So, I never really believed in magic or black magic, heck Idk if I do NOW but here’s my encounter:
BACKGROUND Me, my younger sister, mom and dad moved into my uncle’s old house after they had moved to a nicer house in order to “save” the contract on it for the remaining year. Was a very small, quiet street, lots of trees. There were about 10-15 houses lined up in our side of the street, with only about 3 or 4 actually occupied, very strange to me as they were very large, new houses for a great price. I found out why there was little to no one there AFTER we moved. So, I remember my room specifically (all the houses on the street were designed the same, keep this in mind) was where the most “activity” was at.
A few encounters to share: - My TV and Macbook (usually plays religious recordings at night to help us sleep peacefully) had often turned themselves on and off or played the static when you turn the TV on the wrong HDMI. - My bathroom specifically was fucking FREEZING, and almost everything was broken in there. - My stack of 6 candles had fell off of my shelf out of no where, all of them smashing. - Books from our bookshelf found in random ass places - Dark shadows outside our garden - Playstation controllers flashing REALLY weird colors - the controller stand had jolted itself towards the ONLY open window downstairs - My cats being hyper and loud as hell (they are very old and inactive usually) - guests and friends feeling very uncomfortable
So, 2 weeks of this shit go on, so my dad calls a Sheikh to come to our house (the islamic version of a priest to give you an idea) to read from the Qur’an. So he goes up to my room to read and he says immediately he is cold, and doesn’t like my room at all, he suggested I no longer sleep there for the duration of our living there. So, me and my sister sleep on our parents bedroom’s floor for the rest of our time there, as my dad decided we’re moving pretty soon.
HOWEVER, (shit gets real) we were supposed to move out next month, as he still needed to find a house. The last morning I woke up in my room (The three of them were annoying me so I slept in my room) I had the most swollen bruise on my left wrist. It was black and purple. It didn’t hurt at all though? So we went to the clinic, and the doctors looked confused as fuck, they had claimed someone had abused me. So, my dad taking this as a very red flag, made us move out the following few days and stayed in a hotel until we found a new house.
AFTER MATH My dad was curious as to how on earth this happened, the owners of the street (dk how else to say it lol) had told us that every other person that had moved out of this street had the same problem, specifically with the upstairs right bedroom (my room).
I just thought I’d share this with you guys if anyone had any thoughts on what this was? No one (friends) believes me and think I made it up for attention so I’d like some honest thoughts on this, thanks!
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