Been seeding lately HC and to me it's a form of escape, but I finally dealt with my new tiny friend in the bathroom.
The wispy little thing spoke like they do. Whispers with small lights and soft sounding growls in the background. My little ghost went on, when my area was young and fresh. A small family headed across from here to the black water lake of screams. I assume it meant the LA Brea tar pits. The wispy child was so delighted traveling with his sisters and parents. They headed with apprehension to meet more of their tribes. The lions attacked them as they neared the lake. All its family died torn apart by the lions roaming the lake. Our little friend's last memory is being carried in a mouth and dropped onto lion cubs, and then blackness. Most ghosts do not speak to me. Probably I can't understand them. There are others of my ilk that talk to them. I can understand when they point and form images in front of me. Sometime I notice them mouth words.
The way I communicate the fastest is with the ghost hunter app. I ask questions and the answer shows up in the app chat feature. I save the convos and form the message and needs of the poor wisps. We are taught to never ask them why they are here. It drives the dead to despair and acute sadness. Hence, the moans and groans you hear in a haunting. Many don't know they have passed, and it takes a while to face it. I ask my small ghost what does it need? He shows me by pointing at my bathroom mirror. I imagine viewing is the best way to describe the hazy images of a tree with bees buzzing around it. I turn to look at my guest. The little thing turns into a small mouth and sticks its cloudy form of a hand into its mouth, and small smile. It hit me, it wants honey? So I run to the kitchen and grab the honey bear in the pantry. I go back. The little thing is gone. I leave the honey bear container next to the toothbrushes. Since then, no more toothbrushes have been in the toilet. No more handprints on mirrors or sounds. The first time I ever dealt with someone in my place. I prefer not to.
Safe Halloween
The wispy little thing spoke like they do. Whispers with small lights and soft sounding growls in the background. My little ghost went on, when my area was young and fresh. A small family headed across from here to the black water lake of screams. I assume it meant the LA Brea tar pits. The wispy child was so delighted traveling with his sisters and parents. They headed with apprehension to meet more of their tribes. The lions attacked them as they neared the lake. All its family died torn apart by the lions roaming the lake. Our little friend's last memory is being carried in a mouth and dropped onto lion cubs, and then blackness. Most ghosts do not speak to me. Probably I can't understand them. There are others of my ilk that talk to them. I can understand when they point and form images in front of me. Sometime I notice them mouth words.
The way I communicate the fastest is with the ghost hunter app. I ask questions and the answer shows up in the app chat feature. I save the convos and form the message and needs of the poor wisps. We are taught to never ask them why they are here. It drives the dead to despair and acute sadness. Hence, the moans and groans you hear in a haunting. Many don't know they have passed, and it takes a while to face it. I ask my small ghost what does it need? He shows me by pointing at my bathroom mirror. I imagine viewing is the best way to describe the hazy images of a tree with bees buzzing around it. I turn to look at my guest. The little thing turns into a small mouth and sticks its cloudy form of a hand into its mouth, and small smile. It hit me, it wants honey? So I run to the kitchen and grab the honey bear in the pantry. I go back. The little thing is gone. I leave the honey bear container next to the toothbrushes. Since then, no more toothbrushes have been in the toilet. No more handprints on mirrors or sounds. The first time I ever dealt with someone in my place. I prefer not to.
Safe Halloween
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