Volume 3: Ghost Stories from Texas (Joe Kwon's True Ghost Stories from Around the World) (22 page)

My Dark Man Part 3

Houston, Texas

In order to tell my next story I have to give you a little more background on myself. I have been able to see and sense things for as long as I remember, and in December of 2003 I had a strong sense that something was wrong.

I was going to college at the time in San Antonio, and for some reason I couldn't bring myself to sign up for spring courses. My parents kept asking me why I hadn't signed up and all I could tell them is I felt that I wouldn't be able to go.

On December 29, 2003, my father passed away of heart problems. He was only 39 and it came as quite a shock to my family. At that time I was 22, my sister was 18 and my brother 12.

It goes without saying that this was a horrible time for my family. I began having dreams of my father. In some of these my father and I would just talk and I would wake crying but I knew that it was his way of communicating with me and letting me know he was ok.

Then I began having different dreams. My father was still in them, but somehow I knew it wasn't really him it was actually the dark man.

I dreamed that I was out shopping with my mom and a man that looked just like my father approached us. My mom was so happy to see him and hugged him tightly. The man then turned to me and held out his arms to me I recoiled in horror.

This man looked just like my father, he was even wearing my dad's uniform (my dad was active duty air force), but I could tell it wasn't him because of his eyes.

There was coldness in the eyes in front of me that I never saw in my father's. My blood ran cold. I knew that look. I tried to get away from him and he kept telling me that he was my father and he wasn't dead, if I would only come to him, I would see that.

I finally stopped and faced the man, and told him I knew who he truly was. The figure then looked at me and laughed and disappeared. I awoke in a cold sweat and looked around my room. I couldn't see the man anywhere, but I could feel him.

I wish I could say this was the last of his torment, but he would again soon find his way back to me.

Axe Me If I Care

Houston, Texas

This is a confession. One I've never spoken of before. Mainly because I never realized the impact of what I've done until just recently. I'm still kind of in disbelief, mostly that I didn't realize there would be repercussions.

I'm going to state something very profound: I'm an axe murderer, and I didn't even know it. Not in the sense that I took an axe and hacked someone into pieces. Not exactly, anyway. But, then again, pretty much sort of. And I'm starting to feel sorry about it I think. It hasn't quite sunk in yet, but I can feel it starting to. I'm just trying to connect with my feelings about this. I'm not sure how I feel about it yet, or how I'm even supposed to feel. Awful, I think. Or maybe I feel awful that I don't feel awful, if that makes any sense.

I was 18 years old and lived with my brother and his two daughters. They were like sisters to me. Well, ONE was like a sister to me. The younger niece, however, I found to be just a bit of a nuisance. She was "different". Honestly, I saw her as more of an object than a person. I feel like I can see inside of most people, as if I can sense their souls. With her, though, she just seemed empty to me. Just a temporary object in space and time that had no real purpose, no real meaning, no importance at all. And no soul. She was no different to me than a table or a chair, except that she was a nuisance.

One morning I'd gotten up very early (5a.m. or so) when my brother left for work. I had a reason, though. I woke up the older niece and we sneaked into her younger sister's room with the intention of doing something mean to her before she woke up. I don't even remember what we were about to do, but I'm certain it wasn't very nice. Anyway, she woke up and caught us both there beside her bed just as we were about to do it. She asked what we were doing in her room, and she seemed pretty angry. I remember because she started to raise her voice and we didn't want to get in trouble (her mom was still home and sleeping just in the next room). So, I told her she needed to be quiet. But, she didn't take me seriously; so then I had to back that up. I put my hand over her mouth and held it tight across her lips and her jaw. Again I told her in a very quiet, but firm voice, "Shut up!"

The situation was escalating, and I needed to do something fast. In that very instant, a thought came to me, and I spoke it. "The neighbor... the one that lives behind us... Bart... you know, the guy in Alcoholics Anonymous? He's gone crazy. He started drinking again and he's completely drunk and insane... he's got an axe and he's downstairs right now! You HAVE TO BE QUIET!" (Yes, his name really was Bart. We called him "Black Bart" just for fun).

She stopped struggling and her face went soft. I uncovered her mouth and glanced at her older sister. "We're going downstairs to see if he's gone yet. Stay here until we get back," I whispered.

Thinking nothing of this myself, I quietly lead her older sister out of the room. We went straight downstairs to watch television. I assumed she'd fall back to sleep up there and think it was a dream. It never even crossed my mind that she might continue to react after we left her alone in her room. You've heard the term, "out of sight, out of mind"... that's exactly what this was. I never even gave it another thought all morning.

Around noon (nearly 7 hours later) my brother's wife came downstairs. She was madder than a wet hornet. She'd just gotten out of bed and discovered her youngest daughter in a certain state and shaking on the floor in a corner of her room. Unfortunately she'd managed to mumble enough, even in her condition, to get me into deep trouble. My brother was called and he immediately came home from work. It was a rough day for everyone. My brother and his wife admitted that their youngest daughter was "different", but stated it was no excuse to do that to her. Whatever. Except, it seemed to have pushed her over the edge. She'd been up there for hours, cringing in the corner. In her mind, thanks to me, there was a real-live axe murderer downstairs hacking up her family into pieces... and that she could be next. I have to assume this wasn't what made her the way she was, it just happened to be the last straw. She was institutionalized shortly afterward. She ended up killing herself approximately two years later, just shortly after moving back home to her parents' house.

The weekend of the funeral I stayed a night at my brother's house, and slept in the very same upstairs room I'd had as a teenager. It brought back a LOT of memories. While there, I couldn't help but step into my younger niece's old bedroom. And for the first time ever, it felt to me like she was actually present... as if something about her truly existed and was present at that very moment. I never felt that with her while she was alive. Alive, she felt to me as if she were nothing more than an object. This wasn't a creepy feeling; it was simply an unusual feeling. I didn't care if she had a spirit that returned. Not then, anyway. That was 30 years ago.

Two weeks ago I returned to my brother's house for a short visit. I pretty much wasn't allowed back until now, so it was the first time since the funeral that I'd been back there. I again stayed in my old upstairs bedroom, and again I stepped into my deceased niece's room for a moment. The room was uncomfortably cold. I stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind me. Across the hall I got into bed and quickly fell asleep. During the night I was awakened by a long, low-pitched crying sound. I strained to listen. It continued. I got up and moved to the doorway. The crying continued. I was certain it was coming from my dead niece's room. I immediately assumed it was the older niece in there crying about her younger sister being dead (even after all these years. She kind of feels guilty, too.) So, I went to comfort her. But, opening the door, I found nobody there. There was just enough moonlight coming in through the window on the opposite wall that I could see where I was going. I walked around to the other side of the bed and stood in front of the window. But, there, on the floor, wide-eyed and shaking in the corner was my dead niece. She looked up at me, and seemed to be screaming frantically although there was no sound coming from her. Actually, I don't remember ANY sounds whatsoever once I entered the room. Then she just vanished. I hurried out.

Now it seems to me that it just may be that the spirit of my niece has, perhaps for the last 30 years, been continuously reliving that ordeal I placed upon her. The axe murderer in the house, hunting each of us down one by one, had, to her, been a frightening reality. One that resulted in her death, even if indirectly. I put that reality in her feeble mind, am I responsible for her death? More than that, though, am I responsible for 30 years of her continuous torment even after she's long been dead? I don't know yet what to make of that possibility, nor if I'm even ready to acknowledge this at all. Why does this have to happen to me?

Children of the Railroad

San Antonio, Texas

This story is completely true and bizarre. You can even research it for yourselves.

Years ago, a school bus full of children was hit by a train in a terrible accident.

Apparently the bus had stalled on the tracks. I'm not sure how this started but, if you go to this crossing and put your car in neutral the car will move over the cross on its own. Or so it would seem.

Many people have done this, and all with the same result. They have put baby powder on the trunk of the car, and you can see the handprints of children pushing the car to safety, so as to save them from the fate they suffered.

It pains me though, because people do this for amusement, especially on Halloween. Their souls will never be given the respect and rest they deserve, because the living don't care about the children of the railroad.