She said it was our fault!

 

When she was young she insisted on us telling the ghost stories - she was fascinated by what we had to say.

We did not know that later in her life our stories would have had such an impact on her - that theywould nearly destroy her.

Time went by, her family left for England and we thought no more of the ghost stories told on chilly nights around the drawing room fire.

Years later the bell on our gate rang - she had returned! But what a change from the child with long blonde hair and a look of innocence on her face! The blonde hair remained but the face was hardened by something not quite natural.

"Its all your fault", were her first words to us.
"What is our fault?", was our reply.
"I am possessed", was the answer.

We listened while she related what had happened. She had become involved with the Ouija Board and had experienced some very disturbing examples of how it can react. Then one day she found that she was not quite in control - her temper started to flare - she took on improbable strength. She could pick up furniture and throw it across a room - something had happened - this was not the person she or others knew!

We gave it all some thought and decided that we needed help from someone more powerful than ourselves.

We approached a local healer who listened to the story and agreed to help us.

We arrived at his house one morning with the child and were ushered into his study or prayer room.

We took tea and made idle conversation. Suddenly, without warning, he asked her to sit on a small prayer stool in the centre of the room. The child's eyes took on the look of terror and we had to force sit her down. We made a circle and the healer started to recite the Lord's prayer. The figure on the stool started to reel and rant - the eyes were protruding and she was foaming at the mouth. I was asked to get water - I could only find a dogs bowl and brought that into the room - the water was thrown on her but still she raved and foamed at the mouth. As the prayers continued her screams became loader. Suddenly she stopped still like a grotesque statue and from her crept an almost solid figure, bent over and looking back - uneasy at leaving its human host.

It was a woman - middle aged - thin beyond belief. She had club cut blonde hair - dirty and straggling. Her dress was worn, dirty and had a chevron pattern in blue and yellow.

We watched as this pathetic figure slunk out of the room into the sunshine where it disappeared.

The child collapsed in a heap on the floor. We revived her and sat down to discuss the happening with her - she remembered nothing.

The healer said he felt it was a woman who had suffered in a concentration camp and could not accept her fate and death.

The phantom did not return - perhaps it has found peace at last.

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