The tragic thing about not taking notes on events such as this, is that I can’t seem to place the exact period when this happened. I remember about 95% of all the paranormal things that happen to me, but I remember them without a date to back them up. I can easily remember the 1st one that happened when I was about five years old, and I can remember the most recent one that’s taken place just a few weeks prior to this post. However, everything that’s happened in between is just a random clusterfuck of events. Looking back, it would’ve been better if I had kept a journal on these types of experiences, but…that just seems like it’d be a whole lot of work. This story took place late 2010, if my memory serves me right. 

     It was a strange time for me, my parents were going through their ups and downs, and my mother was currently staying with her mom in Boise, Idaho. I stayed with my dad in our house in Southern California. One night, after my dad had gone to sleep, I decided to bring the guitar into the living room and work on a few songs that I had been writing at the time. For some reason, I always seemed to do my best writing at night. 

    I started to feel a bit tired after about twenty minutes on the couch, and decided to go wake myself up to the best of my ability. I went into the bathroom, and splashed my face with cold water, and as usual, ended up staring at myself in the mirror for a solid five minutes (I clearly have issues.) When I finally got back out to the living room, I went to reach for my pen, when I noticed that there was a tiny black feather positioned perfectly underneath it. 

    This baffled me for one of two reasons. First of all, I distinctly remember placing my pen down on my notebook without seeing a feather. And secondly, I got the most peculiar sense of paranoia when I caught a glimpse of it. I pulled it out, and held it up to the light. When I say this thing was tiny, I mean this thing was FUCKING TINY. It couldn’t have been longer than two inches, and at the widest, it was maybe three centimeters. Hands down, the smallest feather that I have ever seen. 

    I just kind of laughed it off, but decided that I would take a picture with my blackberry and send it to my mother. I knew she’d get a kick out of it, because she was as religious as they come, and would probably go on and on about how it was an angel. My mom decided to call me, and just like I had figured she would, ended up telling me that it was an angel. 

    I distinctively remember telling her that I didn’t think angels had black wings. Thought that would’ve fallen more or less under the demon category, which, was definitely not something I wanted to look into. After about ten minutes of random phone conversation with her, I eventually told her that I was tired and was going to get some sleep. 

   As soon as I hung up the phone, I went into the kitchen to fill up my water bottle. The strangest thing happened to me as I walked through the entryway. It felt as if I had just walked through a force field of some kind. I know it sounds strange, but the best way that I can describe it, is it felt as if I walked through an invisible 2-inch thick coat of jelly. I’m not talking about Smuckers, or anything along those sorts, I’m just referring to texture alone, that’s what it felt like. 

   Immediately after passing through it, I remember getting goosebumps all over my body, and they stayed for a solid minute. As I was filling up my water, my eyes did not look away from that entryway. I went to hang up the phone to charge, and as I passed the microwave I got this strange feeling of fear. The type of fear that freezes you dead in your tracks. I dont know how, but I knew that if I looked over at the entryway one more time, I would catch a glimpse of whatever it was that left that black feather for me. 

   I must’ve stood there staring at the ground for a solid five minutes, before mustering up the courage to look up. I glanced cautiously into the reflection of the microwave, and to my dismay, saw the silhouette of a man. He filled the entire entryway, so I’m guessing he was an upwards of nine to ten feet tall. I then jolted my head in his direction, and nothing was there. 

   I stared at the entrance of the kitchen, and said something along the lines of, “Okay, well..this was great and all, but I think I’m going to go get some sleep.” I then took a deep breath, and ran through the entryway again. You know, that run you did as a kid when you were scared of the dark, so you had to turn off the light as fast as you could, then run like the little pansy you were to hide under your sheets? Yeah, that one. That was me, at 20 years old, running out of my kitchen. Flipping off every light switch as I ran to my bedroom.

   I remember looking back into the darkness, just as I was rounding the hallway to my room. I don’t know why I did this. I think it mainly has to do with me being a fucking idiot, or maybe curiosity. I remember seeing the silhouette still standing there in the entryway of the kitchen. I couldn’t see a face, eyes, or any features whatsoever, but got the creepy feeling that it was looking at me. Luckily, I made it to my room, closed and locked the door, and went on with my night in peace. Well, as peaceful as you can be after experiencing something of that magnitude.

   That was the last time I would have an encounter with black feathers until November of 2011. That, however, is a story for another night. I still don’t know what it was. Research indicates that it could have been any number of things. A warring/guardian angel, a death omen, it could have even been a demon. Quite frankly, either one of those things would have scared me shitless. Jesus himself could show up, and I’d probably cry my eyes out, because I, ladies and gentlemen, am what’s commonly referred to as a pussy. If any of you have similar stories, or questions about mine, feel free to send me an email. Just click on the contact button to the right. As always, thanks for reading, and be sure to tell your friends!

                     Until Next Time,
                     Scott Walker