Monday, January 1, 2018

Semana de los Muertos - Primera parte

A few members of the crew had been out to the house taking still shots and scouting places to set up.  Our producer had been in contact with us nearly every day checking on us.  So far our experience with The Dead Files had been great and a source of relief.  We weren't well but we were getting better.

However with all the good that seemed to be surrounding us, there was bad too.  At times the house felt heavy along with a feeling of anxiety that was overwhelming at times.  Those feelings manifested themselves into activity.  Doors would slam, silverware would crash onto the floor, we would hear heavy footsteps, light bulbs burned out despite being recently changed, and the scream...the scream became louder, stronger, and more terrifying.

The voices in my head were overwhelming.  They talked over each other and I couldn't make out what any of them were saying.  I wasn't sleeping well and felt nauseated every day.  It seemed like I had a never ending pounding headache that wouldn't responded to anything I took.  My joints were hurting so badly that every move I made felt like a new experience in pain.  Despite it being late May, I was cold most of the time.  I was falling apart piece by piece.

As I laying in bed one night in excruciating pain, I could hear the crazy woman whisper.  I couldn't make out what she was saying as it was a soft whisper.  The pain was overtaking me and I  prayed for relief.  Sadly the only way I thought to get relief was to have God take me.   I heard her whisper "finally" in my ear but then I heard someone else say, "keep fighting."  I'm not sure if that was just my inner voice or if someone was there taking care of me.  I finally drifted off to sleep.

My peaceful sleep didn't last long.  Out of nowhere I was awakened by a burning pressure on my chest. It felt the same as the when the medium from that paranormal group had her hand on me.  My initial thought was heartburn from something I had eaten however when I tried to get up I couldn't.  Something was holding me down and I felt the pressure increase on my chest every time I tried to move.  I tried to talk but couldn't and my breathing began to become painful.  Out of nowhere, I was slapped across my face.  After that, the pressure on my chest went away and I was able to get up.  I made my way to the bathroom and I notice my face was red where I had felt the slap.

We could just feel things getting worse and the house was heavier than it ever had been.  No one was sleeping and we were at the point of physical exhaustion.  There was also a lot of tension between all of us.  We were arguing and fighting between ourselves over the smallest things, things that never bothered us before or were trivial.

We were working as quickly as we could to get ready for the filming.  Working around our exhaustion was hard enough but trying to work around the activity made it even harder.  Things would disappear and then reappear.  They would return in a form of some kind of cryptic message; clothing folded in the form of an upside down cross, silverware pointing in certain directions, and drinking glasses turned upside down.  The smell of cigarette and pipe smoke was nearly constant smell throughout the house.

I knew things were getting worse, I could feel it.  I tried to remain strong but it was taking a very hard toll on me.  The voices were overwhelming and I couldn't keep them straight.  One afternoon, I heard one voice come through louder and clearer than the others.  It repeated over and over again.  It sounded like Spanish.  I grabbed a piece of paper and did my best to write down what was being said.  I got enough of the message before it faded away.

'No son los demonious parecen, solo una linea de almas perdidas, algunos fieles algunos no mas estan llegando'  (Click on text to see translation)

The translation was rough but I got the message...the week ahead was going to be a long one.

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