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Experience with the Supernatural Contributed by Compute I was always kind of a skeptic about the whole "supernatural" thing, chalked it up to simple minded people seeing what they wanted to see. Last autumn changed my beliefs drastically... I can remember the day as clear as a bell, it was a crisp and cool autumn day. The leaves were just beginning to change and the sun was creeping behind some light cloud cover. My ex-girlfriend, Tiffany, wanted me to help her lug some of the stuff out of her (recently deceased) grand father's house back into the city for her parents to sort out and send off to either the antique shop, or the dump. I didn't have much to do and she promised me a case of Labatt's for a hard days work, so I figured what the hell, I don't leave my house much anyway... We make good time out to her grand parents' place in her dad's old 92 pick up that she's been "borrowing" for who knows how long. The house sat on top of a hill, great view from up there with the foilage turning a nice orange, the only house for miles around. When we get there, she takes me through a tour of the house, leading me through the basement and the first floor. The place looked like it hadn't been lived in for years, dust covered everything. "I thought you said your grandfather passed on last month, this place looks like it hasn't had anyone living in here for at least a decade." She kind of just looked at me and shrugged it off as she lead me up to the attic. The attic was just as decrepid as the rest of the house, everything covered in a thick matting of dust, spiderwebs in every crevice. All except for a tricycle in the back of the room that seemed virtually untouched. It looked polished to a sheen, without a bit of rust on it. I went over to take a look at it while Tiffany was rooting through some books on the otherside of the attic. But just as I reached out to touch it I had the most horrible chill I've ever experienced in my life. I quickly yelled over to her that we should head down stairs and start piling stuff into her pick up. After a couple of trips back and forth from the city we had emptied out most of the basement and all of the first floor. I had luckily convinced her to finish up moving the stuff out of the attic with her dad, because I didn't want to have to walk things down a flight of stairs, or so I said. By now the sun was starting to set and we were almost done loading up the last few things from the basement and first floor. After we had everything tied down my ex tries starting up her pick up. Nothing. It didn't even turn over. I fiddled around under the hood and came to the conclusion that the battery must be dead. She stomps around for a bit and curses it out saying she just bought it last week. After she calmed down she called up her dad on her cell. She told him that we'd stay the night here since we have a two-four of Labatt's to keep us company and that he should come by in the morning and give us a boost. Her father was pretty adhamant that we dont sleep in the house to the point of being obsessive, so she unwillingly complies. We spend most of the night just shooting the shit sitting on the pick up finishing off the beer until I ask her about the trike in the attic. "Oh that? Didn't even notice it up there, it belonged to my grampy when he was a kid. My dad was saying it's a family heirloom, we'll have to grab it before we go tommorow morning." Feeling kind of disheartened, I told her maybe we should call it a night. She tells me to grab the matress we tossed in the back, and haul it back into the house for me to sleep on. She says she saw a bed in the attic that she's going to crash on. I figure what the hell, go for it, I'll drag this down into the basement, as I want as much room as possible between me and that trike. After all of that drinking I was out like a light, despite the creepiness of the basement. Later, I'm awoken to some stomping that seems like its coming from upstairs or more than likely my ex falling over shit in a drunken stupor. I shrug it off and try to get back to sleep. The pounding gets louder and louder. At this point I'm decently shaken and figure the bitch is pulling a little prank on me. "Knock it the fuck off, Tiffany." The pounding stops, dead silence. At this point I'm not sure what to do. Go upstairs and confront her or what. But just as I start to call out to see if she's alright, the pounding starts again, louder than ever. At this point I've had enough of her childish shit and start marching up the stairs, ready to beat some sense into her, but just as I start to near the attic stairs I hear what sounds like muffled screaming in between the pounding. "This really isn't funny Tiff, cut it the fuck out." I continue my march up the stairs reasurring myself that it's Tiffany just trying to freak me the hell out. I throw the door open. And right there standing in front of me is the ghostly white shape of Tiffany's grandfather bending her over the tricycle and fucking her ass. "What the fuck!" "You want some of this tender rose bud?" The ghostly grandfather askes. "Fuck yeah I do!" I say as her grampy rounds to the front of her to fuck her mouth while I position myself behind Tiff's twitching asshole. Tears are streaming down her face and she continues pounding on the old, ricketty floor boards, but her dead grandfather and I easily hold her down. I then proceeded to fuck the shit out of her while her grandfather ejaculated a ghastly amount of sperm all over her face and in her mouth. |