SPECIAL MENTION 5
Strange Feelings
(NOTE: The following is
the fourth of four tales sent in by latoya. the other 3 are titled
Scared
Witless, Babysitting Spooks, and
The Graveyard House...)
The following experiences
aren’t my normal ghostly stories. This is more of
psychological, about having a bad feeling, and bad
things happening.
When I was seven or eight years old in 1986 in a Paulsboro,
small
town in New Jersey, I started having what I guess you
would call premonitions. I don’t have them very
often, but every now and then I do.
I was anxious as always for my mom to get home from
work. I hated my babysitter at the time, and just
couldn’t wait to be rid of her. I wasn’t a child that
was aware of time in the sense of looking at a clock,
or by the sun setting. So, when the sun began to set
this particular evening, my worries didn’t begin just
because I thought it was getting late. I
stayed in the window, looking in the direction I
knew my mom would be walking in, but as time wore
on, I only begin to half expect her. I was very
worried. I had a horrible ache in my chest, and I
kept thinking and having the feeling that something
awful happened to my mother. As a child, I often
had bad dreams about my mom not coming home, or not
being able to find her. I felt as if I were in one
of my dreams.
Even though it wasn’t that late, and it was possible
my mom had just gone to the store, I started to cry. When
my babysitter yelled, I insisted that my mom wasn’t
going to come home, that something had happened. My
mom had come home late many times before, but this
time just FELT different. I eventually stopped
crying. But then a little while later, when I heard
an ambulance in the distance, I was convinced it was
for my mom. I began crying again. My babysitter
convinced me to leave my place at the window, and I
became preoccupied with the television.
Sometime later, a knock sounded at the door. When I
opened it, and found a police officer standing there,
I began to cry once again. He had come to tell my
brother, our sitter and myself that my mom had been
hit by a car. As it turned out, my mom was going to
be okay, but the fact is, I knew something had been
wrong, even at such a young age.
When I was fifteen years old, on a warm February
night, my boyfriend was driving me to where I was
staying from his house. At the time, I was
temporarily living with my old next-door neighbor, my
mom and brother were living with my stepfather. We
were supposed to be moving into a new apartment in the
near future. Before we could get out of his long
driveway, I suddenly felt as if my heart had been
ripped out, and as if someone had punched me in the
stomach. I had my first ever anxiety attack. I told
my boyfriend that I was convinced that I was going to
die that night. I didn’t know how or when, but I
honestly believed my life was going to end that night.
I couldn’t quiet explain it. I didn’t cry, I only
accepted the fact that something was going to happen,
and there was nothing I could do about it. All I
could do was wait.
When I got to my neighbors apartment, it was already
after eleven. I stayed up with her young daughter,
because she thought it was cool to stay up late with
an older girl, and because I couldn’t sleep if I
wanted to. I was just waiting for the bomb to drop.
Around one a.m., I was suddenly hit again with another
anxiety attack. It was fifteen minutes before it
subsided. During those fifteen minutes, I heard an
ambulance go down a nearby street. I suddenly
realized that it wasn’t me who was going to die, but
someone close to me. Again, all I could do was wait.
Around two thirty a.m., the telephone rang. I didn’t
want to hear any bad news, so I turned the ringer off.
My neighbor came downstairs a little while later. She
asked about the phone ringing, and I told her I
turned the ringer off. She said it could be her
mother, and that we should turn it back on. The
second the button clicked on the phone was ringing. My
neighbor answered it. It was another neighbor. Karen
looked worried at first, but then she turned a very
pale shade of white. “What do you mean NOT with
us?” She asked disbelieving. Right away, I knew it
concerned my mom. A moment later, her hand flew to
her mouth, and she was having trouble keeping herself
together. She hung up the phone a few minutes later
and turned to me.
“Your mom was sick,” She had started. But I didn’t
want to hear the words. Instead, I just smiled and
said “Yeah,” With a shrug. My hands began to
shake, and I was having a hard time speaking, but
somehow I managed to call my friend who only lived
right down the street. He was there in less than
five minutes. I couldn’t get my word straight
on the phone with him. I could only say “I can’t
find her. I can’t find her anywhere.” I finally
had to say “I think she’s dead.”
Later that night, I had to once again face a police
officer. This time my mom wasn’t going to be okay,
but I didn’t let him say it. I just turned and walked
away from him. See, I was prepared for something
devastating to happen. I didn’t even cry, but you’re
never too prepared for someone close to you passing
away. But the point is, I knew it was coming, I had
felt it coming. Literally.
Nothing that devastating has happened since then, but
I still get vibes about people I’m close to. I can
know someone is sickly, lying, or in some kind of
trouble, but fortunately, my bad feelings don’t come
too often. Besides, I think I’d rather just be
surprised...
-latoya.