Halloween is not as big here in Australia as it is on other parts of the world, although the holiday is growing in popularity. Personally, I love an opportunity to celebrate the sublime while eating too much sugar.
This year I would like to pay tribute to my dear departed mother by sharing a creepy encounter she once related to me…
A Spooky Story from Beyond the Grave
It was the middle of the night. There was nothing special about it. No thunder shook the windows. No lightning lit up the sky. Just an ordinary evening. Alone in bed, I rolled onto my back and noticed a dark shadow hovering above me. As it drew closer, the specter solidified, yet somehow it remained formless. The air grew hot and stifling, like summer in the tropics, but it was a mild night in Adelaide. Next thing I knew, the thing wrapped its talon-tipped fingers around my throat and began to squeeze. I fought to push the evil entity away, but my efforts proved futile. A sulfurous stench scorched my throat and lungs as the sinister hands applied more pressure. The world turned hazy as I lost my battle…
I woke up from the nightmare gasping for breath. After inhaling a couple of doses from my asthma puffer, I reached for my rosary. I had never used the glass beads for prayer in the same way a Catholic would, but I still found comfort in them. This was why I had often left them on my nightstand. Only this time when my hand slid across the table, I felt one single bead. My breath hitched and my heart quickened as I flicked on the lamp. The scene before my eyes shook me to my very core. My rosary lay broken on my bedside, and when I say broken, I mean: Each. Individual. Bead. Had been snipped from the strand and scattered across the room. A chill slithered down my spine as I assessed the damage. There was no way they could have fallen apart of their own accord. Who or what had done this? And was it my imagination, or could I really smell a hint of sulfur in the air?