The following is the testimony of a dear friend and brother that I've had the blessing and honor of knowing for about a quarter of a century! This is a tremendous privilege to have it posted here on this blog, and I pray that it will reach many people, particularly those who come from broken homes, those who are among the lonely of this world, and those who are trapped in the cold darkness of this world with no apparent way out, and without any hope of escape. For those who have delved into the demonic, witnessed the reality of the spiritual darkness of this world, and yearn for the means of deliverence, you need to read this! There is hope in the Person and the Power and the Name of Jesus Christ, the LORD!The majority following events occured in the time frame of 1983 – 1984
My Life before I called out to God in Lyncourt Grill in Syracuse, N.Y.
As a child I was very weak and fearful. I really had no friends; I grew up alone. I did have an older brother, but it wasn’t until I was older that I realized he was ashamed of me. My mother was a saint; my father, a hard man to get close to. I could never confide in him or have a close father and son relationship with him. I did however have a sister that I got along well with, but still, I guess I was pretty much on my own.
Because from an early childhood I had no friends, I made up my own in my mind. I would retreat to my room and there my imagination kicked in and I became a person who was in control of every aspect of my existence. I was strong and could accomplish anything. I was the winner of all the races; all the fights. My imagination at times became increasingly more real to me. Sometimes in the middle of a family get together I would go off into my own world and escape the lonely feelings I would have.
I guess having the imagination that I had was the reason why my life wasn’t always as life really is. When things weren’t going well in the real world, I would retreat to my own. I was not a strong person, nor was I much of a man. Drinking gave me courage and made me bold. I wore many masks and learned how to hide behind each mask that I had. Like I said, in my world I could accomplish anything; when I tried things in real life, I failed miserably. My relationships with women were also failures. My outlook on life was perverse and this path of perversion led me down deeper and deeper.
Because from an early childhood I had no friends, I made up my own in my mind. I would retreat to my room and there my imagination kicked in and I became a person who was in control of every aspect of my existence. I was strong and could accomplish anything. I was the winner of all the races; all the fights. My imagination at times became increasingly more real to me. Sometimes in the middle of a family get together I would go off into my own world and escape the lonely feelings I would have.
I guess having the imagination that I had was the reason why my life wasn’t always as life really is. When things weren’t going well in the real world, I would retreat to my own. I was not a strong person, nor was I much of a man. Drinking gave me courage and made me bold. I wore many masks and learned how to hide behind each mask that I had. Like I said, in my world I could accomplish anything; when I tried things in real life, I failed miserably. My relationships with women were also failures. My outlook on life was perverse and this path of perversion led me down deeper and deeper.
Little by little, my mind became transformed to a way of thinking and doing things that wasn’t right or ‘the norm’ so to speak.
I delighted in thoughts of hurting people (mostly women): becoming masters over them. I would hear about a woman who was kidnapped and held as a slave and wished it was me that did it. The more that I searched out ‘those’ magazines and paperback books on such material, the more I came to realize that that is the way I wanted to live my life; always in control of everything and everybody. I have done things in my life that I will never tell any one. Now, why am I telling these secrets that I have kept hidden for so many years? Why now? you might ask.
I believe there may be people in this world who are going through the same things I did – maybe even worse; maybe even things worse than I did; more perverse and evil than even I can imagine! I have contemplated suicide. I had gotten to a point in my life where I thought there was no hope for me. I thought that not even God would forgive me. Now at that time, did I really believe in a real God? I went to church, received communion, confessed my sins all my life, but did I believe that there was a real God who could love me, and forgive me? I didn’t think that God was real. Just some marble guy up on a cross, always looking down on me. Just like everyone else did, all my life.
This brings me to where I went every night, after work, to shoot some pool and to get drunk. Was I always perverted and evil? No! I had my times when everyone around me thought me to be a normal, happy person like everybody else, but it was just a mask. Eventually I was drinking more and more: at work, while driving, while at home, etc. I was beginning to mix my drugs together. Demerol and alcohol (Demerol is a derivative of heroin; I was given a prescription for a sickness I had). It could have killed me, but I didn’t care if I died. No loss!
I was becoming used to the Demerol so my doctor cut off my supply. I began to experiment with cocaine, speed and marijuana at the same time, and wash it all down with some scotch whiskey. My life was spiraling downward, but to what? I didn’t care, not even if I died.
Now we come to that fateful night in Lyncourt Grill:
I was drunk, as usual; but something was different about this night. I began to have thoughts about my existence and my way of life; as I was thinking on these things, I was staring past the whiskey bottles to the mirrors behind the bar.
I then called out – quietly to God. I said to Him that I didn’t really know if He was real or not, but to prove Himself if He was. I wanted Him to prove Himself to me; I wanted to know if there was more to life than sex, drugs and the miserable existence that I called life!
Little did I know at that time, that God would prove Himself to me, but in a way that really surprised me! I can’t remember how much time elapsed between that night and my first experience with the paranormal. I know that I was renting a cottage on a river just outside of Brewerton, New York.
I was in this house located in a small town on Oneida Lake when I heard a loud scream outside my bedroom window. Grabbing my flashlight I ran outside to check and see if there were any kids near the house, fooling around. Because that scream was directly outside the window, I shined my flashlight on the damp ground just below it. There were no footprints; it perplexed me that there was no evidence at all that any one had been there! I didn’t stay at Oneida Lake, not because of that mysterious scream, but because (not having a four-wheel drive) the driveway there was difficult to get in and out of during the harsh winter months.
So I moved to Grant Village, near Shop City, where the paranormal activity only escalated, but I don’t remember anything happening until that Spring or Summer when I let a friend of mine move in, temporarily. She was a young girl I met at the apartments in Mattydale, N.Y. She used to do drugs there and at only fifteen to sixteen years of age, and then she would sit out back of my building and crash from the effects of the drugs. I felt sorry for her and became her friend. When I let her move in, she had two kids in foster care and she needed a place to stay for a while, and I was able to help her.
It was the week end and she was getting ready to go out and party. As she was talking, I was sitting on the sofa and there was a rolled up piece of paper on the coffee table: no windows were open, the fan was off at the time, but this paper slid across the table and stopped before falling off the edge! I stared in unbelief at what happened, but she was just talking away at me; I didn’t hear a word she said. She noticed this and asked if I was listening to her, but I only asked her if she saw what just happened. She didn’t.
I moved the paper back to where it was and told her to watch it. In only a few seconds it slid across the table a second time, just like before! She started to get ready to leave a bit faster. Though I was going to stay home that night and relax after a hard week of working, I suddenly decided I would go out too! Later on in the early morning hours of the next day, about 2 a.m. I came home; she rolled in about 3 a.m.
The next day I was called to the office where they had received complaints from my neighbors of a very loud, wild party taking place . . . in my apartment the night before! Confused by this, I explained to supervisors of the apartment complex that I had been out all night last night, and so was my guest. We were not at home (apparently, the powers that be decided to have a little fun at my place)!
Thinking about this, I asked the supervisors if anything strange ever happened in the complex before; reluctantly she told me of a story involving a married couple and their little girl:
The wife finished taking a shower one day and then went to the bedroom to dress. She was looking in the mirror when she saw an old woman standing in the middle of her bedroom, dressed in clothes dating back to approximately 16th to 17th century. The old woman smiled at her, then turned and walked through the wall and disappeared.
Shaken by the shock of this sight, she nevertheless kept the experience to herself, but a few days later, the husband was in the bedroom and saw the same old woman standing there and just like before, she smiled, turned and walked through the wall! The couple remained mute, not knowing that they both had seen the same apparition.
After a few more days, while at the breakfast table, their little girl asked her parents who the nice old lady was that tucked her into bed last night. The couple looked up at each other and recognized that they both knew what their daughter was talking about. They grabbed a few things, left the apartment and never came back for their property!
Little did I know at that time, that God would prove Himself to me, but in a way that really surprised me! I can’t remember how much time elapsed between that night and my first experience with the paranormal. I know that I was renting a cottage on a river just outside of Brewerton, New York.
I was in this house located in a small town on Oneida Lake when I heard a loud scream outside my bedroom window. Grabbing my flashlight I ran outside to check and see if there were any kids near the house, fooling around. Because that scream was directly outside the window, I shined my flashlight on the damp ground just below it. There were no footprints; it perplexed me that there was no evidence at all that any one had been there! I didn’t stay at Oneida Lake, not because of that mysterious scream, but because (not having a four-wheel drive) the driveway there was difficult to get in and out of during the harsh winter months.
So I moved to Grant Village, near Shop City, where the paranormal activity only escalated, but I don’t remember anything happening until that Spring or Summer when I let a friend of mine move in, temporarily. She was a young girl I met at the apartments in Mattydale, N.Y. She used to do drugs there and at only fifteen to sixteen years of age, and then she would sit out back of my building and crash from the effects of the drugs. I felt sorry for her and became her friend. When I let her move in, she had two kids in foster care and she needed a place to stay for a while, and I was able to help her.
It was the week end and she was getting ready to go out and party. As she was talking, I was sitting on the sofa and there was a rolled up piece of paper on the coffee table: no windows were open, the fan was off at the time, but this paper slid across the table and stopped before falling off the edge! I stared in unbelief at what happened, but she was just talking away at me; I didn’t hear a word she said. She noticed this and asked if I was listening to her, but I only asked her if she saw what just happened. She didn’t.
I moved the paper back to where it was and told her to watch it. In only a few seconds it slid across the table a second time, just like before! She started to get ready to leave a bit faster. Though I was going to stay home that night and relax after a hard week of working, I suddenly decided I would go out too! Later on in the early morning hours of the next day, about 2 a.m. I came home; she rolled in about 3 a.m.
The next day I was called to the office where they had received complaints from my neighbors of a very loud, wild party taking place . . . in my apartment the night before! Confused by this, I explained to supervisors of the apartment complex that I had been out all night last night, and so was my guest. We were not at home (apparently, the powers that be decided to have a little fun at my place)!
Thinking about this, I asked the supervisors if anything strange ever happened in the complex before; reluctantly she told me of a story involving a married couple and their little girl:
The wife finished taking a shower one day and then went to the bedroom to dress. She was looking in the mirror when she saw an old woman standing in the middle of her bedroom, dressed in clothes dating back to approximately 16th to 17th century. The old woman smiled at her, then turned and walked through the wall and disappeared.
Shaken by the shock of this sight, she nevertheless kept the experience to herself, but a few days later, the husband was in the bedroom and saw the same old woman standing there and just like before, she smiled, turned and walked through the wall! The couple remained mute, not knowing that they both had seen the same apparition.
After a few more days, while at the breakfast table, their little girl asked her parents who the nice old lady was that tucked her into bed last night. The couple looked up at each other and recognized that they both knew what their daughter was talking about. They grabbed a few things, left the apartment and never came back for their property!
After the party mystery, I began to hear knocking sounds. My apartment was on the second floor, and there were no trees, no stairs; there was no way for anyone to knock on my parlor windows. Even so, I heard knocks, always three knocks at those windows, and sometimes at the door too. I don’t remember anything else happening at that apartment complex.
From there I moved to a house apartment on Helen Street and the ‘weirdness’ escalated. The first event happened as I lay on the sofa in the living room. I knew that I was awake; I wasn’t dreaming, but I felt pressure on my arms which were folded across my chest. My arms were being pushed by an unseen force. I couldn’t see or hear anything, but this force continued to press my arms into my chest. I tried to separate them, but whatever was pressing me, held them together. The pressure increased until I thought I was going to be split in half. I’d never experienced anything like this ever before and I felt terrified, like I was going to die. Yet just as quickly as it started, it stopped; the entire event only lasted maybe thirty seconds but it felt much longer! I remember jumping off the sofa and told this ‘force’ he could have the sofa; I would take the bedroom!
My landlord lived downstairs. He had two black Labrador retrievers that adopted me when I moved in. The younger one, named Coaster, was about nine months old. He would come upstairs to play with me. He had this 4x4 block of wood that was his chew toy. This was a big dog!
I would throw this ‘chew toy’ into my bedroom from the parlor and he would go after it, chew on it for a few moments, then drop it, I then picked it up and threw it back into my bedroom.
One time I threw his toy into the bedroom and he ran after it, but he stopped dead at the doorway. He wouldn’t go into that bedroom. Slowly he backed away from the doorway, growled and the fur on his neck stood up. He turned and looked at me, and in the next moment dashed out of the apartment as fast as he could. He didn’t return for an entire week. I believe he sensed something evil in my room and even as he fled, he left his favorite chew toy behind.
All during that next week I would see him in the 1st level hallway and sometimes at the bottom of the stairs, just staring up at me, but he never even set his paw on the stairs. I did, however, return his favorite chew toy to him. After the week was over, he came back upstairs to be with me.
My landlord had mentioned to me one day that the light in the back part of the basement was always on when he went downstairs to do his laundry. He asked to please make sure to turn the light off when I was finished with my laundry, but I told him I always made sure I turned the lights off. The funny thing is, whenever he or I went into the basement, the dogs only went as far as the doorway and no further. We could not coax them to enter there, no matter how hard we tried.
The things that were happening more frequently now might be dismissed as figments of my imagination. Granted, my imagination was very active at this time, but now other people were involved – the young woman at Grant Village saw and heard things and now my landlord on Helen Street and his dogs were sensing that something was not right in the house where we lived. This was definitely not my imagination.
Yet the question I should have been asking was, Why is this happening, and why now, why to me? At the time of these events though, I didn’t ask those questions.
I just continued to live my life, like I normally would: I was working, drinking, partying, slowly slipping lower and lower into the darkness of my thought patterns. I remember buying a pair of handcuffs from a cop where I worked. Just in case I met somebody who thought like I did. My bedroom became my ‘dungeon to be’. I rigged my bed with handcuffs and ropes just in case I found a willing woman. I found a magazine at work about the torture of women with detailed instructions on how to perform the tasks, along with pictures of women who were subjected to these things.
The thing is, what struck me the most about this magazine were the pictures. The expressions of these women were expressions of pure joy, and I knew that this is what I wanted to do. This book was my ‘bible’.
More things were happening now. There were times when as I walked through my apartment I would pass through these cold spots. Even days when temperatures soared, yet these cold shafts, like pillars, were present in a hot, muggy apartment. One minute I’d be walking through hot, humid air, and the next second, cold; then once passed, back into the hot, humid air. What were these cold spots? There was a cross on the wall in my bedroom and one day as I was just hanging out, I heard something in my room. I went in there and the cross was hanging upside down. That was weird. I turned it back right side up, and left the room.
I was going to the store in a little while, so I left a piece of paper and a pen on the coffee table and said to the ‘empty’ room, “I’m going to the store soon, do you want anything? Write down what you want!” I returned to my bedroom only to discover that the crucifix was completely gone, I found it lying on the floor, behind the bed.
For a brief time, a mutual friend stayed in the apartment with me, but nothing ever happened while he was there. After he left, the young woman that stayed with me before needed a temporary place to live, so I let her move in, only this time she had her kids with her. A boy around two years old, and a younger sister, maybe one year old. Yet all the while they stayed with me, only one thing ever happened.
Her two year old son liked my Polaroid camera and one night just before going to bed I put my camera on top of the TV just out of her son’s reach. The next morning as I was walking through the Living room I saw her son with a picture in his hand. It came from my camera. He kept saying ‘man’ over and over again.
I checked the front door to see if it was locked and it was. I then checked her bedroom to see if a man was in there, but there wasn’t. I took the picture from the little boy and what I saw startled me: I saw a negative image of a man, sitting on the arm of the sofa in my Living room. His arms were folded and he was looking towards the camera. Everything in the picture appeared normal except the image of the man, which was the opposite (negative) image of the background.
A few days later I took the picture to a photo lab to have it analyzed. They said it could be one of two things: either it was a chemical reaction or a genuine negative image of a man sitting on the arm of the sofa. I showed that picture to every person I knew. Some of them thought I was crazy, others saw in that picture the same thing I saw.
An incident in which this girl that was staying with me, and I got into a sharp disagreement, and so I asked her to leave. It was after she left that the paranormal activities began again. Back in the ‘80’s cable television came equipped with wired remote control boxes that connected to the television which itself was connected to a cable that brought in the signal – probably why they called it ‘cable TV’? Rectangular in shape, and smaller in size than a small shoe box, with station buttons across the top, I kept it within reach on the coffee table. There were times when that box began to rattle and shake from side to side. I yelled at the invisible force or ghost or whatever this thing was, and said that I paid for the cable and that I would watch what I wanted.
I felt no fear, though maybe I should have. It was about then that I started going to the library to find out who built the house, who lived in it since then, and if anybody ever died in it. At least that would begin to explain the weird things that were happening. I found out that someone actually did die in that house, many, many years ago.
So I (thought I) finally understood that that’s who this spirit was. But why was she (the person who died was a woman) angry, and why pick on me? Someone at work suggested that I call the Syracuse University Paranormal Department and see if they could help me. Around that same time is when I met Pat.
One time I threw his toy into the bedroom and he ran after it, but he stopped dead at the doorway. He wouldn’t go into that bedroom. Slowly he backed away from the doorway, growled and the fur on his neck stood up. He turned and looked at me, and in the next moment dashed out of the apartment as fast as he could. He didn’t return for an entire week. I believe he sensed something evil in my room and even as he fled, he left his favorite chew toy behind.
All during that next week I would see him in the 1st level hallway and sometimes at the bottom of the stairs, just staring up at me, but he never even set his paw on the stairs. I did, however, return his favorite chew toy to him. After the week was over, he came back upstairs to be with me.
My landlord had mentioned to me one day that the light in the back part of the basement was always on when he went downstairs to do his laundry. He asked to please make sure to turn the light off when I was finished with my laundry, but I told him I always made sure I turned the lights off. The funny thing is, whenever he or I went into the basement, the dogs only went as far as the doorway and no further. We could not coax them to enter there, no matter how hard we tried.
The things that were happening more frequently now might be dismissed as figments of my imagination. Granted, my imagination was very active at this time, but now other people were involved – the young woman at Grant Village saw and heard things and now my landlord on Helen Street and his dogs were sensing that something was not right in the house where we lived. This was definitely not my imagination.
Yet the question I should have been asking was, Why is this happening, and why now, why to me? At the time of these events though, I didn’t ask those questions.
I just continued to live my life, like I normally would: I was working, drinking, partying, slowly slipping lower and lower into the darkness of my thought patterns. I remember buying a pair of handcuffs from a cop where I worked. Just in case I met somebody who thought like I did. My bedroom became my ‘dungeon to be’. I rigged my bed with handcuffs and ropes just in case I found a willing woman. I found a magazine at work about the torture of women with detailed instructions on how to perform the tasks, along with pictures of women who were subjected to these things.
The thing is, what struck me the most about this magazine were the pictures. The expressions of these women were expressions of pure joy, and I knew that this is what I wanted to do. This book was my ‘bible’.
More things were happening now. There were times when as I walked through my apartment I would pass through these cold spots. Even days when temperatures soared, yet these cold shafts, like pillars, were present in a hot, muggy apartment. One minute I’d be walking through hot, humid air, and the next second, cold; then once passed, back into the hot, humid air. What were these cold spots? There was a cross on the wall in my bedroom and one day as I was just hanging out, I heard something in my room. I went in there and the cross was hanging upside down. That was weird. I turned it back right side up, and left the room.
I was going to the store in a little while, so I left a piece of paper and a pen on the coffee table and said to the ‘empty’ room, “I’m going to the store soon, do you want anything? Write down what you want!” I returned to my bedroom only to discover that the crucifix was completely gone, I found it lying on the floor, behind the bed.
For a brief time, a mutual friend stayed in the apartment with me, but nothing ever happened while he was there. After he left, the young woman that stayed with me before needed a temporary place to live, so I let her move in, only this time she had her kids with her. A boy around two years old, and a younger sister, maybe one year old. Yet all the while they stayed with me, only one thing ever happened.
Her two year old son liked my Polaroid camera and one night just before going to bed I put my camera on top of the TV just out of her son’s reach. The next morning as I was walking through the Living room I saw her son with a picture in his hand. It came from my camera. He kept saying ‘man’ over and over again.
I checked the front door to see if it was locked and it was. I then checked her bedroom to see if a man was in there, but there wasn’t. I took the picture from the little boy and what I saw startled me: I saw a negative image of a man, sitting on the arm of the sofa in my Living room. His arms were folded and he was looking towards the camera. Everything in the picture appeared normal except the image of the man, which was the opposite (negative) image of the background.
A few days later I took the picture to a photo lab to have it analyzed. They said it could be one of two things: either it was a chemical reaction or a genuine negative image of a man sitting on the arm of the sofa. I showed that picture to every person I knew. Some of them thought I was crazy, others saw in that picture the same thing I saw.
An incident in which this girl that was staying with me, and I got into a sharp disagreement, and so I asked her to leave. It was after she left that the paranormal activities began again. Back in the ‘80’s cable television came equipped with wired remote control boxes that connected to the television which itself was connected to a cable that brought in the signal – probably why they called it ‘cable TV’? Rectangular in shape, and smaller in size than a small shoe box, with station buttons across the top, I kept it within reach on the coffee table. There were times when that box began to rattle and shake from side to side. I yelled at the invisible force or ghost or whatever this thing was, and said that I paid for the cable and that I would watch what I wanted.
I felt no fear, though maybe I should have. It was about then that I started going to the library to find out who built the house, who lived in it since then, and if anybody ever died in it. At least that would begin to explain the weird things that were happening. I found out that someone actually did die in that house, many, many years ago.
So I (thought I) finally understood that that’s who this spirit was. But why was she (the person who died was a woman) angry, and why pick on me? Someone at work suggested that I call the Syracuse University Paranormal Department and see if they could help me. Around that same time is when I met Pat.
~~ Here is where we will end part One; follow this link to part Two, the conclusion
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