My banshee experience happened when I was 13 years old. I stayed with my friend Angie most of the time. There was always someone in the house. We always knew. It could have been the old woman who scratched her nail on the wall or maybe the old man who raped his children, but there was always someone there. I slept my nights there either in an upstairs bedroom or the couch or on the floor in the living room. We gathered our things for bed and walked our way to her bedroom. I lay on her bed nearly dozing and heard a series of broken wails from the room above. The room above was a ghastly dirty driving place for a childs imagination. The wails could best be described as tortured or perhaps a sound of delight from a Mongoloid. The sound carried on for maybe twenty minutes or so and the sound finally ceased. The next morning, as so a child could comprehend, it was dismissed as a dream and nothing more. I found that some things cannot be reality until your feeble mind is ready to understand.
