…And Still Insists He Sees the Ghosts

I don’t understand people who insist that there is no such thing as ghosts…or worse. Ironically, I have found that these people are usually religious types, as if the idea that their god (whoever that may be) would let someone not go to whatever exists in the afterlife is unthinkable. That, or they just don’t believe. That close minded approach to something they have no experience with is annoying.

Those people I won’t convert, so I won’t try. For the rest, I will tell a freaky little story.

When I was in my early 20s, my friend and I were on the way back to my grandmother’s house very late at night. To get there, the fastest way was this very dark street, barely more than an alley with a lane going each direction, set between a church and a small industrial strip. I remember having an odd feeling that we were being watched and looking around. The street was totally empty in all directions. There was a stop sign, and to the left of that was a small alley. In front was a small Jewish school with a large parking lot. To the right was a street. We turned right.

On our right side was the fence around the church, and the fence was made of close metal bars set into a brick wall about a foot and a half high. Suddenly, everything got really cold. We hadn’t gone more than 50 feet when we both gasped.

A young guy, about our age, was riding a bike directly in front of us. He was handsome, but his face was twisted with rage and hate. He was wearing a light jacket and jeans, yet there was something outdated about him. He glared at us, and we both felt the icy cold of his hate, as if daring us to hit him. His face, which I can still see in my mind, was dark, as though poorly lit on an already darkened street.

My friend slammed on her breaks, jerking to a stop, but it was too late. We hit him…yet there was no feeling of impact. We got out and looked around. We looked under her car — that’s how convinced we were that we hit him.

Nothing was there.

We looked to our right, but there was no way anyone could have come from the church side — we were nowhere near a driveway, and there was a fence with the bars too close together for even a small child to fit through. We looked to our left where there was the Jewish school with the large parking lot and a field beyond that. It was empty. We looked all around…and nobody was there.

The air suddenly warmed to the normal night temperature. My friend and I got in the car and described the guy on the bike to each other. Each little detail matched. We drove home, and I felt that feeling of cold for the briefest of seconds and it was gone. Nothing was there.

Years later, my friend and I still talk about the guy on the bike and agree that he was indeed a ghost. For two people to not be discussing anything of the sort, to see the same exact man, to freak out because we would have hit him, and to have him absolutely nowhere, there seemed to be little other explanation. It wasn’t hysteria or a group hallucination because that would imply that we had that image in our heads, and that wouldn’t explain us seeing exactly the same thing. We don’t know who he was, what he wanted, or why he was even there.

Later, three different friends and I were driving toward the same house. In the car was the woman who taught me a great many things about reading tarot and her boyfriend, a genuine psychic. I had never mentioned this story to any of them. The boyfriend suddenly turned to me and asked if someone had died in that area. I said I didn’t know. He said that he felt something — someone on a moped or a bike. My tarot-reading friend said she felt something too, but couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

I nearly shat my pants. I told them the story, and we all sort of just sat there, looking around. We saw nothing, but we felt a lot.

After that I saw him one time as I was walking home from work late at night. I heard a bike coming toward me on the sidewalk, turned, saw someone fairly near, and moved to the side to let him pass me. Nobody ever did. I looked around and saw him right behind me. Same outfit, same guy. But I only saw him for a second and then he was gone. And that was it. We never saw him again.

Of course, that wasn’t the only paranormal incident I’ve had, however relatively insignificant it was. But that’s a story I may tell another time…when it’s late and I have nothing else to talk about.

Maybe.

 

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~ by Darren Endymion on October 15, 2015.

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