October 4, 2004
My Sixth SenseRate this encounter: Adena, Chicago, Illinois area, On-Going, email@example.com
Ever since I've been born, my parents have always told me that I'm not normal. Not normal in the sense that there always seems to be something following me around, something that isn't quite alive, I guess. When I was little, they said that I was laying in my crib in my room. None of the doors in the apartment had locks on them, and they heard me screaming like "someone was trying to kill me." They immediately got up and ran from their room to mine, but couldn't get the door to open. Remember, none of the doors have locks. They started pounding on the door, trying to knock it in, until finally my dad got a hammer to knock the knob off. When he came back from getting the hammer, about to beat the door knob with it, I stopped crying, and the door wasn't "locked" anymore. They opened the door to find me laying on my back, giggling as if someone was playing a game with me.
When I was 2, we moved from the apartment into a house about a half hour away. They put me in a room on the second and a half floor -- it wasn't a 3rd floor, but wasn't on the second floor. Anyways, the room I was in had a door that led to the crawl space. My parents said that I would cry all night long, not a cry but a whimper. When my parents finally asked me what seemed to be the matter, they said that I told them there was a clown (yeah, I know... the clown thing) that would come out of the "door" (the crawl space door) and would talk to me and yell at me... and that I didn't like him. (They didn't believe me for a second, they thought it was just my two-year-old imagination.) So my dad took boards and nails and boarded up the crawlspace door. They tell me that they boarded it up so much that there was no way anyone could get in or out of that door without seriously working at it. So they put me to sleep, and when they woke me up the next morning, to their surprise, every single board was on the floor, and the crawl space door was open. That was enough to convince them to switch me to the room across the hall and the clown never bothered me again, but I could still see him watching me the entire night from the bottom of the stairs of my old room.
My parents also had bad experiences in that house, they could feel someone touching their face and their arms, calling out there names and having "practical" jokes played on them.
We moved out of that house -- too many weird things kept happening -- and moved to the house that we live in now. I'm 16 now, and still have too many creepy things happen to me. There's always someone watching me from the corner, making it hard to fall asleep... and whenever I stay at someone else's house, I can always tell them what kind of spirit lurks there. But, I always know that there's someone watching over me, whomever they may be.
By the way, the whole "6th sense" thing runs in my family. My mother has it, and her mother had it as well.