I'm fourteen years old, and I've always been a skeptic of the paranormal, demons, etc. I thought I was really insane for a very long time until I found this site a while ago, and decided I could come to terms with what I have to say. It happened three times in a month, after I had gotten this beautiful full body mirrior, and put it behind my bed. I've never been able to stand to see mirrors in my room in the dark, and I don't really care to look at myself in a mirror in general.

 

There was a book fair going on in my school at the time, and there was a lot of paranormal books being sold, and my eye was caught on this book called, 'Encyclopedia Horrifica,' and it's written by this guy who's supposedly interested in the paranormal. Now, it looked like just another silly book, so I saved up and bought it.

 

I was in music class, and found a chapter on how to summon ghosts through a mirror. My aunt told me a story about once when she and a friend decided to 'summon' bloody mary. I decided to dismiss it because she was known meth head at that time.

 

I was alone one night, it was two in the morning, and I was just flipping through the book like I had a thousand times before, then I stopped on the chapter about mirrors, and eyed my mirror with a mischievous grin. There was a little chant, and I did it with a lighter burning (my parents were super smokers at the time), and I was surprised to note that a skeleton with a top hat showed up, clear as day. I muffled a scream, as to not wake up my mom, who was never the lightest sleeper.

 

I flipped on the light, and left the room, and found she was up and watching TV in the den. "Hey, mom," I remember saying to her, and she'd look over at me, a big grin on her face and a cigarette in her hand. "What're you doing up?" She would say, every night I got up from chronic insomnia. This time, it felt different. I felt bad, even sick. "Oh, I dunno." I sat beside her, and watched some pregnancy show she'd have on.

 

The second, I had just entered my room with a bag of assorted but cheap wal mart chocolate. The skeleton was in the mirror, and my thoughts dragged on to what happened two days before. Her whispered something unintelligible. I began having a panic attack, and left for the bathroom, to see that my mom was in there, my dad sitting on the end of the bathtub. I nearly screamed and closed the door, thinking he was waiting for her to get off. "Sorry, sorry," I said, hearing the creak in my voice. I hear my dad laugh, and he opened the door, and pushed past me in that fatherly way he always did.

 

I told her what I did, and what's been happening. She laughed. "Oh, honey, you're just imaginative. You'll be fine. Just imagine it's that Bam Argeri guy you love so much." I huffed. The least she could try to do was pretend to know who Bam Margera was. "Whatever mom. I love you, I'm going to bed." I stopped a the cabinet in the bathroom and took two pm pain relievers. I didn't want to let my mind get me.

 

My dad was standing around in the kitchen, putting dinner in bags and putting them in the fridge. I hugged him before I left for bed, and we said our good-nights. I pulled away, but his hand still held mine. "What dad?" I giggled, thinking he was kidding or wanted another hug or something. It was then he told me that mom was very, very sick. I can't really say the sickness, but it had to do with pills she had been prescribe in the eighties that had been drowning her health for quite sometime.

 

You'll have to understand, I thought my parents were invincible. My dad was my superman, and my mom was damn near immortal. I've plenty of horror stories about her accidents, she was quite clumsy. That's a tale for another day though.

 

I nodded, my stomach sick again. I told my mom I loved her, and went to bed.

 

It was three am or so when I felt my room go cold. We always have the thermostat at seventy, and it felt like what school was like in the summer, something I would say at or around sixty-three degrees. It's for hygienic reasons, or whatever they have the damn reason for. I opened my eyes, and it was pitch black. I always had a night light because I'm terrified of the dark. Not the crap that hides in it either, just the dark.

 

I tried lean up, but I realized there was something bony on my face, and tried to pushed it off, and it wouldn't budge. It scrunched my face up, as if that would some how kill me. I screamed, and was finally able to get up and leave. I ran out the door, my dad was already in the hall, fists balled up as if ready to punch someone. Let me tell you, one hit from my dad could kill a man. And not because he's superman, but because I've seen him knock out a neighbor before... It's the scariest thing I've seen in my life.

 

"Dad! Dad! He grabbed me!" I screamed at him, and his face fell from anger to confusion. "Who, honeybear?!" He boomed back, hugging me, as if to tell the other person in my room he was coming. "M-mom did tell you?" This shocked me. My dad knew everything about me from my mom. He shook his head. I retold the story, in shorter terms than I did with my mom.

 

"Oh, honey, that's make believe." I grimaced. He still called my sister, a Pagan priestess, to bless it. A fourth incident happened, and he made me get rid of both the mirror, and he made my sister take the book. I wasn't as happy then, but knowing now that I'm not crazy makes me happy. And plus, I can just go over and read it.

 

In an unrelated note, my mother passed away do to direct effects of the unnamed medication.