there is always more than meets the eye.

It had the makings of the all-American moment.  A father and his toddler son, playing in the front yard.  After a few minutes of incessant begging, the father finally succumbs to the cries for bubbles, or as Owie calls them “buh-duhs.” 

We blew a few bubbles, and I sat down on one of the concrete slabs that sit at the bottom of the posts that frame my front porch. These posts are part of the distinct Craftsman bungalow architecture so prevalent in our 100-year old neighborhood.  

Owie was carefully navigating the brick steps, and then boom.  He fell down.  Not so much a fall, but more of a push.  After all, the stairs are only 4″ tall, the height of one brick, and Owie has been climbing these stairs, without fail, for months now.

“You fucking pushed him, didn’t you?”   I shouted to the invisible presence behind Owie.  I knew it.  That bitch had done it this time.  Words are one thing, but now the manifestation of  a physical, unprovoked shove on my only child.  The line had been drawn.

I make it a habit to always have my recorder with me whenever I am outside of my house.  I have picked up hundreds of EVPs over the past several months from what appeared to be 6 or 7 distinct spirits. These spirits originated on the front porch of the house next door, eventually finding their way over to my house, presumably becoming attracted to me in my attempts to communicate with them.   They could see me, and they knew what I was doing.    The spirits are many and varied in personality.  You have the flirtatious, sex-craving temptress Amy (who has not been around in quite a while).  You have the monotonous, distant male voice, making infrequent appearances on the recordings.  You have the spirit of Bo, the victim of a drug overdose over the summer.  He only shows up during radio sweeps.  There is a new female spirit, who has only started coming around inthe last two weeks or so.  But most peculiar of all is the old lady.  Once, when I asked what I thought was Amy if she would stand next to Owie, I recorded a voice that said, “he’ll stain my dress.” That was the first appearance of the old lady.  Turns out, she has an alarming disdain for kids.  That’s kind of a problem around here, because Owie gets top (and only) billing.

One night several months ago, as I was recording Owie playing in the front yard, I received what was the most chilling recording to date. A decrepit female voice said “I’ll tear that vermin in half.”  She was referring to Owie, and this marks the spot where I figured we might have a problem.  I was initially concerned, but then I became dismissive after I considered that we were only dealing with words; words that were not audible to the naked ear.  I could only hear the words after they were recorded by a sensitive recorder and then loaded onto a computer.

Fat forward to the stair incident–I recorded for about 12 more minutes after Owie was pushed down.  I then downloaded the file to the computer for further analysis.

What I found confirmed my fears:

Around 00:27, you hear a weird voice that says Clay, and then a different voice that says SHIT.
Around 00:28, Owie gets pushed down the stairs.  At 00:32  you get something like “dumped him over.”
At 01:43, a response to my question.  “I didn’t touch him.”
At 03:02, one spirit says “pushed him.”  another says “I won’t tell him.”
At 04:05, “I hate him.  Hate”
At 04:09, “Hate you” five times.
At 05:01, “Shut up.  Hate you.”
At 06:44, “Owen.  Hate.”
At 07:29, “I hate you.  Hate.  I fucking hate Owen.”
 
Who or what is the source of this unprovoked hatred towards an innocent child?  And what can I do about it?  These questions become more confounded when I consider that I am dealing with an unknown force.  I know it’s there, but that’s about all.  I need some help; I need to know the who, what, when and why. 
Good thing I am in a paranormal group.  If I can’t do something about it myself, at least I may be able to find someone who can.
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