A Personal Experience By Judith
I have lived in Pharr, Texas, my whole life. It’s a very small town; every passing traveler just drives by. My parents' house is one of the newest houses in this neighborhood -- every other house is old and falling apart, or was remodeled.
Our home is in front of a park, which is followed by two graveyards. People have always asked me if I am afraid of living so close to two graveyards. "No, I am used to it," I always replied.
Before I was born, my grandparents moved here and built their first home just two houses down. My grandparents told us that back then, a lot of women practiced Mexican witchcraft and were always putting spells on their boyfriends or husbands so they wouldn’t cheat or leave them. My grandfather said it happened to him before he was married to my grandmother. He told us that the lady put something in his rice, and after that, he never ate rice again.
My grandmother didn’t do witchcraft; she was believer in Jesus Christ and God. The Lord always protected her from evil things. She once told me that a lady down the street who lived in my aunt’s house had demons in her. When my grandmother went to cast them out, the demons jumped into her sister. That is just one of the many supernatural things that have occurred here in my hometown. Here are three of the most interesting stories.
The first story is what happened to my husband while we were asleep. I think it was around two or three in the morning when my husband woke me up.
"Why did you pull the blanket off?" he asked me sleepily.
I didn't, I told him; I was asleep. He seemed perplexed, but I was tired, so I rolled over. Once again he woke me up, a few minutes later.
"Something just ripped the blanket off me from the floor!" he said.
I told him he was dreaming, and we went back to sleep. The next morning, he asked me, "Do you remember that I woke you up last night because something pulled off the covers off of me?" I told him yes, but that he was just dreaming. Then my brother walked in at that moment.
"It’s happened to me too," he said.
The second story happen to my father, also around two or three in the morning. I woke up to hear my dad yelling at my brother. My dad was telling him to stop pretending to be asleep because he caught him coming out of the bathroom running; why he wasn’t asleep? It was late.
"Dad, I wasn’t awake. I was asleep because I feel sick," I heard my brother say.
My father keep saying, "Don’t lie to me. You were wearing this black-hooded jacket."
"That’s not mine," my brother said.
There was an eerie silence, and then I heard my father leave my brother's room. The next morning, he told us what he saw. He said he woke up to go to the bathroom and noticed someone who he thought was my brother wearing the black hooded jacket run from the bathroom to his bedroom. My father got angry because he'd told my brother to go to bed three hours before.
So when my father saw him run into his room, he went after him -- only to see my brother asleep. But my father thought he was just acting like was asleep because he knew he was going to get in trouble. Now he knew, though, that it hadn't been my brother, and we all wondered who or what was in our house.
The last story happened to my husband and me late at night. My whole family was at the house except for one of my brothers, who was out with his girlfriend that night. It was around 11 p.m.. We were in our bedroom, which is right next to the kitchen, so the way our bed is angled, you can see the back door (which everyone uses; we never use the front door but once in a while).
We were watching a movie when we heard the alarm beep, and then my brother walked in, talking on the phone. We saw him walk by into the hall and heard him talking as he climbed the stairs. He usually comes and talks to us before he goes upstairs, but this time he keep talking and went right upstairs.
We didn’t really think anything of it, so we kept watching the movie. Around 11:30, we heard the door alarm beep and my brother walked into the house again, only this time he came over to the kitchen to get something.
Frowning, my husband asked, "When did you leave again? We didn’t even hear you."
"What you talking about?" my brother asked. "I just got home from leaving my girlfriend at her house."
"No," I said slowly, "we saw and heard you come in, talking on your cell phone, a little while ago."
"No, I just came home right now," he said, and we all stared at each other, confusion on our faces.
We have seen and heard many other things here at my parents' home, and other people who live around here have stories of what they have seen and heard. Our little town might be small but it is full of tales.
I have lived in Pharr, Texas, my whole life. It’s a very small town; every passing traveler just drives by. My parents' house is one of the newest houses in this neighborhood -- every other house is old and falling apart, or was remodeled.
Our home is in front of a park, which is followed by two graveyards. People have always asked me if I am afraid of living so close to two graveyards. "No, I am used to it," I always replied.
Before I was born, my grandparents moved here and built their first home just two houses down. My grandparents told us that back then, a lot of women practiced Mexican witchcraft and were always putting spells on their boyfriends or husbands so they wouldn’t cheat or leave them. My grandfather said it happened to him before he was married to my grandmother. He told us that the lady put something in his rice, and after that, he never ate rice again.
My grandmother didn’t do witchcraft; she was believer in Jesus Christ and God. The Lord always protected her from evil things. She once told me that a lady down the street who lived in my aunt’s house had demons in her. When my grandmother went to cast them out, the demons jumped into her sister. That is just one of the many supernatural things that have occurred here in my hometown. Here are three of the most interesting stories.
The first story is what happened to my husband while we were asleep. I think it was around two or three in the morning when my husband woke me up.
"Why did you pull the blanket off?" he asked me sleepily.
I didn't, I told him; I was asleep. He seemed perplexed, but I was tired, so I rolled over. Once again he woke me up, a few minutes later.
"Something just ripped the blanket off me from the floor!" he said.
I told him he was dreaming, and we went back to sleep. The next morning, he asked me, "Do you remember that I woke you up last night because something pulled off the covers off of me?" I told him yes, but that he was just dreaming. Then my brother walked in at that moment.
"It’s happened to me too," he said.
The second story happen to my father, also around two or three in the morning. I woke up to hear my dad yelling at my brother. My dad was telling him to stop pretending to be asleep because he caught him coming out of the bathroom running; why he wasn’t asleep? It was late.
"Dad, I wasn’t awake. I was asleep because I feel sick," I heard my brother say.
My father keep saying, "Don’t lie to me. You were wearing this black-hooded jacket."
"That’s not mine," my brother said.
There was an eerie silence, and then I heard my father leave my brother's room. The next morning, he told us what he saw. He said he woke up to go to the bathroom and noticed someone who he thought was my brother wearing the black hooded jacket run from the bathroom to his bedroom. My father got angry because he'd told my brother to go to bed three hours before.
So when my father saw him run into his room, he went after him -- only to see my brother asleep. But my father thought he was just acting like was asleep because he knew he was going to get in trouble. Now he knew, though, that it hadn't been my brother, and we all wondered who or what was in our house.
The last story happened to my husband and me late at night. My whole family was at the house except for one of my brothers, who was out with his girlfriend that night. It was around 11 p.m.. We were in our bedroom, which is right next to the kitchen, so the way our bed is angled, you can see the back door (which everyone uses; we never use the front door but once in a while).
We were watching a movie when we heard the alarm beep, and then my brother walked in, talking on the phone. We saw him walk by into the hall and heard him talking as he climbed the stairs. He usually comes and talks to us before he goes upstairs, but this time he keep talking and went right upstairs.
We didn’t really think anything of it, so we kept watching the movie. Around 11:30, we heard the door alarm beep and my brother walked into the house again, only this time he came over to the kitchen to get something.
Frowning, my husband asked, "When did you leave again? We didn’t even hear you."
"What you talking about?" my brother asked. "I just got home from leaving my girlfriend at her house."
"No," I said slowly, "we saw and heard you come in, talking on your cell phone, a little while ago."
"No, I just came home right now," he said, and we all stared at each other, confusion on our faces.
We have seen and heard many other things here at my parents' home, and other people who live around here have stories of what they have seen and heard. Our little town might be small but it is full of tales.
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