We are not alone in this world. Every day I am more convinced of it. What makes some people can contact with beings from another plane and not others? Are they the ones who decide who can see them?
Over time I realize that the more close to death, we become more sensitive. We came alone and we go alone, but by the way are lost, helpless souls who try to hold hands, perhaps to cling to this world, perhaps to try to show I ever revealed what we will find once dead.
During the time I lived strange experiences, I have witnessed visions told by someone close, they are even more frightening.
A few years ago I decided to spend some time at my aunt, a woman of 72 years with the head nicely furnished but delicate health. He lived in a country house twenty minutes from the town where I grew up.
Indomitable character with a rigid education, my aunt made a special person. It was definitely a strong woman despite the fragility of his body. His face, of delicate forms, always remained with a serious face and his eyes, small and light blue, reflected the absolute solitude. He never married, had no children, but according to her, the last years of life were spent surrounded by children ...
I moved for a while to take care of home and think a bit about what I wanted to do with my life. At thirty-two, and after a broken heart, I needed to isolate myself a while and think about what direction should be taken to steer my way again.
It was dusk. The car made its way down the road of stone and a row of trees intertwined branches forming a spectral bow in welcome. The headlights illuminated at last my aunt's old house. It was an old house with wooden porches and a somewhat gloomy appearance. The abrupt vegetation surrounded the driveway giving a mysterious touch. When I got out, I glimpsed the silhouette of my aunt at the entrance waiting for me with open arms.
The house had five bedrooms, two downstairs and three upstairs. There was little light and the furnishings were very old. I sat in the back room, the next to my aunt upstairs. It was a simple room with a spring bed, a table and an old rotten cabinet. I thought that eventually would give a personal touch to make it more inviting. Down stairs for a second, a cold air stream brushed my neck, like the touch of a cold hand. I went down the steps and this time an unmistakable smell made me a smile, my aunt had cooked his specialty to celebrate my arrival.
We settled on the kitchen table, next to the fireplace. When I started to serve dinner my aunt was surprised that there was only filled two plates. He glanced at me, got up and filled a plate more.
'Who is that dish aunt?
-For Him, he told me hungry.
No one sat at the table with us, but something made me think we were not alone.
It was hard to fall sleep that night. He heard noises downstairs, footsteps on the stairs and staccato snoring from the room of my aunt. I did not dare to leave the room, but she was sure there was someone else around the house.
The next morning I asked my aunt if she had also heard strange noises at night.
Sure daughter, they are, but they know they are here and hide.
But who are they? do you know them?
- No. They are children, there are five or six bother me, I talk all day and night will not let me sleep. Sometimes I scratch my door to go out and get in my bed or open all the faucets in the house to make me angry.
For a moment I thought that loneliness had seriously affected my aunt making her delirious and imagine impossible things. I was very surprised as I was told but more terrified me to see that all beds in the house were undone. Someone had slept in them.
They were spending the days and although not always something happening, I was fully alert, restless, believing that someone entered the house to scare us.
On one occasion, I got home and found my aunt sitting opposite another chair. He was quite pale.
'I've scared.
-To Whom?
-at Child who was sitting here. It has been running toward it.
My aunt said the dark corridor leading to the back room, the storage room. I walked slowly and carefully opened the door. There was only junk crowding each other. Still, a chill ran through my body. I closed the door and hurried back beside my aunt tearfully told me he was fed up with these children. He spent the whole afternoon playing with them not to be angry when he heard the door and ran out because they do not want to see them. She turned on the TV and they went out. When I reproached his attitude, the children jostled to take it down. He said he lived scared to death and thank God that I had come ... well at least for a while they left.
Aunt nobody there, you were talking to herself.
You know that's not true, are all in the room but do not want to play with you. I hear you also hear but not see them want. Look, the child was sitting here are going to take that glass of milk.
Indeed, on the floor next to the chair, there was even a glass of warm milk.
That was the last day I spent in that big house. That night I heard scratching at my door, as if someone lean on her waiting to come out.
My aunt was sick, but I was not crazy, I knew very well what he meant. She always said that the dead are where they want to be and that these children liked to be there. She made it impossible for them to leave, but never got it. Two years later, a neighbor found her dead in bed, with a distorted face and a teddy bear in her hands.
I never got to see anything, but certainly felt these children. I heard laughter and scratches on the doors. During that time I became convinced that no, we are not alone and that if they choose to live with you, if you want to see them, see them and will be impossible to get rid of them.
