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Brer Wold had a daughter who was sho' nuf good-looking. Now, before I go any further I can hear you thinking that Brer Wolf been killed off twice. What that got to do with anything? Am I the tale? Is the tale me? Or is the tale the tale? Well, you can figure that out. If I ain't the tale and the tale ain't me, it don't make one bit of difference if Brer Wolf was dead or alive. Ain't that so?

Dead or dead, Brer Wolf had a daughter and she was a fine young thing. All the animals was hitting on her! First one was Brer Fox. He was sitting on the porch talking his stuff to her, and everybody know that Brer Fox could talk stuff sho' nuf'. All of a sudden the mosquitoes started coming around. The mosquitoes at Brer Wolf's house was near 'bout big airplanes and just as loud. Brer Fox started hitting and slapping at them. Brer Wolf came out of the house and told Brer Fox to go. "Any man what can't put up with a few mosquitoes can't court my daughter."

Next was Brer Coon. He hardly got one foot on the porch before he was slapping and biting at the mosquitoes. Brer Wolf showed him how the road run the same both ways.

Next was Brer Mink and he declared war on them mosquitoes. Brer Wolf told him to fight his war somewhere else.

It went on this way until all the animals had eliminated themselves except Brer Rabbit. He sent word that he was coming courting. Brer Wolf's daughter, who had always thought Brer Rabbit was kind of cute, put on her mascara and eyeliner and whatever else it is that the women put on their face. She squeezed herself into a pair of jeans four sizes too small. Have mercy! And she put on a pink halter top! When Brer Rabbit saw her, he thought he'd died and gone to heaven.

When Brer Wolf saw what his daughter was looking like, he said there was no way in this lifetime she was gon' sit there in the porch swing by herself with Brer Rabbit. Not with all he knowed about Brer Rabbit! So he pulled his rocking chair out and sat with them.

They hadn't been there long before Brer Rabbit heard the mosquitoes coming. Zoom, zoom, zoom.

"Mighty nice place you got here, Brer Wolf."

Zoom, zoom, zoom.

"Some say it's too low in the swamps." Brer Wolf answered.

Zoom, zoom, zoom.

The mosquitoes were zooming so fierce that Brer Rabbit started getting scared, and when Brer Rabbit gets scared his mind works like a brand-new car motor.

"I was in town today, Brer Wolf, and I saw a spotted horse. Never seen a spotted horse in my life.

"Do tell! I ain't never seen one of them myself."

"You're wonderful," said the girl. She figured wouldn't nobody else in the world could've seen a spotted horse. Shows you how far gone she was.

Zoom, zoom, zoom.

"My granddaddy was spotted, Brer Wolf."

"Do tell!"

Zoom, zoom, zoom

"That's the naked truth I'm telling you. He was spotted all over. He had one spot right here." Brer Rabbit slapped his face and killed one of the mosquitoes.

"I don't want nobody to laugh, but my granddaddy had spots all over. Had that one on the side of his face which I just showed you. Had another one right here on his leg."

Slap!

Another mosquito gone.

"Even had one right here in between his shoulder blades."

Blip!

And one down here at his hipbone

Phap!

Brer Rabbit kept on talking about his granddaddy's spots until near 'bout every mosquito in the county was dead. Brer Wolf was so tired of hearing about Brer Rabbit's granddaddy's spots he fell asleep.

At which point, Brer Wolf's daughter went on a walk with Brer Rabbit in the woods, and thestory don't go no further.

Turns out, Well, the rough and tumble life of a Texas Ranger wasn�t enough to satisfy Bigfoot Wallace. No sir! He hungered for adventure, and he found it. First he fought against Mexican General Adrian Woll's invasion of Texas in 1842, then he volunteered for the retaliatory raid across the Rio Grande. When the raid ended, he joined the Mier Expedition organized to penetrate further into Mexico. Got himself into a mess of trouble then. The Texans in the expedition were surrounded and captured by a force ten times their size. They managed to escape a short while later, but were rounded up in the desert and Santa Ana ordered a decimation of the escaped prisoners � meanin� that one man in ten would be executed. The Mexican soldiers put a mess of beans into a covered crock -- 159 white and 17 black -- and each Texan had to draw a bean in alphabetical order, starting with the Texan officers. Anyone who got a black bean was shot, and the ones who got a white bean went to prison. �Course Wallace had to draw near the end of the line, not good odds. And being a rebel, he ended up with a gray bean. Lucky for him the officer in charge decided the bean was white, so he didn�t get shot with the rest. Spent a couple years afterward doing hard labor in a Mexican prison before being released.

You�d think ol� Bigfoot would have settled down after that last episode, but not him. He joined the other Texans in the Mexican-American War and fought with gusto, since he had so many scores to settle with the Mexicans who�d killed his brother and treated him so bad. At one point, he came face-to-face with that ornery coyote who held the crock from which the Texas Prisoners had drawn the white and black beans. Unfortunately, he was under a white surrender flag at the time, but it still took several fellows to restrain Wallace from shooting the man.

After getting the lay of the land, so to speak, Bigfoot Wallace moved from Austin to San Antonio, which was considered the extreme edge of the frontier, to sign up as a Texas Ranger under Jack Hayes. In them days, Texas was as wild as the west could get. There was danger from the south from the Mexicans, danger to the wet and north from the wild frontier filled with Indians and desperados, and to the east the settlements still had problems with the Cherokee Nation. General Sam Houston himself had appointed young Captain Hays, a hero from the battle of Plum Creek, to raise a company of Rangers to defend San Antonio. Hayes had high standards for his men. They were the best fighters in the west, and they had to be, considerin� the fact that they were often outnumbered fifty to one. A man had to have courage, good character, good riding and shooting skills and a horse worth a hundred dollars to be considered for the job. Captain Hayes knew all about Bigfoot Wallace and signed him on the spot.

So armed with Colt pistol and a Bowie knife, Texas Ranger Bigfoot Wallace once more took on the Wild West, and quickly made his mark on Texas folklore. In them days, the Rangers tended to handle stock theft at the end of the rope, so to speak, stringing up the bandits, forcing a confession out of them, and then leaving the bodies swaying in the wind to deter other outlaws. Only it didn�t work, and the bandits kept right on stealing, sometimes passing right under the bodies of their fellow outlaws to do it.

Now Bigfoot�s fellow Ranger, Creed Taylor, had a big spread lay west of San Antonio, in the cedar hills clear on the edge of Comanche territory, and he was constantly losing stock to bandits and Indian raids. The last straw came for Taylor the day famous Mexican raider and cattle thief Vidal and his gang rounded up a bunch of horses from his ranch and took them south toward Mexico. Most of the Rangers were heading north to pursue some Comanche�s out on a raid, but Taylor and a friend went immediately in pursuit of the thief, and when they bumped into Wallace just below Uvalde, he joined them.

Bigfoot was always ready to hunt horse thieves and desperados, especially those of Mexican descent, never forgetting what happened to his brother at Goliad. Bigfoot decided it was time to put an end to Vidal�s gang once and for all. He would track the wiry Mexican bandit to earth. The three men located the camp where the horse thief and his gang lay sleeping, and snuck in from downwind, so as not to alert the horses. Vidal was wanted dead or alive, so all the thieves were shot and killed in the gunfight that followed.

That was when Wallace got an idea. Obviously, hanging horse thieves hadn�t gotten the message across to the outlaws raiding the ranches of the good folk of Texas. Perhaps a more drastic example of frontier justice would do the trick. Severing Vidal�s head from his body, Bigfoot and his fellow Ranger tied the body to the saddle of the wildest mustang in the stolen herd and secured the severed head to the saddle horn so that it would bounce and flop around with every step taken by the mustang. Then Wallace gave a shout and sent the horse running away with its headless, dead rider, hoping the gruesome sight would deter future cattle thieves.

What he managed to do was frighten everyone in South Texas. Folks would be peacefully walking down the road of an evening when a terrible headless rider would gallop pass on a midnight black stallion with serape blowing in the wind and severed head bounding on the saddle horn beneath its sombrero. Nothing could deter the terrible specter � not bullets, not arrows, not spears. It was years before a posse of cowboys finally grew brave enough to bushwhack the horse and release the withered corpse from its back.

Bigfoot Wallace was as crazy an individual as they come. He could spin a yarn better than anyone, and while he was a dangerous foe to his enemies, he was also a jovial giant, who was always on the lookout for a good laugh. What with hunting and fishing and fighting Comanches and avoiding rattlesnakes, Wallace had the time of his life in Texas. Said he wouldn�t swap Texas for the whole shooting match that was the rest of the United States.

I heard tell of one time when the Comanches raided Wallace�s cabin back LaGrange way and took all of his horses in the night �cept one gray mare that was stake on the other side of the house. He was so plumb mad he jumped right on the horse and gave chase. Found them Comanches eatin� his horses torturing and eating his horses over the next hill, which made him madder than a hornet. He stopped the gray mare in a hickory grove, tied off the cuffs of his pants and shirt, and filled his clothes with so many hickory nuts he was rounder than Santy Claus and better armored than one of them old-time knights. Then he crawled through the grass until he about a hundred from the Indian camp.

Taking aim, Bigfoot shot one of the forty-two Comanches in the camp, and then stood to his full height, his massive figure much enhanced by all them hickory nuts in his clothes. Took the Comanches more than a minute to recover from the sight of him afore they attacked, shooting him over and over with their arrows. �Course, none of them arrows could reach Wallace through all the hickory nuts, and the Comanches ran out of ammunition mighty quick. When they saw Bigfoot still standing, they let out a whoop of terror and ran for the hills! The arrows were three inches thick on the ground when Bigfoot untied his clothes and let the rest roll out. And wouldn�t ya know there wasn�t one hickory nut that hadn�t been split open! Being an enterprising fellow, Wallace came back later with his wagon, gathered up them nuts, and took them home to feed to his pigs.

Way back in the deep woods there lived a scrawny old woman who had a reputation for being the best conjuring woman in the Ozarks. With her bedraggled black-and-gray hair, funny eyes - one yellow and one green - and her crooked nose, Old Betty was not a pretty picture, but she was the best there was at fixing what ailed a man, and that was all that counted.

Old Betty's house was full of herbs and roots and bottles filled with conjuring medicine. The walls were lined with strange books brimming with magical spells. Old Betty was the only one living in the Hollow who knew how to read; her granny, who was also a conjurer, had taught her the skill as part of her magical training.

Just about the only friend Old Betty had was a tough, mean, ugly old razorback hog that ran wild around her place. It rooted so much in her kitchen garbage that all the leftover spells started affecting it. Some folks swore up and down that the old razorback hog sometimes walked upright like man. One fellow claimed he'd seen the pig sitting in the rocker on Old Betty's porch, chattering away to her while she stewed up some potions in the kitchen, but everyone discounted that story on account of the fellow who told it was a little too fond of moonshine.

"Raw Head" was the name Old Betty gave the razorback, referring maybe to the way the ugly creature looked a bit like some of the dead pigs come butchering time down in Hog-Scald Hollow. The razorback didn't mind the funny name. Raw Head kept following Old Betty around her little cabin and rooting up the kitchen leftovers. He'd even walk to town with her when she came to the local mercantile to sell her home remedies.

Well, folks in town got so used to seeing Raw Head and Old Betty around the town that it looked mighty strange one day around hog-driving time when Old Betty came to the mercantile without him.

"Where's Raw Head?" the owner asked as he accepted her basket full of home-remedy potions. The liquid in the bottles swished in an agitate manner as Old Betty said: "I ain't seen him around today, and I'm mighty worried. You seen him here in town?"

"Nobody's seen him around today. They would've told me if they did," the mercantile owner said. "We'll keep a lookout fer you."

"That's mighty kind of you. If you see him, tell him to come home straightaway," Old Betty said. The mercantile owner nodded agreement as he handed over her weekly pay.

Old Betty fussed to herself all the way home. It wasn't like Raw Head to disappear, especially not the day they went to town. The man at the mercantile always saved the best scraps for the mean old razorback, and Raw Head never missed a visit. When the old conjuring woman got home, she mixed up a potion and poured it onto a flat plate.

"Where's that old hog got to?" she asked the liquid. It clouded over and then a series of pictures formed. First, Old Betty saw the good-for-nothing hunter that lived on the next ridge sneaking around the forest, rounding up razorback hogs that didn't belong to him. One of the hogs was Raw Head. Then she saw him taking the hogs down to Hog-Scald Hollow, where folks from the next town were slaughtering their razorbacks. Then she saw her hog, Raw Head, slaughtered with the rest of the pigs and hung up for gutting. The final picture in the liquid was the pile of bloody bones that had once been her hog, and his scraped-clean head lying with the other hogsheads in a pile.

Old Betty was infuriated by the death of her only friend. It was murder to her, plain and simple. Everyone in three counties knew that Raw Head was her friend, and that lazy, hog-stealing, good-for-nothing hunter on the ridge was going to pay for slaughtering him.

Now Old Betty tried to practice white conjuring most of the time, but she knew the dark secrets too. She pulled out an old, secret book her granny had given her and turned to the very last page. She lit several candles and put them around the plate containing the liquid picture of Raw Head and his bloody bones. Then she began to chant: "Raw Head and Bloody Bones. Raw Head and Bloody Bones."

The light from the windows disappeared as if the sun had been snuffed out like a candle. Dark clouds billowed into the clearing where Old Betty's cabin stood, and the howl of dark spirits could be heard in the wind that pummeled the treetops.

"Raw Head and Bloody Bones. Raw Head and Bloody Bones."

Betty continued the chant until a bolt of silver lightning left the plate and streaked out threw the window, heading in the direction of Hog-Scald Hollow.

When the silver light struck Raw Head's severed head, which was piled on the hunter's wagon with the other hog heads, it tumbled to the ground and rolled until it was touching the bloody bones that had once inhabited its body. As the hunter's wagon rumbled away toward the ridge where he lived, the enchanted Raw Head called out: "Bloody bones, get up and dance!"

Immediately, the bloody bones reassembled themselves into the skeleton of a razorback hog walking upright, as Raw Head had often done when he was alone with Old Betty. The head hopped on top of his skeleton and Raw Head went searching through the woods for weapons to use against the hunter. He borrowed the sharp teeth of a dying panther, the claws of a long-dead bear, and the tail from a rotting raccoon and put them over his skinned head and bloody bones.

Then Raw Head headed up the track toward the ridge, looking for the hunter who had slaughtered him. Raw Head slipped passed the thief on the road and slid into the barn where the hunter kept his horse and wagon. Raw Head climbed up into the loft and waited for the hunter to come home.

It was dusk when the hunter drove into the barn and unhitched his horse. The horse snorted in fear, sensing the presence of Raw Head in the loft. Wondering what was disturbing his usually-calm horse, the hunter looked around and saw a large pair of eyes staring down at him from the darkness in the loft.

The hunter frowned, thinking it was one of the local kids fooling around in his barn.

"Land o' Goshen, what have you got those big eyes fer?" he snapped, thinking the kids were trying to scare him with some crazy mask.

"To see your grave," Raw Head rumbled very softly. The hunter snorted irritably and put his horse into the stall.

"Very funny. Ha,ha," The hunter said. When he came out of the stall, he saw Raw Head had crept forward a bit further. Now his luminous yellow eyes and his bears claws could clearly be seen.

"Land o' Goshen, what have you got those big claws fer?" he snapped. "You look ridiculous."

"To dig your grave�" Raw Head intoned softly, his voice a deep rumble that raised the hairs on the back of the hunter's neck. He stirred uneasily, not sure how the crazy kid in his loft could have made such a scary sound. If it really was a crazy kid.

Feeling a little spooked, he hurried to the door and let himself out of the barn. Raw Head slipped out of the loft and climbed down the side of the barn behind him. With nary a rustle to reveal his presence, Raw Head raced through the trees and up the path to a large, moonlight rock. He hid in the shadow of the huge stone so that the only things showing were his gleaming yellow eyes, his bear claws, and his raccoon tail.

When the hunter came level with the rock on the side of the path, he gave a startled yelp. Staring at Raw Head, he gasped: "You nearly knocked the heart right out of me, you crazy kid! Land o' Goshen, what have you got that crazy tail fer?"

"To sweep your grave�" Raw Head boomed, his enchanted voice echoing through the woods, getting louder and louder with each echo. The hunter took to his heels and ran for his cabin. He raced passed the old well-house, passed the wood pile, over the rotting fence and into his yard. But Raw Head was faster. When the hunter reached his porch, Raw Head leapt from the shadows and loomed above him. The hunter stared in terror up at Raw Head's gleaming yellow eyes in the ugly razorback hogshead, his bloody bone skeleton with its long bear claws, sweeping raccoon's tail and his gleaming sharp panther teeth.

"Land o' Goshen, what have you got those big teeth fer?" he gasped desperately, stumbling backwards from the terrible figure before him.

"To eat you up, like you wanted to eat me!" Raw Head roared, descending upon the good-for-nothing hunter. The murdering thief gave one long scream in the moonlight. Then there was silence, and the sound of crunching.

Nothing more was ever seen or heard of the lazy hunter who lived on the ridge. His horse also disappeared that night. But sometimes folks would see Raw Head roaming through the forest in the company of his friend Old Betty. And once a month, on the night of the full moon, Raw Head would ride the hunter's horse through town, wearing the old man's blue overalls over his bloody bones with a hole cut-out for his raccoon tail. In his bloody, bear-clawed hands, he carried his raw, razorback hogshead, lifting it high against the full moon for everyone to see.

All right, it's me CenterCore again; it's been a long, long time for me posting anything here. But I have a recent experience I must share. Well, a couple actually. If you're unfamiliar with my experiences simply click my username to be taken to my profile where you can see my other stories.

It's been well over a year for me having anything post-worthy. I've been relocating, and being very busy with life. Anyway...

I'm here in a new house, but in Denver, CO, only about 30 - 45 minutes from my hometown where all my past experiences have taken place. The last house I lived, with my mother (which has since been sold and she's moved out of state) was where the most "Jerry" activity took place. Well, recently, here, I've begun having a few run-ins with the little freak like old times. Only this time, he's not alone.

First, however, let me backtrack and give another little bit of info I never spoke of because it slipped my mind until not long ago...

In my hometown, every year, there is an event known as the Art Fest. Artists come, sell their work, blah blah blah. But my parents, when I was a young child, had a framed picture advertisement for this event. They've had it since I was at least 4 or 5. This picture was not normal. What was the main portion wasn't important, but at the top, two rows of black checker tiles ran across, four of which having a small picture of William Shakespeare. My parents kept it hung by a corner window at our old house I grew up in (where my first Jerry encounter happened) Creepy? No. But this is.

My parents eventually moved this picture to the head of the stairs leading down to the basement (a place that ALWAYS gave me the creeps when I was there alone as a kid). This is where things got weird. In fact, when I think about it, it was only when this picture was hung there that I got creeped out in the basement...

Every other time I would look at this picture, something would be different with the Shakespeare images. Sometimes there'd only be one. Sometimes there'd be an extra, demonic-looking face in one of the black squares. Sometimes they'd all be gone. That NEVER happened when the picture was hung by the window. What was it about the basement? Was there some sort of evil energy down there that manifested itself through the picture and was able to move about more freely when it was close by?

We had two dogs back then too. BOTH dogs, on many occasions, broke out into a terrified whimper looking at the basement door. NOTHING was wrong, but EVERY time they did this was when that picture was hung there. What it was about that picture, I have no clue. I remember one of our dogs being asleep in the family room; peaceful, happy, content; all of a sudden, she simply jumped up as if awakening from a nightmare, glared at the basement door (which was closed) and simply began growling at it. She didn't even get close; just sat there, growling at it. She did that for what seemed like two whole minutes before finally sneaking past it to leave the room.

But back to the subject, that picture came up before my mother left the state when she was cleaning the house out. This was a while back now, but I remember stumbling upon that picture, and INSTANTLY getting the CREEPIEST feeling you could ever imagine. Just this spontaneous feeling of true, utter fear. I couldn't even look at it. What is the deal with that picture? I may never know, because it's with my mother now, but I told her and she said she wants to get rid of it now. I may never know what that was all about.

But ever since then, I've been having nightmares, all of which revolve around Jerry, and now, this other male figure who seems to be working in conjunction with him now. I've NEVER seen this other entity before. But he's several inches shorter than Jerry, a little heavier, and with short hair. Jerry is apparently clean-shaven, tall, scrawny, and wears a tank top and camo pants. This other figure, I can only tell, wears a t-shirt and baggy jeans. I can't make out anything else.

But it's not just dreams, either. Not only have they begun manifesting in my dreams, but the other night I awoke to see both of them standing at the foot of my bed. There's a dim nightlight across from me in the room, so all I could see was their silhouettes. They were motionless until seconds later; both of them took off at what seemed like mach speed, to either side of my bed. I moved my head quickly, and when my eyes adjusted, there was no one else in the room.

So, last but not least, there was this little revelation the other day, AFTER that night; I was sitting here, doing whatever... I don't even remember what... But whatever I was doing, I for some reason typed the name "Miguel"... Something on Wikipedia, I don't know; that's not the important part. The MOMENT I typed "Miguel" (and of course it won't happen NOW) I heard that all-too-familiar cough. I froze. I typed it again. THAT time I heard a creak in the hallway, like someone walking out there. I hadn't heard anyone come up the stairs (my father and his girlfriend were here) and you can hear people WELL when they step up the stairs.

I spoke the word "Miguel" out loud. And instantly I got a chill up my spine. I mean like a CHILL, of fear, not of being cold. Then I felt this presence literally RIGHT BEHIND ME, like, within touching distance. I turned to look, saw nothing, but heard almost this little breeze; like this subtle wind blowing in the room. Needless to say, I did not say the word "Miguel" again. Whatever that was all about, I have no clue. Could that be Jerry's name?

All I can say is, I'm still at a loss. Every time I think I've got this whole ugly episode figured out, something even stranger happens. Who this other entity is now, I have no clue whatsoever. I have NEVER seen these two people in my life, except haunting me in my own home from whatever hell they come from. I haven't seen a face on either one (well, I've seen Jerry's one time, but not this other guy's). This other guy, let's call Bobby.

So there we have it. I'm once again being harassed, after a year of thinking I was finally free of all this. Anyone got any suggestions? Talking to Jerry/Miguel has no effect. Just makes him worse. But I don't know about the other one.

My wife and I were living in a tiny two bedroom apartment when we found out my wife was pregnant with our beautiful son. We were both in the Navy at the time, so it was hard to do extensive house shopping. I was always out to sea for a few weeks, then home for a few weeks and so on. We found a home, close to base, in Newport News, VA. It's located in a nice golf course community called Kiln Creek. We thought the home was beautiful. It had two stories and plenty of room for the little guy.

The first creepy thing that took place happened in broad day light. The bedroom closet on the first floor was not painted when we moved in, so I took it upon myself to paint it. We were still settling in, so the sound of foot steps upstairs was no cause for alarms, until I heard my wife yell from the kitchen, "What are you doing up there?" That's when I stopped painting and I walked out and looked at her. I startled her because she thought I was upstairs. I checked the house and nothing.

There would be other subtle things such as a bright flash coming from the second floor loft, as if a camera flash went off. Whispering could be heard upstairs as well. I never slept one complete night the entire 2 years we stayed there. My wife and I deduced that whatever was in the house, it was upstairs.

The final straw was when my wife woke me up at approximately 3am. She was trembling with fear, almost crying. I asked her what was wrong and she told me, "shhh, just listen." That's when I noticed that a light was on in the loft. It wasn't just any light it was the light of my computer monitor. The same computer I ALWAYS put on sleep, meaning the mouse must be moved or keys must be stroked to bring the screen up. Then I heard it typing. It sounded like an amateur typing one key at a time with his/her index fingers only. The sound took my breath away. It was distinct, the same sounds I hear as I type this experience. I mustered as much courage as I could, protecting my wife and child. I picked up my 22inch mag flashlight and crept to the loft. I figured my best move was to jump out and try to startle whoever was there. I jumped out from behind the wall and screamed! As soon as I turned that corner the typing stopped and my computer chair spun a 180 until it stopped facing me. I have never had goose bumps run down my legs but I sure did when I was standing there, frozen with fear, anticipating something terrible.

That was the last night we slept upstairs. We spent the last 7 months in that house, sleeping on a mattress on the floor of our living room with our son always between us. I do believe something attached itself to us. Everywhere we go there are always little things that happen. Voices, kids' toys turning on and playing by themselves.

I feel better now than I did then. I feel like my soul is in a healing process, and hopefully one day, I'll no longer be scared.

One time in Chesterfield, my cousin, aunt, mom, friend, and I were camping and we were talking about a ghost that followed my aunt around since she was 7. She saw it by looking out her window and seeing a girl that was wearing a white dress. Well once she finished her story, we had to go to bed.

I woke up for no reason and I heard a scraping foot steps outside the tent but everyone was in our tent so no one could be outside. I looked out from the door and saw a white figure of the girl my aunt had described. I didn't tell my aunt because she hates to be woken, so I just went back to bed thinking of the girl.

The next morning I asked my friend if she heard anything and she said she heard a scraping sound but she thought it was someone outside (I didn't ask my cousin because she is a big tattle-tale and if I told her she would have told everyone). My aunt apparently forgot to say that the girl liked to play pranks on people. So, the next night I felt someone tickling me, poking me and it was really annoying.

Another incident with the girl was when me and my cousin were sleeping in the basement when I noticed that the lights were going brighter and dimmer because we have those kind of lights but you have to twist the knob. So I asked my cousin if she noticed it to but as soon as she said "no" the lights went totally pitched black and went back on really bright, brighter than it should have, then it went normal again.

I got really scared because I know the lights aren't supposed to do that so I yelled for my aunt and said "Tell your ghost to stop bothering us!" and she could hear the fear in my voice because she practically flew down the steps. I started to hear my cousin cry and knew my voice had probably scared her. I also heard a soft whimper not of my cousin and I heard "I just wanted to get her attention, I'm sorry".

Those are the only time that I have had incidents with the girl, but I probably will have more when my aunt comes over again.

As I've stated in my previous story about my house, the presence comes and goes. I also said that the basement gave this dreadful feeling and I never liked being there alone. But being that I am now 19, I decided I had to face my fears. I decided I'd sit in the basement while alone in the house. I know growing balls right.

Well I would spend time in the basement; I always made sure I was occupied so I wouldn't think about the goose bumps forming on my arms. Days went by and it was uneventful, the floors didn't even creak. So I considered the ghost (s) gone.

I thought all was fine until I felt my face hurting, over my upper lip. I touched it and it felt like a fresh cut. So I looked in the mirror and realized I did in fact have a cut on my face. Mind you, I bite my nails down until I don't have any. But still, I created some excuse in my mind.

Again, I spent all day in the basement until my mother got home around 2pm. After she'd get home, I would go upstairs. So I felt the need to take a shower since I didn't do so upon waking up. While washing, I looked on the inside of my arm and found yet another scratch. It was minor and I didn't even feel it but I was confused about where it had come from. I never felt the sensation of being cut!

Another day went by and I had yet another cut somewhere on my body. This happened awhile ago so I don't quite remember where this last one was. So I stopped going to the basement alone!

Now, a few weeks ago during my break from school, I was just roaming around in the kitchen. I decided to look out into the backyard because it was a full moon and it was shining bright. As I was looking through the window, I could see the reflection of things behind me. I thought nothing of it until I saw a dark shadow move by, blocking out the light. I stood up straight and thought maybe I did it but I had been standing off to the right side, the light got blocked on the left. I wasted no more time and returned to my bedroom. I felt the feeling of something over my back again. My guess is, whatever is in my house, it has returned.

A few years ago, I had been sleeping in my bed but I randomly woke up. Ever wake up and look directly at someone because you know they're in your room? Well I slowly sat up and looked towards the end of my bed. And there, was a young woman smiling at me in that dreamy like way. Kind of like she adored me. She had her hands under her chin, propped up by her elbows and she was leaning onto my bed, the rest of her body on the floor. I stared at her longer and realized she looked a lot like a friend of mine. She eventually disappeared and I went back to sleep. I wasn't afraid or alarmed; I was just upset I had been roused out of my sleep because of her presence. I definitely woke up later completely confused as to why I would see my friend in my room admiring me.

Apologies for the title; there's a character limit and I really didn't know how to give this experience a "specific, meaningful title" as it is ongoing...

To give a small amount of background info: I'm 29 years old, live on Long Island in NY State and I've been actively involved with the paranormal and have an obligatory, life-long relationship with it in many ways. My father was an Empath and had a number of very real experiences throughout his lifetime; he helped me deal with and understand my experiences through the years as that "gift" had passed on to me; he passed away in 2006 at the age of 47. He was very open-minded and though he was not religious, he was a very spiritual person. I was raised in such a way that I've never been 'fed' ideas or 'led' to believe anything - my father always insisted I educate myself and never subscribe to anything without careful research and consideration, to be aware, to keep an open mind, and to be receptive yet logical.

Although I've had many paranormal experiences, I've always felt one singular, familiar presence - no matter where I've lived, and was at one point chronicling my paranormal experiences in my old home on paranormal.about.com (a lot of heavy energy and poltergeist activity - very physical in nature and events had been witnessed by many people, including the 3 housemates I'd had as they all experienced it frequently); I have seen multiple spirits/entities/energies, etc, and when I'd felt I could no longer handle the 'visual' aspect of these encounters, I no longer 'saw' them as vividly but started to 'feel' them; now, it seems they form what I can only describe as "thought-feelings" in my mind - I can't really find an accurate way to articulate what exactly it is. I do see shadows, energy and lights - but mostly I feel an image start to form in my mind and that's what I go by. I've suffered from insomnia for years and have to take medication in order to sleep at night. Otherwise I'm completely awake and cannot sleep due to the overwhelming sensation of being watched. I'd been to psychologists, psychiatrists and therapists throughout my life in an effort to try to understand what was happening to me, and all have agreed that I'm completely sane. My mother, although in denial of her abilities out of fear, has prophetic dreams and has experienced paranormal activity as well. She blames most of it on me.

Currently, after a period of either dormancy (or ignorance on my part due to mt focus being on an overwhelming level of stress and personal issues) I've been experiencing this singular, familiar presence more than anything else. My current boyfriend is complaining that he's being woken up during the night multiple times, says that he has been choked and feels that a presence is intentionally keeping him from sleeping. I attempted to explain 'sleep paralysis' and how the brain releases chemicals during REM sleep to keep us mildly paralyzed so we don't "act out" our dreams, that sometimes we wake up suddenly, that the effect hasn't worn off yet so we may still be in a sort of "dream state" (hence hallucinations) and cannot move due to the protective paralytic until it wears off and things come into focus again. I've also explained that this can cause very scary and vivid hallucinations and the fear can be overwhelming. He's adamant that is not the case. Now, if this experience were unique to him, I would simply conclude that he is in fact experiencing "night terrors" or "sleep paralysis" and would not link it to what I'm experiencing. However, along with him, both my ex-fiancée (which preceded my current relationship and was a 5-year, domestic relationship) along with the ex I'd dated for 3 years preceding my 5-year relationship have complained of the exact same experience, all three vehemently denying sleep paralysis and acknowledging that they've never experienced this prior to dating me! I can't believe that this is the third relationship where my boyfriend is actually being attacked in his sleep. It cannot be coincidence. All three of them have been very convincing in their defense of this. I, myself have never experienced sleep paralysis or anything like these "attacks" but most certainly have felt this presence, especially at night when I'm going to bed. I'm fairly sure this may be one of the most common symptoms of a personal haunting.

Over the past few months, I've woken up with mysterious bruising, scratches and cuts as well; some rather large, yet I have no memory of injuring myself in any way or of anything hurting me... I am anemic so if I were to injure myself the bruising would definitely come easily and be quite apparent, but some of these bruises have either looked like someone had grabbed me with their fingers and were gripping tightly, or were simply dark, large and completely unexplainable (placed strangely: inner thigh, back, inner upper arm). I'd go to bed without them, and either wake up to find them once I'd showered or while I was getting dressed or have had them pointed out to me. Strange cuts have appeared, mainly on my hands and arms; sometimes on my chest, under the collarbone area. I really just thought that I'd possibly done something in my sleep or had forgotten that I'd bumped into something, but I've never been known to sleep-walk. My ex-fiancée (who again, lived with me for 5 years and who has observed me in my sleep many times), as well as my current boyfriend (whom I'm living with, and obviously also has been awake when I've been sleeping) have reported that when I do sleep, I sleep completely through the night. I've never had anyone assert that I walk in my sleep. I'm pretty much dumbfounded. The lights in our apartment have been turning on at night, as we go to bed with them off, and wake up to them on: the light in the foyer, kitchen, bathroom, etc... Every light but the room we sleep in! Just this morning the door, which had been locked, unlocked somehow on its own. Things go missing, and then turn up in random places a week later - very typical.

I have noticed that the complaints coming from my current boyfriend have coincided with our arguments, some of which are immensely frustrating and upsetting to me, and since I feel I'm not getting anywhere with him, I hold it all in and have considered that it is possible that my subconscious frustration could act out on its' own, BUT - it's not the first time this has happened, and this feels completely separate, like an external presence. I don't know how to describe it. It's doubtful to me that it's defending me in some way because it has (with what seems like intent) terrified *me* over the years - touching me in my sleep, slamming doors, opening doors, banging on walls, moving or throwing objects, breathing on me, calling my name and just keeping the air thick with a general unease that's palpable. It has never, to my knowledge, hurt me though, unless the unexplained injuries have been sustained from this thing? I don't know if they're related. This presence is completely segregated from the number of other paranormal experiences I've had, or other spirits I've felt or seen.

I'm fairly educated when it comes to general haunting, sleep disorders, etc but I really don't know how to classify this at all, or what to do about it. It seems I cannot get a handle on what this is. Usually I could feel if it was a human spirit, but this thing eludes me. I've tried cleansing, sage, crystals, salt, meditation and affirmations, "taking control over/claiming my home", etc... My father, while alive, warned against the use of a Ouija Board as it is a doorway and you don't have any control over what happens, yet suggested I try automatic writing? I always felt it was worse to attempt this because in essence you're allowing something in; to use you. I can see how it would be 'OK' for an experienced Psychic-Medium who channels and can manage a certain level of choice/control, but not for someone who has never attempted this with some kind of (seemingly) dark entity.

I'm open to any and all suggestions. I'd really like for this entity, whatever it may be as I cannot sense exactly what it is, to stop harassing me; my boyfriend. Even my Chihuahua is flipping out; barking all night at nothing and it's stressing her out. She paces back and forth on top of me all night and barks at whatever this thing is. I'd like to be free of it. It seems to be completely tied to me in some way. I'm apprehensive to attempt to communicate with it - aside from my occasional shouting at it, which leads me to feel foolish, lol - because I do respect and fear that I am completely ignorant to what this 'thing' is.

If anyone has had or is having a similar experience, I'd really like to hear about it. A solution? I am not crazy... The people that know me; some of which have known me for 20+ years, would all attest to the fact that I am sane and not prone to flights of fancy. I'm the first one to dismiss a bump in the night or a creaky floorboard as a "ghost".

Thank you in advance to anyone who has any input that could lead to a better understanding of what this could be.