About twenty-five years ago, I was engaged to a man who I had met at work. Our relationship progressed quickly. Too quickly. On our second date he was talking marriage and within a month he gave me an engagement ring. A month and a half after that, he moved in with me. We planned our wedding day for six months after our first date.
But as the day approached, his feet got cold and he postponed it. As we careened toward the second ceremony day, I should have noticed the things that were a little off, but in a relationship you have faith in each other. It doesn’t serve to lack trust or be paranoid.
He had a post office box, saying it was for his business—clients didn’t have confidence in a business with a residential address. I didn’t buy that for a second. How would a client know a residential address from one for business? I assumed he was writing to old girlfriends.
One day I answered the phone (back when there was only one phone per household!) and it was a moving company asking when they could come give an estimate. I told them we weren’t moving; they must have the wrong number.
I shouldn’t have been surprised when after those incidents and one or two others, he told me he was leaving me and moving the Texas. In two weeks.
My emotional shock became a physical force.
He was folding the laundry shortly after he announced his move and found a shirt he had given me cut in three or four places. He accused me of slicing into it, but I hadn’t. P.S. It was the only item in the load that was cut.
A few days later, we were watching TV. It made a popping sound and the screen went blank. We looked behind the television and there was a thick red liquid oozing out of the wall. It was definitely creepy.
The day after he left, my dad called and asked if I was all right. I hadn’t told my parents he was moving, and they never called just to check in, so it was odd. I asked my dad why he was asking and he said it was because of the message I had left on his machine. It said, “This is Toni. I’m hurt real bad. Call me,” in a little kid’s voice. It gave me the chills. I had not left that message.
For at least a year afterward, the ex-fiance wrote to ask how I did those things. Had I rigged something up? Worked with some voodoo woman?
The only explanation I have is that it was my energy gone haywire. If anyone has a better explanation, I’d love to hear it.
How do you feel about the supernatural? Have you ever lived with a poltergeist? Seen a ghost? Felt the presence of a loved one who has passed on?