PART ONE

My story should start with my youngest daughter when she was only two and half years old because that is when it all began – yet, this story follows after that nightmare, and it was because of that ‘other’ experience, I was led to this one.  Since that experience involved demonic oppression, the situation eventually led to an exorcism.  At first, I was in denial and sought traditional ways with therapy to help my little girl’s nightmares – hoping I was wrong, but the horrible realty was devastating when the therapist admitted he had not the experience to deal with what she was suffering from.  Her issues went beyond the trauma of the child sex abuse, and the suffering of a long year of trials and investigations - all brought about from a devastation caused by her parental father. 

The therapist, who was a retired Pastor, had recommended a Pastor in a nearby small community Church that may be able to help us.  He said the Pastor had spent his life’s work on helping people like us, including in third world counties, but the thought of going to that point, well frankly, it terrified me. It took me awhile to get to that place where I was prepared and ready to make the call … and after going through what we eventually did, let’s just say something like that truly awakens you to the really darker side.  I had known my share of the dark side from my past – which I share in my other writings – though nothing of that magnitude.

At that time, my girls and I were living with my fiancé, and though things got very close to losing him over that nightmare, he stayed and did not desert us.  By the time the case was closed, my little girl was four years old.  It saddened me to see the change in him when he was around her.  The way he couldn’t hold her the same way like he used to, or dress her or bath her or even tickle her … it was evident their relationship changed.  I could see how difficult it was for him to grow close to her, but he tried because he loved her all the same.  How could I blame him.  I could only understand his uncomfortableness.  In time I hoped he would find his way back, and indeed in the years that followed, he did.  His relationship with my older girls had remained the same, they adored him and he enjoyed them.  Once things were behind us, we never talked about it again.

It wasn’t long after that we married and my newly wedded husband adopted my little girl.  We bought a house and things seem to settle down for a time to a normal life.  By then my little girl was five years old and when she turned six, that’s when things started up again, the nightmares had returned, and they returned with a much darker magnitude.  I never imagined how deep the situation was until the haunting had become so terrifying that I knew I had to seek help in a whole different way.  At first, I spent a couple of weeks consumed in researching books from the library to help me understand and strengthen my knowledge on Satanism, demon possession and oppression.  I researched witchcraft, spells and symbols, learning as much as I could about my enemy – Satan – and preparing for what I knew I was up against.  I felt like a mother fighting for the life of her child.  I had turned to my Bible many times for strength and wisdom hoping to avoid the extreme that I dreaded so much … having to contact that Pastor.  I truly thought I could make it all stop, cast the demons away, but I had no effect whatsoever.  

I was all alone in my battle, no one to talk to, no one I could share what we were going through.  I tried praying with her every night, and that just seemed to advance things further.  After everything I learned I was fully convinced without doubt that she was indeed having something of a dark spiritual nature.  I tried everything to assure her I would find a way to make the tiny mean-faced people go away, whom only she could see flying all around her, holding knives in their hands while trying to poke at her.  That is how she described the demons.  She told me they would come and fly around her, but they couldn’t touch her ... and she learned to ignore them. 

I had often seen her staring into space, looking all around, and wondered what she was seeing.  One day I asked her, and from that day on I paid close attention to her every moment of every day.  I knew when the demons were around because her focus was staring into the air, and I would distract her so they went away.  At times they seemed to mesmerize her, but she didn’t show fear because they couldn’t hurt her.  It seemed she had been living with them for quite a while, and I got the impression she thought everyone saw them.  They seem to just come and go but when I told her that people can’t see them except her, then she became scared, and that is when things got worse.

Her new stepfather wasn’t around much as he worked a lot, so I was able to keep him from the worst of the reality, but he became fully aware when things escalated into the night.  At first the nightmares would wake me up and I’d rush to her room to calm her down.  My husband was a hard sleeper and never woke up, until things became more frightful.  Her nightmares became exhaustive when she would run to our bedroom screaming and crying, leaping into our bed and waking him up.  She would be shaking and holding me tight.  Her fear grew worse each night to where she was afraid to go to sleep.  Then, her nightmares began to haunt her nights while awake, and became more frightful. 

With fear in her eyes, and her little body shaking, she told me the tiny little mean-faced people started stabbing her, and although she could not feel anything, her mind brought forth images of them cutting her up, while she saw blood pouring from her body.  She insisted it was not a dream and from then on, she didn’t want to sleep in her own bed, so I would lie with her until she was sound asleep.  I constantly prayed over her, praying she didn’t have any nightmares, but they continued off and on.  When things had got to that point, I could no longer deal with it alone.  My days and nights had become consumed with her, and even her stepfather had reached that point - it wasn’t something my husband could no longer pretend it wasn’t happening.

Even though his awareness had given merit to my insistence that it was a demonic concern, in his own fear he didn’t want to be involved.  Again, how could I blame him.  He had never experienced anything like that.  As for my two older daughters, they were in their teens by then and I tried to keep everything from them the best I could.  I surely didn’t want them to be afraid of their little sister, as her stepfather seemed be … a fear that began long before, with the ‘other’ ordeal.  I tried to be understanding of what he was feeling, and not involve him.  It was a horrible situation he had entered into, and I tried to protect him from it all.  I tried to keep things happy and positive.  He didn’t see all that her and I had been going through.  It was a scary situation that I knew most could not handle, and I, myself, was barely hanging on.  Yet, it was my determination to fight the battle and free my little girl.

Since learning that demonic oppression can appear as possession in certain situations, I clearly learned the difference and was thus sure my little girl was not possessed, but the horror of knowing she was seriously oppressed concerned me no less.  What we were going through wasn’t something you just shared with everyone, not even close friends or family.  The time had come to make the call – and once I met with the Pastor, the process began.  It was like something out of movie, something so intense there are no words to really put it in perspective.  Most people wouldn’t have believed it if I told them, so I didn’t tell anyone, except my mother.  The most important thing was the exorcism worked, and my little girl was free! She was happy and healthy for the first time – ever – ever since birth.  That entire story has been written and someday I will unveil it.

Yes, life was wonderful, for a little while, anyway, and then something else came along and suddenly our life was about to get even deeper into darkness … that’s when The Exorcism of 1987 happened, or perhaps it’s better said, that’s when I was called forth to perform my first exorcism.

PART TWO

Something happened to me the night the Pastor came to our home to perform the exorcism.  It happened just as he and his assistant were about to leave.  After everything had been done, after everything had been anointed, after all the demons fled, we all four held hands in a circle while the Pastor said a prayer.  When his words turned to me, commanding the release of a curse I had confided to him from something long ago, in that moment, as his words spoke with power and authority, with my eyes sealed … I felt my entire body raise above the floor, like something had lifted me up.  And as I thought to myself how strange it felt, something inside unleashed its grip and I felt whatever it was slowly floated up and out of my body.  Then I felt my feet on the floor, and when his prayer was over, we all said Amen. 

Afterward, I told the Pastor what I experienced and he said he knew.  He said the curse had been removed.  I told him I felt different, something I had never felt before.  He said, “That’s the presence of the Holy Spirit’s power.  The power does not come from me.”  I knew his words to be true, and I was hopeful the curse was gone, and to this day the attacks never returned.  All those years of paralyzing back stabbing episodes I had suffered with on and off since 1968 were finally over.  No one would believe me when I told them I felt cursed after friends and I disrespected an Indian burial ground digging up beads.  It was really a curse after all, after seeking help from doctors and chiropractors and massage therapist, none could help.  For so many years I sought help for those paralyzing attacks that would last for 3 days, and just like the way they would suddenly put me down, they would suddenly disappear.  It felt like a curse, a hit and run, and they were gone and are gone, gone, gone.  That night both my little girl and I were both set free. 

That wasn’t all that happen that night.  I was not only shown the power of the Holy Spirit, I felt the Holy Spirit - and it was and is indescribable - something biblical.  That’s all I know to say about being filled with the Holy Spirit.  Watching the entire process showed me the true power against Satan and his demons.  That kind of authority is beyond power man can render.  It’s the kind of power that I came to realize had a bigger purpose.  I came to realize how others were suffering the same darkness, and I felt inspired to continue learning all I could of the spiritual way to help those in need.  I felt like a warrior in the battle of evil, and though I did not go seeking for what came to me, I did not run, I did not shy away, I did what the Lord would bring onto me and serve His Will.

At that time, my family and friends were concerned that I was going too deep into spiritual darkness, the thought of me reading books about the devil frightened them, but I would remind them that the Word says, know thy enemy well.  At that point, I thought I knew my enemy well.  The more I researched and studied the stronger I felt, the more protected I felt putting on the full armor.  At that time I thought about writing a book dealing with what we had experienced and all I had learned, but it was time to put all that aside and start living a normal life again.  My family needed me and the holidays were approaching.

Why I was given what I believe to be was an extraordinary experience, I knew not.  But after that night, and the days and weeks that followed, life felt like it was the end of everything dark.  Light was coming back into our lives once again.  My little girl was starting kindergarten and playing with other kids, laughing and being a normal child.  A couple of times a month my husband’s employer gave the logging crew pizza parties.  It was a family affair we enjoyed going to.  The kids all played, the wives all visited, and the guys all guzzled pitchers of beer and talking logging.

When a new crew worker was hired at my husband’s job, we made friends with Bret and Karen outside the pizza parties.  They had two darling little girls and my little girl was so happy to have friends.  As Karen and I got closer, I shared with her our nightmare experience, keeping the ‘other’ ordeal private.  I didn’t share the whole story because I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable knowing all the details of what she had been through.  I saw how knowing the truth about her sexual abused made others feel cautious around her.  My husband’s folks stopped inviting her to spend sleep overs when her other grandchildren came to visit.  And even when we brought her over, his mother wasn’t swooping her up with hugs like she had before.  People who knew the details were afraid to touch her, so I rarely ever told that story.  What had happened was not something I could hide, it was after all a public trial.  The details were, and are still something we just didn’t talk about … not even in our own home.

One day Karen called with exciting news … her and Bret had just purchased their first home.  She was quite excited about it.  After they had settled in, Karen invited us over for a bbq.   From the moment we pulled up to the curbside, one look at their house and I got a creepy feeling.  It reminded me of that movie Amityville, for its resemblance was striking … on a much smaller scale.

As we entered their home and sat down, the girls all dashed upstairs.  We sat down in the living room and visited a bit, then the guys went out back to have a beer and Karen wanted to show me around.  Wandering through the downstairs I told her she had a lovely home, but when we reached the top of the stairs, I got the most eerie feeling that gave me goose bumps.  When we went back downstairs to the kitchen and sat down to chat, Karen didn’t look as excited as she sounded on the phone a few weeks earlier.  As she carried on about the house and the things they planned on doing, like building a deck and replacing the old fencing out back, she said the girls just loved having a big yard to play in, and she mentioned that Bret had even built a dog house.  But then she started to tell me things that were beginning to disturb them, and it was getting worse.

Karen went on to say they had been hearing a strange pounding coming from the living room ceiling.  At first, they thought it was their girls jumping on the floor upstairs, but every time they checked, the girls were sound asleep.  She said at first it was not as loud and not every night.  But then it got louder and was coming every evening, telling me they had to turn the TV volume up.  She said it only happened at night, and after Bret thought it could be mice, he found nothing to support that idea.  It was starting to creep them out. 

She asked me for the name and number of the Pastor who had helped us.  She thought, if things got worse, she might have to call him.  A couple of weeks later Karen called and asked me to come over, she sounded scared.  When I got there, the girls dashed up to their room.  Karen and I sat in the living room.  She looked tired and stressed.  When she told me the banging was still going on, keeping them up at night, her and Bret were lacking sleep.  Things were getting more stressful, but what really freaked her out is she said their dog started digging holes in the backyard and finding old bones.  She didn’t know what kind of bones they were, but Bret threw them away, saying they were just animal bones, thinking someone must have buried their pet.  But the dog kept digging up the ground and more bones were found.  It was looking like a graveyard.  Karen didn’t want the girls to even go out there anymore.

While we sat talking, we heard a loud scream from upstairs, and we both leaped to our feet and ran for the stairs.  It was my little girl running down the steps, screaming in terror.  My first thought that she was hurt was quickly dismissed when I picked her up and calmed her down.  Once I knew she wasn’t hurt, I asked her what happen. Karen stood there holding her girl’s hand while my scared little girl told us she saw a man hanging in the bathroom.  The look of shock on Karen’s face was fear, and her daughters wrapped their arms around her legs, squeezing tight, wide eyed.  To hear something like that come out of the mouth of your child, well, it activated something within me.

I asked Karen to stay with the girls while I went upstairs to check it out.  As I approached the stairway, I saw my purse on the kitchen table and I remembered I had a pocket Bible I kept inside.  The moment I held it in my hand, it felt like what I had before when I was filled with the Holy Spirit.  I hadn’t felt that since then, but I knew instantly I was protected.

As I approached the stairs, I randomly opened the Bible and began reading from whatever my eyes unsealed, and the words began to pour out in a soft tone, growing louder and bolder the further up the stairs I went.  My tone became deeper, stronger, more powerful as an invisible force appeared, pushing against me, trying to hold me back.  That’s when everything around me faded, and suddenly I had tunnel vision focused on the Word, continuing to read the powerful message that flowed from my breath.  I felt the pressure weakening as it slowly retreated away.  When I reached the top of the stairs, I was staring straight down the hall, right at the bathroom doorway.  When I felt the force disappear, I just stood there in silence standing firm, fearless, completely confident the dark spirit before me was powerless.

I closed the book and started down the hall.  The closer I got to the bathroom, I could hear the voice within warning me not to enter.  When I reached the doorway, I peered inside and glanced around, not stepping one foot across the threshold.  I saw nothing, I felt nothing, but I knew it was hiding.  I stood outside the doorway and I closed my eyes and said a prayer – that’s all I felt I could do at that moment – I didn’t feel moved to go any further.  When I returned to the living room, I assured everyone that it was okay, trying to lighten the situation, at least for Karen’s girls sake.  The last thing I wanted is for them to be scared.  After a few minutes they wanted to go back upstairs and play, but Dani refused to go.  We left shortly after that. 

On the drive home I wanted to make sure Dani was all right.  After what her and I had gone through, we shared a special bond in a way we could talk about such things.  She was fully aware of demons and spirits, and they frightened her, but she didn’t seem as scared once we left Karen’s house.  I asked her to tell me everything that happened.  She said she had to go potty and that’s when she saw the man hanging.  She said it wasn’t a ghost, it was a man hanging from the ceiling.  She said the walls were all black, even the window.  I know it frightened her and that it brought up old fears, but honestly, she seemed more concern for them than herself, and so that night, and several nights we prayed together for their protection. 

I called Karen that evening to tell her what my little girl had seen in more detail, and what I experienced too.  I confirmed to her that I indeed believed there was a dark spirit living there.  I told her not to show any fear and to try and ignore it, advising her that she should seek help.  When I had given her the name of the Pastor who helped us, I learned by then he had left the country, as he often had in his ministry.  When I informed her of this, she then began to ask around and located two ministers who had some experience in this area.  Days later she told me while her girls were at school, Bret at work, the ministers came to her home to perform what they called ‘House Cleansing’.  She said they walked around spreading Holy Water, praying, and even removed some items they called “open doors” … which I knew all about after several bags of personal items had been removed from our home, as well.  She said after they had left, she still felt the awful feeling, but relieved the dark spirit must be gone because the noises had ceased. 

I hadn’t spoken to her in a couple of weeks after that, and one early morning she called.  Her voice spoke in a manner of terror and exhaustion as she tried to explain how things got so bad she had a mental breakdown.   She wanted to let me know they had moved out of the house and were staying with Bret’s folks.  She told me she went to see a psychiatrist, thinking she was going crazy.  As I listened to her trembling voice, images of what she saw were horrify.  She said she woke up in the middle of the night from the banging in the ceiling, which was unusual at that hour.  She had crawled out of bed and went into their master bathroom, and while standing at the sink washing her hands she glanced up into the mirror.  At that moment she saw the face of the devil, an ugly, horrible evil sight, looking at her with piercing red eyes.

In that moment she saw streams of blood pouring down the walls like something from a horror film.  Bret woke up to her screaming madly and found her curled up on the floor, shaking and not making any sense.  He immediately knew something horrible had happened to her and feared for his family.  He quickly packed some things and they fled to a motel in the middle of the night.  The next morning, they went to stay with his folks.  Karen said she couldn’t call sooner because her head was a mess.

They were too scared to go back into that house, even to get things they needed.  Bret’s mother was able pick up some clothes and other such items for them, and she said she felt and saw nothing while there.  What Karen had told me was deeply disturbing, but I didn’t feel I could do anything for them … other than pray.  All day it stirred in my mind, but I didn’t share anything with anyone.  Bret had told my husband they were staying at his folks because Karen had a breakdown, but not even my husband knew the horror story.

That night I had a dream, and dreams are not common for me, they are rather rare.  I had a rare dream that night.  A battle of the darkest kind.

PART THREE

The one thing I have never been called forth to do is deal with demon possession, and I am thankful for that.  I studied the horror of that, I’ve watched movies involving that, and I prayed I would never be faced with that.  The many times I have been called forth to help others has involved spiritual oppression, and I have found there is a bigger need for that than anything else.

I learned through this experience that the power of the Holy Spirit can work in various methods.  I discovered such work can be done through dreams, just as darkness can cause not only nightmares, but real-life attacks, as it had happened to me with another situation - one that nearly took my life.

After Karen had called and told me what had happened, I had a dream that night.  I dreamt I was taken to their house and was standing outside the bathroom doorway.  It was pitch black, but I knew my back was facing its entry.  I heard the voice within tell me to close my eyes and to keep them closed, no matter what.  I closed my eyes and stood still.  Slowly I felt the darkness creep around me, my thoughts concentrating on keeping my eyes closed, fully aware of the outward energy.  I felt no fear, as if standing ready for the battle at hand.

I began to sense a cold breeze swirling around me, a chill gaining strength pouring out from the opened door behind me.  I could feel its power trying to break through the protective shield I was encased in, and then suddenly my mouth began to speak, and the words were spoken with the all-mighty power of the Holy Spirit.  The battle thus began.

It was so intense and went on for a long time.  There were moments I felt so physically weak I would fall to my knees, and rise again, while the powerful words never ceased … they only became stronger.  I heard horrid sounds echoing throughout the house, yet, I kept my eyes closed.  What I felt can only be describe as the Spirit of Fire as the battle raged on until its climax.  Then, in an instant, I finally felt the evil force vanish that surrounded me, and the darkness had turned to an illuminating light … it was so bright I could see the glow through my closed eyelids.  Then, I heard the voice say, “Open your eyes,” and I opened my eyes and I saw that indeed the whole house was a radiate pure white light.  The darkness was gone, and I knew the house was finally free from that haunting.

The next morning, I called Karen to tell her about my dream.  I was so excited and so sure that they could return home.  She said that was really weird because she woke up that morning and told Bret she had a feeling it was time to go home.  She couldn’t explain it, but they had made plans to go over after Bret got off work to check it out.  She finally felt ready, so, it was an incredible thing that happened. 

The following day Karen called to tell me they were moving back home.  She said from the moment they stepped through the front door, she knew it was gone.  From then on, they never had any more issues, other than the dog finding a bone once in a while, a problem they resolved and the girls had their backyard to play in again.

Shortly thereafter, Karen was out front one day working in the flower garden, when a neighbor lady happened to be walking by.  A friendly hello led to a disturbing conversation that set Karen off terribly.  The lady told her it was nice to have a normal family as neighbors.  She said the man who lived there before was very strange, because he never came out of the house.  She said she saw deliveries being made to him, and at first she thought he was ill, until she would occasionally see several cars parked along the curb and people entering the house.  Sometimes she heard strange noises coming from inside.  Then one day she noticed the windows were painted black, even the front door.

She had a feeling something was going on inside but it wasn’t until a work crew showed up to paint the entire inside and out that she was able to go over and take a look.  She was shocked that all the walls were also painted black, but when the crew was all finished, the entire place was white-washed and put on the market. 

Karen then asked what happened to the man, thinking he must have moved.  The lady said it was just a horrible thing, he had hung himself in the upstairs bathroom.  Other than that, she didn’t know much else.  That was enough for Karen to freak out, and rightly so.  This set her on the path to start asking questions from other neighbors.  When she told me this, I was amazed, but what followed was even more eerily disturbing.

She started knocking on other neighbor’s doors gathering bits and pieces of further nightmarish realities.  She discovered the man had been dead for a while before the mailman noticed the mail piling up.  Several others had even told her they thought he was a Satan worshiper because they knew he had painted the entire inside of house black.  They also repeated what the lady had told her, that the man never came out and had everything delivered.  They confirmed on occasion they would see strange people coming and going late at night into early morning hours.  It was wondered among many of the neighbors if satanic rituals were going on.  One neighbor had told her that after the man was removed from the house, and everything was emptied inside, they were glad to see painters come whitewash everything, scrapping the black paint off the windows, and even made the front appearance look more inviting … then, a For Sale sign went up.  One neighbor told her the house had sat on the market for a long time, until the price was reduced, which is when Bret and Karen were able to afford it. 

After learning the history of the house, Karen was very upset that they hadn’t been told about this.  She confronted the realtor who handled the transaction, who denied she knew anything about it, saying no one told her.  As upset as her and Bret were, there wasn’t anything they could do without going through a lot of stress they weren’t up to facing.  Everything was fine then, and it was better to leave it in the past.

As soon as Karen learned about the black paint, she went looking for evidence.  The only place she could find it was around some window sills and floorboards in closets.  She started wondering about the ritual thing, and that led her to question further about the bones their dog had dug up, and which they had put a stop to that.  The thought began to trouble Karen, so one weekend they decided to check the yard out and began digging the entire ground up.  They found dozens of bones of what they thought looked like small animals, cats or dogs. Bret hauled all that away and they fixed the yard up nicely.

Although all the strange and scary things had ceased, Karen said the creepy feeling always lingered.  We had visited many times over the next couple of years, but we never spoke of it again.  Then, out of the blue, Karen announced they were selling the house and moving to California.  The last I heard Bret was going to attend Chef School.  We lost touch over the decades of time. 

After I had returned to Oregon, after so many changes over the years, after I had been back for seven years, one day a friend and I went to a new restaurant that had just opened in town.  To my amazement it was Bret and Karen’s place.  Bret was the cook and their fully grown daughters were the waitresses.  Karen came over to our table and said hi, as if she knew me.  At first I didn’t realize who she was, it had been that long.  It was wonderful to see how well they all were, but we never did get back together.  Then one day the place was closed and they were gone again.

For me, it was a moment of gratitude and confirmation of God’s blessings - of His All Mighty Power.

The End.

Copyright © by Judith Ingram  -  Contact: Email