Whoever wrote this movie had to have experienced it, too, in order to have gotten it so right.”
Since I’ve always resented that schools teach evolution but not Creation we had decided we were going to start having Bible Studies. Our intent was to read the whole book from start to finish. The first week we started reading the Bible was the week before that summer party. Suffice to say, the paranormal activity in my home increased remarkably. Unbeknownst to me, the physical contact I had previously been experiencing was just the beginning as things went from bad to worse.
From the corner of his eye my son would see the dog walk up to him. When he would turn to bend down and pet her, she wouldn’t be there. Instead, she would be across the room, still asleep on the floor.
While he sat at his work table one afternoon, I saw him, from my peripheral vision, get up and go into the kitchen. All of a sudden the cabinet doors opened and slammed shut with a loud bang. I jerked my head around to look and see why he was slamming the cupboards, but no one was in the kitchen. I looked over at my son’s work area and there he sat.
“I thought that was you,” I said, startled by the event.
“I thought it was you! I just saw you get up and walk into the kitchen,” he insisted staring at me in disbelief.
One morning my husband got out of our bed and went into the bathroom. We have a king sized waterbed with a motionless mattress but you can still feel the bed jiggle when a person gets in and out of it, therefore, I knew he’d gotten out of bed. A few minutes later, I felt the covers lift up and he get back in. I waited for him to get situated and then I rolled over to hug him. As I rolled over and threw my arm out, I realized, I was in bed alone or, so it would appear. Some “thing” had gotten into bed with me.
I can’t remember a time I had ever moved so fast. I was up and out of the bed screaming my husband’s name. My husband came running from the bathroom and I told him what had happened. He thought it was funny. I didn’t. I was too terrified to get back into the bed.
Several weeks later, I was lying in bed with my back to him. I felt him move in closer to me and stroke my hair. I reached up to take his hand as I had done so many times before and couldn’t find it. I rolled over to ask him why he moved his hand when I saw he was way on the other side of the bed with his back to me, sound asleep.
I waited until the following day to call my brother, Karl, who lives in Arizona. He’s studied theology, is very active in his church, and even preaches. I love to hear his sermons. I frequently get them off You Tube. With my family full of overly religious zealots, I felt awkward about the phone call. But, he was the only sane person I felt I could talk to and get any sound advice from about this situation.
I remember trying to tell my sister about some of the ghostly happenings and her yelling at me, “They’re not ghosts! It is not your father haunting you; he’s dead. They are demons!”
“Yeah, okay, I get that, Sharon,” I agreed, “But most people call them ghosts."
Much to my relief, Karl was very understanding. I explained to him the events leading up to the phone calls. “Well, first, you know even in her lunacy, Sharon is right. God is very clear on this matter. We will sleep until the time Jesus comes and then, only then, will we rise up to either join him … or not,” he laughed.
“Second, do not communicate with it. Don’t try to converse with the entity because that is giving it permission to stay. And, it will trick you in every way possible to make you talk to it.”
“You mean like, knock on the door so you’ll tell it to come in,” I asked.
“Yeah, something like that. Third, do you have a Ouija board in the house?”
Karl laughed again as I adamantly denied having one. “Many think it’s just a toy but really it isn’t. Again, the Bible talks about them and God is very clear, it’s a no-no.”
“So what do I do?”
“The first thing you do is get the house blessed and as soon as possible because it will only get worse until you do.”
When I finally made the decision to have the house blessed, I announced it to my family. They were okay with it. The pastor was out of town though on vacation so I had to wait a week. By the time he’d come back home, everything in our home had calmed down considerably, almost to a stop.