When I was 10, there was a certain feeling I had when sleeping half naked in my room. I couldn’t quite place what it was. Perhaps I was being watched. It was so hot on that summer night. Before lying down, I had a nice hot dinner. Southern comfort food is always something that has helped me sleep. Pork-chops smothered in A1 with lots of garlic and gravy, a side of fried potatoes, and some mac and cheese. Who could go wrong with that? It’s delicious.
Anyway, as I was lying in bed playing with my new pink DSI, I heard something unfamiliar. I sat straight up with confusion and curiosity. Of course I wanted to see what that was. The 40 year old house made noises, but not like this one.
I was burning up, and we didn’t have unit air conditioning. We only had the one window AC unit in the living room. Therefore, I hopped my half naked butt up and went in there with only a pillow and a thin sheet. It was absolutely miserable. I couldn’t fall asleep, and my DSI was dead, so I was forced to sit there in silence with no distractions, not even the television.
I faced the hallway because that’s the corner of the couch I liked, and I wasn’t about to have my head and back facing toward the dark abyss that seemed like 1,000 miles of nothingness. Not even my parents or brothers at the other end could keep me from seeing what I saw.
Now let me just tell you how my house is set up. We always walked in through the back door. So as soon as you enter, the dining room is on the left, and the kitchen is on the right. Then straight ahead is the living room with our wood furnace and our AC unit to the left side. As you walk in you would find some old dusty windows. Three windows perfectly aligned just like my grandpa had always built his houses- perfect. The coffee table sat in the middle of the living room with cigarette butts, coke cans, pill bottles, and left over drink spills that my younger brothers didn’t want to clean up, therefore no one did. Our couch set aligned right below the three windows, and to the farthest end was our living room door. The other side of the coffee table sat my dad’s favorite recliner, and a love seat. Continue past the love seat and you would find the hallway. That hallway always scared the hell out of me, and for no reason. At the beginning of the hallway, the bathroom was on the right, and my room was directly across it. Then you’d see the piled up laundry room, my brothers messy room, and my mom and dad’s leopard themed bedroom in the back of the house, but that part is irrelevant anyhow.
So now that I have hopefully described to where you can put my house together adequately, I’ll continue.
I laid there with boredom and insomnia. I couldn’t even close my eyes in comfort. The sheet was still too hot, and the air still wasn’t cold enough. I just couldn’t take off the sheet though, it made me feel safe. I always had a habit of putting pillows over my head. In my mind it made it feel like I wasn’t really there to anything that wanted to harm me. The blankets protected me. At least, it made me feel like it.
All of a sudden I hear a whisper. What did it say? I’ll never know. Suddenly, a dark black figure went from the bathroom straight into my room. It was about 6-7 feet tall, and hardly transparent. I feel more comfortable saying it was opaque. It was one of the blackest things I have ever seen to this day. It was like cutting all of your flashlights off in a dark cave just to see what the world would be like with no sun. I immediately covered up my head. What else could I do? My breathing felt like concrete blocks falling on solid frozen water. It was so loud. I was making this up, wasn’t I? My mind was playing tricks on me from sleep deprivation. I was dehydrated, hungry, out of my mind. Something other than the truth was what I turned to.
Shaking. My pillow was shaking. It was actually attacking me? What the hell did I do? It was so violent. Part of my hair was grabbed as well, and even though it wasn’t painful, it felt like I was stabbed in the head with a million pins and needles. What the actual fuck? I screamed to the top of my lungs, but nothing came out at first. I kept on and on and on and finally my vocal chords released the most blood curdling scream you’d ever hear. My dad came to get me and he took me to my room, covered me up, and slept in the floor.
It wasn’t sleep paralysis, no. It was something more. I’ve experienced sleep paralysis many times in my life, and I know the difference between the two. Does my dad believe me? Yes. Would my mother ever had? No, probably not. The more I think about it, the more it leaves me with no answer, no explanation, no reasoning, just fear of the dark at 19 years old.
I don’t know why I felt the need to share this. I don’t know if anyone else can comprehend how I felt. I don’t know if anyone has ever experienced this before. I watch paranormal things all the time now because of this. I watch anything I can to do with demonic deeds. I am a Christian. I don’t go to church like I should, and I don’t say that God will heal you every time something tragic happens, because sometimes you just have to figure it out for yourself. I’m not a hypocrite. I don't lie. Sometimes you have to help yourself before you seek help from others, or Him. To this day I don’t go to church like I should. I complain about these things but only go further into it by watching others suffer from fear of the unknown. I believe in God, I believe in the paranormal, and I believe in the devil. And it all started when I was 10.