The pages of the past can hold an eternity of torment that can cause the mind to freeze with terror. Family memories should never be delved into without expecting the unexpected.My life had been a normal, happy one. My children & marriage were well adjusted & it seemed like I had been blessed until that day when the hell of my ancestors returned to haunt me from the grave. This is the kind of story I am about to relate.How do I know it's true? It happened to me.
I had been spending the weekend on my parents farm way back in the hills. I was feeling a need for a change & this place would be perfect. The nearest neighbour was five miles away & there was nothing to do except enjoy the peace & solitude. I was all alone in the house with nothing to interrupt the serenity. There's nothing more beautiful than the sanctity of oneness with nature & the escape from the hectic life.
My ancestry was a long one & my parents were fanatical about such things. The family albums were all part of that. The pages of the album were yellowed & cracked. Worm from time & age. They told a story of people I never knew. About places I would never see. They lay there open as a record of who I was & where I had come from.
The birds sang outside the living room window as a light breeze blew gently across the meadow. And time stood still. This house, this time was a haven of refuge to me as I snuggled up on the couch, flipping through the pages. As if drawn, my eyes fell on a picture of a sweet, little old lady dressed in an old weather worn dress that fell below her feet to the ground. Her kindly eyes told of hardships & trials & yet, I could see the strength that drove her on.
Such a sweet looking soul, innocent of the trials of my day , yet heavily burdened by her own time. She looked so caring , so thoughtful & thought provoking & yet, she lived so long ago. Gone from time & place. As I looked at her, I started feeling strange inside. An uneasiness rising up inside me. It was like I was being drawn to that face. When I tried to dismiss it, & turn the page, my fingers froze as I was compelled to look at her. Her gaze held me & as much as I tried, I couldn't look away. Something in that picture was drawing me. It was a picture of something unnatural. Something from another time & place. As I looked, her eyes stared at me like a knife that cuts through you. As I stared, I could sense she was staring at me, in me, through me. It was as if the picture held a life of its own.I unwillingly held my focus on the photo, & as I did I noticed in the thin glass plate that covered the picture my reflection.
I stared at it horrified as the features began to take shape before me. At the same time the features of the picture were changing. Faintly at first, & then ever growing stronger with time.Then it hit me.I knew her with all her look of antiquity. Her aged face & ghostly appearance. I saw with eyes opened for the first time. It was no longer the sweet, little old lady in that picture.
IT WAS ME !
I was that person from so long ago. She was inhabiting & haunting my body with her very essence. She had become me with her every ounce of strength. The strength of generations who were before me. She had chosen me to provide the flesh & blood body for her return from the grave.
Was I really alive or was I as the picture portrayed, really dead? I was becoming a prisoner of another person., another dimension, another time. I was born in the present, lived for the future & died in the distant past. I had heard of such things. Weird, unexplainable occurrences that seemed so remote & absurd to be real.
I had dismissed such theories as told by those of unbalanced minds.I was logical. My world was one based on logic & common sense. I was not some freak of nature who couldn't control their destiny. I was who I was & all Hell itself wasn't about to change me.
I was ceasing to exist as I knew myself. My mind no longer thought in terms of the present, but in the realms of the far distant past. No one would ever again remember me for who I was. I didn't even know who I was anymore.I was slowly loosing my identity as this unknown person invaded my body, my mind & my very soul, taking possession of every fiber of my being. I was so scared of loosing my identity, of becoming this other person, someone I never knew. Someone, no one in this life knew. My family wouldn't recognize me for I was quickly aging with the appearance of an old woman who no longer existed. Her body was long dead & I was to become her final resting place.
I no longer saw things in the present, but as it were in her day. Even my speech & understanding were beginning to change. I was not the same person. It was not me. I wept uncontrollably as I tried to fight off the power that was swiftly over taking me. I had no strength left. I was weak as all my human strength sifted from my young body to the body of this old woman. I was quickly dying from myself to become this other person. I tried to reason. Tried to think, but all my thoughts were confusing as the two minds blended together into one. It wasn't possible & yet, & yet, here I was alive & breathing as the change over powered me, just like I had lived 100 years ago.
Was I in reality just an image with no physical life or being of my own, or was this whole experience total insanity? I couldn't tell the difference anymore. I had no control. I had no way of knowing who I was or even why I was. My mind reeled with confusion. I couldn't rationalize & yet, I must before I lost all control to this entity. I screamed in utter despair as I felt myself slipping away. I was lost, helpless & beyond return. My spirit was being carried away by an unseen force . Away against my will. I was forced to submit to this unnatural, unholy presence.
As I approached my destination of transfer, I beheld a gravestone & a name appeared, dimly at first, but the closer I got the clearer it became. I gasped in horror, for there on the marker of death from so long ago was MY NAME. I was buried there. I had lived & died & been buried in that forgotten plot so very long ago. I had lived a life in the present, believing to be flesh & blood, capable of living, of loving & being loved. I wasn't real anymore. I no longer existed. My body & soul now belonged to that which is unnatural, to those from the dead.
Spirits return step by step, a little at a time to achieve their goals. First in photographic images, then in conversations to the living. Then, their presence is felt as a chill, a voice calling your name, a thought & then, when you least expect them as an embodied presence, not always of their own, but by possession of those they choose. we have no choice.As the saying goes, " As long as you're remembered, you're not really dead.
You may say, " How could this be? In reality, you lived so long ago. How could you be relating this story?" We spirits of the past have a way of making our presence known. You be the judge.
Dalton Lasher
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