WITNESSING POSSESSION FIRST HAND
By Anonymous

     I have a story for you and its a very true story. A serious one. I guess I will just jump in and tell you. It was this past Christmas. My mom and I were out visiting family and decided to drop in on my Aunt Jean (not her real name).
     She had been long out of touch with us even though we lived just less than ten miles apart. I had a strong feeling that we should go and visit her. It was Christmas after all. My mother objected at first because we didn't have any gifts to bring. I said it didn't matter and that Aunt Jean wouldn't mind as gifts are not important... "Let's just go see her and her family." So, we went.
     Aunt Jean's boyfriend answered our knock at the door and said Jean wasn't home, but went to visit a neighbor. We waited while he went to get her. A few minutes later I heard him call to Jean's son.
     "Come and help me carry her. Your Mom's stoned again."
     My cousin left and then the trio entered the house. My cousin, a young man of twenty, was eager to talk to me. I took care of him a lot when he was younger. I was talking to him and listening to what was going on in the living room at the same time. His mom (my Aunt) was crying and screaming. She kept saying how she wanted to die. I thought, "This is seriously wrong."
     Moments later I heard her screaming. I peeked in from the kitchen, my cousin standing beside me. I saw my mom holding Aunt Jean down on the floor, her hands trying to stop my aunt from hurting herself. It was bad like a scene from a horror movie. Jean just kept screaming and crying. My mom held her sister and kept her from banging her head on the coffee table as that's what she was trying to do. They then began rolling on the floor with my mom begging her sister to stop and just listen. Jean wasn't hearing. She lunged up and grabbed the little Christmas tree and began to bend and break it. She ripped off most of the ornaments and crushed them. I'd never seen anything like this. She was cursing and gripping the tree she'd bent in two, screaming at the top of her lungs how she wished she was dead and cursing everyone around her. I couldn't believe that she had that kind of strength.
     At this point we were all trying to hold her down and keep her from hurting herself. My mom began to pray and said something unusual for her.
     "I know you, demon," she said. "You are a babbling spirit and in the name of Jesus, be quiet!"
     It was so strange. Jean became quiet and her screams turned into sobs. She cried for awhile and then began to get louder and the pleading turned into cursing. My mom addressed her again, this time talking to the demonic spirit she believed to be responsible for her sister's actions.
     "Quiet, you demon spirit! You have no power here!"
     Then, my mom began to pray over Aunt Jean, still holding her in a wrestler's grip on the floor.
     Jean let out a scream that I would never have thought possible. It was so inhuman and loud and didn't sound like her.
     Okay, at this point I was thinking we should call 911.
     "She's on drugs and having a bad trip."
     My mom started to quote her scripture and Aunt Jean seemed to calm down.
     "I just want to sleep," Jean said. "Will you help me to bed?"
     We got her laid down and the babbling and crying came back again. She turned over like she was going to throw up. She gagged and her face started to change color from an angry red to purple, then her face turned black!
     "Sit her up! She's dying!" I said. "Call 911!"
     No one did because Jean said she was fine and that she just wanted to sleep. We laid her down again. It was horrible the filth that she was saying. She was trying to sleep, but kept talking, saying horrible things about killing and dying and mocking Mom who was telling her to relax and trust in Jesus. Jean mocked Mom, laughing about Jesus with an uncomfortable nasty laugh. It was her voice, but not like her at all. I decided to jump in.
     "Jean, just say the name Jesus. Just say it. It can't hurt - I swear to you."
     Her head rolled back and she was trying to say Jesus, but nothing came out except garbled sounds like she was trying and just couldn't do it.
     Jean kept mumbling and crying, then her breathing began to sound bad. She was making awful grunting noises. The sounds kept changing from grunting to growling and then a strangling sound like she couldn't breathe. Each time my mom told her that the demon had not right to be there and couldn't hurt her, she breathed calmly, but just a few seconds later, she would growl and moan and strangle again. It was so horrible.
     Mom told her to quiet the babbling spirit and Jean would quiet down again, but then later, it would start all over again. We were there past 3:00 a.m. struggling with this. Poor Jean, crying and trying to "wake up" it seemed. My mom went to the bathroom and told me to watch her after everything seemed to calm. Then, Jean started babbling again about torment and hell. I didn't know what to do so I picked up the Bible my mom had been holding all night and put it on Jean's back. She immediately screamed and cursed me, then kicked her legs. After a few seconds (lifetimes of fear for me), she seemed to calm down. She could not say the name Jesus. It came out in gibberish again. Her head rolling back and eyes rolling back. It was hell, literally! Jean later calmed down, but continued babbling in her fitful sleep. We prayed over her the whole night. It was like a battle you couldn't win. She just kept up her fits the entire night, talking about pain, screaming she wanted to die and kill us too. Horrible!
     I have talked to Jean about this night and she doesn't remember a thing. However, she took a lot of pills a few days later trying to kill herself. She ended up in the hospital for three weeks.
     What happened to her? I don't know. Jean doesn't know. She swears she wasn't doing any drugs. Her aversion to the name of Jesus and her mocking my mom's claims that she was protected by God make me wonder. She is not much better still.
     I can't help but remember how Jean kicked and writhed and how her voice changed by our prayers. She swore and cursed us - not like her at all and not in her voice. It sounded like a gravelly kind of man's voice. It was the spookiest thing I've ever witnessed.
     I think she was possessed, and still is, possessed by something.
     I know this was long, but it had to be told. I swear on my life that every word written her is true.
     Scared beyond belief!     

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