Uncertain Fear

By Andrea Heather Foss

This story is based on the true recollections of a little girl growing up under adverse conditions. She constantly worries about protecting herself and her family from seemingly dangerous monsters that lurk in her home. Her sanity depends on her ability to suppress the nightmarish happenings in her life. The things she sees and the feeling she gets remind her of what is to come. Uncertainty and insecurity cause constant fear in her life. Combined with the unexplained, it becomes downright horrifying! Despite her uphill battle to live a happy and normal life, it's quite impossible because she doesn't know how it feels to be oblivious to the spirit world and the dimensions of the future and past. What she is sure of is the knowledge that there is something beyond this realm she can't control.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781644682173

Book preview

9781644682173_cover.jpg

Uncertain Fear

Andrea Heather Foss

TXu 2-177-474

ISBN 978-1-64468-216-6 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64468-217-3 (Digital)

Copyright © 2019 Andrea Heather Foss

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books, Inc.

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

Table of Contents

Part 1

Part 2

About the Author

Part 1

Hello, my name is Andrea Heather Foss. It’s now the year 2018, and I’m at a place in my life where my children are grown, and I’m a grandmother. I am married to my third husband. My children and husband, Greg support me in writing this account of my life.

Up until now, I’ve kept a lot of the happenings in my personal life a secret for fear of exposing myself. Do you believe in life after death? Do you think spirits, ghosts, demons, God, and the Devil are real? I’m hoping to help others know a little more about the afterlife. I’ve had two out-of-body experiences and many supernatural things happen as a result. I’m not saying that I have all the answers because I don’t. I do have some and would like to share them with you.

My very first memory in life happened on a day in 1968. I was three years old standing in the kitchen of our very tiny house on Raven Avenue in Wausau, Wisconsin. I looked up at my mother as she asked my two siblings and me if we wanted to move into a big house in the country. I remember seeing my little brother nod his head and my older sister look at me in wonder. You see, my brother and sister were both deaf. So I told them what Mom had said. When I think back to that day, I realize we three children could communicate without speaking. We used some sort of toddler charades. My brother Kevin looked like Charlie Brown from the Peanuts cartoon. He was so blond that from a distance, you couldn’t see his eyebrows or the hair on his very round head. He was also short and husky in build. He was two years old. My sister Debra looked like Tabitha on the television show Bewitched. She had shoulder-length light brown hair and blue eyes with a petite build. My mom towered over us. She was giant like in size, even though she was really only four feet and eleven inches tall. Carol was twenty-seven years old.

My second memory is walking into the living room of the big house in the country, and there before me stood a never-ending stairway leading up to the second floor, and I became so very excited! I ran to the landing, and on my hands and knees, I began to climb. When I got to the top of the stairs, I ran into each of the three bedrooms and looked them over. Each bedroom was painted in pink or blue and had a walk-in closet painted in a very dark, blood-red color. The house seemed to be enormous on the inside and out! It was a very happy day.

My third memory was all about helping my father build a fence around the old chicken coup. It was at the edge of our yard where the woods began, and the creek ran through our property. Mom said I had a birthday coming soon. She asked, How old are you going to be? I held up four fingers, and she smiled. That’s right, she said. Then, she asked if Debra and I wanted to help build the fence. I asked my sister and we both agreed. So Mom dressed us up and outside we went. I remember thinking about how big and strong my father Philip was because he carried two fence posts on his shoulder during each trip, walking down the path to the coup. My sister and I, each on opposite ends, carried one post together. It was a cool, sunny morning.

For the most part, life was happy and uneventful. Kevin and I celebrated our third and fourth birthdays together. We were both born exactly one year apart to the day. I was four and Kevin was three. I still remember it clearly as Mom called us into the kitchen, and there on the table sat two cakes. One of them had a big yellow and white number 4 candle on it and the other cake had a number 3. There was a chair set in front of each cake. The sixth of December had finally arrived! We were both so very excited! Kevin, seeing the chocolate cakes with white frosting, immediately climbed onto the chair in front of the number 4 cake. I proceeded to become upset and tell him that it was my cake and he needed to get off the chair and sit in front of the number 3 cake. He shook his head and told me he was four today and I needed to sit over there. Mom told me it was okay as she switched the cakes around on the table. I looked at Kevin with his short little legs and tiny feet just barely extending to the end of the seat on the chair and said, See, I told you, I am four and you are three. I am bigger than you. Kevin was jealous. The truth was, my feet barely reached past of the edge of the seat on the chair too. Mom took a picture of us sitting on the kitchen chairs in front of our cakes, and we smiled big for the camera that day!

In 1968, Lisa was born, and that’s why we needed a bigger house. She had dark brown hair with brown eyes. Then in 1969, my sister Sara was born, and that completed our family. Sara had light brown hair and hazel eyes. I now had four siblings, but only Debra and Kevin were deaf. As time passed, we all learned sign language to varying degrees. As a young child, I remember helping Mom feed Sara and Lisa their baby bottles, and I learned how to change cloth diapers. I had to be very careful not to poke myself or the baby with the huge diaper pins. Sara had the cutest little giggle and the way she smiled just made me love her so very much! Every day, it was like playing with a live doll.

In the fall, my sister Debra started school. Each day when she stepped off from the bus and walked into the house, I would stand close to her. I could smell crayons, glue, construction paper, and modeling clay. I thought School, must be a fun place. I wanted to go too, but for one more year, I would stay home and play with Kevin and his toy trucks. I watched Kid City and Romper Room on TV. Mom entered me in a drawing, and my name was picked for an episode of Romper Room. So she took me to the local TV studio. It was a pretty big deal for me to be on the show with the rest of the little kids from town. It was a lot of fun!

Back then, we Berg children took baths once a week usually on Saturday or Sunday night. Mom filled the tub and got in. She washed up and then asked for Sara. After Sara was clean, we took her out and Mom gave Lisa a bath. When Lisa was clean, Mom and Lisa got out of the tub, and Debra and I went in the same bath water. In the winter months, when I got out of the tub, I grabbed a towel and scrunched down over one of the heating vents in the living room and let the warm air blow up under my towel to warm me. When we all finished bathing, poor Kevin got the last of the dirty bath water to clean up in. Mom said it was because he was the dirtiest. Kevin and I played in the sand a lot. My dad smelled like body odor most of the time, but I never said anything about it because I didn’t want to make him mad. I think he must have only taken a shower once a week, or maybe less than that. I wondered if he ever wore deodorant.

As a six-year-old child, we had neighbors living about a quarter mile away. My mom used to let me ride my bike up the road past the old cement block factory and sand pits to their house. I played with the neighbor boys after school, and when their mom and dad came home from work, I knew it was time to ride my bike home. I loved playing with Kurt and Roy. They were one and two years older than me respectively. They had a Saint Bernard named Tank. He was big, brown, black, and white and very fluffy. He was super friendly and we used to take turns riding on his back. It was a lot of fun! I used to pretend Tank was a horse when we played cowboys and Indians. One afternoon, when I rode my bike up to their house, the boys were expecting me, but didn’t know I was there already. Tank was outside and saw me coming. He ran up the driveway to greet me, and in his excitement, he knocked me down to the ground as soon as I got off my bike. He sat on my chest licking my face and wagging his tail. He was so heavy, I couldn’t breathe! As I flailed my arms and legs around, trying to get him off me, I gasped for air and couldn’t get any. I began to think I would suffocate and be dead before anyone found me. Just then, Kurt came running out of the house yelling and swinging his arms at the dog. Tank got up and ran to Kurt wagging his tail, not having any clue he was suffocating me. Kurt saved my life!

When we got enough snow that year, Mom and Dad let Debra and I drive the old eight horse around in the fields. It was fun. Kurt and Roy drove a double wide snowmobile. Tank ran along behind them, and sometimes he rode on the back of the double wide. At times, I wondered if the dog thought he was a person. He was a good pup. So one morning, when I got on the school bus, Roy and Kurt told me that Tank was dead, and their dad thought my dad killed him. I asked why they thought that. They told me Tank was shot in the head last night after dark, and their dad followed the blood trail in the snow, and it started in the field in front of our house. The boys asked me if I heard a gunshot last night. I told them I did, but I was in bed and didn’t know if my dad did it or not. Deep down inside, I thought he probably did. I was very sad for the loss of their dog, and I could see how upset and heartbroken the boys were. It wasn’t long after Tank’s death that the Arron family moved out of our neighborhood. I cried when they left. It felt like they died because I knew I would probably never see them again. And at age fifty-four, I haven’t seen them since the day they left.

As we got older, there were chores that came along with being a member of the family too. Debra, Kevin, and I helped plant gardens, weeded them, and picked the fruits and veggies. Mom usually paid us a nickel for every weeded row in the garden. They were big gardens, and the rows were pretty long, but it was better than nothing. We picked gooseberries, wild morel mushrooms, raspberries, and anything else we found that was good to eat. Mom made us stomp cabbage in big crocks, and that really smelled bad. She said we were making sauerkraut. We canned the vegetables, and at night, Mom would count how many jars made a popping sound. That’s how she knew they sealed. We fed and watered the dogs and cats every day. We did dishes, laundry, and helped clean house. Eventually, we were old enough to mow the lawn and shovel snow. For the most part, I received the orders from above and organized the troops. Debra and Kevin both respected me, and we worked well together.

Usually on Fridays, Dad got paid, and Mom took us to Witter’s farm dairy to pick out a pail of ice cream. That was our treat for the week. Once and a while we would go to the Sandy’s restaurant and have a burger and root beer on a Friday, but not very often. Dad had a full-time job, but Mom said she could never figure out where all the money went.

I definitely found out at a young age that we were a poor family. One sunny afternoon, when we were playing outside in the yard, Lisa was sitting on the lawn watching Kevin and I run around. Kevin began circling Lisa, making her laugh. Then he ran toward her, attempting to jump over her stretched out legs but landed on one of them and broke it. Kevin carried her into the house while I told Mom what happened. Lisa couldn’t stop crying. That’s when Mom said we didn’t have any money and no insurance. I asked her what insurance was, and she said, It pays for the doctor bills. We waited until Dad came home from work. He looked really mad at Kevin. It was obvious that Kevin was very sorry and sat by Lisa the whole time while holding an ice pack on her leg. I said, I saw it happen, and it was an accident. Lisa came home later that day with a wheelchair and wearing a cast. She was