Wednesday 28 August 2013

The Story I Can't Tell

The Story I Can't Tell


The Story I Can't TellI was 11 years old when we moved to Ruckersville, Virginia, just me, my mom, and younger sister and brothers. We were looking for a home. When my mom finally found one, all we could think was, “Oh my God, we finally have a house.”
The house made us feel like we belonged there, like it was meant just for us as a family. And the house was right next to our landlord, who we didn't like; all she seemed to care about was cursing us and taking all our money. But she was a very strange old lady, and her husband was also strange.
After a couple of months of living there, my mom, my brother Matt and I were kind of scared of the house. My mom had heard someone try to break in, and when she looked there was no one there even though the doorknob was still moving. My brother had come running from the basement one day to tell us he’d heard noises of metal hitting together, and when he looked up, brass buckles fell out of nowhere. The basement was always scaring everyone; you couldn't go down there alone without being paranoid that someone was lingering in the darkness, watching you.
I had shared a room with my sister, with her bed on one side of the room and mine on the other. I always had the radio on at night because it helped me sleep.
One night I woke up from a dream: I was lying in my bed and I suddenly awoke to turn my radio off. A woman with super sharp nails grabbed my hand and ripped it off of my arm. When I woke from that nightmare, I couldn't go back to sleep for a while, so I just lay there and put my head under the covers. Minutes went by and it grew very cold; I started hearing a slight moaning noise, like a woman’s voice whispering.
Stupidly, I thought nothing if it, believing it was my radio. I had awoken and went to turn off the radio, but I thought of my dream and stopped myself, beginning to sweat. I was paranoid. I took my head out from beneath my covers and lay there, eyes closed. After a few moments of silence, I opened my eyes and finally got up enough courage to turn off my radio.
I fell asleep for a couple if minutes and I woke ip to the moaning noises again and when I opened my eyes I saw her...
There was a young women standing over my bed. I could only see her for a moment. As she stood over the edge of my bed, she stared at me with anger, sadness, and fear in her eyes, though they were still and blank. She had her hair, which looked like it had just been dyed a blondish-orange color, pulled back in a bun. Her eyes were very dark brown, almost as if they were black, and her pupils were as big as quarters. She had a pug-like nose and her lips were cut from cheek to cheek then sloppily sewn together. I couldn't see her ears, but they looked as if they were also sewn to her head. I could only see from a little below her shoulders and up and I saw that she was naked.
I was so scared. I wanted to scream, but my fear held it in me. She slowly dissolved into the air. I couldn't scream so I shut my eyes and cried, but I didn't have any tears. Louder and louder I cried, until my mom said, in a tired voice, “Honey, what's the matter? Are you okay?”
I didn't answer, just cried until she said, “Come here.”
“I can’t,” I told her. “What if she's in the hallway?”
My mom thought I was delusional. She kept telling me to come to her room, so eventually I took my covers off, sat up, and put my feet on the ground. Still crying, I stood up and ran as fast as I could to my mother’s room and jumped up onto her bed. Shaking violently, I told her everything.
Of course, she told me it was just a dream and that I should go back to bed. At this point I managed to cry tears. I slowly walked out of my mom’s room, glancing down the hall way and into the bathroom. I was so scared, but I had to pee.
I went to the bathroom, leaving the door open behind me. I sat down and happened to glance towards the bathtub.
There she was, staring through the transparent curtain. She lifted her hand and started to move the shower curtain open; her hand looked like that of the woman from my dream. I darted out of the bathroom, back to my bedroom, and slept with my light on.
I never saw her again, but my brother Matt told me he had had a dream of a woman, and when he described her to me she matched the description of the same girl I saw. But every time I try to tell this story out loud, I always choke.

SHADOW IN DREAM

Dream A Little Dream Of Him


Dream A Little Dream Of HimMost people out there have that one recurring dream/nightmare that never leaves us. There is nothing uncommon about that. But for as long as I can remember, I have had this one about a man who stood in the corner of my bedroom watching me as I lay in bed. I say man but it’s actually just more of a figure, really. Nothing ever happens, he just stands and stares, and over time I’ve become sort of used to it and it doesn’t really scare me anymore.
When I moved to university, I met my boyfriend. It became serious and we shared a bed most nights. One morning I awoke to my boyfriend staring at me. When I asked him why he was staring he responded with something along the lines of ‘What the hell was that?’ When I asked him what he meant he went on the explain that just a few moments ago I had been, what seemed to him as completely awake, and telling him over and over and over that there was someone in the corner of the room. He then said that I took the laptop out of the drawer as though I was going to use it but fell back to sleep leaving the laptop on my chest. I had no memory of any of this and just assumed that I had been having my recurring dream again but was sleep talking too.
About a week later I was with my Mum and sister at a theme park (ironically in line for a ghost train) and mentioned this event and the recurring dream to her. My mum looked creeped out yet kind of amused at the same time. She said that it was really weird because one of the reasons we moved out of my old house was because when she used to feed me in my high chair as a toddler, she would always see a figure out the corner of her eye just standing there, staring at us both. I have no idea what the connection is, if any, between these strange lurking figures. But to this day, I continue to have the dream.

THE DEVIL WITH IN.....!

The Devil Within


The Devil WithinWhen I was a little girl, around 6 or 7, I used to have an imaginary friend. But then again, who didn't? After a few months, my mom started asking me if I was able to see something, or someone, so I told her the truth. No. Well, a couple of weeks later, I really did start talking to an actual person, who seemed alright at first....but whatever it was, tortured me and my mom for years.
It started one day after I came home from school. I went upstairs to my room to do my reading homework and I noticed that my bed looked as if someone had been in it recently. I made my bed that morning, so I figured my mom must have come in and taken a nap or sat on my bed or something. So I thought nothing of it, and got out my book and started to read. Well, about 15-20 minutes later, my mom came racing into my room, and started asking me all sorts of questions like, "what happened?!" and, "are you all right?!" At first I had absolutely NO idea what she was talking about, so I said I was fine, and she left.
The second she walked out of my room, I heard a low growl rising from the hallway, and slowly moving ever so slightly, was a tall shadow, that for some odd reason, absolutely terrified me. I raced across my room, slamming my door in the process (I got yelled at later for it) and hopped into my bed, staring at the door with my pillow across my chest, as if throwing something at the shadow figure would scare it off. After a few minutes that seemed like forever, I slowly opened my door to see a large non-human footprint in the carpet... right outside my door. I freaked, and slammed the door shut again, this time, locking it.
I never thought anything else about it until the next day, when something was missing from my room, my favorite teddy bear. I had just come in from the backyard, when I saw something tall and very dark slide from my doorway. Me being a kid, I thought that maybe my mom was in my room again, so I ran into my room thinking I'd see her there putting away my clothes.... but the only thing I saw was an entirely dark room.... even though it was sunny and warm outside. But the moment I stepped through my door, chills went down my spine, and I slowly backed towards the door. Out of nowhere, the door slammed shut in an unnaturally fast way. I screamed.
A month after that incident, my mom moved us to a new house. To this day, I won't go into a room alone without a light on first.

MY DEVIL FRIEND


The Forever Friend

Personal Experience
The Forever FriendThis story starts around the time I was in Kindergarten. I still remember him, quite vividly. His name was Joey, and he was my first friend. He never left my side, he was always there to play with me, and we laughed our way through the first year we were together. I no longer played with him by the time I entered first grade. The reason for that was because I moved schools. And also because, I was too old for imaginary friends. As I remember him, he was just a shadow on the wall. I don't recall when I first started talking to him, or why I called him Joey. I've always hated plain names like that.
By the time I was 13 my two youngest siblings, the twins Gavyn and Olivia, were Kindergarten age. I remember the first time it happened quite clearly. My step-mother, Liz, and I were making dinner (she was cooking, I was taste testing) my brother was outside with a friend, my father was watching television after having just come home from work, and my sister was upstairs playing. The walls in that house were very thin, as it was a decently aged place. From my bedroom upstairs I could hear most people's conversations and if I listened closely I could sometimes hear Liz washing dishes.
So it wasn't completely implausible that we could hear my sister upstairs. She was talking to herself, as she sometimes did while she played with her dolls. This time though, the context felt different. Like she wasn't just talking to herself, but having a conversation with another person. And then the unthinkable happened - we heard somebody reply. Liz gave me a look that said 'go make sure she's okay.' I didn't need to be told twice. I have a deep connection with all of my siblings, especially Olivia (at the moment she's in that stage where she worships me because I'm a teenager and therefore everything I do is cool). If there was somebody there who shouldn't be there, they could count on a fight from me. Nobody messes with my siblings.
So I walked into the living room, passing my oblivious father on the way, and peered up the staircase. She was in the hallway, clearly visible. As usual, she had a doll in each hand, making them converse with each other. I asked her who she had been talking to. She told me, "My friend Joey."
I went back into the kitchen, glad that I had been the first to witness a memorable part in my sister's life - her first imaginary friend. Liz and I laughed it off as our imaginations, and for the next few weeks thought nothing of it. Later though, when we visited my grandmother, both the children were playing upstairs and I heard her say his name once again, "Joey!" My brother asked her who that was and she explained it to him. He got mad, I think because he couldn't see Joey as well.
After my dad yelled up the stairs for them to stop arguing, my grandmother recalled my first imaginary friend, who's name was also Joey. I'm not sure how to explain the feeling I got next. It was just like a sinking feeling, like I wanted to vomit, but couldn't. I walked silently away when the adults changed subjects, and climbed upstairs. The twins were thrilled of course. They loved it when I played with them. I sat down and played dolls with Olivia, and read to Gavyn, just to humor them both, because hey, what are big sisters for?
Then I slyly started asking Olivia about Joey. Gavyn was immediately put off by this topic and went to play by himself. I asked her when she started seeing him, she told me she met him at school. I asked her why she called him Joey. She gave me a look that said "are you stupid?" and told me it was because that was his name. Then I asked her what he looked like. She pondered over it a minute and then shrugged. I asked her how she didn't know what he looked like, and she told me it was because he didn't really look like anything. He was just a shadow.
There's no way my sister could have known about my Joey. I'm not exactly sure if the Joey she saw was my Joey or not, but it seems likely to me. Olivia looked almost exactly like me at that age. I suppose it's possible Joey could have confused her for me? Or maybe it's because she's my little sister, I'm not sure. If it is my Joey, I'm sure he never meant to harm her, but I asked her not to talk to him anymore. She's seven now, and I haven't heard about Joey in a long time.

Hair To Die For (REAL STORY)


Hair To Die For


Hair To Die ForThere used to be a girl in my school. Her name was Algee. She looked awful. She had frizzy, blond hair with a bad overbite. She was extremely skinny and had gross teeth. I was always creeped out by her. My friends called me mean, but I just had this feeling. I would catch her stroking my long, black hair in class. Her stare sent chills down my spine. I ignored my instincts and forced a smile.
One day, the day that changed everything, was in Mrs. Ellious' class. She asked us to write an essay about the best trait you have. I was a shy, unsocial girl, so I decided to write about my hair. Mrs. Ellious called me up to the class. I smiled and read my descriptive essay, word by word. I could see Algee's face turn bright red. Then she started murmuring and her horrible smile spread over her face, revealing her brown teeth. I was kind of scared. Her eyes bore holes in my soul. I started to feel sick. I dropped the essay on the ground and rushed over to the trash can, Algee grabbed my hair and pulled it back, then started braiding it. She placed the black hair in her mouth and sucked on it. Too distracted about the acidic liquid spewing out of my mouth, I didn't care. I just wanted to go home.
I was sent home, and the clouds were black. I expected rain and I didn't care. I just wanted to sleep. My mom came rushing in my room with a yellow energy drink and felt my forehead.
"You are fine. You just need some rest. I'm going to the pharmacy to get you some medicine. I will be gone by thirty minutes. I better hurry. Looks like a storm."
I sickly nodded, and heard the pit pat of rain. I heard a low boom and saw a flash. The raIn came down harder, and the thunder became louder. I heard the scurry of feet. "It's just the rain," I told myself. Right then I saw biggest flash I had ever seen and an even louder crash that split my eardrums. I turned on the television to get my mind off things. Everything went black.
The power was out. I was terrified, huddled in my small bed, sick and in the complete blackness. I was starting to see double vision. I felt a cold hand on my wrist and I weakly asked, "Mother?" I don't remember anything else except the feeling of hands gripping my hair and tearing it out of my head. I have never before experienced such pain. It was as if my head was on fire. Not only had she pulled out more that half the hair on my head, she had pulled chunks of my skin, too. I was bleeding very heavily. I felt faint. Too faint to scream. The last thing I remember is hearing the front door open, then everything went black.
I awoke in the hospital, with bandages around my head. My mother and father were standing over me, their eyes puffy and red. "Someone broke in, darling" my father said. "We don't know why they would do such a thing to you, but the police are still investigating." All I could choke out was "Algee" my father pressed his hand against me and whispered, "shhhh." I went back to school next week. It was awful. Kids were making fun of me because I was bald, everyone kept asking questions and no one seemed to notice Algee had black extensions put in her hair. She kept fingering "her" new black hair and still no one noticed.
It has been two years now. No one believes me when I say "Algee tore chunks out of my head. Algee's the one who broke in." No one believes me. They just keep giving me medicine. Ever since then I have a terrible personality disorder and I am still receiving treatment.

THE HOUSE WITH SECRETS


The House with Secrets

Personal Experience
The House with SecretsMy parents didn't believe us. In their minds, we were 12 and 9. We had just moved into a new house that was "settling," or so at least that was the excuse they gave for all the noises at night and the cold drafts that would come from nowhere. I was determined to show them we were not imagining it. I may have been 12, but I knew what I had felt, and a settling house could not be the cause for it.
For the next week, I stayed up as late as I could each night, determined that when I heard the sounds, I would wake up my parents and they could hear for themselves. My blanket was securely around me and my flashlight was in hand. My radio was on low. I found I couldn't handle complete silence, but the low radio gave me just enough background that I could still hear the creaks of the house. For 6 nights I waited, and for 6 nights there was nothing. No sounds, no cold drafts. I started to believe my parents may have been right. We had just moved in after all, and maybe it was just the house, and everything was explainable.
On the 7th night, I went to bed as normal. By 10pm, I was drifting in that space where you weren't completely awake, yet not totally asleep. As I was starting to dream, I heard the first thud. I jolted awake, my ears straining to hear it again. After a few minutes and no more sounds, I chalked it up to something that was possibly in my dream. As I drifted back to sleep, I was humming along to the top 40 hit that was popular at the time, my mind wandering to school the next day.
I don't think I caught on right away, but as I started to listen again, I noticed my radio was no longer playing the song. The static was low and crackling. I reached over to adjust the radio, thinking it just came out of tune. As I turned the dial slow, trying to catch the radio station, I came across a station that was coming in faintly. I kept adjusting the dial, trying to clear the sound. As it started to come in I froze.
That's when I heard my name. Very soft and very faint, I made out the word "Crystal." My body wouldn't move. My breathing was so labored, I could barely hear the voice as it kept repeating my name. I scrambled to the end of the bed, my eyes darting from the radio, to all around the room. I wanted to scream for my parents, but I couldn't make a sound.
And as quickly as it started, it stopped. The radio, which had moments ago called to me in a soft manner, was now back to its regularly scheduled programming.
I waited a few minutes, heard still pounding. I needed to get to my parents. I know without hearing it, they would just say I was dreaming. But I needed their comforting presence. I slowly edged to the end of the bed, taking a hesitant step off the bed, touching the floor with a whisper of noise. I stood, slowly making my way towards the door, my eyes taking in the entire room, not really sure what I was looking for. I breathed a small sigh of relieve when my hand touched the door knob.
As I swung open the door I was frozen again, this time by a gust of cold air that chilled me to the bone. I was shivering before the gust even stopped. I started to turn, not being able to really help myself. Before I could get half way, a voice which seemed right next to me, sternly said "No!".
I dropped to my knees, my heart racing, my lungs not able to gain enough breath to scream. I closed my eyes and started to rock, trying to prepare myself for whatever was about to happen.
And that's all I remember. My parents found me the next morning, in the same position, still rocking, murmuring the word "no..." repeatedly. My mother, to this day, refuses to talk about the incident. I couldn't tell you what happened in those few hours, and something tells me it is better that way. But what I can tell you is that it wasn't the last time the house called my name, and it wasn't nearly done with telling me its secrets.

EVIL NOT DEAD

The Mirror Is Always Watching

Personal Experience by Cicie
The Mirror Is Always WatchingIt all began when I was seven years old. We had just moved into a new house and my room was perfect. We went shopping at an antique store and found a beautiful full-body mirror. It was sparkly greenish and had blue flowers along the outside. I tugged on my moms arm and showed it to her. It was only five dollars, so she bought it in a heartbeat. I hung it against the wall in front of my bed so I could always go to sleep looking at my reflection.
That night I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong. I didn't want to glance at the mirror because I was paranoid something very bad would happen. I finally looked in the mirror and saw a teenage girl wearing a long, white dress. She smiled at me; a cruel, evil smile. I gasped, and then she was gone. I rushed to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, waking me up completely. I laughed to myself. I was just being silly. I walked back into my room and fell asleep almost instantly.
The next morning I got up, got ready, and walked outside to go to school. I passed by a telephone pole, and noticed a sign that had been put up. I read it and it said:
"Heather Grace Hearse. Missing since October 1, 2012. If found, please call 730-555-1274."
I frowned and looked at the photograph. It showed a laughing teenage girl wearing a white dress, holding on to a boy roughly her same age. I nearly screamed. It was the girl I saw in the mirror.
Several years had passed and now I was ten. I was reading the newspaper while curling my hair. I saw an ad that said:
"Today Heather Grace Hearse was found dead in a river. This was very hard for Mr. And Mrs. Hearse, who had previously lost two daughters before her."
I frowned. The name Heather Grace Hearse rang a bell, but I couldn't quite remember. She felt like a forgotten friend from when I was little.
That night I stared at my reflection in my beautiful mirror for a long, long time. Suddenly, I saw a flash of white and an evil smile. I gasped, then heard a scream outside. I slipped on my boots and ran outside. I looked everywhere, then turned on the porch light. I was not prepared for what I had saw next. My older sister was leaving for a party, and she must have twisted her ankle wearing her high heels. She had fallen and cracked her head, and she lay motionless in a pool of deep blood. I tried as hard as I could to look away from the disturbing sight. Not until my father ran outside with a baseball bat did I realize I was screaming uncontrollably.
I woke up in the hospital with my parents. They were as white as a sheet and their eyes were bloodshot. I will not write any more about this incident because it is too difficult to write. What I do know is that every night I know Heather watches me and waits. She is always watching.

AFTER DEATH?


Departed this life!


Perplexed and lonely, a soul stands in the chamber of death! Perplexed because the human being lying on the death-bed refused while on earth to believe in the continuity of life after the death of the physical body! He had therefore never seriously considered the matter and ridiculed all who spoke of it.
Confused, he looks around! He sees himself lying on his death-bed, sees people he knows standing about it weeping, hears the words they speak, and senses their grief as they lament his passing. He would like to laugh and call out that he is still alive! He does so, but is surprised to observe that they do not hear him. He calls again and again, louder and ever louder. The people do not hear it, but go on lamenting. Fear begins to arise within him, for he himself hears his own voice quite clearly, and is also distinctly aware of his own body.
Again he calls out in anguish, but nobody pays any attention to him! Weeping, they gaze upon the lifeless body, which he recognises as his own yet suddenly regards as something strange that is no longer part of him, for he now stands beside it in a body free from all the pain he had suffered up till then!
Now he lovingly calls the name of his wife who is kneeling beside the death-bed, but her weeping does not cease and there is no word or movement to show that she has heard him. In desperation he walks up to her and shakes her shoulder vigorously. She does not notice it. He does not know that he is only touching and shaking the ethereal body of his wife, not the physical one, and that the woman, who like him never gave a thought to the existence of anything beyond the physical body, therefore cannot feel his touch upon her ethereal body.
An unspeakable feeling of dread makes him shudder! A feeling of being utterly forsaken makes him so weak that he sinks to the floor and loses consciousness!
The sound of a voice he used to know gradually awakens him again. He sees the body he used on earth surrounded by flowers. He would like to fly away, but he finds it impossible to sever himself from this cold, lifeless body. He distinctly feels he is still connected to it. Again he hears the voice which awoke him from his slumber. It is his friend speaking to another person. They have each brought a wreath and are talking together while laying them down. No one else is in the room.
His friend! He wishes to attract his attention, also that of the other man; they were often welcome guests together in his home. He must tell them that strange as it may seem he is still alive, that he can still hear what they are saying! He calls out! But his friend calmly turns to his companion and goes on talking. But what he says gives him a shock! Is that his friend? Is that the way he talks about him now?
Petrified, he listens to the words of these people with whom he had so often drunk and laughed, and who only flattered him while sitting at his table enjoying the hospitality of his home!
They left and others came. How clearly he could now see through people! So many whom he had highly valued now filled him with disgust and anger, and several whom he had always disregarded he would like to shake hands with gratefully. But they neither heard nor sensed him, although he shrieked and raved at them to prove he was still alive!
In a great procession the body was carried to the grave. He sat astride the coffin! Embittered and desperate, he could now but laugh and laugh! But his laughter quickly gave way to deepest despondency, and a great feeling of desolation assailed him. He became tired and fell asleep.
When he awoke darkness surrounded him. How long he had been asleep he could not tell, but he felt that he could no longer be connected to his physical body, for he was free! But free in a strangely oppressive darkness!
He called out, but no sound came. He could not hear his own voice. He sank back groaning, and in so doing struck his head hard against a sharp stone. When after a long time he awoke once more there was still the same darkness, the same sinister silence. He wanted to jump up, but his limbs were heavy and refused to do their work. With all the strength born of fearful desperation he struggled to his feet, staggering and groping his way to and fro. He often fell down and injured himself, and bumped against corners and edges to right and left, but he was allowed no respite – for a strong urge drove him to grope onwards unceasingly and to seek. To seek! But what? His thinking was confused, tired and without hope. He was seeking something that he could not comprehend. He was seeking!
It drove him onward, ever onward, until he again sank down, only to rise once more and resume his wanderings. Years passed in this way, decades, till finally tears welled up in his eyes and sobs shook his breast and ... a thought arose in him, a petition, the outcry of a tired soul yearning for an end to this condition of dark hopelessness!
This outcry of utter despair and hopeless suffering, however, gave birth to the first thought of longing to escape from this condition. He tried to understand what had brought him to this terrible plight, and what had so cruelly forced him to wander in darkness. Around him he could feel nothing but stark rocks! Was this the earth, or perhaps after all the other world in which he had never been able to believe?
The other world! Then he must be physically dead and yet alive, if he could call this condition being alive! He found thinking the greatest difficulty. And so he groped onwards in his seeking. Again years passed. Oh, for a way out of this darkness! The wish grew into a powerful urge, which gave way to longing. Longing, however, is the purer intuition born out of the coarse urge, and out of this longing very timidly a prayer arose.
Finally this prayer of longing burst forth from him like a spring, and a feeling of soothing, comforting peace, humility and submission, entered his soul. When he arose to continue his wanderings he experienced a warm glow coursing through his body, for now twilight surrounded him and he could suddenly see!
Far away in the distance he recognised a light, like a torch that greeted him. Jubilantly he stretched forth his arms towards it, and filled with deep happiness he again sank down, his heart overflowing with gratitude, and gave thanks to Him Who had granted him this light! With renewed strength he then strode towards the light. It came no nearer to him, but after his experiences he still hoped to reach it even if it should take centuries. What had now happened to him might happen once again, and thus finally lead him out of this stony desert into a warmer and lighter region, if he humbly prayed for it!
“My God, help me in this!” broke forth from his hope-filled breast. And, what joy, he could again hear his own voice! Even though at first quite weak, still he could hear it! His happiness at this gave him new strength, and full of hope he again went forward.
Such is the story of the initial experiences of a soul in the Ethereal World! This soul could not be called bad, on earth he had even been considered very good. He had been the head of a large industrial establishment, always busy and meticulously concerned to comply with the mundane laws.
Let me add an explanation to this case! The man who in his life on earth refuses to acknowledge that there is also life after death, and that sooner or later he will be forced to render account for all that he has done and all that he has left undone, is blind and deaf when he one day has to pass over into the Ethereal World. Only during the days and weeks while he still remains connected with his discarded physical body will he be able partially to observe what goes on around him.
However, once he is free from his disintegrating physical body this possibility is lost to him! He no longer sees or hears anything. That, however, is not punishment, but quite natural, because he did not want to see or hear anything of the Ethereal World. His own will, which can quickly form ethereal matter corresponding to it, prevents his ethereal body from seeing as well as hearing until gradually a change takes place in his soul. Whether this takes years or decades, perhaps even centuries, is the concern of each individual. He can exercise his free will untrammelled. Help will only come to him when he himself longs for it. Not before! It will never be forced upon him!
The light which this soul greeted with such great joy when it started to see again was always there, but previously the soul was unable to see it. This light is also clearer and stronger than it appears at first sight to the hitherto blind soul. How the soul sees it, whether strong or weak, depends entirely on the condition of the soul itself. The light does not come closer of its own accord, but it is there! The soul can enjoy it at any time, if it humbly and earnestly wishes to do so.
However, what I am explaining here applies only to this particular kind of human soul. It does not necessarily apply to others. In the region of darkness and its planes there is no light. There it is impossible for him who advances inwardly to be able suddenly to see the light, for he must first be led out of the surroundings which hold him.
The condition of the soul depicted here may surely be called miserable, because it is filled with a great fear and is void of all hope, but it did not wish it otherwise. It now receives only what it forced upon itself. It had refused to believe in a conscious life after physical death. But the soul cannot abolish this continuation of life for itself, because it has no jurisdiction over it. It only builds for itself a barren ethereal plane, paralysing the senses of the ethereal body, so that it can neither see nor hear ethereally until ... the soul itself finally changes its attitude.
These are the souls which can be found by the million on earth today. Apart from the fact that they refuse all knowledge about God and eternity, they can still be called decent. The fate of the evil-minded is naturally much worse, but we shall not speak about them here, only about the so-called respectable people.
When it is said that God will stretch forth His Hand to help, this is done in the Word which He sends out to mankind, showing them how they can redeem themselves from the guilt in which they have become entangled. From the very beginning He has shown His Mercy in all the great possibilities placed freely at the disposal of human spirits in Creation. This is so overwhelming that the man of today cannot even conceive it because he never concerned himself with it seriously enough! Wherever he did, however, it was only as a pastime or for the purpose of vain self-aggrandisement!

REAL GHOST

 దెయ్యాలు ఉన్నాయా  మనం నమ్మొచ్చా


Friday 2 August 2013

EVIL NOT DEAD



చనిపోయిన వ్యక్తులు ప్రేతాత్మలుగా మారతారా..?, మారి మన మధ్యనే తిరుగుతన్నారా...? ఈ భయానక సందేహాలు మనలో చాలమందిలో మెదులుతూనే ఉన్నాయి. అందుకు కారణం లేకపోనూ లేదు. నిత్యం సమాజంలో చోటుచేసకుంటున్న పలు సంఘటనలకు కారణాలుగా మానవాతీత శక్తులను చూపుతున్నారు. ఈ మూఢనమ్మకాలను పలువురు కొట్టిపరేస్తున్నప్పటికి ఏదో ఒక కోణంలో అనుమానాలు వ్యక్తమవుతూనే ఉన్నాయి. నేటి ప్రత్యేక శీర్షికలో భాగంగా భయానక ఆకారలతో కూడిన పలు అనుమానస్పద ఫోటోగ్రాఫ్ లను మీకు చూపెడుతున్నాం. తవ్వకాల్లో బయటపడ్డ రక్త పిశాచాలు? పోలాండ్ లోని పురాతత్వ నిపుణులకు ఓ కట్టడానికి సంబంధించి నిర్వహించిన తవ్వకాల్లో భాగంగా భయానక అస్తిపంజరాలతో కూడిన సమాధులు బయటపడ్డాయి. ఈ అస్తిపంజరాలలో కొన్నింటికి తలలు వేరుకాబడి కాళ్ల దగ్గర ఉన్నాయి. దీంతో ఈ సమాధుల పై అనేక సందేహాలు వ్యక్తమవటంతో పాటు భయాందోళణతో కూడిన వాతావరణం అక్కడ నెలకుంది.దక్షిణ పోలాండ్ లోని గిల్ వైస్ పట్టణంలో చేపట్టిన తవ్వకాల్లో భాగంగా ఈ అస్లిపంజరాలుబయటపడ్డాయి. ఈ స్కెలిటన్ లు 16 లేదా 17వ శతాబ్ధం నాటివిగా నిపుణులు భావిస్తున్నారు. పురాతత్వ నిపుణులు ఇటీవల కాలంలో అనేక సందేహాస్పద సమాధులను తవ్వకాల్లో భాగంగా వెలికితీసిన విషయం తెలిసిందే. తాజాగా బయటపడిన ఈ సమాధులను పలువురు రక్త పిశాచాలకు చెందినవిగా చర్చించుకుంటుంటే మరి కొందరు మాత్రం తేలికగా తీసుకుంటున్నారు. ఈ అస్తిపంజరాలు రక్త పిశాచాలవేనా..? లేకుంటే శిక్షకు గురైన వారివా..? అన్న కోణంలో నిపుణులు పరిశోధన సాగించాల్సి ఉంది.

Read more at: http://telugu.gizbot.com/news/old-camera-pictures-with-ghosts-008107.html