*I’m just going to toss out a friendly little warning at the beginning of this blog-The story that your about to read is really frightening. I found myself very disturbed and on edge while putting words to this nightmare (it probably doesn’t help that its 1 in the morning).
Although this is a really scary story, I feel that it’s important to include this experience on my blog. It describes things that some readers may suffer with and it’s important to show that triumph over terrors such as these that can be achieved through Jesus Christ.
Alright guys, here goes.
As I’ve written in previous posts, I personally never had experienced anything supernatural until the incidents with Jane.
Such was not the same with my family members though.
My brother was no stranger to supernatural encounters. His plunge into the paranormal began two years before mine. He had met a troubled young man named Zachary at work. This guy was a bit of a loner and he didn’t seem get along with most of his co-workers. He began talking to my brother though, because he said he could tell that my brother “was different”.
As they got to talking and Zachary eventually began to reveal elements about his past. It turns out that Zachary grew up in a Christian household and attended church regularly as a child. Sadly, Zachary’s “Christian” father was very hard on him growing up. His father used to constantly belittle him and tell him that he would never be good enough to accomplish anything for God.
This left adult Zachary with a very bad taste in his mouth concerning spiritually. Upon leaving his home, Zachary walked away from the faith and pursued a lifestyle of drugs and alcohol.
My brother listened intently to Zachary stories and slowly began reintroducing him to Jesus. Zachary was interested in listening to my brother because he had noticed the peace that my brother’s faith had brought him. Zachary began asking many questions about God and Jesus and slowly his life began to flip a U-turn.
And so did my brothers.
My brother (who lived alone at the time) began to experience weird things in his home at night. At first it was subtle; a scratch here, a knock on a wall there. And then he began to have a re-occurring nightmare happen right around 3am.
In the dream, my brother would awake to a strange sounds in the darkness of his house. Upon rising from his bed he would hear faint whispers coming from his bedroom closet. And following those whispers would be a round of demented laughter.
At first, my brother simply would go back to bed (again in the dream) and ignore these creepy interruptions. Nevertheless, this anomaly never ceased.
So one night he opened that closet.
A disturbing and horrific sight awaited him. Instead of seeing the expected contents of the closet, a gaping pulsating hole protruded from the drywall. Slimy mud bubbled and oozed out from the hole, spilling onto the carpet. And in that mud was a fresh set of footprints that led straight from my brothers bedroom, into the dark opening. Suddenly from deep inside this void, a sinister laugh echoed.
My brother woke up in a cold sweat. He quickly switched on the lights and threw open his closet. There was nothing inside except wadded up clothes and shoes.
It didn’t stop there. It seemed that whenever my brother would talk to Zachary about Jesus, he would have the dream about the dark hole in his closet. One night, the disturbances escalated.
In a dream, my brother awoke to a scratching sound coming from his living room. Upon making his way down the hallway he was greeted with a terrifying sight.
In front of the bay windows, staring out into the dark eye of the night stood a horror even more terrifying than muddy hole or the disembodied laughter. It was very tall. It stood with its hands clasped behind its back whistling softy to itself. It was adorned in a dark robe and from its hood sprouted wet black hair.
That was the first night that the creature visited my brother. He never saw the muddy void again, but that hooded devil by the window returned frequently.
That haunting dream always played out the same way: my brother would wake up in the early hours of the night from hearing a noise in the living room. Upon making the unsettling journey down the hallway, he would catch a glimpse of this dark figure standing in front of the windows.
Finally he called out to it. “Who are you? What are you doing in my house?”
The monster whipped around and rushed my brother with blinding speed. A hand featuring long fingers and black claws shot out from this beast’s cloak and caught my brother by his neck, lifting him clear off the ground. Although this creatures hood covered most of its face my brother remembered being able to clearly make out one distinguishing facile feature. A demented smile. Sound familiar?
A long silver forked tongue lashed out of the monsters face and whisked about it.
“Don’t you ever talk to anyone about Jesus again!” The demon hissed. It then began to scream death threats and promise that it would kill our whole family if my brother continued to be a whiteness.
The same nightmare plagued my brother again the following night, but he was prepared this time. This time when the creature hissed its venom laced warning to cease teachings about Jesus, my brother responded.
“So what happens to you on judgment day?” he asked the spirit. The creature howled, releasing its grasp and stumbled backwards.
My brother took advantage of the monster’s anguish. “In the name of Jesus, leave me!”
With a bloodcurdling scream of pure hatred, the beast vanquished into the night. It never returned.
That was his first encounter with demonic oppression but it would be far from his last.
Shortly after feeling the weight of oppression that flooded Jane’s home, I decided to reach out to my brother back in Warsaw for advice regarding the matter. Last year, while visiting for Thanksgiving, I had actually told him about my first and second encounter with the “black thing from the dreams” over cigars on his back patio.
At that time, my brother immediately stated his belief that the entity that had attacked Jane was a demon. This was two months before I would hear the monster speak and finally accept what was unmistakably right in front of my face.
Back in November I was still trying to hold tight to the mental disorder theory. I basically would have believed anything as long as it did not necessitate a acceptance of the existence of God, angels, and demons.
Fast forward to February and I now believed it all. Since my brother had experienced some encounters with the supernatural in the past, I thought it would be worth a shot to ask him if he would be interested in helping Jane. I called him the evening after visiting Jane’s home. I filled him in on the voice that I had heard, and the haunted oppressed house. I told him that I was planning on going back to that home (without Jane as I insisted that she stay at my place) after work to read the Bible out loud some more.
My reasoning for wanting to do this is because I was actually really mad at these evil spirits and i wanted to harass them (by the way, not smart). I was angry with them for scaring and discouraging Jane while I was trying to lead her to Jesus.
I was also borderline embarrassed about my last run in with them. I had met them head on and commanded them to leave in the name of Jesus and they had basically given me the spiritual middle finger (at least at first). I was also angry with God himself because of that encounter. I remember ripping into Him in prayer afterword’s.
I said something like: “Really God? I’m trying to get this girl to see that your her only hope and only through you she can be free of these demons. It really doesn’t look good when I try to command these monsters to leave in your name and you don’t back me up!” (we will discuss what really happened here in a future blog, stay tuned)
Bottom line, I was in a really bad place spiritually after that whole experience. Fortunately, my brother talked me out of actively harassing demons.
My brother and his wife were very taken with the stories I told them about Jane and her spiritual dilemmas. They immediately offered to help. It was really encouraging to find Christians actually willing to step up to the plate and confront the devil. Sadly I’ve found this to be very rare.
At the end of that week, my brother, his wife, and I would return to the haunted house to talk to Jane about Jesus and hopefully lead her back to the Savior and end this oppression once and for all.
What I didn’t know was that while my brother and I made plans to help Jane over the phone that night, the very same black robed devil that haunted Jane, stood next to me listening in on our conversation and hissing with rage.
They would all be coming now.
–based on true events