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JAN'S TALES
Our Boogeymen
It's
amazing you don't hear about children suffocating themselves under their
blankets because they were hiding from the 'boogeyman'. A miracle for sure, that
so many thousands of us survived those fearful nights with our heads wrapped
under the covers, held fiercely tight by small, clenched hands tucked under our
chins, breathing in our own carbon monoxide as we panted with fright. How many
hours did we stay hidden beneath our quilts, sheets and comforters before
finally falling asleep from sheer exhaustion. Wrapped like a mummy, listening
for the sounds of the intruder lurking in our rooms, under the bed, inside the
closet, hovering above on the ceiling, waiting for a bit of our flesh to be
exposed so they could pounce on it, touch it with icy fingers, breathe a hot
acrid snort from it's nostrils, or lick it with a sandpaper tongue. How they
longed for your ear to whisper in, a cheek to smell, a neck to salivate over.
Those endless nights of feeling something staring at you, or having unseen hands
pulling on the bed clothes. Closet doors that crept slowly open, to reveal a
pair of deadly eyes, unblinking, watching you, wanting you. You remember. The
shadow creatures. The ones your parents didn't believe in, or had forgotten
about when they were younger, those terrible memories tucked away inside a safe
place in their brains, never to be opened again, never to be admitted too once
more.
"There's no such thing as monsters!", or "There's nothing under the bed-in the
closet-on the ceiling-in the corner-or in the window-now go to sleep!", they'd
yell, tired of your nightly ritual of begging to leave the light on, begging to
crawl in bed between your mom and dad, begging to just stay awake.
You remember.
I remember.
All too well. They still come to me at night. The shadow creatures. It's been
over 35 years since they first came to me. I can remember the first time I felt
the beginning of terror, and learned what 'fear' was at the age of 7. There were
three of them, sitting on the bed around me. The weight of them pushing down on
the mattress awoke me. Three dark figures, blacker then Indian Ink, living
silhouettes with the shape of men totally dressed in what looked like tight
black body suits from head to toe. Like one huge one piece stocking, with their
red eyes glowing from beneath the netting. Large eyes. Eyes that radiated heat
when they came close to my face, nose to nose, and they whispered with a deep
gravely voice that sent chills up my spine; like how the sound of finger nails
being raked across a chalkboard effects your body.
"We'll be watching you little one....(deep inhale of breath and then
exhale).....all your life.....(deep breathing again)"
These first ones were not nice visitors. On the contrary, they were rather rude
with their poking me thru the covers, pulling the blankets down with a yank,
prying them from my death grip around my head, making me jerk my eyes open to
face them and then struggling to find and gather up the edge of the blanket once
again to pull it up to my chin to feel what ever safety or security I thought
they provided. They came quite often those first few years, at least once a
week. Sometimes they would just sit and stare. Other times they would just
breathe on my face. Many times they would whisper in my ear, sometimes in a
foreign language that to this day I've never been able to recognize as anything
close to those spoken on this earth. A forgotten tongue from the world that was,
or from worlds beyond ours? Or was it maybe a language that our souls knew
before we were born into the flesh? (And why did they choose me? Why did they
choose anyone, and how did they decide who would be teased, tormented, toyed
with? )
My mom blamed my spoken fears over these creatures on an over active
imagination, night tremors, and bad dreams. By the time I was 9, I was put on
nerve medication. The 'night tremors' didn't stop, the 'bad dreams' only got
worse, and my 'over active imagination' wouldn't leave me alone, all of which
made me keep silent, no more complaining, as no one believed me anyway. So, the
search for a greater power began at a young age. The research into religions
began. Over the years I've sought for answers, delved into the safety of the
Creator, investigated all avenues of worship, scrutinized, examined and explored
ancient scripts. From church to church, book to book. From Christianity to
Wicca, from Judaism to Drudism, all walks of faith, beliefs, dogma and doctrine,
creeds and credos. Also, included were all forms of the paranormal, as well as
all up to date scientific discoveries and theories of the afterlife, other
Universes, and archeological finds pertaining to ancient civilizations. It
became an obsession to find out, to understand, to remember, where we came from,
why we are here, where are we going. And who are these beings that cross over
into our dimension to torment or teach, to console our souls or destroy our
courage. And, who's to say it is OUR dimension in the first place? We are a vain
species to believe we are the masters of the Universe, the highest on the food
chain, the most technologically advanced, or that our science can explain
everything. Do you believe that the God who put us here, just stopped with Earth
in His creating? We are just an atom on an atom of another atom in the vast
space around us...we are not alone.
I'm 42 years old now, and the visitors still come. The shadow creatures. They
can still be extremely terrifying at times, causing me to fight back, slinging
my fists thru the air, hitting nothing, going thru their forms, trying to throw
my blankets over their heads to capture them. Just when I feel too weary to stay
awake, to tired to keep my eyes open, not wanting to see a dark Shadow staring
me in the eyes, a benevolent one comes to sit beside me. The gentle, quiet ones.
The protectors. They replace the wicked, sticky presence of fear with a serene
confidence of safety. Sleep comes in welcome waves then. Tranquil moments of
slumber, stolen peace, given by the arrival of a secretive angel in shadow. The
dark ones dare not return for the evening, their entities mumbling in disgust
while they are being sucked up thru some vortex vacuum in the corner of the
ceiling above me. (Sometimes we forget that simple prayers can deliver us from
every type of situation, our fear takes over and we simply cannot form the
thoughts....but we are always watched over when something wicked comes our
way...)
There are numerous other 'nationalities' of shadow people/creatures/beings, they
are not limited to the ones spoken of above. The most common ones are those that
flit across our lines of vision, in the corners of our eyes, quick images of
grey and black, harmless movements within our dimensions. And whether they are
visitors, curious spirits, beings from another world, or some other complicated
definition, they are a very real part of our lives here. For those that have
eyes to see, and ears to hear...
-Jan
Thompson.
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