"The Cursed Crossword Puzzle"

It was a typical mid-summer night in the small Bungalow. As a child of ten years old, I was caught in religious tug-of-war between one parent who was in the Church, and one parent who was out of the Church. This was a paradox in my mind, leaving me only “half-protected”. After all, I was not allowed to attend the Church for the majority of the duration of split-religion. I was getting ready for bed, and in an age without internet, computers, cell phones, or anything of the sort, I settled down to do my favorite crossword puzzles. 

It was during this time that I was experiencing the beginnings of extreme anxiety and fear – especially toward the paranormal – because of my upbringing. I was taught, through the Worldwide Church of God ministry, that demons were always “out to get you” should you stumble and fall from the Church or from Christian protection (pretty much, one and the same, actually.) I would constantly be worried about anything paranormal happening because of this pre-conditioning from not only the Church, but from the fear that was exhibited by those who were entrusted to calm fears. The fears were actually emboldened and intensified by the same mindset from, mainly, one of my parents – from the earliest of years clear throughout the greater part of my childhood. From “scary” episodes of Barney Miller, to commercials, to movies – these fears entered everything from real life phobia to dreams at night. There was always this fear of somehow being bothered by demons. 

There was no Jesus in the picture, mind you. From the earliest age, I was not taught of the power of Jesus, or how He was victorious, or conquered sin and death, or was my friend. “Jesus loves the little children” was never sung nor hummed. It is not being overly exaggerating in any way to say that Jesus was absolutely absent from my Childhood in my perception. Mainly, because He was not welcomed. My home was a home of fear, arguments, and hatred – coated with a piety of religious conviction in keeping the Sabbath and Holy Days and the basic Worldwide Church of God culture. And on that mid-summer night, I, for the first time, began to realize the extent of how this was impacting my young life. 

It seemed like such a great way to wind down. I sat at the edge of my bed, table light on, and started doing my crossword puzzle. I filled in one square, then another, and a few more. After a little bit of this, I got up to go to the bathroom, came back, and settled down to continue the crossword puzzle. As I opened the crossword book back to the page, and looked at the same puzzle I had just come back to, I noticed something absolutely frightening. 

The words – the ink – everything I just filled in – was gone. 

Immediately I started to panic. My heart raced, my palms got sweaty. This was impossible. I just did this! How could this be? “Oh, no no...” I thought, immediately suspecting without any delay or hesitation the worst – that I was getting pranked by the demon in the house. 

It was my belief in my childhood that my house had a demon (or two) in it. I would often think I felt some sort of evil presence, or would be scared to death I would “see” something in the near-blackness of night – save the dim amber glow of the night-light. Often times, to “protect” myself from this external, invisible, and seemingly intangible threat, I would walk around the house fully enveloped with my favorite brown blanket – making myself appear as a hard-to-see ghost more often than not. I would also cover my ears or make noises only I could hear to keep from “hearing demons”. It was a constant internal battle within, sparked by the sermons from pastors, conversations from church members, overheard conversations from a parent - “knowing” that the only way to prevent a demonic attack was to be perfect. If you've failed in some way, you are inviting in a demon. At least, that's how I viewed it. 

I closed the Crossword puzzle in a state of complete panic. I then re-opened the puzzle, and – in a complete reversal – the words were back! All of them. Even the scribbles I made. I tried rubbing them to see if they'd disappear again. Nothing. They were as though they had never left. “Wait a minute. What's going on here? Am I going insane?” I would think. 

I repeated the cycle at least three times as my panic was rising higher and higher. My brain was literally buzzing. My heart was racing. I could hardly breathe. The only explanation in my mind was that I was being pranked by a supernatural being who had nothing better to do than pick on a ten-year-old child who somehow did something wrong enough that this demon was trying to bother me. 

It was then that I just started praying, in complete panic, crying, nearly hysterical, rocking back and forth in tears, that God would stop this demon from attacking me. 

“Please God, stop this demon, take this demon away, Please, take this demon away”, I would pray in between sobs. I was scared to wake my parents to talk about this because I was worried they would think I was crazy, or had lost it. 

“Please God, Please, please, PLEAASSSEE”, I would cry out in between sobs, knowing what I thought was happening was a worst-case scenario. 

“Please stop this demon, please.”

I opened the book up again, and the words had disappeared again. Again! Did my prayer not avail anything? Why wasn't I being heard? Did God leave me? Is it because one of my parents is not in the Church and one is in the Church? What did I do? The possibilities of how I angered God or was able to let in a demon were subconsciously and somewhat consciously running through my young mind. 

Soon, the panic was too much. I was in nearly hysterics. I could hardly breathe, I was sweating profusely, could not think, was scared out of my mind. There was no other explanation. I was being attacked by the resident demon of the house. And I had reached a point where I had to tell my parents – regardless of how stupid they might think I was acting. 

I entered the bedroom and turned on the light

“I'm having a problem” I cried out.

“What's the matter?”

“I think a demon is bothering me”, I said along those lines. “The words on my crossword puzzle keep appearing and disappearing and I don't know what's going on”, and I broke down in sobs. 

I had to repeat this a couple times, I had woken my parents out of a sound, sound sleep, but I was in far too great of a panic to even care. I was in a state of total emergency, and I needed prayer, help, something – I was in a very bad state for anyone of any age – nonetheless a ten year old child. 

“You are saying the words are appearing and dissapearing”? 

“YES!!!! WHAT IS GOING ON!!!” I cried out, in sobs and anguish, and handed her the Cursed Crossword Book. 

“Show me!”

I opened the book, and suddenly, there were the words, exactly as I filled it out. 

“Now watch this!, I yelled”. 

I closed the book and re-opened it, and the words were gone. I was somewhat, strangely, relieved that this was seen as well by someone else – it proved I was not crazy. 

“There has to be a logical explanation to this”, I was assured. I of course, would hear none of it, I was completely convinced of the reality of my situation. 

My parent – calmly and with reason – took the book. 

“Okay, let's look at the puzzle. What's the page?” 

I found the page. 

“Okay. Let's start counting the pages in the book.”

Slowly but steadily, she started counting the pages in the book. My puzzle, the next page, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83...

“What are you doing?!”

“Hold on”, I was told.

“84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 75, 76....”

My parent stopped, and looked at me. Then continued.

“I see what happened here! They double-printed a few pages of the puzzle. There are two copies of your puzzle in the same book.”

I didn't believe it. Not at first. This was too easy. I had to flip back and forth between the two puzzles to convince my mind that this was the actual reason, and that nothing “supernatural” actually occurred. 

“Whenever something like this happens, just remember, there is a perfectly logical explanation to things.” 

After about ten minutes I was able to accept the fact that I was not being bothered by a demon. I was able to accept the fact that this was a publishing error with the Crossword Puzzle – a theory I had not even considered, nor was I of the mind to even think of. The only thing that was in my mind at the time was the result of intensive, acute, pre-conditioning which was the result of brainwashing from the mindset of a cult, who had indoctrinated fear and anxiety into its earliest victims from the youngest of ages. 

I, foggily, yes – went back to my room. It took me half an hour (and several more times checking the book to make sure) to get to a point I could lay down and try to get back to sleep again. Maybe there was something to this “logical explanation” business, I thought. Of course, the fears did not go away – this was one incident explained. But it did give me some assurance and stable footing in a childhood of dark anxiety and fear brought on by the careless infractions of a supposed Christian Church. It is a moment that I have not ever forgotten. 

This is an excerpt of a book I have been working on for several years. If you would like to see more excerpts, and think that another "Survivor's Book" of a Child growing up in the Worldwide Church of God is worth working on, let me know in the comments below. 

Excerpt is copyright, all rights reserved. 

Submitted by SHT