He Still Watches

Sent in by: Dale A. Moses, CNA (website and email about this True story  at the end of the entry) "An open mind is a gift that few possess, but the gift of knowing the truth is possesed by even fewer" With the peace and beauty of a small town surrounding you, it’s hard to imagine that anything horrible could ever happen there. Don’t be deceived. The ghostly happenings that plague me to this day started in just such a place… The year is 1952. King George VI dies, and his daughter becomes Elizabeth II, Queen of England. Her coronation to the throne was the following year. The Atomic Energy Commission in America announced ‘satisfactory’ testing of the Hydrogen bomb in Enewetak in the Central Pacific. WW2 has been over for going on seven years now. As usual, it is a beautiful spring in the small unassuming town of Poplar Point, Manitoba where the horror begins in the most unusual way. The birth of an innocent soul. It was a very happy time for the Fiddler family. My great-aunt had given birth to her first child, a small baby boy. She went through the birth without the benefit and support of my great uncle, who had deemed the prospect of a family too much reality for him. So, heeding the call of the ‘bottle’, he had left just months earlier. Despite this, she had done quite well. This was a friendly town after all, and the vast majority of the family and neighbors pitched in to help in any fashion that they could. As a reward for their efforts, baby Dale had blessed them all with his tiny presence. Ah, yes… Life was good indeed. For a short time anyway… Fate and misfortune were just around the corner waiting to show it’s ugly side. From the start of his little life, something was not quite right. He was too quiet, displayed a severe lack of movement, and slept far too much. Many trips to various doctors finally revealed the reason. Baby Dale had a heart defect that robbed him of all of his energy. A tiny hole in the aorta, easily fixed nowadays, but being that medicine was not what it is today, was deemed fatal back then. Although all the doctors seemed to have their own theories as to just why this had happened, they all agreed on one thing… Baby Dale would not live to see his first birthday. "Of the vast number of religions that exist today, one common bond binds them; The belief that something watches over them." My great aunt had spiraled into a bad depression over this, as she struggled on the edge of a nervous breakdown. She was in no shape to look after a sick baby, let alone herself. Adoption was the answer that she came up with, as she knew she could not handle the inevitable. My grandmother, bless her soul, would have no part of that. For many years she had made it on her own, much of the time holding down two jobs to make ends meet for her, my mother (then only 4 years old), and my three uncles. You see, my grandfather had also heeded the call of the "bottle" and had hit the road. Times weren't easy, but they always managed to have a roof over their head and food on the table. There was always room for family, after all, what is more important? Baby Dale would not go to strangers for the short time he was alive, he would be with loving family. My grandmother would have it no other way. So baby Dale became a part of my grandmothers household. My mother and baby Dale forged a bond that would last forever. As a tribute to my mothers resourcefulness that is with her to this day, the problem of baby Dale's immobility was quickly solved when she had my uncles salvage parts from old baby carriages around the town and they constructed a working buggy. My mother would take baby Dale everywhere in that buggy, and you never saw one without the other. The baby spent so much time in that carriage, that is nickname from that day onward would forever be "Buggy" Then the sad day came, the inevitable happened. One morning, while out in his buggy with my mother and uncles, his short little life ended. My mother was devastated, and being only four, could not understand why God would take him away from her. The day of the funeral, my mother made a vow that her first born would be named in his memory, regardless, boy or girl. My mother imagined at his gravesite that she saw him going to heaven in a carriage, and waving goodbye to her happily. This was an image that would stick with her forever. Little did anybody know that just 14 years later, this bond between my mother and Buggy would overcome the boundaries of death itself, to manifest itself as HIM....The Dark Man....The one who always watches... waiting.... "One, two...he's coming for you..." Time passed as it tends to do. My mother has just given birth to her first child, yours truly. Holding true to her vow of 14 years prior, she named me Dale after poor little Buggy. Now she was as you may have already guessed, only 18 years old. As if being that young was not problem enough, My father had, you guessed it, hit the road. So she opted to live with grandma, who accepted me with open arms. Life was very different now, they were no longer living in the relative comfort of a friendly small town, but in the big cold city of Edmonton, Alberta. This is where my nightmare begins. It was near the middle of February, and a dark, cold and dreary day. My mother had laid me down for a nap in my crib in the upstairs bedroom, and she was in the kitchen with my grandmother and three uncles having coffee and chatting. Suddenly my mother had a very uneasy feeling that she couldn't shake. Nobody paid any attention as she went upstairs to check on her two week old boy. I've asked my uncles about this many times over the years and they all say the same thing...The scream they heard from my mother upstairs was one that nearly scared the life out of them... They all scrambled up the stairs, fearing the worst. When they all piled into the bedroom, they found my hysterical mother clutching me to her chest and crumpled down in the far corner of the room, opposite the crib. They quickly went to the task of trying to get me away from her to see what was wrong with me, but to their amazement and disbelief, I was fine...but my mother was hysterical. It took the better part of a half hour to calm her, and when they did and found out what had made her scream like that, none were ready for what they heard. My oldest uncle said it almost made his blood freeze. She had just turned the corner to enter the room, and she froze. For before her, standing at the middle of the crib looking in was a dark man. This was no ordinary man, though, not a burglar, which would have been easier to take at the time...not by any means. This man was a Negro who was dressed in a top hat and tails, all black. The otherworldly thing about him was that his torso hovered about a foot above his waist and you could see right through. He was dirty, having the appearance of coming directly from the grave. and there was a smell....like death itself...In the split second that it took my mother to see this, he took his attention off of me and turned his head to her and spoke the following in a rumbling low voice; "BUGGY WANTS SOMEBODY TO PLAY WITH..." "Three, four...better lock you're door..." Needless to say, the family was shocked to hear such a thing, but were convinced that it was the stress of being a new mother manifesting itself in this strange fashion, but this was not to be the last time that the Dark Man made himself known. It took allot of convincing, but my mother finally accepted that this was just her imagination, but none the less, she never let me out of her sight. Months later, my grandmother went on a trip to the Arctic, and my uncles were out at work, and my mother and me were home alone. My mother sat quietly reading a book, while I played in my crib. She was suddenly overcome with the same feeling that something wasn't right, but she was in the room with me, and the door was locked with a knife stuck into the doorframe, as was her custom for years (one that tended to drive me crazy in later years)...But why was she having this feeling of dread? Then she hear it....Heavy deliberate footsteps coming up the stairs... She grabbed me as a precaution, and went to the door to see if she could hear her brothers voices, hoping that it was one of them home early from work, but knowing that it wasn't, as they did not have a key to the heavy oak door, only grandma and her had one, and grandma was 3000 miles away. Besides, there was no way on earth that the door could be quietly be opened...she would have heard it...her mind began to race as the footsteps sounded as it the person was going from one door to the next, stopping briefly at each one, then proceeding to the next, getting closer with every step, as if the person was searching for something. Burglar? Grandpa? No...she would have heard breaking glass, as all the windows were painted shut...Who was this intruder? My mother held her breath and was now shaking uncontrollably, but none the less quiet. The heavy footsteps stopped outside her door....then quiet...my mother started to sob with fear. Then she head a familiar voice that she had heard only once before...It was booming this time and seemed to surround her, and was much louder than the first time...it was HIM... "I'VE COME FOR DALE...GIVE THE CHILD TO ME!" Again, my mother went into hysterics, clutching me and screaming "NO! BUGGY CAN'T HAVE HIM! NO!"...she screamed this for how long she didn't even know...She had gone into a terrible crying fit, muttering "NO...NO...You can't have him" for what must have been hours....the next thing she remembered was two of my uncles forcing the bedroom door open, breaking the frame in the process...only to find my mother in a near state of shock, screaming once they broke the door. They went through the drill once again, trying to calm her, which they recall as a near impossible task. Seems they had come home only to find every door and every window wide open, with the locks still in a locked state. The walked in, wondering what the hell was up, and amazed that the windows were open, as they had tried to open them many times without success. While they looked around, dumbfounded and confused, they heard my mothers sobs and mutterings, but her door was the only one in the whole house that was closed.... "Five, Six...Grab your Crucifix..." That was the last straw...My mother had snapped, as far as my uncles were concerned...but the windows and doors thing had them baffled. My oldest uncle was the type who was always taking those home study courses that you find on the backs of matchbook covers, and hypnoses was one of those courses. It was decided to try this to see what was really bothering her, as it was basically a harmless thing to do. Or so they thought...My mother agreed, as this was terrifying her near death. After a sleepless night and a very nervous day, they settled down in the kitchen to do the hypnosis session. My uncle was optimistic, but my mother was doubtful. After 20 or so minutes of relaxation and soothing talk my mother was under in a soothing trance, but was fully aware of what went on around her. My uncles were in for the scare of their lives, because as the full state of hypnosis was reached, my mother stopped breathing. This was from their point of view, anyhow...My mothers was much, much different. You see, in this relaxed state, she was almost hyper alert to all things around her...She remembers looking around the room at her brothers, and there, seen only by her, was the Dark Man, just behind them, smiling an evil smile with his hand outstretched to her...but this time, she was calm. "YOU OR HIM...ONE COMES FOR BUGGY..." My mother at that point calmly chose herself, and got up to go with him....to my uncles, this was where she stopped breathing. They yelled, slapped and shook her, but it wasn't until some cold water was splashed onto her, that she started breathing again...she had been rudely pulled back to her physical self. Once she told my uncles her perspective on what happened, the oldest uncle swore that hypnosis was something that he would never try on anybody ever again. They were never fully convinced of the Dark Man's existence, but they were sufficiently spooked by this point. They tried not to discuss the topic any further. Many years passed, without anymore major visits from the Dark Man, but all through my childhood, my mother would catch brief glimpses of him out of the corner of her eye, or in a dark room, behind her in the mirror, but nothing more than a brief glimpse...just enough to remind her that he was watching...always watching... Sounds like this was the end of this particular series of events...I wish it was...this may have been the last of him for my mother, but it was only the start for me...after all, it was me he wanted all along... "Seven, Eight...Better stay up late..." My life was fairly uneventful for about thirteen years after that...I was a normal kid in every respect. The few times that my mother did relate the story of the dark man to me, really meant nothing...I was too interested in my comic book collection and my friends. Besides, she was a parent, and at that age, who really listens to them anyway? I thought she was on drugs, or was just trying to scare me....Mothers, you gotta love 'em... She never had a face-to-face meeting with him again, other than the quick glimpses out of the corner of her eye, or behind her in the mirror, just enough to let her know that he was still watching. Or was it her imagination? Either way, it would shake her up for days, to the point that she would watch me like a hawk...Drove me nuts. Of course she didn't tell me this until I was about 20...But I'm getting ahead of myself. My first meeting with "him" was under strange circumstances indeed. Circumstances that I will never forget... I was in Cub Scouts, and a friend and I had decided that a back-yard camp out at his place was in order. After getting the necessary permissions from both sets of parents, the night was a go. So we hopped on our bikes after a Friday night Cub Scout meeting and started peddling our way to his house. But even though our parents had stated that we go directly to his place afterwards, we decided to ignore them and go a few blocks over to the local video arcade. It was dusk, and we were two kids dressed in gray uniforms on bikes...not exactly easy for drivers to see...which proved itself a few blocks away on a quiet residential street. We were crossing at an uncontrolled four way stop when it happened...I got hit by a car. The car narrowly missed my friend, and directly mowed me down. Strange, really, because I remember the initial impact, but then I remember the whole thing from another point of view...That of a by-stander. Clear as day...All of a sudden, I was standing on the corner watching the drama unfold before me. There was a kid under a car, my friend screaming at the driver to get the car off of the kid underneath, and the driver going nuts trying to do so gently, as the kids foot was crushed under the front tire. Even with all this yelling and screaming going on, it was surprisingly calm and peaceful...and bright...Yes, bright as daytime...even brighter... I remember looking around from my strange vantage point, and seeing many things...A warm, friendly light shaped like a tunnel above me, and people...LOTS of people, all standing and watching, but with nothing threatening about them, and none that I readily recognized. I was looking around in wonderment, as the corner was deserted when the accident happened. Where did all these people come from? Why we they not helping that poor kid under the car? Where was I, and who was that kid? I was, needless to say, a little confused. That is when I turned to the lady standing beside me and asked her what was going on...She smiled down at me with a warm, friendly smile and said "It's OK, little one..it's not your time yet...not for a long while. But you must go, there is danger here..." That's when I saw him. All of ten feet from me, and slowly walking closer, his hand outstretched towards me, and an infant in his other arm, cradled protectively towards his chest. The people parted and gave him a wide path, as if they were afraid of him, but he paid no attention to them, he was fixed on me. He had what I remember as an evil smile, not friendly at all, on his dark face. I felt terrified when I saw him, even though I didn't know who he was. Then things got foggy...I was fading back to reality, and the screams of pain got louder and louder...The warm pleasant feeling was quickly leaving my body, and pain took its place...excruciating pain. What was that above me? Was that a car? Then I was back, under the front end of that car, as the driver slowly and very painfully backed the full size Lincoln Continental off of my foot. I screamed so loudly I swear the entire city must have heard. The next day after a long night of surgery and skin grafts from my right thigh, I'll never forget the look on the Police Officer's face as I related the accident in it's entirety as I remembered it to him...All of it, right down to the guy with the baby...He jotted the whole thing down on the accident report, forever making it a matter of public record. Seemed to shake him up somewhat, and I also remember something as he left my room upon the conclusion of the interview...I swear I saw him cross his chest. Poor guy must have been religious. It was eerie, after all. Kinda makes you think... I guess I must not have been too bright back in those days, because I never drew the parallel between the occurrences with my mother and the Dark Man, and what I had seen that night...Then again, with all the stories she had told me, by that point in my life, she had never described to me what he looked like physically. How could I have known? It was seven years later that I would become well acquainted with the Dark Man. I couldn't help but, as he started visiting me on a regular basis...In the one place I was unable to defend myself... In my dreams... "Nine, Ten...Never sleep Again..." I was now twenty years old. I had just finished college and had my first apartment out on my own. I was having the time of my life. Lots of parties, women, two jobs that I really enjoyed, and a whack of friends that always came over to visit. By all accounts, I was really happy and stress free (none of the troubles that are usually attributed to going...how shall I say...crazy) ...But at night, as I slept alone... At first, it was barely noticeable, but as time went by it got worse. I find it hard to recall the first dream in which I saw Him. To the best of my recollection, I was at a car race (I had watched an Indy race earlier that night with some friends...) All was normal, or at least as normal as dreams can be...I mean I wasn't dressed in a chicken outfit, or anything, but I do remember waking up upset, and not knowing why. The next day the dream came back to me, but only bits and pieces...for some reason, that "dark man" that I had seen when I was 13 when I got hit by the car was in the dream...off in the distance, and not saying anything, just....watching....I remember even in the dream, he looked strangely out of place. The black stove-pipe like hat, and the old-fashioned clothing stuck out in the crowds ...he had no place in this dream, and he seemed more vivid than the rest of the dream. This was kind of strange, to say the least, but youthful exuberance wrote the whole thing off to a bad slice of pizza the night before. But it kept happening. Every night for weeks, no matter what I dreamt about, HE was there, silently watching nothing else but me. And with every dream, he got closer and closer. Although I wouldn't admit it, I was getting really scared. I know these were just dreams, but there was something real about this guy, something really threatening. I was starting to be afraid to go to sleep at nights, so when my buddy Brian asked me if I would consider a room-mate, I jumped at the chance, knowing I would feel better having somebody else there in the apartment with me. It didn't work... Only a week after he moved in, the mother of all dreams hit. I was in a field, and it was bright and sunny. I was hiking to a campsite all by myself. There were deer, and rabbits, and birds...in all a very pleasant dream. But for some reason, it started to cloud over, and all the animals disappeared. It got very quiet, and I had the distinct feeling of being lost. That's when I heard the sound of ...how do I describe it...dirt, earth moving behind me. I turned around, and there in front of me, rising out of the ground like reverse quicksand was HIM, the dark man. I was terrified, but was unable to run or scream. All I could do was stand there and watch this unholy thing rise from the ground before me, and as he reached his full height a mere two feet or so before me, his semi-rotten eyes met mine, and he smiled, a dirty, earth filled smile of something that had been buried for a very long time. An evil smile by all accounts, then he looked down. In a panic, I desperately looked down at my feet to see why I could not run, and there, at my feet, was the rotten corpse of a baby, clawing at my feet. A ghostly baby's crying filled the air, and then I finally found my voice...in shear terror, I screamed, and screamed...My room-mate Brian came running into the room with a baseball bat...only to find me a terrified crumpled screaming heap in the corner of my bedroom...I guess I scared him bad...There was no more sleep for either of us that night. Or the next, for me, anyway. I was a tired, messed up wreck. I had finally made the connection to my mothers stories of the "Dark Man", and my troubling dreams. I did not go to work , I instead went to talk to my mother. She sat and listened to my accounts of seeing this "thing" in my dreams, and near the end of my accounts, I noticed that she had gone silently white. She explained to me that the man that I was describing was infact the man that had terrorized her 20 years prior, only she had purposely never described him to me, perhaps to spare me the fear that it had spurred in her. Now it was me who had to calm her. She was convinced that HE was back to finally claim me. She related the entire story to me, along with all the details she had previously left out for my sake. I'll never forget the fear in that room, as she told me of baby Dale, the death, and the Dark Man. But she told me one thing that convinced me that these dreams were only my over active imagination working overtime. She described his booming voice, and an accompanying "Smell" that she couldn't quite describe...and neither were present in my dreams...this was the key...It was only my sub-conscious recalling stories of long ago told to me by my mother, in which she MUST have described him to me...how else would I know what he looked like? That had to be the answer. Being trained in computers, I was a man of science. This was the only logical solution...So like a true computer geek, I made a B-line to the nearest library to get a book on controlling your dreams. I did what the book said, I drank a glass of water, and recited to myself that I was the master of my dreams, and that I could wake myself up whenever I wanted, and other such hogwash...but to the obscure authors credit...It worked. I was pretty proud of myself. He was from that point onward no longer in my dreams. No...no longer in my dreams... ... because the next time him and I met...HE was as real as you and me... "...Ashes, Ashes, we all fall down...." Twenty-two years old now, and not one bad dream since. I had met and moved in with the girl of my dreams. Marriage was just months away, and my old room-mate Brian had agreed to be my best man. I had just landed a sweet job with the Federal Government Of Canada in the Supply and Services Computer division. Life had never been better. Yvonne, my future wife, was what I lived for. She was everything a man could hope for...absolutely beautiful with a killer figure, smart, and had a wicked sense of humor. I was the luckiest man on earth. After a particularly romantic night of passion, I was laying awake, watching the moonlight on her sweet face as she slept beside me. The moon was full and lit up the bedroom brightly. As I stroked her hair and took in her sweet smell, I was contemplating just what a lucky sap I really was...a good woman, a good job...What more was there? Who could sleep with all this pride going through me? Yup, I was wide awake... My thoughts were interrupted by a wafting odor...one that is hard to describe. It was overpowering, out of place, and sudden. I sat up and looked around the room to try and find where this peculiar smell was coming from...Then my blood froze...For there, standing in the doorway of my bedroom was HIM, the Dark Man of my nightmares...But I was awake! This was no dream! He was real! HE WAS REAL! He started walking the few steps to the foot of the bed...I was terrified! He was just like in the dreams, only real this time! I remember being able to see through his mid-section as he walked heavily towards me...I was so scared, and this was so sudden, I was mute with terror. I could feel the foot-falls on the floor, and that damned spot that squeaked at the foot of the bed when you stepped on it squeaked with his weight. Before I realized it, I had scrambled backwards and was up against the wall on top of the headboard, but still unable to get a sound out of my throat. He never took his evil looking eyes off of me, as he slowly sat on the foot of the bed. I actually felt his weight on the bed, as you would if someone sat on your bed. He grinned a smile that I will take with me to my grave, and spoke in a deep booming voice that I could feel in my chest...it seemed to emanate from all around me... "HAPPY ARE YOU?...WE'LL SEE..." I'm a big man, a strong man, and not at all the computer-nerd type, but I'm not ashamed to tell you, I screamed...I screamed like a woman...This of course woke Yvonne up, and she was scared out of her wits...who wouldn't be with an awakening like that? I tried to grab her to pull her away from HIM, finally screaming bloody murder for him to stay away, but he had disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared. Yvonne fell backwards out of bed, trying to get away from the raving lunatic against the bedroom wall, on top of the headboard...when she finally realized where she was, she jumped up and tried to comfort and calm me...but like a crazy person, I bolted from the room and turned each and every light on, and searched every room, all the while yelling for her to phone the police, HE was here somewhere. She didn't, of course, she just stood clear until I collapsed in a quivering heap in the kitchen. Then she went about trying to find out what had happened, and once I was able to tell her, she calmed me down. I had a couple of good stiff drinks, and finally started to stop shaking. After a couple of hours of assuring me that this was all just a dream, and me arguing that I was wide awake, she decided to go back to bed, as we both had to work in the morning. After a nervous and through search of the bedroom, I agreed to come back to bed, but only if all the lights elsewhere in the place stayed on. We had finally settled down, and she kissed me on the forehead and told me not to worry about bad dreams, that she would watch over me...We went silent for a minute or two, when she asked me the question that proved to me once and for all that the Dark Man was infact real, and I had not imagined him... " Honey, what is that god-awful smell?"

Epilogue "EPILOGUE" That was the last meeting to date, I'm now thirty-four, and divorced. She took me for everything, and I'm only now starting to recover and get back on my feet. I guess HE was right about that... There are times, in the middle of the night, I will wake up with the distinct feeling that someone is in the room with me, but I see nobody. There is nothing that I can place my finger on, yet there is something… a lingering sense of dread is the best I can describe it... Perhaps this is my own fear working on me? Or….? Has the Dark Man left me? Or is he simply biding his time, waiting for the most opportune time to once again make his presence known. This is by far the worst part. The never knowing when he will show himself again. Even though friends tell me to rejoice in his absence, hopefully even banishment, I am not as optimistic. There is a great deal of questions that remain unanswered. Too many infact. What does HE want from me? What part does Baby Dale play in all of this? Why my mother, then me? I have 2 other brothers and a sister, why not any of them? There MUST be an explanation, yet it eludes me… In my attempt to better understand these 'occurrences' with The Dark Man, I have tried many different things. I have tried talking to some of my relatives in Poplar Point to see if there was anything in history that would help me to explain this, and I came up empty. I scoured the library, could not find anything. Finally, in frustration, I turned to the Internet. That’s when I finally came across a web page called The Shadowlands Ghosts And Hauntings. I posted this story, as well as a personal message. I received many replies, and a lot of sympathy, but I was looking for answers… It was a long shot, but I had to try. To the credit of all the "Board" members, I did receive many possible explanations, but then in the midst of the flood, I received a small email from a member calling herself "Primrose". Very un-pretentious, straightforward and to the point. This was what I had been looking for! It read as follows; "(From me to her)<< I have no doubt that I will meet him again, and I hope that I have the clarity of mind to perhaps ask him what he wants, and not just scream and panic...(I'm not that old, but I really don't think my ticker would hold up to that....) >>" "(From her to me) No, don't ask him what he wants. NEVER ask him what he wants...what he wants is your fear. He's got that. What you need to do is get over your fear for him to the point where you can banish him for good. Frankly, my impression is this: what we've got here is a classic boogeyman. The child that's with him ISN'T the baby Dale, but the fear of your mother brought him to her, and then you. Not that she's to blame here, she was a child, and quite naturally terrified. These are entities that cannot harm. They can't. They can threaten, and they can terrify, but they can't hurt you. I have no doubt that when the time comes for you to pass over, you will go to the light and leave this fellow far behind. He has no hold on you, other than your fear. So. You need to eradicate that. Which isn't as easy as it sounds, I know. Incidentally, I also am from Manitoba and I also had a man (white) in a top hat terrify me as a child...so. I sorta know what I'm talking about here. Are you religious? Hokey as it sounds, the next time you see him, if you say, in the name of god I command you to leave me, he will. He'll have no choice. He can't dwell where god has been invited. I'm not a religious nut, but really, faith is everything here. What these things are, are the dark side of humanity. The blackness, the stench, the evil deeds of man. If this guy's an earthbound spirit it isn't hard to figure out why. If he's a demon, the same thing applies. But they feed on fear. Not just yours, your mother's. She needs to overcome her terror as well. He CANNOT hurt you. He's not holding buggy, buggy's where any innocent baby would be. Buggy was merely his conduit to get to you. Get yourself in control of the situation, and you will win this. I promise you. And I'll help you in any way I can. Primrose " The answer is now at hand! This reply was quite simply what I needed to arm myself to finally end this nightmare! I could not see this for myself, and I will forever be indebted to the stranger I know only as "Primrose". The next time I meet with him I will now be prepared. I have no doubt in my mind that someday I will know all the answers, probably after I leave this earth, and can talk to him on even terms. Thanks to "The Shadowlands" and to Primrose, I feel that this is a battle I can now win. I prey that this is the answer I've been seeking for so long, and I prey for an end to this nightmare. But in the midst of all of this uncertainty, there is one thing that I know to be horrifyingly true… He is still waiting for me…. And He Still Watches. or visit the website " He Still Watches " http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Stargate/9562/ Go to Ghost Stories Page 11 BACK TO