#PoundTake
Urban Legend Part III
This week’s urban legend is firsthand knowledge. I have had a couple experiences with
the supernatural. I’ve stated before that I feel like my family has ties to the afterlife. Why else
would anyone who has passed on continue to interact and observe my ratchet ass family?! The
Browns are not interesting by any means. I’m sure we’re very boring to a ghost. Why the eff
would a spirit waste it’s time watching me stuff my face with pizza rolls and watch Queer as
Folk in the wee wee hours of the night? I don’t get to make the rules; I’m just going to tell you
what happened. I already know you’re not going to believe me or tell me I was seeing things. I
wasn’t. It happened. It’s real. This is the story about how a ghost invaded my privacy in my most
intimate of moments.
About 12 years ago, I would wait for the times when I had the house all to myself. I lived
in Oberlin until I graduated high school. While there, we lived in several different properties, all
uniquely creepy. One turned out to be a safe house for slaves in the Underground Railroad. One
night when my mother was at work and my brother went out with friends, I stayed at home to
catch up with on watching beefy men give each other piggyback rides. I was sitting in our office
at the computer desk with my member in hand. When out of the corner of my eye, I thought I
saw an orb. Now, by this time, I was really invested in what was on the screen. I just thought it
was light coming from the screen. It wasn’t. I turned my head slightly to the left so I could
dismiss this “orb” and get back to touching myself. It was about 6 feet away from me. It just
hovered there…watching me…watching it. Mind you, I still have my meat in my hand. Have
you ever been so terrified you can even move or scream? After about 15 seconds of staring at it
full-on, I somehow mustered up the strength to unplug everything and run to my room with my
pants still at my ankles.
I stayed in my room because I was too petrified to leave and see that, “thing” whatever it
is, whenever I opened the door. My brother finally arrived home. He called me from downstairs.
I didn’t budge, I wasn’t moving from my bed. I didn’t care if the house was on fire. I yelled
back, “come up here!” I didn’t care if the spirit got him. He came into my room and asked me
what the hell was wrong with me. I didn’t utter a word. I feared he wouldn’t believe me. The
next words that came out of his mouth were, “did you see it too?” I was in shock. I thought he
was trolling me until he described it and how he saw it, too (it wasn’t while watching gay porn).
I was never really excited to stay at home alone anymore for fear that I might see it again. As I
walked the halls, all I heard was Michael Jackson’s voice, “somebody’s watching meeeeee.” I
have never felt comfortable home alone ever since.