Sunday, April 5, 2009


When I was younger, my birth father used to put in the old "Exorcist" movies and have my sister and I sit with him while he watched them. You see, this wouldn't be a problem, but I was only around five or six years old, while my sister was just three or four years old.

That continued over the course of the years and while I didn't really understand what was going on at first, over time I developed an understanding of the movie, which led into a serious fear of posession. Every time I'd see the movie, I'd enter an immediate state of hysteria. There were even feelings of numbness and dizziness quite frequently. Eventually, that led into nightmares. At first, they were just basic visions of demons and posessions, but they evolved into a recurring nightmare that could best be described as fear incarnate.

I still remember the nightmare as though I were still dealing with it on a daily basis. It started off innocently enough. At the beginning, I'm walking around our old row home in the middle of Wilson Point. I walk into my parents room and no one's there, so I turn around and out of nowhere, a loud alarm starts going off, which can only be compared to the "Silent Hill" alarm that sends a chill down the spine of many fans to this day. The alarm doesn't stop and as I go to leave the room in an effort to bolt down the stairs and out the front door for an escape, the entire scene changes.

When the scene changes, I find myself in what seems like an underground lab of sorts. If you've ever played the old "Resident Evil" games, picture the underground Umbrella lab, only darker with lots of corridors and plenty of stairways, but without the zombies or monsters. As I run down the stairs, though, there's nothing but a long corridor and police-style sirens mounted in various spots along the walls. As I run, I feel the presense of an evil force. At this point, I immediately assume it's a demonic force that's trying to posess me and I start running even faster. Running for my life, I eventually come to the end of the corridor and a locked door. The force meets up with me and as it flies into me, I wake up.

After the dream, I would always wake up in tears and my heart would be pounding. I would always gasp for air and whenever this happened, I'd have trouble falling asleep for at least an hour. Sometimes, I'd stay up all night because I was so terrified. This happened at least once per week and there were many times in which I'd have this dream for several nights in a row.

To you and other people, this may not seem like a big deal, but to me, this was the definition of fear. I couldn't escape it. It intruded my every thought. I don't even know how it faded away. Somehow, at some point in my life, my brain just blocked that dream out. As much as I remember it and as much as I still fear posession, it just doesn't phase me in a direct sense as much anymore. Thinking back on it, I'm getting a bit jittery as I write this, but the nightmares are gone for the time being.

The funny thing is that I don't even believe in demons, ghosts, posession or anything else like that, yet I fear the dark when I'm alone and the idea of posession takes over me when I get into a fit over it. I don't fear things like zombies or "Silent Hill", either. Things like that just don't usually bother me, "Fatal Frame" being the exception to that rule.

I've never shared this before, but it feels good to write about it and unleash my demons for a change. May those demons rest in peace...


Sunday, February 22, 2009

The Lost Girls

As a child, I lived in a few different spots. Of those spots, the one that this story takes place in is the one that had the biggest impact on my life. During this time period, I was attending some elementary school, middle school and the first 2 years of high school. The majority of my memories up until the end of high school take place here. It's like my "Silent Hill" in the sense that I lived out most of my deepest nightmares in the town of Wilson Point. Or perhaps it's where my nightmares originated; I don't really know. That said, this story is about a duo of friends from back in those days.

Meet Ashley and Megan. They're sisters, but Ashley was adopted. For all intents and purposes, they were family. When I first met them, I was a shy little kid and didn't know how to react. Over time, though, I got to know them and we became fantastic friends. Ashley and I were practically best friends for a short while and we would play outside, as kids generally do. We would pretend that we were video game characters taking on all sorts of stuff. We would pretend that we were the "Power Rangers". We would play kickball. We had a blast almost every day, but sometimes she just wouldn't come out to play and I wouldn't hear from her. I'd see her at the bus stop in the morning for a minute, but she wouldn't say anything, then she'd rush home when she got off the bus. I didn't know what was wrong and I never asked. I never had the courage to ask during that period of my life. Eventually, she stopped hanging out with me altogether and I found out one day that she moved away. It was a very painful experience. I walked the short trip to her house, only to discover that it was empty. No one was there, nothing was there and no one around knew what had happened. I later found out that they moved away to prevent neighborhood interference because Ashley's "dad" abused the shit out of her. He hurt her, molested her and I suspect that he may have even raped her. The worst part is that he did these things on a daily basis, while Megan got special treatment. Megan got everything she ever wanted, was never hurt and never received any sort of punishment. I cared about both of them, but my young heart was shattered into many, many pieces when I found out about this. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream and I wanted to make her "dad" pay for all that he'd done. Eventually, I got used to Ashley being gone. I never, ever forgot her and I'd constantly do research on the internet to find out if I could see where she'd been. I had this need to find her and take her into my arms like a caring brother would his little sister. A few years passed and one day, I was wandering around the hallways in high school, when I walked by a chorus class. I dropped my books on the floor as I stood in the doorway crying. Tears streamed down my face. I found her. She was in my school. She didn't go there regularly, but there was a group of the best choir students from the entire state visiting for a concert or something of the sort. Immediately following that, a teacher made me grab my books and move along. I was on my way to the office to go home. My mother dropped by because I had a doctor's appointment and I couldn't do anything about it. The only thing I could do was hold onto the hope that she would be there another day soon for more concerts or whatever was going on in there. The next day, she wasn't there. I asked around and discovered that it was a one-time thing. I skipped the rest of my classes that day, walked home and thought about it for the entire day. After all of those years, my last memory of her was replaced by a time-stopping moment in the school hallway; she was singing loudly, raising her voice to the sky above and smiling brilliantly. In my mind, I was happy, but so many tears were rolling down my face. I didn't know what to do with myself or how to handle the situation. I couldn't get her records or find out where she was. I couldn't even find out what school she went to at the time. I just had to live content knowing that she was alive and well. After seeing her, I tried even harder to find her. I thought about her constantly. She was an obsession for a very long time. I didn't want anything other than to find her, save her and protect her. I felt so bad about what had happened and I just wanted my friend back. It was so sickening and in a sense, it may even sound creepy to other people, but the truth is, I just wanted her to be happy and I thought I could help. I have the guts to bust her "dad", get her help and set things straight. Anyway, a few more years passed and my sister told me that she ran into Megan at one point. Megan said that Ashley was institutionalized because she basically lost her mind. That "dad" of her's seriously drove her to the breaking point. She couldn't live in a normal society because of what he did to her. Almost 21 years old at the time, it brought back the same feelings and I did a bit more research, pulled some resources and still found nothing. Megan didn't specify where Ashley was and my sister lost her phone number not more than 10 minutes after Megan gave it to her. It felt like my one shot at finding them was lost. To this day, Ashley's beautiful voice is the last memory I have of her. I don't know if I'll ever find her, but if I do, I don't even know what I'll say to her. I don't know if she'll even remember me. She might not even want me around. The both of them might just tell me to fuck off or something. I don't know what'll happen if that day ever comes, but I'll say this: That wont stop me from trying. I'll never give up my search for Megan and Ashley...


A brief introduction.

In this blog, I wont disguise names, but I'll only be using the first name of anyone involved. If there's someone involved whom I associate myself with in present day, I wont use their real name. I may use fake names for the sake of making things easier to write and also for the sake of making things easier to understand for you, the reader. Consider this a disclaimer: I don't care if people know who I am, but I'll forever protect those I love and care about. That said, read on. :) Take care!