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Copyright 2014 Deborah Hawkins
First published in 2012 by Milton Contact Ltd. Revisions published in 2013 by Milton Contact Ltd This revised edition published in 2014 by Milton Contact Ltd
A CIP Catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. ISBN: 978-0-9571959-7-4
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means - electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other except for brief quotations in print reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.
Cover illustration by Tony Coleby/Nicole Coleby of Perfect Yellow
Printed in the United Kingdom Published by Milton Contact Ltd 3 Hall End, Milton Cambridge, CB24 6AQ United Kingdom www.miltoncontact.co.uk
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Introduction The coward feels no more fear Than the brave man. It’s just that the brave man turns His fear into fire.
This is a true story based in the supernatural it is not for the fainthearted, but it is for those who are seeking an answer to their own dilemma. It is not just a harrowing story of my past afflictions but also one of hope to those who are still in the grip of their own suffering. My story is written with the explicit intent of helping others; it is raw and honest touching upon each experience with crystal clear clarity. It is also my intent to stir up compassion and understanding in others in the hope that whether as an individual or collectively as a society we can encourage, help and support those who are in need.
The decision to write a factual story of this magnitude is not one that was made lightly. To arrive at this point in my life is in itself amazing because I never thought for one moment that I could ever be normal. It has not been possible for me to fill in all the gaps as the journey unfolds since going back as many years as I have ultimately would have created vagueness over certain spans of time. I have recollected many episodes of my life and know that other people will be able to relate to many of the areas mentioned in a past or present context. They have been listed so that you know the contents of the book and why it is I have revealed my story to help others. I believe I have not been alone in these experiences and many are reluctant to speak about them, but I am not, because by being open, restoration of the soul can begin, fear can be broken, you can become one voice in the urban wilderness making a difference to others.
1. Abduction in relation to my own children and myself. 2. Being locked up in different institutions. iii
3. Self-harm and emotional pain. 4. The vulnerabilities of being homeless. 5. The evil of drugs – Heroin, Acid and alcohol. 6. The Supernatural/Demons/The Occult/Witchcraft. 7. Rejection/loss. 8. Mental illness/ breakdown/Schizophrenia. 9. The trap of domestic violence. 10. Rape/sexual abuse. 11. Miracles. 12. Salvation. 13. Vision.
When one individual goes through trauma of any kind it has a terrible impact not just on that individual but also on family, friends and those in society. A great deal of damage is caused that results in death, financial ruin, loss of family and home, loss of friends, employment and loss of mental stability. Other implications are the ways it affects our national health service, the financial cost of drug treatments, re-offending, prescriptions costs, hospital care, accidents, police and court systems and further legal addiction problems via the G.P With support networks closing down, care in the community failing many and long waiting lists to see a counsellor or mental health worker, many people are let down and are forced to suffer alone and some do not make it. It grieves me deeply to read about the many people that have committed suicide because a way out could not be found. I write my story not to boast about my exploits but to let you see that in sharing honestly from my own heart you will read how utterly hopeless my own life had become, yet in the midst of the trauma hope is given and miracles still take place.
Is this you? Have you been called the black sheep of the family and hit rock bottom? Depressed, believing that your future is pointless and your present situation has you locked down, locked in with no light at the end of the tunnel? Are you on the edge of giving up? iv
Are you emotionally drained, your vulnerability more than you can bear? Are you overwhelmed by weakness? Do you feel lost? Have you gone through a trauma so great that you feel you will never be the same again? Do you believe that your anxiety, fear, shame, pride, anger, lust, guilt, will dominate you forever? Did you consciously choose a wrong path and hand your soul over to Satan? Do you have addiction problems that have caused you ruin, destroyed your family, and wrecked everything you care about, including yourself? Are you a victim? - Of crime, abuse, violence. Do you suffer mentally? Are you tormented? Lacking peace, direction, stability, and reason? Do you suffer constant physical pain? Have you had a dark supernatural encounter? Have you suffered great loss? And recovery seems unattainable. Have you been labelled? You cannot allow a label to determine who you are or what lies in your future. Once you label me, you negate me – Kierkegaard. If you relate to any of this, then you should know there really is a path to freedom. The main reason for writing this book is to help you understand that your soul is so precious to God it must be saved at whatever cost.
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The Theme of Seeds I would like to give a brief explanation on why I chose to call my book Dark Seeds, and why it is that each chapter is denoted as a seed. Hidden from view seeds grow in dark secret places, developing strength until they are strong and powerful. Seeds will push past anything that is in the way, persistent to the very end. In some chapters of the book some seeds are visible to the eye, ghostly images that can strike the deepest fear into a heart. Other seeds lay dormant quietly waiting for an opportune moment, the right environment before appearing. Each seed exposed within my story brought with it, it’s own unique terror and destruction. Sometimes areas of our lives are like seeds, experiences that are concealed, deeply hidden within the recesses of our minds, irritating us at the root, steadily gnawing at the soul. Some seeds stored in secret emerge years later to cause further damage. Dark seeds that finally show themselves for what they are need to be pulled out fully from the root so they cannot grow back.
3AM I was not aware about the significance of 3am until the year 2011 when I noticed that there is a 3am phenomenon that has affected many other people around the globe. Some of these disturbances have been explained away as a form of sleep paralysis, better known as the ‘hag phenomena’. But, it would not explain those supernatural experiences where many people who are very much awake would find themselves disturbed in one form or another, nor would it explain my own experience in 1972 when I met with a dark angelic presence.
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Dedication and thanks I dedicate this book to all those who are marginalized or isolated. And to all those in society who need to understand why many people end up on the streets. It is my hope that in reading my story you will be less judgemental and more compassionate.
My Family I dedicate this book to my six amazing children who encouraged me to get my book finished, Thank you. You are deeply engraved on my heart and I am proud of you all. Pastor Daniel: Thank you for your suggestions and your eye for detail that complimented constructive criticism. I appreciate the time given to edit and improve my book. Alison: Thank you so much for your time and effort in editing my draft copy. I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you Chris Thomas, my publisher at Milton Contact Ltd, for supporting me in every way to complete this book. Your professional yet friendly expertise was invaluable and one that I hope will be used again in the future. Thank you Tony and Nicole of www.perfectyellow.com for your commitment, thought and work that has created an atmospheric cover design to complement my story. Thank you to Barclays Bank, Histon, Cambridge who helped me purchase my first computer so that I could begin writing. It is deeply appreciated.
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Contents Introduction ......................................................................................iii The Theme of Seeds ....................................................................... vi Dedication and thanks ....................................................................vii Contents .......................................................................................... ix Seed One – Abduction..................................................................... 1 Seed Two – Ghostly Foundations..................................................... 4 Seed Three – Rape ........................................................................ 17 Seed Four – Rebellion .................................................................... 27 Seed Five – Satan - 3 AM............................................................... 50 Seed Six – Confusion ..................................................................... 56 Seed Seven – Halloween ............................................................... 61 Seed Eight – Torment ..................................................................... 69 Seed Nine – Salvation .................................................................... 76 Seed Ten – Persecution ................................................................. 80 Seed Eleven – Demons .................................................................. 96 Seed Twelve - The Final Blow ...................................................... 106 Seed Thirteen – Breakdown ......................................................... 117 Seed Fourteen – A vision is born ................................................. 129 My last dedication goes to God ................................................... 133 Further Aims and Objectives........................................................ 136 The Sound Of Hooves .................................................................. 141 Focus Evaluation Questionnaire................................................... 155 The consequences of my actions ................................................ 162 Books I recommend ..................................................................... 165 Some Facts about the Author....................................................... 167 Be A Strong Bridge To The Perishing .......................................... 168 ix
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Seed One – Abduction The Dark Stranger It began when I was four years old in the year 1959. Born in Brighton in the county of Sussex I lived just on the outskirts about three miles out from the city centre. I remember my surroundings quite clearly. A mixture of houses and tall skyscraper buildings that seemed to fill the skies, the glint of the sun would shimmer and flicker over the glass windows like a firework display. From my bedroom window I could see a stony path that made its way up the side of a field filled with bright red poppies. In the distance I could see trees, a stretch of woodland that looked endless. I would often be intrigued by the fact that just in front of the house it looked just like the countryside. Today was the day I no longer felt content to observe. I hurried downstairs with an irresistible urge to explore. Without a care in the world I took my first few steps outside embracing the sun’s dazzling brightness as the sun shone its warmth everywhere. With my heart pounding in my chest I slowly crossed the road as a gentle wind brushed through my blonde curly hair. I squeezed my hands together as I ambled up the pathway feeling quite excited about my little venture. My eyes focused downwards from the fierce sun onto the many stones that were scattered on the path, with my feet I played a game of trying to miss as many stones as I could. I became totally engrossed in my game but after a while my legs felt tired and the fun of not touching stones with my feet lost its appeal. I looked up and cupped both hands over my eyes to help me see ahead. In the distance I could just make out two black shapes, one much larger than the other that were boldly silhouetted against the sun.
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Puzzled and very curious I quickened my pace so I could see more clearly. I looked behind me and saw that the houses looked so small, I felt a small sense of victory that I had come so far. As I got closer to the mysterious objects I could see the largest shape was a black car and beside the car stood a tall man whose clothes were as dark as his car. On his head he wore a hat that made it very difficult to see his face, his hand started to wave, as if to say ‘come closer’. I slowly went forward a few more paces as his darkened figure blocked out the sun, which took up all the space in front of me. “Hello”, he said in a faint quiet tone. I slowly diverted my eyes and looked to the ground, my legs felt shaky and heavy as I vaguely remembered my mum telling me not to talk to strangers. As I began to look up my breathing became more difficult, and physically I no longer felt comfortable. Tense and unsure of what was happening I started to sob as his arms reached down to pick me up. As he held me tightly against his chest, he smiled. Instantly I started to kick and scream crying out in a loud broken voice “mummy, I want my mummy”. There was no response just silence as I was firmly bundled into his car and thrown onto the back seat. My screams pierced the air as I heard a car door slam shut. Over my screams the man bellowed loudly “SHUT UP.” No longer the quiet tone I first heard. As the car quickly went into motion I refused to be quiet I screamed loudly until my throat hurt, my legs continued to kick as my screams turned into hysteria. Tears streamed down my face, confused and frightened I sobbed uncontrollably, as my breathing became more and more erratic, what was the dark stranger doing? Where was he taking me? After a short distance the car slowed down and stopped. I was dragged out of the car and my body thrown down hard onto the dry dusty ground. Dirty and whimpering I lay face down while my knees curled up into my stomach. Afraid and unable to move I lay as motionless as a rag doll. As I lay still I heard the man angrily mumbling to himself, nothing made sense to me, I couldn’t understand one word. With my eyes shut tight I heard a loud bang as a car door shut as the car quickly drove away. For some time I was
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unable to connect to my surroundings as I tried to keep quiet. Afraid and confused and so very tired, I eventually fell asleep. I had no idea how long I lay on the ground for but when I awoke I found it difficult to move, my legs felt stiff. I stood up with all the strength I could find; slowly I placed one foot in front of the other and started to walk, all I could sense was an overwhelming need to go home. I noticed the stretch of woods that I had seen from my bedroom window was now very close by. The trees large and looming overshadowed the ground where I stood. The sun had lost its warmth and the gentle wind had disappeared, all that hung in the air was silence. I continued to walk in the hope of finding the pathway; far off in the distance I could hear a strange noise, a bit like the stranger who had mumbled to himself earlier. I became afraid as thoughts ran through my mind that maybe the dark stranger was coming back for me. As the sounds became louder I heard my name being called, my heart raced in my chest as the name Deborah resounded in my ears. More than one voice called my name. My tired grazed legs wanted to run towards the cries of my name but I couldn’t see beyond the tall grass fields. Through the shouting I could just make out one voice, it was like the voice of an angel, it was my mummy. Unable to call out I started to cry, at first quietly but as my cries got louder I heard a voice shout out, “QUIET.” As everything went quiet my cries continued until I heard a voice shout out “I’ve found her.” As I stood still a warm yet very familiar face gazed down at me, my mother picked me up and held me tight. I laid my head down on her shoulder and even though I hurt all over, I had never felt so safe and so happy.
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Seed Two – Ghostly Foundations Seven years had passed by since the incident of the dark stranger. My family had moved into the centre of Brighton where my father had bought a large three-storey town house. Our family had grown I was now one of four children. My brother Chris was two years older than me, and my two sisters were a year or so younger. My father was hard working and like all hard working dad’s we saw very little of him. He had his own roofing business that involved large properties such as hotels as well as houses. Financially things were improving all the time and now we had our first home that we could call our own. As we all settled into our new home, it became a hive of activity. School holidays had arrived and my mother was constantly rearranging the furniture keeping very busy and being quite house proud. Dad had already left early in the morning to go to work, which left the four of us wondering what to do with our time. For a while we played games, French skipping, two ball, and board games. Some of the days were spent going to an adventure playground, which was great fun, climbing trees and swinging from ropes. But the best bit for me was exploring the house. I was very curious about an old house that seemed to give me the spooks. The house felt cold and not the least bit homely. Most of the building was dark, the hallway and stairs had no windows so there was no natural light. Only a small chink of light came up the stairs from the basement where the kitchen was. It was a great house to play hide and seek in but on this particular day I left the others and decided to go and explore by myself beginning with the basement.
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The basement kitchen was in a sorry state. The cupboards looked neglected and needed a good clean. The cold floor slabs had a worn out look about them and an old coalbunker resided under the stairs. The temperature in the kitchen was cool which was perfect on a hot sunny day, the back door led onto a garden area, which was completely overgrown. The kitchen felt so disconnected from the rest of the house it made me feel a little uncomfortable. I went back to the base of the stairs, which curved round and up to the next floor, shivering as I did so. The house felt a little strange as if the walls might speak, and if they had done they would have shouted ‘GET OUT’. I shivered again and ran up the stairs trying my best to calm my thoughts, my imagination getting the better of me. I wandered down one of the long hallways and made my way to the large living room that was at the front of the house. This room had a large window that was very inviting. I stood in front of the window soaking up the sun waiting for the shivering to stop. Opposite the living room at the other end of the hallway was a bedroom that had been allocated for my parents. As my body began to feel warm again I felt ready to explore further. On the top floor were three other bedrooms, my two younger sisters shared one and my brother and I had a bedroom each. Every room was in need of redecoration; the house was pre-war and had been left for some years. The dark dingy hallway on the top floor in particular gave the house a claustrophobic feel. At night time the house seemed hostile so I always left my bedroom door open and the hallway light on. Sometimes I would walk around the house as if I was an intruder almost afraid to wake the house up. I would always check under my bed and in the wardrobe because my dad would often tell us that if we did not go to sleep, the bogeyman would come and get us, which didn’t help. To resolve the strange feelings that I was experiencing I tried to reason within my own mind why I felt the way I did had made up my mind that due to moving to a new house, as well as starting a new school, I was bound to be unsettled. I also decided to take my focus off the house and get to know the area in which we lived instead. Even though I am now eleven years old leaving the house to explore was something mum felt uneasy about, the memory of the abduction was still firmly rooted in her memory. I asked mum if I could 5
go outside and look around the area giving a firm promise that I would not venture too far. With a half-smile and a sigh she said, “alright but don’t be gone for too long.” It felt so good to be outside and I was more than happy to go off on my own. I stepped outside and walked around for a good half hour seeing row upon row of houses. As I came to a new road something caught my eye. In front of me I saw a very old heavy wooden door at the front of a huge building. I got closer to see a large round black metal handle on the door. On the wall adjacent to it was an inscription, which clearly stated that the building was a convent. I knew nuns existed but only by the films I had watched on television. I often wondered what it would be like to live and work in such a place. I felt excited by the prospect of meeting with a real nun and had a strong urge to knock on the door. After a couple of minutes I plucked up the courage and lifted the metal ring giving a hard knock against the wood. Regretting my actions almost immediately wondering whether I would get into trouble, I hesitated in my decision as to whether I should stay or leave. Before I had time to run the door opened and a nun with a kind smile spoke to me in a very calm voice, “Hello, how can I help you?” “Hello,” I blurted out with excitement “I want to be a nun”. The door opened wider and with a gesture of her hand the nun responded, “Why don’t you come in for a moment and we will discuss it, would you like to do that?” “Oh yes please” I replied, thinking to myself ‘what are you doing?’ I stepped inside to a grand marble hallway with velvet chairs that were neatly placed against either side of the walls. I felt as if I had entered heaven. As the door shut behind me the noise echoed everywhere. On the walls were portraits of people and the floor was so shiny I could see my own face. Everything was so clean and quiet and any noise from the outside was unable to penetrate the thick walls. I sat down on one of the red velvet chairs and asked my first and only question, “Do you think I could be a nun one day?”
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“If God calls you to be a nun you will know it, you would have to come back when you are much older, about sixteen, if your parents agree you could then become a novice”. I nodded not really understanding why I had even asked the question in the first place. “I will be back in a moment, if you like you can sit here for just a few minutes then you must go”. I enjoyed the short span of time that I had. Meeting a real nun was a wonderful experience; the nun seemed quite angelic with her serene face and peaceful composure. As I waited I sensed a peace within me. Perplexed I twiddled my thumbs and looked down at the shiny marbled floor thinking that I better go home soon before mum worried. When the nun returned I thanked her for her kindness and without another word spoken, I left, realizing that we had not even introduced ourselves. When I got home I kept my experience of going to the convent to myself. Mum had kept very busy, the house looked cleaner and more organized and my first chore was to get all my school clothes ready as the holidays were coming to an end. The thought of starting at school gave me a growing feeling that I was about to be thrown into a den of lions. I was a mixture of boldness one minute and shyness the next. Making new friends and meeting new teachers gave me butterflies in my stomach. As school opened I wore a fleshy garment of outward bravado, ignoring my churning stomach. At first the other children seemed friendly and I was friendly back, but inside my confidence was low. In the playground at break time I stood alone, I missed my sisters who were in a different part of the school and came out at a different time to me. It wasn’t long before I was being taunted for my shyness. “What’s the matter with you” the other children said, “cat got your tongue?” “Hawkeye, Hawkeye, Hawkeye is shy”, they chanted. Hawkeye was derived from my family name. Hawks in nature were swift and bold but I was quite the opposite. On and off the bullying continued, sometimes my hair was pulled as the other kids stood by laughing. 7
I had no idea why I could not interact as easily as the other children; I just wanted to run away. In the classroom things were a little more relaxed, but at break times once outside it all changed. I persevered and decided that since I liked drama I would join the drama group; hoping this would help my confidence levels and gain me some respect from the other children. Mr Hughes our drama teacher for the most part was fun to be with, but sometimes he would shout, especially if you got something wrong. I was very excited about being in the Christmas play; I was to play the part of angel Gabriel with just a couple of lines to say; the first line began with the words ‘Fear not’. But on the night of the play, in front of all the parents as I spoke the words ‘fear not’ I froze with utter stage fright. My heart sank as I stood on the stage looking out at all the faces, not one word coming from my mouth. My body became rigid as I tried to remember the rest of my lines, but nothing came. Bursting into tears I ran off the stage as the play continued on without me. At home I became consumed with anxiety about attending school the next day; I thought Mr Hughes would be very angry with me for messing up my lines. Even though I felt a little vulnerable I went to school the next day in the hope that maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as I imagined. But it was much worse. During the day something tragic occurred Mr Hughes had suffered a heart attack and died. We were all sent home as everyone was crying, it was so sudden and the news shocked everyone at the school. I felt sad that I did not have the opportunity to say sorry for messing up the play, and having the day off school just allowed me to wallow in my guilt and think about how sudden the death of Mr Hughes was. That evening I went to bed and grabbed a book to read hoping to take my mind off things. It was difficult to settle down and every now and then I would peer over the top of the book and look down the hallway, which for the first time I had left in the dark forgetting to put the hallway light on.
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Normally reading would help me to feel sleepy but tonight it wasn’t working. I was tense; I assumed the whole situation of losing my teacher had caused me to feel extra stressful. I tried very hard to concentrate on my reading but after a few minutes I peeped over the top of the book again and looked down the hallway, this time I noticed more than just darkness, a white moving shape had appeared. It looked like a heavy mist, which became solid at times, the mist moved around in a figure of eight and every now and then it would stop and take a more substantial form. I cringed and gripped my book tightly wondering what I should do. The mist went quite high and started to reform itself and as it did a shape took place that resembled a man although I could not see a face. At first I screamed, thinking that Mr Hughes had risen from the dead and had come back to haunt me for messing up my lines. The white mass resembled the shape of my drama teacher whose frame was stocky and large, with a mouth wide open, I stared in disbelief. Surely people do not come back from the dead. I nervously got out of bed and noticed that the white manly shape stayed in one place, as if stuck to the floor, I decided to run into my brother’s bedroom to get help. I ran with such speed and panic I nearly fell over and bolted straight into Chris’s room. As I did I cried out, “Chris, there is something in the hallway”. My brother was lying motionless on a wet mattress his body stiff with fear. “Chris what’s wrong, talk to me” I cried, “You’re scaring me”. There was no answer as his eyes stayed transfixed staring at the ceiling. The last thing I wanted to do was look up, but I felt compelled to do so. Set deep into the ceiling a pair of dark yellow eyes looked down at me. The eyes looked back with such intense menace that it filled me with terror. My legs gave way as I crumpled into a heap on the floor screaming hysterically. I could see my warm breath gushing out into the cold air with each scream.
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I could hear my parents frantically rushing up the stairs but by the time they had arrived, the white mass in the hallway and the eyes in the ceiling had both disappeared. That night the lights were left on, my brother and I and both my sisters had very little sleep. Mum and dad tried to convince us that we’d both had nightmares, ‘sometimes children can have nightmares while awake’ they said, and I was to consider with all of the upset at school, that maybe our minds were playing tricks on us. We were not the slightest bit convinced. The effect of witnessing ghostly apparitions left me physically so frightened to get out of bed that I wet my bed often. The toilet was down the end of the hallway, a trip I did not want to make. Chris was also left agitated and nervous; we found consolation in each other. We would get together often to talk about it. Bewildered by the fact that our parents did not want to believe what we had seen I felt very alone, especially when Chris was not about. Who else could I share such a thing with? Why did they not believe us? Home became a tense place but at least for now school wasn’t so bad, the sad event of Mr Hughes had made everyone become more solemn. Any bullying had stopped. As a family we all tried to forget about that spooky evening and move on, a few weeks had passed and things seemed normal in the house once again. I recall a day when it was so lovely to come home to the smell of freshly baked biscuits. I could hear mum singing in the kitchen and went downstairs to grab myself a biscuit. My mother had a lovely voice that always made me feel peaceful. I dumped my things on the floor and gave mum a big hug. “How did your day go at school Deborah”? Mum asked. “Okay mum, things seem to be okay,” I responded. “Have a biscuit or two” mum said passing me the plate. “Oooh they smell so nice, thanks mum”. I leant back against the wall and watched mum busy herself at the kitchen sink as I bit into a soft oat biscuit.
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My indulgence lasted for a brief minute as I felt a tingling sensation run through my body I physically shivered as my body temperature dropped, I knew we were not alone. I tensed up and took another bite on my biscuit trying to act normal but inside I felt so scared, for some reason I did not want to turn my head. As the tension grew inside me I closed my eyes tight hoping everything would go away. I waited for what seemed like an eternity as I listened to the clunking of plates, and then I opened my eyes. As I slowly turned my head I saw a pair of red eyes deep within the wall. It took me back to that evening when I was in my brother’s room seeing yellow eyes in the ceiling. I tried to scream but at first nothing came out. Again there was such intensity in the eyes and I could see that there were no facial features. The eyes looked as if they came from an aggressive animal. Mum turned round sensing something was wrong, she looked straight at me, “what on earth is the matter”? “I can see red eyes”, I paused and took a deep breath, “red eyes in the wall,” I paused again, “over there!” putting my hands over my face I began to sob. “Deborah, don’t be silly, it really is okay,” mum hugged me tightly; “I think the death of your teacher has affected you more than you realise”. I couldn’t believe it; mum had not even looked to see if what I had said was true, and she couldn’t blame everything on the death of my teacher, I ran upstairs to my room inconsolable. The negative impact this had on me was very damaging I no longer felt like the same person, and trying to talk to my parents about it was becoming more and more difficult. My world was growing smaller and smaller, and much more terrifying. It was actually good news to me when at last someone else in the family had an equally frightening experience and this time it was our dad. We all sat there stunned as dad told us his story. Dad had been in the basement in the kitchen when a cupboard door came open; at first he took no notice after all cupboards can come open when they have not been shut properly.
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But what happened next was convincing. Dad said that a glass came through the air and floated to the sink, a tap came on and the glass filled itself with water. Then the glass emptied itself as the glass then placed itself on the draining board. Next the back door opened and slammed shut, and yet there was no visible presence. “That’s it, as far as I am concerned the house is haunted” dad said, “we are moving”. Dad sold the house and we moved about five miles outside of the city to a new area. It was a relief to know that what my brother and I had witnessed was now believed; no one had any regrets about leaving. We all settled into our new home with optimism, the house was modern and light in a good locality. Close by fields and horses surrounded us. We had not had any more upsets to do with seeing ghostly apparitions for a few months, although a new area of concern had arisen. Mum and dad were arguing quite a lot and my father’s drinking habits had increased, house parties had become quite common, they had become such a priority that a large bar was erected in the living room with his own optics for drink; dad was becoming more and more the party show off. During the arguments there were times when my dad hit my mum especially when dad was drunk, afterwards he would buy her flowers and chocolates to say sorry. Mum was suspicious of dad’s behaviour as he would come home smelling of another woman, and on one occasion mum found a lipstick stain on the top of his shirt collar. I noticed mum’s smoking had increased as her own anxiety levels rocketed. As soon as she put out a cigarette she lit another one, at least 3 to 4 packets of twenty Guards cigarettes sat on the shelf every day. Mum had become a chain smoker. In between the moods of both parents Saturdays became the day when all of us could escape and have some fun. We were all given money to go out so that dad could have an uninterrupted day of watching sport. We went to the cinema in the mornings and then to the ice skating rink in the afternoon. Sometimes we went for horse riding lessons as we all loved horses. There seemed to be no problems financially and dad’s business was going well. New 12