It was the fall of 2016, and I found myself visiting my friend Mike’s house in New Jersey. Stories of eerie occurrences had swirled around Mike’s family home for as long as I could recall. Though I had encountered something unexplainable there as a child, I had never delved into the depths of the supernatural mysteries lurking within those walls.
A decade earlier, during my childhood, Mike and I embarked on an adventure into his dimly lit and cluttered basement. Among the eclectic assortment of antiques and curios, we were astounded to witness clothes moving near the washer and dryer. To confront what we assumed was a prank by Mike’s brother, he grabbed a plastic bat. As we approached, the clothes halted their mysterious dance, and the intruder remained unseen. Panic ensued as a large painting, which had been facing away from us, blocked our path to the stairs. Together, we summoned the courage to move it aside, fleeing in terror from the unexplained presence. Upon hearing our account, Mike’s mother believed it to be the work of the house’s resident ghosts.
In the years that followed, I reconnected with Mike and found myself once again within the confines of his enigmatic home. For some time, nothing unusual occurred until the fateful fall of that year.
On a particular evening, Mike, our close friend Val, and I sat in his soothingly lit room. A massive fish tank cast calming ripples of light, while a visualizer on the television played serene music. Our conversation took a chilling turn as Mike recounted our childhood basement encounter. To my surprise, I realized I had blocked a crucial part of that memory: the painting obstructing our path.
Soon after, I felt an ominous shift in the atmosphere. The room seemed to darken, and a disorienting sensation washed over me. It was akin to the moment just before losing consciousness or the spaciness one feels under the influence of medication. Panic set in as I feared I might be on the brink of something inexplicable. I struggled to articulate my distress, convinced that something was terribly wrong with me. Thoughts of my own mortality raced through my mind, and I didn’t want to face such an enigmatic fate.
My friends attempted to calm me, but their words seemed distant and ineffective. Mike suggested we relocate to the lower level of the house to get some fresh air. As I complied, I was flooded with visions and emotions, like pieces of a puzzle falling into place. My body, seemingly detached from my will, compelled me to draw these sensations on paper. I sketched a scene from the early 1900s—an image of a young boy sitting precariously on a wooden dock, the lake’s tranquility beyond. As my fingers danced across the paper, I inexplicably wept. This physical reaction served as validation: it was as if my body cried to affirm the authenticity of these otherworldly experiences.
I attempted to convey the messages that flowed through me, identifying myself as “Josh” or “James.” But I couldn’t fathom how I had become a vessel for these unearthly messages.
As the night progressed, my friends bore witness to my hands moving as if guided by unseen forces, and I sensed a powerful magnetism at play. I couldn’t fully decipher the message, but I was deeply unsettled by the inexplicable influence that seemed to manipulate my actions.
The following day, I returned to Mike’s house, accompanied by our friend Wes. As we watched a movie, I felt another presence overtaking me. It manifested in a strange sensation in my right cheek, and my eyes seemingly changed color. I mumbled incoherent phrases and inexplicably cried. It was as if I were a conduit for something beyond my comprehension. My body moved of its own accord, engaging in conversations that felt foreign to me. I relayed messages of love and reassurance, feeling a profound connection to a realm beyond our understanding.
As the night wore on, I was drawn to a particular spot in Mike’s house, repeatedly pointing to its significance. My friends speculated about the hidden meaning of this mysterious location, while I followed the guidance of an unseen force. I couldn’t fully grasp the purpose of this “spot,” but its significance was undeniable.
In a basement toolroom, I encountered a distressing energy that left me breathless. It was an eerie reminder of a dying man’s final moments. Mike and I explored this unsettling space, trying to uncover its secrets, but we found ourselves overwhelmed by an unexplained presence.
Finally, we were drawn to a dark room once occupied by Mike’s step-grandfather during his final days. It was here that I felt a powerful energy and witnessed inexplicable events. My connection to this enigmatic force was undeniable, and my friends were left astonished by the inexplicable events that unfolded before them.
Days later, I shared my encounter with my mother, who believed my account due to her own experiences with the unexplained. I spoke of sensing my grandmother’s presence and her emotional connection to my mother’s dreams. These inexplicable events had altered the course of my life, opening doors to a realm beyond our understanding.
If you possess any insights or information, please share them with me. I remain in search of answers, eager to unravel the mysteries that continue to unfold before me.