The Growl and the Rasp

When I was four years old, my family moved from Camarillo in southern California to an old logging town called North Fork in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, about an hour and a half away from Yosemite National Park. My parents bought an old ranch house in the woods near a creek that wound down towards the foothills. There was a large clearing in an otherwise relatively dense wooded area surrounded by mountain ridges to the north and the east. The house sat somewhere near the center of the clearing. There were two old barns on and near the property and acres and acres of wild blackberry bushes that ended at Whiskey Creek, a favorite childhood hangout of mine. There was evidence of the indigenous Mono Indians who had once lived on the land and whose descendants still live in the area. One of the earliest relics we uncovered in our explorations of the property was a large grinding stone used on some of the many grinding holes we found in the abundant granite rocks that rested around the creek. We also found fully formed arrowheads, some big enough for spears. My dad had given the spear to one of the Tribal elders who lived in our area. He had said that a spearhead like that would have belonged to a chief.

The land was and still is rich with history that was here long before we ever were. I don't remember being afraid much when I was small, but once we settled into our new home, I had an experience that would change my life forever and make me into a fearful child. The house had two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a large living room. The two bedrooms were the oldest part of the house, which had been added to over time. My sister and I were put in bunk beds in the smaller room. There was a large closet in that room, which has now been converted into a bathroom. There was a small window by our bed, and we had a bunk bed that was set against a south-facing wall with the window by the head of the bed on the west-facing wall. Being the youngest I slept on the bottom bunk, and my older sister slept on the top. One night, I was drifting in and out of sleep when I heard the sound that changed everything for me.

Right next to my ear, I heard a low and slowly building growl, so close I could nearly feel the breath on my skin. I remember the way it felt to freeze in terror. Panicked, I threw the covers over my head and covered my ears with all of my strength, huddled into a terrified little ball. I lay there, horrified of what might happen next, but I was too frightened to move my arms or to look. I lay there until my arm muscles were burning from covering my ears so hard, and it seemed like maybe whatever that thing was was gone. I slowly uncovered my ears, only to hear another sound just as close to me as the growl. This time it was a rasping breath, breathing next to me as if someone was gasping for air and struggling to breathe. It was either this or the sound of slow and low panting of some kind. I covered my ears again and shuddered, even more frightened than before.

Now I knew. I knew for sure it hadn't just been my imagination.

It was real; I was awake, my heart was pounding, and my adrenaline was pumping. I was so young that I could barely even process what was happening to me. I just knew I was so scared I couldn't move, and I had hoped that if I held still enough and prayed hard enough, this thing would go away. I don't know how much more time went by before I couldn't take it any longer, and I leaped from the bed and ran as fast as I could into my parent's room. Of course, my parents didn't take my experience seriously, but at least they let me stay in their bed for the rest of the night.

From that time on, I went to bed frightened every night. Knowing something like that could happen caused me to pull my covers over my face, even if it was hot, and do my best to cover my ears. I would have many more experiences in that house and on the land, as would my siblings and even my parents. Over time, a lot of what made it frightening was not understanding the nature of the paranormal activity and not understanding my and my sibling's sensitivity to such things. But This was the beginning of me knowing that there were unseen things that could come close to me and terrify me when I least expected it. For all the things I have since discovered and learned about the nature of the paranormal and the land where I live, I still have no idea what it actually was that did this to me when I was so young and vulnerable or if it was truly just there to frighten and feed off of my fears.

What I do know is that the land we live on is alive with very old and powerful energies. I still live there now. I'm no longer afraid of it, but I do respect it. I have more stories, and I plan to share them. But we all have to start somewhere :). This is my beginning.