This event took place over the summer that I lived with my father. I had mentioned in one of my previous posts that we were homeless and joined a group that housed two families until they could take care of themselves.
One week the families would stay in a church and the next week the families would stay in a motel. This occurred on church week.
Just at the sight of this church, I knew there was something off about it. Not just because it was the largest of the churches that we had stayed at, but because of the eerie vibes the place gave off.
Upon entering, we met up with the man who'd be running the shift that evening and he turned out to be a very nice man.
I could feel much more energy around than there were people, so I knew right from the start that this place had at least a few ghosts residing within its walls.
The man, Bob, showed us to our rooms and carried out showing us other areas of our floor (kitchen, dining room, bathroom, etc.).
After he had finished and went back downstairs, my father and step-mother began preparing our room for our stay (blowing up the mattresses and what-not). I, however, decided to look around a little bit.
Right outside our room was a wrap-around balcony and if you look down over the railing, there was the 'gathering' room with the altar and pews.
On the balcony, against the walls, were another set of pews in case the 'gathering' room got too crowded. I peered over the railing down into the 'gathering' room and could see flashes of white figures running about below me.
They seemed to be running toward the wall. Behind me was a set of stairs that led down and up, so I headed downstairs to check things out.
When I got down there, I was in the 'gathering' room but on the wall, where these white figures were running toward, was a set of double doors.
I approached them slowly, and without even opening the door, I could instantly smell the overpowering odor of decay. It smelled as if something had died in there.
I turned around and went back upstairs to inform my father of my discovery. Needless to say, he was curious and we decided that we'd do a little 'investigation' on our last night there.
My father and I ended up pulling out the Ouija Board to contact our Spirit Guides and there were a few interceptions from the energies in the church.
One of them said "f**k you" to me and I laughed at them and said "well, f**k you too!". After that, I sent them away and we continued our conversation with our Spirit Guides.
On another interception, I believe one kept repeatedly spelling out "die". Once again, I laughed at this one and sent it away. My point is, these Spirits were not nice, and were certainly not Angels.
At one point, my father and I got into a pretty heated arguement. I stormed upstairs to the 'gym' area and was basically just blowing off steam.
I circled the room, angrily talking to myself and cursing, I think I even punched a door at one point. I was quite angry. As I continued walking cirlces around the room, I began to feel a tingling in my face.
The tingling spread through my face, through my head and through my entire body. My anger was now boiling on the dangerous side and I no longer felt right.
My right hand (which I broke in sixth grade) began to have a mind of its own.
It kept trying to go into claw formation. My muscles were so tense in my hand and were twitching insanely, all the while trying to claw up.
I knew at this point that something was taking advantage of my anger and trying to take me over.
In a desperate attempt to fight back, I struggled to keep my hand straight and found it too overwhelming to walk, so I raced over to a corner and huddled myself into it.
I sat there forever, staring at my hand, fighting to keep it straight and willing this thing to leave me alone. It felt like there was fire inside my skull and I was becoming desperate and panicked.
In a last-ditch effort, I jumped up out of the corner and began walking cirlces around the room again, trying to get my bearings, trying to keep myself calm.
I kept forcing my hand to stay straight and I began telling this thing to leave me alone and 'get the hell out of me'! Finally, the tingling began to dim and my hand was no longer trying to claw, so I took that opportunity to get the heck out of there.
I ran like a bat out of hell! I told my step-mom and when my father and I were no longer mad, I told him about it as well.
On our last night there, when everyone was asleep, we gathered our supplies (which was pretty much just a flashlight). We both headed downstairs and went through the double doors I mentioned earlier.
Upon entering, the room did not smell of decay. It smelled of incense and perfume. My father figured it must have come from the basement, so we made our way downstairs.
Despite being dark, the basement had no bad smell to it and there was nothing creepy about it at all.
Aside from the ominous music that seemed to come from a window that was located directly in front of a brick wall. After a few minutes, we headed back up the stairs and that room was now filled with the rancid odor of death.
We'd only been downstairs for about five or seven minutes. We noticed a small door up a small flight of steps that led behind the altar. I insisted we go inside but my father decided not to and we ended it there.
I was more than happy to leave the next morning. I'm almost positive that something was going on at that church. Something bad.
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