When i was about 9 or so my aunt and uncle moved to Korea so he could serve a 1 year civil service contract, and she could get back to her family for
a while (they met while he was stationed there years before).
When they left, my mom and I moved in. It was a nice house about 10 blocks from our house, and they needed someone to sit their house and pets.
My dad was a real SOB, and my mom had divorced him years earlier for it. He rarely came around, but like any kid i always looked forward to it. One
time he came down (he lived in OK City) to spend a couple days. I had a stomach bug, but didin't dare let on because of my desire to be with dad.
We spent the day listening to music and playing pool. Dad, being the SOB he was, took pleasure in running the table on me several times, until i
became extremely frustrated. Mom finally made him let me take a turn breaking, and when i did i made 3 solids. Mind you, none of them should have
gone in, they just seemed to kind of take off towards a pocket.
Every shot i took went in. Even miscues would manage to swerve and veer into the pocket. This freaked my dad out enough that he left back for OK
City within the hour. Mom was puzzled, and just felt that he was an even bigger a-hole for finding a cop out to leave early. Shortly after he left,
my stomach issues subsided and i felt much better. But i was confused by what had happened. NO, i was no physics student. But even with my limited
life's experience, i knew that those balls should have went in a straight path, more or less.
a few weeks go by, and I am helping mom clean house (so i pretended, anyway). I accidentally spilled some stuff under the bathroom sink, and freaked
out (didin't want to get mom upset). I ran to tell her, and she patiently went to make sure that there wasn't a chemical mixture that was
dangerous, and to clean up. We returned within a minute, but the mess was all cleaned up like it had never happened.
Shortly after that another aunt came by to tell me goodbye. She had graduated from UTPB and was going to be moving for a job. We were close so she
wanted to come see me (she worked at Target, and used to score me the cool Star Wars action figures). While she was there she started talking about
someone named Justin. She said he lived with us, and was a little boy. This was uncharacteristic for her, as she is a fairly grounded person. But
she said that it was like a voice telling her this or something. I didn't quite understand then, but think i do now.
There were not a lot of other events that i recall. But for some reason when you talk about poltergeists and such, i subconsciously visualize that
house.
Never saw anything float that i recall (although something nags at the back of my mind telling me "YES YOU HAVE"), but things that were missing
always ended up on the kitchen table, and things on my dresser always got rearranged.
When my cousin returned, i asked her about "Justin". She didn't know the name, but knew what i was talking about. She seems to have forgotten
since then (she has had a real messed up time that screwed with her mind...she isn't the same as she used to be). My mom is a devout Christian. She
recalls, but dismisses most of it. What she doesn't dismiss makes her uncomfortable enough to not want to talk about it. My aunt remembers talking
about Justin, and what compelled her. She also remembers other things, but i haven't gotten into those details with her. These conversations make
my family uncomfortable. For me it isn't religious, but rather is more about making myself indistinguishable from a fruitcake that just makes stuff
up. Thus, i only write this stuff here on ATS.
I have other stories to share, when the mood strikes me. I have had a few instances of high weirdness in my life, to be sure. This one seems to have
something hidden about it. I am not sure...it is like it dances at the edge of the candlelight in my mind. I can't quite make it out. These are
the memories i have of this occasion. Strangely, i can remember being an infant, but have some spotty parts in my childhood subsequent to that.