I don't know how real any of this is, I just know it felt too real for my liking. Strange things have seemed to follow me around for
most of my life. I hope it is just poor taste in the places I live and not something actually following me.
One occurrence was when I was 7. I was sitting in our basement in SLC playing alone (I was an only child at this time). When all off
a sudden a yellow plastic perfume bottle lifted off the ground and flew over the top of me. I sat in shock for a minute then booked
it up the stairs. My parents kept all of my toys down there so they'd tell me to go play when they had company. I would keep the door
wide open (at the top of the stairs) at sit there, never going into the basement again. Needless to say, I have been terrified of
basement since.
After living there, we moved into a house in Midvale. I don't have any recollection of occurrences here, but my mom and uncle used to
say they would hear people in the kitchen opening and closing cupboard doors. They would also hear footsteps in the hall, but there
was never anyone there.
Right after living there, we moved into an apartment less then a mile away. One night, I was laying in my bed. It was a canopy.
All of a sudden the bed started shaking and then I was drug into the kitchen. I couldn't scream, nor move. I just remember thinking,
if I turn on the light I will be ok. But I couldn't get close enough to it. In all of that time, I don't remember breathing either.
That one was probably a dream, but it felt to realistic to be a dream. And even 14 years later, it scares the crap out of me.
The occurrences stopped for a great many years. Until about a year ago, my fiancée and I moved into a basement apartment. Sometimes
we would see flashes of light in the mirror or on the microwave door. Things would be moved etc. Small things like that. We would be
sitting on the couch watching TV when the door to the laundry room would fly open or slam shut if it was already open. Sometimes
my fiancée would wake up in the morning and have thin long scratches on our neck and back. We would question each other, but could
never remember where or when they got there.
We moved out of there a couple months later and moved into a house. Immediately I hated the basement and wouldn't go down there. It
just didn't feel right. I would run as fast as I could up the stairs if I had to go down there. One night I was laying in bed, and
my fiancée always has to have a midnight snack. So he was in the kitchen. To get to the basement you have to go into the kitchen,
down two stairs and through a great room.
Anyway the kitchen is wide open to the great room. He was sitting at the table making a
sandwich when he heard some footsteps. My cat then hunkered down as close as he could to the ground, pinned his ears back and started
hissing. My fiancée jumped up and ran into the bedroom to grab his knife. He wasn't sure if someone had broken in and was hiding
in the basement. I yelled at him for leaving the cat out there all by himself. So he got out of bed and went and got the cat. When
he got back to the bedroom he said our cat was sitting outside the bedroom door in the same fashion. Hissing and cowering. None was
there. But when that happened, he told me there was several times he was in the great room on the computer and he would hear
footsteps, but no one would be there. My brother moved into the basement, and we haven't had any occurrences since.
