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throughout my youth i have be been idoctrinated with belief in things such as ESP, and that certain people can be more and or less in touch with a "spirit world". this, however, is in conflict with how i have been percieving the world of late. i trust and respect my mother and grandmother very much, and their accounts of one particular instance of "mystic-reality" brings my situation to a head.
i have heard stories about what we call "the cave ridge house" for many years now. my family moved to the SW part of Virginia from maryland (that being my granmother, and her three children, my mom included) about 25 years ago. the area is very rural, and like many ares in this part of the country, dotted with caves and other characterisitcs of karst topography. having been here only a few years, my mother met my father in a theatre group, and they were married after three months. they rented their first home from a local farmer who owns copious amounts of land in various parts of the county.
there is nothing particularly interesting about the house from a strictly physical/aesthetic standpoint. its relatively new...probably built in the late 70's. brick...one story. There is however one part of the house that does not match the rest, and that is the basement. its composition is much much older than the rest of the house, by a long shot, and its walls are made of great dark stones.
i should probably point out that it is the opinion of my grandmother that that this proximity to the spirit world is, generally speaking, passed down through the females in the family. my great grandmother was purported to have very strong ESP (i.e. during ww2 or korea, i don't remember which, her brother, who was at war, visited her one night to tell her that he had died in a plane crash. it turned out to be true), and my grandmother has told me stories about her experiences as well. the current story is the only account i have from my mother. i am very much like my mother, however, and she thinks that perhaps this trait has deviated from its previously matrilineal pattern in me. anyway, back to the story.
my parents had yet to stay a night in the house. they moved in most of their belongings immediately prior to the wedding, and then left for their honeymoon. my father had spent a night or two there, but made no mention of anything being amiss. later he told me that when his parents came to see the house, my grandfather (not an overly or outwardly spiritual man) had said, (in his southern norfolk accent) "johnny, theres somethin' kinda funny about this house, don't you think?" his long-time favorite dog, jilly, would go nowhere near the basement.
the day before my folks were to return from their honeymoon, my grandmother went to cave ridge to make sure everything was in order for them at the house when they returned. she made beds, washed some dishes that my father had left behind, and put my parents' favortie candy bars on their pillows. while she doing the dishes, she heard the door to the back bedroom slam closed. spirits being the farthest thing from her mind, she went to take a peek, and saw under the door, that the light was on. she thought she had turned it off, but thought nothing of it. she opened the door, turned off the light, and closed it tightly. returning to the kitchen, she resumed her work. shortly thereafter, she heard another loud SLAM. again, with not the least bit of fear, or sense of foreboding, she walked back to the bedroom, and saw that the light was, once again, on. now she worried that there might be an electrical short causing the light to turn on with every slam of the door. this worried her, for fire safety, but she thought little more of it, turned off the light, and once again closed the door. this time as she turned to go back to the kitchen, she had taken but a few steps when the door once again slammed closed. she turned to see that the light was on. walking towards the door, she began to feel ill-at-ease. she opened it.
in her accounts of this story, she often says that the best way to describe the "movement" of the feeling with which she was assaulted as what one feels when one opens the door of a hot oven. one can feel a very tangible movement of energy, and a hot blast physically hits you. it was in this manner that a feeling of extreme hate hit her, so much so that she involutarily took a few steps back out of the doorway. she stood there, shocked, for a momment. the door slammed closed, and the light remained on. her impression of this force had been so negative that she left the house immediately, and got in her truck (with her dog, which wouldn't get out when she had arrived), and returned to her cabin. as she pulled away, she looked back at the window of the back-bedroom. the light was off.
now, this post is already extremely long, and i haven't yet given my mother's much more intense encounter with the force that resides at cave ridge. their experiences offer a truly perplexing contradiction to my current lack of belief in a spirit world. while it is possible that this force is not a "spirit" per se, i don't know how else to account for it. currently, i can only call it an extremely high concentration of very, very....VERY...negative energy.
what do you guys think? if you read all that....later i might post my mom's experience.
-------------------- egocentrism is bangin on the door
seeps out from the core
alone - eyes closed - an empty room
i'm curled on the floor
choose nothing, thus deciding
all the nothing i've in store.