What's funny about the supernatural, in my perspective, is that it's so complex. The hard evidence could slap any human in the face, and yet they'd believe it were something else. The water turned on? Must've left it like that. The dog's whimpering as he hides in the corner with his tail curled under his ass? He's probably sick. Oh, daddy got his head chopped off by an oh-so-conveniently placed chainsaw that fell from the ceiling?
Must've been a freak accident.
Everyone burrows their heads in the "reality" that's been hammered into them since they were young, and if anything out of the "ordinary" occurs they make up lame-ass excuses so they don't have to face the lies of their ancestors.
So let the record show I, Eleanor Anne DeVaux, know what I am, know what's out there, and know that I am capable of great things.