Some years back- when I was still living in Central Texas (mid-1990s)-- I spent part of a day visiting a friend in San Antonio. It was a Sunday, and we spent the day having a nice lunch and just hanging out on the historic River Walk in the downtown core of the city.
Swallowtail butterfly on lavender
A little after three Donna and I parted ways and I decided I wanted to linger and check out a few more things in the city before driving back to Austin.
As a life-long collector of "odd things," I specifically to swing through a warehouse-y area north of downtown where there (at the time) were a number of junk dealers, antique dealers and flea market type shops. It wasn't exactly the "best" part of town (much gentrified now, I understand), but was generally regarded as reasonably safe during daylight hours.
The Junk Shop
After driving a bit, I parked the car to go into what had once been an old print shop, where an elderly gentleman was now using the premises to sell everything related to old-fashioned printing, as well as a fascinating array of imported items from Africa and South America, as well as old comic books and magazines and seemingly random equipment, perhaps from nearby businesses that closed.
Dewdrops on a geranium
There were several large rooms with a multitude of folding conference tables, each stacked layers deep with anything from individual litho type clichés to type trays to old printed propaganda flyers from World War II to painted figures from Peru. It was summer, it was hot, and the back and front doors were propped open for ventilation. Even so, it was rather stifling inside, but I still took my time because there was a lot of fascinating stuff to look at, including a few items I decided I "couldn't live without."
The 70-something man running the store would occasionally come into the room to share a story or two with anyone who cared to listen, but mostly stayed in his messy back corridor, near the front service counter which was probably older than him. He was a friendly and cheerful sort; the type of person you think of when you say "he wouldn't hurt a fly," but also slightly "odd," like he'd inhaled a few too many chemical fumes at some point in his life making him prone to occasional outbursts at "beings unseen" around him.
The Strangeness Begins
I'd probably been in the store for about 30 minutes when a sudden loud "bang" came from what sounded like the back corridor. It seemed like a door slamming, or maybe a large panel falling on the floor. It was a bit startling, and I and a couple of other patrons looked around and at each other... and then went back to our browsing.
A random red flower in our garden
A little more time passed and I noticed that I was now the only person in that back room area. I looked at my watch and realized that it was getting close to 5:00, which was closing time-- so I needed to take my stuff and pay for it so the old dude could go home.
The front room-- with the service counter-- was also deserted. The store owner was nowhere in sight; I figured he was doing things in the back storage area.
I stood there for maybe a minute and was about to call out "Hello!?" when-- for no reason I could think of (and keeping in mind that it was probably 95 degrees-- that's about 35, for you metric folks in the store) -- I suddenly got a very BAD feeling and felt chills all over my body; the hair on my arms and neck standing on end. I thought I heard what sounded like low angry voices coming from the alley behind the building, but couldn't be sure... then there was another door slamming... then silence.
Silence, except for a voice inside my head screaming "LEAVE! NOW! GET OUT!" accompanied by a feeling I can only describe as "pure dread."
A random yellow flower in our garden
The Escape
I dumped the things I'd planned to purchase on the nearest table and walked quickly and very quietly to the front exit. On the way out, I cast a glance through the open doorway to the back corridor but saw nothing unusual. Just as I exited, I thought I heard something like a car starting and backfiring in the alley. Because there was a strong cross breeze, the front door slammed shut behind me with a second "bang" that startled me.
I quickly got in my car-- which fortunately was parked directly across the street-- and drove away. I'm still not sure why, but I checked the side mirror and noticed three younger men come out the front door of the store, looking around for something, or someone. They looked... "not right;" dangerous, somehow-- like gang members. They actually looked directly at my car moving away and one of them seemed to be yelling something, but they went back inside before they faded from view.
I drove directly back to Austin, feeling quite rattled and unsettled by the experience.
Flowering lavender and grasses
Epilogue
The next day I caught a brief news snippet that an elderly San Antonio shopkeeper had been robbed at gunpoint, shot and killed in broad daylight and three suspects had been apprehended by San Antonio police. Although few specifics were offered, I had no doubt what was being talked about.
That's when I really felt creeped out. Had I not had that gut feeling to GET OUT, I would have still been in that store, and possibly been regarded as a "dispensable witness" by those thugs.
The event replays in my head occasionally... even 20-some years later.
On reflection, I guess the moral to this story is to always listen to your gut feelings or your intuition. It seldom "costs" you anything to be wrong ("it turned out to be nothing"), but it can cost you a lot to ignore such hunches...
How about YOU? Have you ever had close calls where your gut feelings or intuition told you to be careful or bail out of a situation? Did you listen to the voice inside? Do you believe we "get vibes" from events/people that help us avoid disasters? Do you think these are "biological hangovers" from our cave dwelling days where early people's just "know" when predators were nearby? Or is there something else at play? Share a comment!
(As always, all text and images in this post by the author, unless otherwise credited. The is original content created expressly for Steemit)