We were waiting on "Killer @ Large", traditionally the last piece handed in to the Pelican office, always entertaining, always a week late. Waiting on the story, watching the clock tick by as our deadline rapidly approached. A phone call rang out, we grabbed at the receiver, clutching (both metaphorically and literally), hoping against hope that Kilbott would come through again. It was a woman's voice on the line ... 'Mr Kilbott is asking for you.'

Twenty minutes later we arrived at PROSH World and were shown through an unholy mess of paper and musky odours to a padded cell. Our once proud friend writhed on the floor, yelling "I've still got an article for you, Tape me, find out why, why I am the way I am."

And so we sat enthralled and listened to his tale ...

In 1991 my aunty was exorcised, ridding her of several Egyptian spirits and ending a 74 year curse on our family.

Infrequently during my childhood, the family would drive to Katanning to visit my grandfather and aunty. During these visits I knew nothing of the curse, of course, but distinctly remember thinking that something was odd about Katanning. A foul stench hung in the air from the abattoir down the road; the streets were deserted except for huddled groups of the faithful, braving the horrible weather before attending one of Katanning's numerous churches. Summer or winter, rain or shine, indoors or outdoors, the whole town possessed an unnatural chill. Also my grandfather's house had a haunted hallway.

In the hallway between the kitchen and bathroom was a black spot, a place where unease lingered and everyone did what they could to avoid it. Whenever I passed through the hallway I felt that someone or something was watching me. My sister felt something too, for she would literally sprint down the hallway every time she had to use it. My grandfather also seemed to be troubled by the evil presence in his house; my aunty told me that he often would stay at her house, saying that he was too scared to go home. He would never speak about the haunted hallway though, probably fearing that we would think he was crazy.

My mother told me that this evil presence in the hallway had been there since she was a child. A discomfort felt by the entire family but avoided in conversation. Inexplicable events dogged the family. I recall one visit to Katanning, during which I was awoken during the night by loud knocking on the door. My blood ran cold; knocking was impossible due to the permanently locked security screen. I hate to think how scared my grandfather must have been in that house alone.

On top of this, the family also experienced a lot of bad luck at this time, particularly the early death of my maternal grandmother. Everyone preferred to ignore the subject, except my Aunty Julie. In her teenage years, Julie formed a fascination with the occult. She bought books on the subject and performed seances. This fascination continued when she moved out of home, just around the corner from grandad with her new husband.

Julie had not been long in the new house when she noticed that an uncomfortable feeling, similar to that in the haunted hallway, was surfacing in her own house. Over the next two months the feeling of an unnatural presence increased, such that soon she would wait outside for her husband to return home from work because she was too scared to be alone inside. At nights she would awake to find one, two or all the lights on. She would turn all the lights off, and two hours later the lights would be back on. Several times she put talcum powder around the light switches to see if anyone had touched them. There were never any marks.

One day when she was waiting outside the house, some Jehovah's Witnesses dropped past, and she told them that there was something wrong inside her house. They suggested that she should lighten up the house, as it was quite dark inside. They told her to leave the lights on, put in lighter curtains and open the blinds. They also said to put Bible's around the house, as many as she could, open on any page. This stopped the strange feeling in the house, and the lights remained off at night, but not for good.

My grandfather died in 1990. Julie took care of his stuff when he died, packing most of it into boxes, which she kept at her house. This was fifteen years on from the incident with the lights, and suddenly the uncomfortable feeling returned. She now had a family, and worried about the effect it would have on her children. She decided to seek help.

Julie turned to the Church. A Catholic priest agreed to come over to the house, but was unwilling or unable to help her. Through a friend of a friend, Julie was able to find a psychic who was willing to come around and look at the house. The psychic said that there was an evil presence in the house. The psychic also told my aunt that there was a similar presence in her and that she would need an exorcism. She was able to give a description of what was causing the oppressive feeling in the house: an engraving of an Egyptian woman in profile, with pierced ears.

Julie searched through the boxes of stuff from her father's house. At first she thought it might be a coin but eventually found a leather wallet with an engraving just like the psychic described. It was a souvenir or gift her grandfather had kept from when he had served in Egypt during the First World War. The psychic told Julie that she had heard of this happening before. Curses were sometimes put on objects and given or sold to unwelcome foreign soldiers. This helped explain a couple of things; obviously it explained how the spirit moved from house to house and generation to generation, but it may also explain some of the strange behaviour exhibited by my grandfather and great grandfather. Both men were known to have weird nocturnal activities. My great grandfather for example, was said to often get on hands and knees in the lounge room and about 4am and bark. My grandfather on the other hand preferred a more productive activity, once when I was in Katanning, I remember him going out at about 2am into the pouring rain to wash his car on the front lawn.

The psychic advised Julie to throw the wallet out, as well as any other souvenirs which might be related to this. There were some metal serpents intertwined, like in the children's game Monkeys in a Barrel, and some peacock feathers, which are supposed to be bad luck.

The psychic then exercised my aunty by reading certain passages of the Bible. Julie, although conscious of what was going on, had no control over her body. Her memory of the exact details are hazy, like a dream. There were several spirits in her which were drawn out one by one. She described the feeling as a burning, painful feeling. Starting from the feet, and rising up into her stomach, through her chest, and into her head. Once it reached her head, the burning would slowly die off, and she would feel immense relief, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

Their was one spirit that was a little harder to exorcise. The psychic had to demand the spirit in Aunt Julie to reveal it's name was. She began poking her tongue out and slinking down in her chair whilst gripping the arms tightly. Eventually the spirit gave it's name; an Egyptian name. Aunt Julie had never heard this name before, and could not pronounce it herself after the exorcism. Once the exorcist had the name of the spirit she was able to call it out.

According to the Official Kilbott Family Chronicles, the curse was lifted and the run of bad luck broken. In recent weeks however, I have began to question whether this is in fact the case. Like my grandfather and great grand father before me, I am suffering from fits of odd behaviour and ill temper. These fits are most prolific in the coldest, most loathsome hours - those immediately preceding the breaking of the day, when God-fearing folk are safe abed. I fear I am cursed and will never be able to sleep again, and I'm tired, so tired.