The sound of whistling wind, slamming doors and breaking glass. I wondered of all the wonders that had passed. Through narrow alleys and staircases made of stone. Many miles away from home. In Venice where the sky was dark and the canals flowed through. A world of wonder we had come to.

I’m not sure what I expected on our hours long journey to the city. But nothing could prepare us for what we experienced. A beautiful view welcoming us. Gondolas up and down the canal. Stunning buildings and grand staircases. Neon tourist traps floating through the night sky. Our time in Venice was brief, but to be remembered always. Most memorable was our first night.

We took it all in. Ignoring the smell of sewage, the city enchanted us as soon as we exited the train station. A few moments were all we took when we first arrived. For all of this would be there for us the next morning and it was time to settle in. So, we trekked through as we did through the mountains and countryside. Dodging tourist’s traps and the large crowd of people. Climbing up many staircases and going through dark and empty alleyways. Until we reached where we would be staying for the night. A modest Airbnb. Decorated beautifully with illegible graffiti and when we finally got the main door open- garbage bags strewn all over the floor, a difficult to find light switch, three floors of locked doors, distant sounds of other guests. Our weak phone lights to our aid. Well at least we had each other, I remember thinking.

Jamie began to look through the building. Sarah and I stood half way in and out. Convincing ourselves we were keeping watch. I questioned my existence as I usually did. I’m not sure if the others felt the same. But I imagine the moments following would at the very least bring with it some feelings of regret.

The view from inside leaving much to be desired. Garbage bags only look good in bins and trashy anywhere else. But the noise that accompanied our hideous view sent shivers down our spines. The glass panes on the windows of the buildings were secured with metal bars that made the sound of shattering glass. Sarah and I jumped the first time we heard it, peered through the alleys and decided it was safer inside. Closing the door of the dark and unwelcoming building behind us.

Sarah and I cowered at the bottom of the staircase. Jamie up the stairs, bravely trying each door. Our voices echoing through words of encouragement. Finally, Jamie called us when she found our room at the top floor. We very quickly brought up all our suitcases. Adrenaline and fear pushing us to the perceived safety of our room. By this point we found the light switch. Surprisingly, the place looked even more hideous. But I reminded myself that this whole city floats on water, so that counts for something.

Now the key fit perfectly through the lock of our room. But despite all our efforts, the door still did not open. Desperate to get inside. Defeated we all stood. I’m sure my friends began to question their lives as I did. Then this next part happened very quickly and all at once. The door finally opened. Quickly and seeming to pull us through. The building lights turned off. The sound of shattering glass increased. And an overwhelming gust of wind blew through the building and into our room. We paused just for a moment. Fearful to enter this demonic room but even more afraid of what waited for us at the bottom of the stairs. Quickly, and almost without thinking, we pushed ourselves and our suitcases through the door.

Thankfully, we found the room’s light switch quickly. But still, what just happened? Fear overwhelmed us. We began to search through our room before declaring it safe. Finding dried red paint or blood on a closet door that would not open. We decided to all sleep on the most uncomfortable couch known to man. With a metal bar perfectly positioned at our hips. Sarah quickly booked a hotel for the following morning.

There was laughter of disbelief and a desire to rationalize what had just occurred. A feeling of knowing and calm overwhelmed me. We played the Quran. Sarah and I shared knowing looks. Jamie laughed once we agreed on what happened.

It was a jinn. Definitely. Nothing has convinced me otherwise. For I have seen this before. Maybe not in the same way. Still, there was no need to question it. We stayed the night then found relief the following morning in a hotel a few minutes away. This experience only added to the list of reasons of why I hated Airbnbs.

Welcome again to my blog. I have decided to dedicate this week’s post to my past hauntings. Allow me to share another time I have had a frightening encounter with a jinn. But first, I want to make you aware that I am not afraid of jinns. Simply aware. There’s nothing wrong with being aware…

Let me take you back to a simpler time. I was nine years old. My family had recently moved into a new neighborhood. Excitement filled us in this much larger house. So much more room for activities. Now we were just joshing around, my family and I. We were in our basement having a grand ol’ time. When my mother asked me a question no nine-year-old wants to hear. “Did you finish your homework?” Of course not, what a ridiculous question. So, I was left to stay in the basement alone to complete it. I foolishly had my desk facing our basement window. The curtains wide open. The sun had set much earlier and my current feeling of hypervigilance hadn’t yet settled in.

I look up and to my horror a man was staring directly at me. He had pale skin. Wore a black jacket and hat. A small smile. Dark eyeliner. In retrospect, face card could not decline. Accepted at every major bank if that makes sense (it doesn’t). But still, absolutely terrifying. I looked back at him in horror. Then stood up and ran to hide behind our bookshelf. Then this man’s body floated through the closed window and he turned his head and smiled at me. This is when I shouted for help. My younger brother was the first to come down. But the man had already vanished.

The next morning our lawn chair was propped next to our neighbor’s fence. Although, I had never seen this man again I was haunted by this experience for years. I appropriately referred to him as “The Man in Black.” Definitely drawing inspiration from the Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith movie “Men In Black.” Years of odd instances followed. The following winter there was one very large foot print in the middle of a wide patch of snow. On another occasion, someone began knocking on our door then placed one large handprint on the glass pane before leaving. I’m pretty sure my cousins lied to me about a man with his exact description chasing a woman with a stroller.

But most mysterious of all, the patch of grass where he knelt to stare at me through my basement window had turned dark. Only black leaves have grown from it since.

I remember sleeping with a large serving spoon for many years since. I would be the last to bed. Making sure all the windows and doors were closed. Quietly roaming the halls of our home while my family slept. I guess that says a lot about me now… oh well.

Audhu billahi minash-shaitanir rajeem