Who Let The Geist In?
Next year, somewhat later than planned however, l shall be commencing “The Confession Series …” A series that deals with aspects of my life from the years 1980 – 1993. In those 13 years alone, l lived a lot of life and responded to many challenges that life both gifted me and presented me with opportunities and ‘occasional moments’ for good and great times!’
13 years is such a small number but it met me when l was 17 and introduced me to 30 and in-between that period it allowed me to discover parts of me that l never really knew l had and more importantly it encouraged me to participate in curiosities that perhaps l may never have experienced had not certain chances arisen before me.
One of the Confession series is my time as a ghost hunter between the years of 1980 to 1983 or from the ages of 17 – 20.
How did l even become a ghost hunter and did l really see any ghosts? Is it all codswallop and Martian bollocks or is there something more to it? Deeper and sinister perhaps? Was l scared or fascinated or both? Did l jump frequently? Did l see strange things, smell stranger scents, feel cold and clammy and was l at all influenced by anything wayward and unnatural?
Well those questions and more will be addressed in the small series of tales and stories that l create in support of that part of the main series which will outline my experiences when looking into the darkness and waiting for it to speak.
But for the time being – with this post and the mini-series that follows over the next couple of weeks, l would like to explain to you how l actually came into contact with the term ‘ghost hunting’.
So many people have quite different opinions when it comes to the question of Time. More so, when it presents itself to observers as today, yesterday, tomorrow and beyond. You hardly ever hear of people today conversing about the beyond. In WordPress l watch creative fiction writers of tale, story and flash alike publishing wonderful literary reads about the beyond and yet, so many of them don’t even believe in that aspect – it’s simply all good fun, a bit of a laugh in black and white.
People watch horror movies because they like to be scared and others watch them because real life scares them more and so horror escapism in film is considered normal and therefore non-threatening.
The human mind can consciously in both reality and actuality as well as fiction and nonsense create ghastly moments in time for readers and thinkers alike, shockingly scary occasions and even when left alone and unattended the mind can scare itself in the dark. Feed your body the wrong foods and or substances and your mind can easily create ghouls from mere flecks of escaped imaginations and just hidden nothings!
Earlier this week l was reading a post by Lisa of The Road Back to Life titled Strange Occurrences in which she was talking about a strange occurence in her kitchen recently. The event was a ‘flying potato’ potentially moved by a ‘geist’ or an entity if you wish, an essence to some others. This story reminded me of my own experiences with geists when l was around the 13/14 years of age mark or as l like to remember 1977/78.
The problems l encountered during this time remained with me and my family till 1980. It never really left even then, it simply manifested itself differently and my life started to change dramatically because of the presence in the house that l lived with my two parents and my sister.
Let me go back a way first …
From the age of l would say 12 and when l was still living in Australia l was very interested in reading horror and ghost stories and whenever l could with my pocketmoney l would buy second hand books and read scary tales and stories and even from that young age l became almost obsessed with certain topics that were not healthy for a boy of my age such as unnatural elements of life, cryptozoology, science fictions, witchcraft and the occult. This passion of mine would stay with me for many years and by this l would prompt maybe the age of 40 that l stopped collecting books on the subject avidly.
From 13 l was writing my own scary works of fiction, and from 14 – 16 l was writing horror stories for money for pulp magazines – so you could say l was keenly enthusiastic for the subject matter.
Living at home with my parents when l was a youngster was hard work. My mother loved me dearly but she had strains of anger that at times bordered on evil and cruelty, l wasn’t the mummy’s boy my father teased with, but he wasn’t like other father’s – because my dad was equally brutal and violent and living under the same roof as him was like living in a war torn city. But my mother was as said no angel either and if there wasn’t combat between my parents then both of my parents at times waged war on me as the eldest.
I wrote and read to escape my living reality – the more scared l became of living with my parents the deeper l sank into the quarry of fictionalised horror but also into the darkest pits of the occult and paranormal.
The arguments prior to the family leaving Australia to return to the United Kingdom were horrendous and nightly affairs that would at times last for hours and not unusually from dusk to dawn. My father was a man who drank and then lashed out, my mother was back then taking valium for stress and who threatened suicide almost daily, lost her temper as frequently as my father and who didn’t hesitate taking it out on my sister whilst he took his anger out on me. When we were not being lashed upon we were being used as weapons against our father.
Life was hard ….
Some of you may even recall that my mother was at that time undiagnosed bipolar and l was undiagnosed Asperger’s – but my father well l think he was probably a sufferer of narcissistic personality disorder maybe comorbid with a variant of autism, whilst l was also undiagnosed bipolar. None of us knew of these strange terms though … to me my family was seriously hard work and most days l wanted to die or run away and or simply cease to exist.
Some of my readership may also remember these two posts Our Little Secret 1969 and Gift [An Overview] – 1975 – Present and these displayed another level of personality and understanding into things and to those who do ‘understand’ what l am writing on as in another level you will start to build up profiles of myself and my family members and how very dysfunctional we were when we arrived back in England in 1977.
Both of my parents regarded me as more than a little strange, a very dark, dark soul ready to raise hell.
Thanks for reading … Part 2 – Soon.