**Diary Entry – 15th October**
My son and I see the deceased. Over the years, we’ve experienced countless paranormal encounters. I’ve seen angels, even demons, and on several occasions, the Grim Reaper has appeared in my dreams. I’ve never worshipped or followed such things—never felt drawn to them.
My boy sees spirits too. Sometimes, when he sleeps, he tells me he visits heaven, where he speaks to God and Jesus. He describes everything in vivid detail upon waking, as if he’d truly been there. We’ve witnessed so much that people no longer believe us—they say we’re making it up or exaggerating. But we aren’t. No matter where we go—a house, a street—we hear or see something. Always.
It’s as though we’re mediums, though I refuse to accept it. I don’t want this gift. Once, a woman—a seer, perhaps—told me my ability was strong, that I could develop it further if I chose. But I won’t. It terrifies me. My son, though… maybe one day he’ll embrace it. He isn’t afraid. When he encounters these presences, he speaks to them, even follows them.
Not me. I tell them I can’t help, to leave me be. And so they linger… right there in my doorway, watching me in the dead of night. Sometimes for days. Sometimes just minutes. But they always return.
And all I want is to sleep in peace.
