amish

doodleboots  asked:

You said your house was haunted by "parakeets and Amish Satan" EXPLAIN

…I don’t remember posting about that on here omfg how deep in my personal tag are you? 😂 Those are two different stories so this is probably gonna be long.

Alright, so I was always that freaky little ‘I see dead people’ shithead when I was a kid. You know, that asshole kid that gives detailed descriptions of relatives that died before they were born and says they see them on the ceiling or some shit? That was me. Important to the stories. I’ll start with the parakeets.

Okay, so when I was like…Maybe 5 or 6, I really wanted to get a pet. We had a dog, but I was not the dog’s favorite person, and I was in that whole ‘I wanna prove I’m responsible’ stage of childhood, so I ambushed my parents with the pet question when we were out to dinner. (Which was a strategic move, as I knew all the waiters at the restaurant liked me and would maybe throw in a pity “Aww, get the girl a pet” comment as a guilt trip if they over heard the conversation. It totally worked lmao)

So, after a long debate about animals, my parents decided to get me parakeets. Which, I had not been aiming for (I wanted something cuddly, and I like birds in theory, not in practice) but I was not in a position for arguing when I was about to get a pet, so I agreed and we headed off to PetSmart and got two birds.

Now, over the course of my childhood, I only had three birds- Blueberry, Banana, and Snowcap. You can probably figure out what they looked like, I was not the most creative child. So, in our old house, which was, frankly, a better house, they had a great life! We kept them in the living room, right next to the huge glass doors that lead to the backyard so they got a lot of sunlight and fresh air, we were great about cleaning up their feathers, they didn’t feel attention starved so they weren’t too loud or annoying. It was great.

Then we moved to our current house, and that’s where it starts getting complicated.

See, my mom and I were both on a depression battle, and if you know anything about that, it made it very hard for us to do things. Energy wasn’t there. So while we were obviously still feeding the birds and everything, we definitely let the cage get messy and stopped cleaning up feathers. We had them on the bay window in my living room, so it looked like a mess, which really pissed my Aunt Gail off. Gail was a psycho bitch, for reference, but she had moved in with us to help pay bills and insisted the birds were taken out of the living room, which I wasn’t really down with, but I also wasn’t down with her locking me in a closet, so I listened to her. So Blueberry and Snowcap got banished to the computer room, where there was very little light, always loud music playing, and barely any attention for them. I remember they’d get so loud and we’d just throw a sheet over the cage or turn the lights off or yell for them to shut up. As it stands now, I realize we definitely ended up mistreating the birds, and I feel incredibly guilty about that, but as a little kid with very little patience and a fear of birds, who was mostly following her mother and aunt’s actions, I didn’t understand. I got pretty detached from them because of where I was mentally, and I remember when they both died (separately- Blueberry held on for a while, so she was sadly alone for a while), I like, forced all emotion about it away and just didn’t focus on it. Do you know what I mean? I was pretending like I wasn’t effected, like it was a non-issue, and like tbh I didn’t even let myself focus on how effed up that is until a couple years ago. But that was just the headspace I was in.

Okay, so anyway, birds: I always hear them outside my window during the day, chirping up a storm, but at night? It’s usually dead silent, with the occasional hoot from an owl who’s literally only there to make me think about the movie “The Fourth Kind” in the middle of the night. Fuck that owl, I don’t want to think about that movie.

Sometimes, though, when I’m having an Insomniac Episode ™ , I’ll be in the computer room (there’s no wifi in my house, we’re still in the 90′s) late at night, messing around, and for a short amount of time I’ll hear birds, like, screeching. And I never really thought much about it, because like, nature can do whatever it wants, but it started getting a little odd. Like, I’d leave the computer room to go downstairs for a bit, and I’d hear absolutely nothing. Dead silence, even though the kitchen is directly below it and thus has the same trees, or even if I leave the door open, it’s just quiet. But the second I step off the step and into the room, it starts back up. Weird, right? I started feeling really eerie about it, and started purposefully leaving the computer room whenever it started up.

And then, that lead me to noticing when it started up…It was always at 3:00am to 4:00 am. Which is, you know, The Witching Hour. The Ghost Hour. The Demon Hour. Plenty of names, but all the same concept. Any self-respecting paranormal fucker knows that things get weird at 3:00 am. The veil’s a little thinner then.

And that in itself freaked me out, but I always feel pretty freaked out at that time anyway, because as mentioned, I’m That Asshole Kid who hears disembodied voices and sees things out of the corner of my eye and always feels like something is right behind me. That’s only gotten better and worse with age in different ways- but anyway, while the bird stuff was freaking me out, I had yet to put together what it was, because frankly I’m just a wimp and I thought it was overall anxiety making me hear things.

So then, a little under a year ago, I’m watching some show about the paranormal and animals, and some dude is recounting a story about a ghost cat or something, and I remember being like…what the fuck, animals can be ghosts? What? Because that’s not something that ever occurred to me before, and not something I had heard of. And the guy went on to say something like if the animals were mistreated in life, they have as much chance to come back as a person-ghost who died tragically or something. And I just like, had a flash, of realizing how we had definitely mistreated the birds, and how I only hear screaming birds in their room, at 3:00 am, and it was just sort of an “everything clicked together moment”, and I was like, shit. I’m being haunted by my old pet parakeets.

I still hear them all the time, but I mean, I’m not turning out lights or telling them to shut up anymore, because honestly? They definitely have a reason to complain and make their voices heard over that. Like, if they need to let out frustration from beyond the grave, they definitely have my attention.

Okay, on to Amish Satan.

So in…Fifth grade, my class took a field trip to Lancaster, to tour some old coal mines and see some donkeys and stuff. It was nothing special, honestly, but it was a fun trip. So anyway, they had a little gift shop the let us go into because what’s a field trip without souvenirs? And they were mostly selling coal related stuff- I’ve got a little statue of a mouse made out of coal on my nightstand that I got there. But they were also selling these little Amish dolls, right? So as a young girl with a great love for dolls (I used to have a huge collection of all kinds), obviously I had to get one.

So I picked out a guy doll because I loved the shade of blue they used for his shirt, he had little black suspenders and a black hat, it was cute. Paid the store owner, got on the bus with my new little friend to head home.

(Completely unrelated to the story, but back then I was anime trash and decided to name this poor thing Kiyo after the main character from Zatch Bell lmao)

So anyway, on the bus home, I started getting slightly…unsettled by the fact he didn’t have a face. Like, it didn’t bother me when I bought him, but now it was starting to really freak me out. I kept asking the teachers why Amish dolls didn’t have faces, but no one had answers for me, which was frustrating, because I thought if I could understand the reasoning, it wouldn’t freak me out as much.

I was starting to regret buying it, but when we got back to school, my friend Rachel whipped out a sharpie and said “It’s yours anyway, just give him a face yourself!” which sounded like a relatively good idea. I drew the least intimidating face I could- two simple big eyes, point for a nose, big goofy smile with his tongue sticking out. It’s cute and dumb. Seriously, I still have the doll, you don’t look at this thing and think “Satan” at all.

So, me and my friends played with this doll all the time. We’d use to make him do tricks and flip him around and stuff- I remember one year we accidentally got him stuck on the Christmas tree and left him up there with all the decorations because we thought it was the funniest thing ever. This was like our go-to doll. We loved the thing. And sure, I’d have a weird experience every now and then, but I had absolutely no reason to think it was connected to the doll, because the things weren’t that out-of-ordinary for me.

So, in sixth grade, I had to start going to this free children’s hospital in the city called Shriners, and there were always a lot of Amish people there, because it was free and they have higher risks for birth defects and problems. And I was a super shy child, but at the same time I didn’t want to sit quietly in a waiting room for a millions years, so I’d usually quietly bond with a kid over some of the toys the waiting room had out, or if I was just reading I’d still make a point to smile politely at everyone I made eye contact with. The adults always seemed suspicious of me, but I figured it was just a whole ‘Amish vs The English’ thing, or because my health problems were a lot less physically obvious than their children’s and they were upset about that. It made me feel uncomfortable, but it was nothing serious.

Except one day, I was making small talk with one family and the little girl had a doll out, and I just said something like “Oh I have one of those dolls! It has a face on it though.” And her mother got all wide eyed and dragged her kids to the other side of the room while talking in their language (I don’t know the name of it) and I was just like???? Oh shit what did I do??? Like it was strange omg.

So anyway, time goes on. I get older, I stop playing with dolls, and actually end up selling or trashing most of them. I kept the Amish doll around though, but it wasn’t like me and my friends were playing with him every day anymore. He was just there. Something inside of me couldn’t bear to get rid of him, but I wasn’t doing anything with him either.

And after a while, it started to feel weird. Like…uncomfortable. Sort of a ‘why don’t you play with me anymore’ vibe, which sounded so stupid, because I was in high school at this point, I could not justify thinking an old toy was sad. This isn’t fucking Toy Story, you know? (Incidentally, while I love the Toy Story films, they’re also lowkey my worst nightmares).

I remember edging around him. Like, he still has the same dumb, cutesy face drawn on, but something was making me uncomfortable to be around him. I felt watched and guilty and nervous. At some point he ended up on the staircase leading to my computer room, just laying there for a couple years. Neither me or my mom ever bothered to touch him.

Okay, so then I go away for my only semester of college, and one day I was in the group chat with my friends and we were talking about creepy things that have happened to us. And I brought up this doll, and they were kinda interested and I remember saying “Watch me come home for break and he’s not gonna be wear I left him” as a joke.

I get home from break…Guess who’s not fucking on the steps like he’d been for the past 3 years?

I was cracking up, I remember texting my friend Zoe who started freaking out, but I was like “Okay, creepy coincidence, but obviously my mom must’ve just moved him or thrown him out”.

…Except my mom had no idea what I was talking about. She had no memory of this doll, let alone walking past it all the time for three years while it sat on the steps. She swore she didn’t move it.

So I was like…okay,

So then I’m back home officially and I still can’t find it. I searched everywhere- not even because I wanted the doll, just because not knowing where it was was making me feel even more nervous and anxious than having to tip-toe around it. I had random scary thoughts pop up in my head of it appearing in my room suddenly, or moving on it’s own. I was really freaking myself out- being paranoid is what I’m best at.

Okay, at some point down the line, one day I’m on my couch just flicking through channels, and I come across a marathon of a show called “Amish Haunting” (Honestly, check it out if you like ghost shows, it’s pretty cool). The episode that happens to be playing is feature a segment called “The Faceless Doll” and the paranormal experience that family had when an English neighbor gave their young daughter a doll with a face. Shit got fucked up for this family. Real shit guys.

They explained within the episode that the reason for faceless dolls is because the Amish believe that fake faces- like on dolls, in photographs, what have you- are an invitation for the Devil into your home. They believe he can use the fake eyes to see into your life and watch you and grow stronger and mess you up, basically. So, when 10 year old Molly drew that face on, not only was she accidentally disrespecting the Amish’s beliefs, she was basically unwittingly inviting Satan into her house, and then using him as a best play mate with her two other Catholic School Girl friends. Iconic.

I have since found the doll- mind you, in a place where he literally never should have been- but things seem…Calmer? I do occasionally feel a little watched, but honestly I feel like now that I’m aware my doll is potentially housing Satan, we’re on better terms? Allegedly a couple of my friends have had weird experiences after insulting him, but I wasn’t around so I can’t confirm or deny. Like, I definitely still get creeped out by him, but not as much, and I don’t feel a weird sad aura around the doll anymore.

So, now I’m just kinda hoping we stay on these chill mutual grounds and I don’t, like, get possessed or anything. But yeah, that’s the story of Amish Satan, you just gotta be a little respectful with him.

Cut

conperani-tf2-stuff submitted:

There was this one time that me and my family went to Las Vegas for a vacation. Now, I know what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas is a rule about these sort of things, but I’d still like to share it.

It was when I was about 6 years old or so. Our family, my dad, mom, older brother, and I, all went to Vegas just to relax and play around for the weekend. The day passed us by as we went to a few shows and such. We originally had made a reservation at Caesars Palace, but they apparently lost our room. We got a refund and a new reservation at this hotel called Terrible’s. Despite the name, it wasn’t that bad of a hotel. We checked in, set down our luggage,  and unpacked for the night. My mom and my dad decided to go see this play or something with a few friends they made earlier in the day. They left me and my brother in the hotel room and pranced off into the night. We booted up the N64 in the room because we were bored, and played a bit of it. 

While he was playing it, the lights turned off by themselves. I screamed, but my brother payed no attention to me. The T.V. shut itself off, but my brother kept twisting the control stick. And there we sat for what seemed like forever in the darkness. Suddenly, the light to the bathroom flickered on. I thought it was my parents back from their play and rushed to hug them for comfort. What I found was a woman wearing very Amish like clothing standing in front of me. She was brandishing a very large knife and had a look that paralyzed me. The two of us stared at each other for a good few seconds before she raised her arm with the blade. Her arm lurched forward for my body as I closed my eyes and braced for the hit.

It never came. I woke up on the bed, sitting upright. I was panting and I was in cold sweat. My parents were asleep and so was my brother. I cautiously went to the bathroom to confirm that what I had was a dream and nothing more. The bathroom was empty. I sighed and went to wash my face at the sink. That’s when I saw it. A dark patch of skin in the middle of my body. I stared at it with wonder. It looked like something went through that part of me.

Something like a knife. 

Fuck Yeah Nightmares Mod James: 9/10 I think you know why the hotel was called Terrible’s.  Thanks for sharing the scares!

Amish Country Gothic

• You are crossing the street. A horse and buggy is stopped at the light. The horse is glistening with sweat, eyes bulging, breath rattled. “Help me,” it whispers as you walk by. You turn around. The light is green. The horse and its buggy have vanished.

• The quilts have a secret message hidden in the patchwork. If only you could solve it. If only you had more time. If only you could breathe.

•  Corn is everywhere. As far as the eye can see. There is corn in front of you. Corn behind you. You look down, the ground is made of corn. You are corn. I am corn. Corn.

•  You are walking at night. You come upon a single farmhouse, several buggies with beleaguered horses tied up outside. Look, look through the window. There is a meeting, a ceremony. You strain to hear. There is chanting, singing, punctured by the occasional bleat of a goat. Someone speaks: “We offer this sacrifice, so that it may please You, and we may be blessed with a bountiful harvest for the Farmer’s Market this year.”

•  It is that time of year again, the time to prepare the fields. The smell of manure is remarkably strong. It penetrates everything. “Good, fresh country air,” says a man in a straw hat, sniffing dramatically. “Good, fresh country air.” You notice a single tear in the corner of his eye.

•  Stop trying to figure out the quilts. Stop thinking about the quilts. You will never understand. God does not love you.

•  The day is unusually warm, a nice day to go for a swim. You and your friends get your suits on, pack a lunch, and go to the creek. When you arrive at your favorite spot, there is already someone there on the other side of the water, a single Mennonite girl. You ignore each other, unpack your lunch, start to undress to the suits underneath. Suddenly, the girl’s head snaps up. She stares at you with black, sunken eyes. Slowly, she enters the water, fully clothed, still staring. She walks further and further in, until she is completely submerged. She does not come back up. You wait an hour after eating before getting into the water. 

•  It’s time for supper. What are we having tonight? Corn. Always corn.