The Story of the Whistler

I have a shed where I do magic and keep my occult books and the table that I use as a Table of Practice and where I do my divination, etc. My  second youngest daughter some nights comes out and knocks and tells me it’s time to tuck her and my youngest into bed. Two or three times very recently she heard something unpleasant and strange.

This second youngest of mine, by the way, is a natural seer, she was born with the Sight. She can “see” (and “hear” — which figures in this story) much better than I can, unless I’m in a light trance.

Two, maybe three times, as she walked from the back door of the house to my shed, she heard a “weird music”. It sounded like somebody whistling a note of a tune, pausing, whistling the next note, pausing … coming from the backyard of the house next door. The next door neighbors often listen to music at night, so I asked her what kind of music it sounded like. —It didn’t sound like any musical instrument, she said, it was the sound of someone whistling. It creeped her out. She’s used to seeing creepy things, but this broken whistling really bothered her. I knew enough to take her entirely seriously, but I didn’t know what to do about it right off, and neither of us had ever heard it before. It wasn’t my backyard, and my house and family are strongly warded. So I let it slide.

But I did tell my friend Matthew about it, over the Internet. Matthew said he would look into it, that he had a vague recollection about such a phenomenon or maybe it was just a gut feeling, he couldn’t quite recall. Matthew is a much more experienced magician, as he calls himself, than I am, but he lives overseas and I didn’t see what he could do about it. But I said I would appreciate it and again I let it go.

A couple of days later, he messaged me: I got rid of the Whistler, btw.

When I saw this, not until the next day I think, I messaged back: How did you get rid of the Whistler? I’m impressed.

Matthew: Basically, I sent myself Astrally to your shed, and looked around outside.

Your neighbors have a shed as well, on the other side of a fence? You can see the roof and a little of the wall of it from your shed?

For the record, he’s never been to my house and I’ve never described the neighbor’s backyard to him, nor the shed in their backyard, nor the fences around both our yards with about a fifteen foot space between. Getting small details wrong like one fence instead of two is common in on the Astral, but on the other hand the neighbors’ fence is hard to see, it’s so old and dark with rust. He could’ve simply missed it. —He could not have known about any of these things except magically.

Yes, exactly. Wow, I said.

Matthew: The Whistler … well, was just there, behind their shed.

Rachel: What was it?

Matthew: …Is there any history with your neighbours’ house? Anyone who’s died there in unfortunate, rather than suspicious, circumstances?

I typed to him: Since we moved here at least 5 different families or couples have lived there, maybe more. No deaths in that time period. Before that, no idea.

Matthew: What I found was creepy. It looked like an old man, wearing only a loincloth or loose underpants, lying slumped against the back of the shed. He was drinking from a bottle — I got the impression of harsh, cheap whiskey — and whistling a note between each slug.

Rachel: Wow. What steps did you take?

Matthew: …He was either very old, or had had a pretty harsh life, from the looks of him. Oh. And he had no eyes. As in empty spaces where the eyes should have been.

I typed: Aggghhh.

Matthew: One thing that really, really struck me was the attitude of despair. He was simply a spirit that had died some time ago and didn’t know how to move on…

I’m guessing someone, maybe a relative of someone who’d lived there, or an old tenant, someone who had died there, probably drank himself to death… Maybe he was desperate for company, or maybe just lost and alone, and possibly he didn’t actually realize that he’d died. All he really needed to do was move on. So, OK… So I helped him. —The reason btw I think he didn’t realize he’d died was because dying was what he  seemed to want to do…

So… With an athame from the Astral … I stabbed him, and he smiled as he went.

It was sad in a way, but it was also uplifting — making sure he got where he needed to go … I suspect, as I said, he drank himself to death, and then died while plastered or passed out. And I get the feeling he’d been there for a while.

Rachel: I never heard him, only my daughter.

Matthew: No, but if you think about the air of despair I was feeling around him…

I told him that I’d never liked that backyard. That I was back there a few times when the one couple lived there for about five years, the longest of anyone, as far as I knew.

Matthew: So people didn’t stay there for very long, did they?

Rachel: No. One couple stayed only a month or so. I’d say at least five families or couples have lived in that house since we moved here, maybe more. And for some reason it took whoever was living there at least two years to build that shed. And it’s unused. Maybe it always has been unused, I don’t know.

Matthew: As I said, he’s been there a while. By the way, I would expect your wife’s depression to ease a little. I would be very very unsurprised if she is also sensitive.

Rachel: Could be. If so she’s sensitive yet a different way — with her moods…

That’s the story of how the backyard next door was haunted, and how a magician fixed the problem — and the ghost’s problem too. I think my second youngest daughter’s Sight, her abilities as a sensitive or psychic, must still be growing. The Whistler, after all, seems to have been around for quite a while and she only heard it — him — for the first time about two weeks ago. She’s going to need training some day.

So I’m working on developing my own astral abilities too, of course.

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