About twelve years ago - I would have been only eleven or so - my family had encounters
with a bizarre entity that regularly passed through our house. I'm not superstitious or religious. I've tried to rationalize it to this day, so any logical explanation would be welcome, though I've heard many and none can account for this completely.

My dad has always been a workaholic, so it came as no surprise that he would often invite colleagues home to conduct business after work. Though we live in the States the company is largely European, so I was also quite used to meeting men who didn't speak much English. They'd stay until the wee hours talking work and sports, and always remembered to say goodnight to my brother and I. It was like a big extended family, and they were all quite friendly...apart from one man.

The Spanish-speaking man.

Everyone had assumed he was another work colleague, but Dad had no idea who we were talking about. It did strike me as odd that I'd seen him roaming the upstairs hall in the dead of night, then gone down to find him in the kitchen staring out the window longingly. This continued for years, at least once a month I'd see him.

I never thought he was a ghost, as he'd clearly interact with things and respond with ¡déjeme en paz! when I'd talk to him. Everyone had apparently seen him except my dad, though no one seemed to react as strongly as I felt they should.

"For God's sake, there might be a crazy vagrant loose in our house! You've seen him yourself!"

"He's harmless," they'd say.

"But..."

I started thinking I was crazy. My strongest theory was that I'd been suffering from hallucinations and my family had simply been playing along for fear of upsetting me. But I didn't speak Spanish, how could I hallucinate it?!

One night, the man changed into something else.

He came to be called Epanta. I'm uncertain from whence this name originated, though it resonated through my brain in his presence. He became impossible to look at, unfathomable, like trying to focus inside a dream only to find things becoming more vague - like an outline of a creature, an impression of presence with no form. I caught only glimpses of him from that point on. His voice had become shrill and electronic, as if being run through a high-pass filter. He became everything a ghost should be.

What the hell was wrong with me? The others had stopped seeing him. They'd say he was sick, unhealthy...or was it myself?

I felt betrayed. My family had disregarded the vision with infuriating indifference toward my rapidly waning mental stability, and Epanta no longer responded, no longer sang his Spanish tune by the fireplace. It hadn't occurred to me earlier, but I loved him like an old friend.

A foul combination of bitterness and fear welled up inside me as I trudged down the stairs one night in late December, ready to confront the being.

"¡Epanta! ¿¡Por qué no hablas más!?"

"Niño, niño, niño...Soy débil, y... y voy al cielo ahora. Lo siento, niño."

I started crying. I was angry. My mother descended the stairs to find me hitting the stones above the fireplace. Somehow I'd ended up with hand-shaped bruises on my arms and a broken nose.

"What happened?!" she screamed.

"Nothing, it was one little fight."

But my mom got scared. She said, "You're movin' with your auntie and uncle in Bel Air."

I whistled for a cab, but when it came near the license plate said FRESH and it had dice in the mirror. If anything, I could say this cab was rare and I thought - nah forget it - yo homes, to Bel Air!
( Digeridude Lord Wellington's Beef Trapeze, Tue 8 Jul 2008, 19:25, 8 replies)

There has been an increasing amount of /b/-ness here recently.

( idonthaveafunnynickname Drink-Aware? Sure. I'm aware I want another drink., Tue 8 Jul 2008, 19:51, closed)

^^THIS
Christ, that's why I never bother with /talk and seldom wander over to /board. The moment someone comes up with something odd it turns into a bandwagon and you get the same derivative shit a hundred times. Already we've had at least a half dozen Fresh Prince parodies in the QOTW this week.

Please find some fresh hummus.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Tue 8 Jul 2008, 20:28, closed)

I thought my story was quite good
apart from the ending.
( Digeridude Lord Wellington's Beef Trapeze, Tue 8 Jul 2008, 20:39, closed)

Sorry. Most of it was.
I may be getting a bit unreasonably grumpy today. Not quite sure why the Fresh Prince things have been annoying me so much lately.

Never mind, sorry to have been snappish.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Tue 8 Jul 2008, 20:45, closed)

Actually,
After the initial annoyance of this, it's pretty funny. :)
(ShortPurple is still trying to think of a decent board sig on, Tue 8 Jul 2008, 21:18, closed)

Really great writing
All the set up for a cracking bad pun....

But instead the crap Bel Air stuff...


Fail.

Sorry mate.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Tue 8 Jul 2008, 22:53, closed)

I'm sorry, I don't get it
really good story, but it seems like at the last you couldn't get it together so did the fresh Prince thing? Or is there some connection spanish ghosts and the fresh prince I've previously missed?
(misskitty reeks of sex and turpentine; laudanum afternoons, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 3:20, closed)

*sigh*
:(
( whenanimalsattackhumans clad in global hypercolour, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 10:15, closed)