GræyScüll
Bluelighter
Some of the things you are about to read may seem unbelievable; they are, in fact, entirely true.
The first time I felt the pressure and presence of evil I was only 5 or 6 years old. I was living in Jacksonville, Florida at the time. We lived in an apartment complex called Anders Park. Nearly half-a-mile or so down the road, stood the local Elementary School that I attended. The school and the apartment complex were connected by a road. There was a sidewalk along that road that also connected the school and the complex. On that sidewalk I walked to and from school every weekday, with a group of other children that also attended the school. In between the school and the apartment complex --and all the way down the sidewalk that connected the school and the apartment complex-- there stood a large patch of overgrown woods. If someone wanted to go into the woods, they wouldn't have any problem doing so if they were standing anywhere along the sidewalk, because there is no physical barrier between the sidewalk and the woods. Any errant misstep would place someone directly into the woods.
One fateful day I was walking from the school along the sidewalk --all alone-- back to the apartment complex that I lived in. For some reason, there were no other kids walking home that day, except me. At first, it seemed like a very typical walk home; other than the fact that the other children weren't around. Then, around the time I began to reach the halfway point between the school and the apartment complex, I started to hear a sound coming from the woods. It was no ordinary sound, it was a strange sound. It was a deep, ominous chant mixed with a menacing growl and a strange, tempting laughter; and, it didn't come from a single place that you could point out, walk over to and stand beside. The sound seemed to come from everywhere in the woods, all at once. The sound encompassed the woods. The sound invited me into the woods. The sound wanted me join it in the woods. I didn’t know what the meaning of the sound was, and I didn’t know why it wanted me to walk into the woods....and I didn't care. That sound scared the soles out of my shoes, and I ran home as fast as I could. We moved not long afterwards to Hazlehurst, GA., where the next incident takes place.
The second time God saved me from the grasp of evil I was 10 or 11 years old. I was living in Hazlehurst, Georgia at the time. The house we lived in was built in the basic shape of a square structure, with the addition of two small porches. The front porch was below the front door and the side porch was below the side door. There was not a back porch or a back door. The house stood on the corner of an intersection, where Walton Way and Kersey street crossed each other. The front door faced Walton Way. The side door faced Kersey street. Across the street in front of our house there was a red, wooden fence. I remember this vividly because my brothers and I were constantly throwing a Frisbee, ball, or toy of some kind over it and we’d have to quickly jump the fence and return without being seen. Anyway, directly across the street that the side door of our house faced, there was a row of three or four houses that lead down to another intersection back behind our house. At the corner of the intersection a house stood and its’ owner was the grandmother of a good friend of mine at the time. This house was probably only an eighth, or a sixteenth, of a mile away from my house. It wasn’t a very long distance. At a regular pace, I could walk the distance in 2-3 minutes. One day I was at this friends’ house playing and suddenly I realized it was dark outside….too dark. I was supposed to be home before dark; but darkness had fallen while I was still playing. I immediately left my friends house. I walked out the front door and onto my friends’ yard. I was headed home. It had grown very dark outside and the streetlights shone a dim, orange glow.
I had just stepped out of my friends' yard and onto the road leading back up to my house when I noticed a shadowy figure walking towards me. He was further up the road, past the row of houses that faced the side door of my house; past the intersection that my house stood on the corner of; past the red fence that was across the street from the front of my house. He wasn't very far past the red fence. He was only 10-15 feet past the side of the red fence that faced my front door. He was about the same distance from the side door of my house as I was, but he was coming from the opposite direction, and he was walking towards me. I thought nothing of him in the first instant that I saw him, but the very next moment I felt a strange sensation as though something might be wrong and so I quickened my pace a little. The stalker quickened his pace as well. I walked a few swift steps forward and suddenly it was as if I had an internal fire-alarm that had been pulled and was blaring throughout my entire body-- warning me of some impending danger. I was propelled to run and so run I did. I focused my full attention on forward motion. I ran as quickly as I could to get to the side door of my house. At that very same moment the shadowy stalker started viciously sprinting to the same destination. Without a single glance in the direction of the stalker, I ran towards my side door as if my life depended on it. I was sure it did. In a flash I was at my side door and inside my house. I have never forgotten that night.
The third time God saved me I was 28 years old and living in Statesboro, Georgia on the corner of Savannah avenue and Granade road. There is an old, white, two-story house that stands there. The inside of the house has been turned into 2 separate apartment-homes --one upstairs, and the other downstairs. There are two additional apartments that are added on and attached to the outside of the house. One of the attached outside-apartments’ is on the side of the house and is painted the same faded white color as the main house. The other apartment is connected to the back of the house –it is painted a color that reminds me of the combination of old, dried blood and rusted brown. These outside apartments are not accessible from the inside of the main house. The yard that surrounds the house and its’ apartments is bordered on both sides, and out front and back, by large, over-grown bushes and trees. The over-grown bushes effectively block the view of the house from the road and the trees shade the house from the light of the sun and the moon.
Out front of the main part of the house there is a driveway, right off Savannah avenue, that connects the road to the front door of the house. There is also the short-breadth of a cracked, concrete walkway that runs the length of the driveway and connects the front porch and door to Savannah avenue. There are two more entrances as well, both off the side of Granade road. If you were driving down Savannah avenue, from the Walgreens store on Northside road, and you drove past my driveway you could easily make the next left at Granade Road and these other two entrances would still bring you up to my apartment. The first side-entrance is only several feet down Granade Road and is in-between two of the large patches of bush that border the yard. This second entrance opens up into a small, mostly-enclosed parking-area on the side of the house. The enclosed parking-area has the side of both outside-apartments in front of it and the front door of the white outside apartment to its’ left. One side of the rusted-brown apartment is directly in front of the parking-area, with a few small bushes and slender trees in-between. If you decide to enter the yard from this way you will notice, when you step out of your vehicle onto the small patch of dirt parking lot, a separate house to the right that is painted the same rusted brown and old blood color as the back apartment. The third entrance isn’t very far down from the second entrance. If you hadn’t gone through the first entrance in the front yard or the second entrance between the big bushes, then you could still get to that brown apartment outback if you had taken the left past the brown house. Instead of turning before the brown house on Granade road, you turn immediately after the brown house. This entrance does not lead to a parking lot. This entrance is a short dirt path that travels down about one-hundred yards and then ends abruptly. The specific function of this short dirt path is that it leads to several of the backyards of the houses along Savannah avenue, including the brown apartment attached to the big white house on the corner.
When I first moved into this area, I lived in one of the apartments inside the white, two-story house --the downstairs apartment. I spent several months living inside the downstairs apartment of the big house. Then, the brown, outside-apartment connected to the back of the house became vacant. The previous tenant had gone, and so I spoke with the owner and received permission to move my things to the apartment in the very back --the apartment that is painted a color that reminds me of old, dried blood and rusted brown. The front door of the rusty brown apartment in the very back doesn’t face Savannah avenue or Granade road. It faces the road behind the house, a road you can barely see from the door of the rusted brown apartment. You can barely see the road because there is a brick house, well it looks kind of like a house, but it also looks kind of like a place of business. There are no specific signs to indicate what the building is and I never saw any cars parked there. And then on the other side of this brick, business building there is a pharmacy that sits on the corner of Granade road and East Grady street. To the side and behind both of these buildings there is a strip of woods. If you step out the front door of that brown apartment outback you will be standing on another dirt lot, similar to the dirt parking lot to the right. This dirt lot is about the size of half a basketball court, and has two large trees in it. I didn’t really want to move out of the inside of the main house, but the apartment out back was much cheaper; so it only seemed right to move out back.
One night, after I had moved into the dried-blood-colored apartment, I was home alone. I walked out the door and stood on the porch in the dirt lot, facing the un-marked, and unused, brick building that was on the other side of the brown house. I was sitting there smoking a cigarette on that porch and when I looked over at the un-marked building, I noticed a guy and a girl standing there beside the building, near the back. There was a dark entrance to the back of the building where they were standing. The girl was beckoning me with her hand to come over to them. I had no intention of finding out what it was they wanted from me. I quickly went back inside my apartment and wondered what to do. Then, I heard the sound of someone trying to open my door. I quickly threw furniture in front of the door. Then, I heard someone at one of the windows. I went into my bedroom and caught a glimpse of someone wearing some sort of weird mask. I was extremely concerned for my safety. I heard someone trying to get in through the bathroom window. I didn’t know what to do. I grabbed my phone and called the police.
Before the first cop got there, I could hear the person or people, that had been trying to break in, and they were trying to screw all the windows back down and/or other things like that. The first cop showed up not long after I had called and I began explaining the story to him. I could tell he wasn’t sure of whether to believe me or not so we went outside and we looked at the windows and such and it was apparent that someone had tried to break into the apartment. Another cop showed up, I could tell he was a superior officer of the first cop and we looked again. He confirmed someone had tried to break in and told the other officer to write it up as an “attempted breaking-and-entering”. The next day, I moved. A funny side-note is that as I was leaving Statesboro, the day I moved, I stopped at a gas station; inside that gas station, I saw that same guy and girl that had tried to lure me into the un-marked building on that fateful night when someone had tried to break into my house. I was too afraid to acknowledge them.
The fourth time that God saved me was on February the12th, 2010. I was living in Atlanta, as I do now. This was the day that the snowstorm had hit all over Atlanta. It was 11pm and the snow was 2-3 feet deep. I was driving north on Interstate Highway 75. I was headed to the place I was living at the time off of exit 260. I had nearly reached exit 216. As I approached exit 216, I was driving between 65 and 70 mph, I noticed a person standing directly beside the highway on the left. After only a few seconds I was about to drive by him but right before I got to where he was standing something caught the corner of my eye. Directly beside where this guy was standing, but on the road, was a puddle of oil or something and then it was too late. I hit the puddle and started to spin to the right. I tried to straighten out but after a few seconds I realized it wouldn’t help, only hurt. So I just let go of the wheel. I let go and gave into whatever fate God had in store for me. The truck continued spinning to the right, and as it as it sped towards the steep embankment to the side of the road, I just closed my eyes and waited without fear. I soon was airborne, flying over the side of the road but I quickly came down on the side of the ditch. It was no small ditch, it was a 40 foot steep embankment and as soon as the truck hit it, the truck flipped and began rolling side over side. The truck probably rolled 5-7 times. Somehow, my seatbelt had come off and this, instead of keeping my body in place and allowing my head to rip-jerk around, allowed by entire body to be held by centrifugal force, in the top corner of the truck. That is probably one of the things that God did to help save my life. The truck stopped rolling and landed right side up on its’ wheels. I stepped out of the truck, looked up at how far I had fallen and knew then that I had just gotten very lucky. I looked back and the truck and it was completely totaled. The ends of the truck had been crunched in like an accordion that would never play another key. God had spared my life.
The first time I felt the pressure and presence of evil I was only 5 or 6 years old. I was living in Jacksonville, Florida at the time. We lived in an apartment complex called Anders Park. Nearly half-a-mile or so down the road, stood the local Elementary School that I attended. The school and the apartment complex were connected by a road. There was a sidewalk along that road that also connected the school and the complex. On that sidewalk I walked to and from school every weekday, with a group of other children that also attended the school. In between the school and the apartment complex --and all the way down the sidewalk that connected the school and the apartment complex-- there stood a large patch of overgrown woods. If someone wanted to go into the woods, they wouldn't have any problem doing so if they were standing anywhere along the sidewalk, because there is no physical barrier between the sidewalk and the woods. Any errant misstep would place someone directly into the woods.
One fateful day I was walking from the school along the sidewalk --all alone-- back to the apartment complex that I lived in. For some reason, there were no other kids walking home that day, except me. At first, it seemed like a very typical walk home; other than the fact that the other children weren't around. Then, around the time I began to reach the halfway point between the school and the apartment complex, I started to hear a sound coming from the woods. It was no ordinary sound, it was a strange sound. It was a deep, ominous chant mixed with a menacing growl and a strange, tempting laughter; and, it didn't come from a single place that you could point out, walk over to and stand beside. The sound seemed to come from everywhere in the woods, all at once. The sound encompassed the woods. The sound invited me into the woods. The sound wanted me join it in the woods. I didn’t know what the meaning of the sound was, and I didn’t know why it wanted me to walk into the woods....and I didn't care. That sound scared the soles out of my shoes, and I ran home as fast as I could. We moved not long afterwards to Hazlehurst, GA., where the next incident takes place.
The second time God saved me from the grasp of evil I was 10 or 11 years old. I was living in Hazlehurst, Georgia at the time. The house we lived in was built in the basic shape of a square structure, with the addition of two small porches. The front porch was below the front door and the side porch was below the side door. There was not a back porch or a back door. The house stood on the corner of an intersection, where Walton Way and Kersey street crossed each other. The front door faced Walton Way. The side door faced Kersey street. Across the street in front of our house there was a red, wooden fence. I remember this vividly because my brothers and I were constantly throwing a Frisbee, ball, or toy of some kind over it and we’d have to quickly jump the fence and return without being seen. Anyway, directly across the street that the side door of our house faced, there was a row of three or four houses that lead down to another intersection back behind our house. At the corner of the intersection a house stood and its’ owner was the grandmother of a good friend of mine at the time. This house was probably only an eighth, or a sixteenth, of a mile away from my house. It wasn’t a very long distance. At a regular pace, I could walk the distance in 2-3 minutes. One day I was at this friends’ house playing and suddenly I realized it was dark outside….too dark. I was supposed to be home before dark; but darkness had fallen while I was still playing. I immediately left my friends house. I walked out the front door and onto my friends’ yard. I was headed home. It had grown very dark outside and the streetlights shone a dim, orange glow.
I had just stepped out of my friends' yard and onto the road leading back up to my house when I noticed a shadowy figure walking towards me. He was further up the road, past the row of houses that faced the side door of my house; past the intersection that my house stood on the corner of; past the red fence that was across the street from the front of my house. He wasn't very far past the red fence. He was only 10-15 feet past the side of the red fence that faced my front door. He was about the same distance from the side door of my house as I was, but he was coming from the opposite direction, and he was walking towards me. I thought nothing of him in the first instant that I saw him, but the very next moment I felt a strange sensation as though something might be wrong and so I quickened my pace a little. The stalker quickened his pace as well. I walked a few swift steps forward and suddenly it was as if I had an internal fire-alarm that had been pulled and was blaring throughout my entire body-- warning me of some impending danger. I was propelled to run and so run I did. I focused my full attention on forward motion. I ran as quickly as I could to get to the side door of my house. At that very same moment the shadowy stalker started viciously sprinting to the same destination. Without a single glance in the direction of the stalker, I ran towards my side door as if my life depended on it. I was sure it did. In a flash I was at my side door and inside my house. I have never forgotten that night.
The third time God saved me I was 28 years old and living in Statesboro, Georgia on the corner of Savannah avenue and Granade road. There is an old, white, two-story house that stands there. The inside of the house has been turned into 2 separate apartment-homes --one upstairs, and the other downstairs. There are two additional apartments that are added on and attached to the outside of the house. One of the attached outside-apartments’ is on the side of the house and is painted the same faded white color as the main house. The other apartment is connected to the back of the house –it is painted a color that reminds me of the combination of old, dried blood and rusted brown. These outside apartments are not accessible from the inside of the main house. The yard that surrounds the house and its’ apartments is bordered on both sides, and out front and back, by large, over-grown bushes and trees. The over-grown bushes effectively block the view of the house from the road and the trees shade the house from the light of the sun and the moon.
Out front of the main part of the house there is a driveway, right off Savannah avenue, that connects the road to the front door of the house. There is also the short-breadth of a cracked, concrete walkway that runs the length of the driveway and connects the front porch and door to Savannah avenue. There are two more entrances as well, both off the side of Granade road. If you were driving down Savannah avenue, from the Walgreens store on Northside road, and you drove past my driveway you could easily make the next left at Granade Road and these other two entrances would still bring you up to my apartment. The first side-entrance is only several feet down Granade Road and is in-between two of the large patches of bush that border the yard. This second entrance opens up into a small, mostly-enclosed parking-area on the side of the house. The enclosed parking-area has the side of both outside-apartments in front of it and the front door of the white outside apartment to its’ left. One side of the rusted-brown apartment is directly in front of the parking-area, with a few small bushes and slender trees in-between. If you decide to enter the yard from this way you will notice, when you step out of your vehicle onto the small patch of dirt parking lot, a separate house to the right that is painted the same rusted brown and old blood color as the back apartment. The third entrance isn’t very far down from the second entrance. If you hadn’t gone through the first entrance in the front yard or the second entrance between the big bushes, then you could still get to that brown apartment outback if you had taken the left past the brown house. Instead of turning before the brown house on Granade road, you turn immediately after the brown house. This entrance does not lead to a parking lot. This entrance is a short dirt path that travels down about one-hundred yards and then ends abruptly. The specific function of this short dirt path is that it leads to several of the backyards of the houses along Savannah avenue, including the brown apartment attached to the big white house on the corner.
When I first moved into this area, I lived in one of the apartments inside the white, two-story house --the downstairs apartment. I spent several months living inside the downstairs apartment of the big house. Then, the brown, outside-apartment connected to the back of the house became vacant. The previous tenant had gone, and so I spoke with the owner and received permission to move my things to the apartment in the very back --the apartment that is painted a color that reminds me of old, dried blood and rusted brown. The front door of the rusty brown apartment in the very back doesn’t face Savannah avenue or Granade road. It faces the road behind the house, a road you can barely see from the door of the rusted brown apartment. You can barely see the road because there is a brick house, well it looks kind of like a house, but it also looks kind of like a place of business. There are no specific signs to indicate what the building is and I never saw any cars parked there. And then on the other side of this brick, business building there is a pharmacy that sits on the corner of Granade road and East Grady street. To the side and behind both of these buildings there is a strip of woods. If you step out the front door of that brown apartment outback you will be standing on another dirt lot, similar to the dirt parking lot to the right. This dirt lot is about the size of half a basketball court, and has two large trees in it. I didn’t really want to move out of the inside of the main house, but the apartment out back was much cheaper; so it only seemed right to move out back.
One night, after I had moved into the dried-blood-colored apartment, I was home alone. I walked out the door and stood on the porch in the dirt lot, facing the un-marked, and unused, brick building that was on the other side of the brown house. I was sitting there smoking a cigarette on that porch and when I looked over at the un-marked building, I noticed a guy and a girl standing there beside the building, near the back. There was a dark entrance to the back of the building where they were standing. The girl was beckoning me with her hand to come over to them. I had no intention of finding out what it was they wanted from me. I quickly went back inside my apartment and wondered what to do. Then, I heard the sound of someone trying to open my door. I quickly threw furniture in front of the door. Then, I heard someone at one of the windows. I went into my bedroom and caught a glimpse of someone wearing some sort of weird mask. I was extremely concerned for my safety. I heard someone trying to get in through the bathroom window. I didn’t know what to do. I grabbed my phone and called the police.
Before the first cop got there, I could hear the person or people, that had been trying to break in, and they were trying to screw all the windows back down and/or other things like that. The first cop showed up not long after I had called and I began explaining the story to him. I could tell he wasn’t sure of whether to believe me or not so we went outside and we looked at the windows and such and it was apparent that someone had tried to break into the apartment. Another cop showed up, I could tell he was a superior officer of the first cop and we looked again. He confirmed someone had tried to break in and told the other officer to write it up as an “attempted breaking-and-entering”. The next day, I moved. A funny side-note is that as I was leaving Statesboro, the day I moved, I stopped at a gas station; inside that gas station, I saw that same guy and girl that had tried to lure me into the un-marked building on that fateful night when someone had tried to break into my house. I was too afraid to acknowledge them.
The fourth time that God saved me was on February the12th, 2010. I was living in Atlanta, as I do now. This was the day that the snowstorm had hit all over Atlanta. It was 11pm and the snow was 2-3 feet deep. I was driving north on Interstate Highway 75. I was headed to the place I was living at the time off of exit 260. I had nearly reached exit 216. As I approached exit 216, I was driving between 65 and 70 mph, I noticed a person standing directly beside the highway on the left. After only a few seconds I was about to drive by him but right before I got to where he was standing something caught the corner of my eye. Directly beside where this guy was standing, but on the road, was a puddle of oil or something and then it was too late. I hit the puddle and started to spin to the right. I tried to straighten out but after a few seconds I realized it wouldn’t help, only hurt. So I just let go of the wheel. I let go and gave into whatever fate God had in store for me. The truck continued spinning to the right, and as it as it sped towards the steep embankment to the side of the road, I just closed my eyes and waited without fear. I soon was airborne, flying over the side of the road but I quickly came down on the side of the ditch. It was no small ditch, it was a 40 foot steep embankment and as soon as the truck hit it, the truck flipped and began rolling side over side. The truck probably rolled 5-7 times. Somehow, my seatbelt had come off and this, instead of keeping my body in place and allowing my head to rip-jerk around, allowed by entire body to be held by centrifugal force, in the top corner of the truck. That is probably one of the things that God did to help save my life. The truck stopped rolling and landed right side up on its’ wheels. I stepped out of the truck, looked up at how far I had fallen and knew then that I had just gotten very lucky. I looked back and the truck and it was completely totaled. The ends of the truck had been crunched in like an accordion that would never play another key. God had spared my life.
