7 years ago me and my friend moved to PB or as the tourists call it Pacific Beach. PB is a beach community in San Diego that is known for wild partying, beautiful people, and a relaxed lifestyle. It is a hotspot for tourists and people all around the county to come during the summer to cool off. Foot and car traffic are things you have to live around but the benefits are well worth it. The people who actually live in PB are a loving, caring, and communal people (for the most part). Outside of the million dollar mansions that proudly outline the boardwalk are neighborhoods full modest homes, some more downtrodden than others. Like most small beach towns PB is occupied by young people (renters) and the lavishly rich (owners).We lived in an old ran down baby blue apartment complex which was about one mile away from the pier. It looked like it was once a hip place to live decades ago but in our time there we dealt with rats, broken pipes, dead outlets, etc. Who knows how many people lived in this place before us and how old the building actually was. We lived in squalor just so that we could be part of this amazing community. I cherish these times but all good things come to an end.
After two years of partying, it was time for me to start taking college more seriously. This story happens on move out day.
I was packing up a box and I began to hear rustling and cussing coming from the other
bedroom. I walk to the door and see my roommate’s things everywhere. I hear…
“MOTHERFUCKER, SON OF A BITCH IDIOT, I FUCKING HATE YOU!”
…repeating from the closet all the while clothes are flying out of there like they are on a conveyor belt. I see a shadowy figure’s back facing me tossing clothes, cussing, and making a general mess. It all happened really fast. I think it’s just my roommate mad about something else or just packing in general, I turn around and think nothing of it. While walking back to my room I see my actual roommate come through the front door into the living room. My heart dropped, my face turned white, and I worked up the courage to go back into his bedroom to find it obnoxiously clean and packed for the move. I told my roommate what I had seen and he replied super cavalier “Oh, that’s the first time you’ve seen him? He’s a little boy. He’s usually really kind. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to scare you or ruin our
living situation.” I was speechless. We packed the U-haul and got the fuck out of there within the next few hours.
To this day it still sends a chill up my spine.
In the book “The Shining” Stephen King described a situation like this as almost as if when someone dies they leave spiritual residue and their soul is stuck in one place for eternity replaying its torment like a VHS player exactly as it happened over and over and over. Spiritually I don’t know exactly where I stand at this moment in my life but after the trails and tribulations it took to get where I am now I do know there are unexplainable forces afoot. I still don’t know what I saw or even if I saw anything. I wonder if you actually don’t see spirits or if they just enter your mind and make your brain think it’s seeing something just like how hallucinogenic drugs work. There is another question, is this a physical being that manifested itself into our reality or a separate reality operating on the same plane we are?
Or… Am I crazy?
This is 100% true story as I remember it.
Written & Illistrated by J-Walk
