When I was eight, we lived on the main floor of a three-story house, the upper two floors of which served as rooms for single men.  The main floor, basement, and back yard were all part of the rental package; the master bedroom, which was the room in which the following true story took place, was the biggest room in the house, second only to the large country kitchen.  It even had a gas fireplace.

The door to the bedroom locked from the inside.  It could not be unlocked from the outside; the only way to get the door open would have been to kick it in. Even the door hinges were on the inside.  So, when that door was locked, it was locked up tight.  Which was fine by me, because at the time, I was in desperate need of the security.

I don’t remember exactly when it started.  I just remember waking up one night, when I was around 8 years old, and seeing several figures standing at the side and foot of my bed.  I was so terrified that I pulled the covers over my head and tried to stop breathing, convinced that if they couldn’t see or hear me, they couldn’t hurt me.  The terror I felt was so intense that I couldn’t even whisper for help, never mind scream for help.  Even if I could have, no one could have gotten in – because I locked my bedroom door at night before going to bed.

The figures wore the same clothing:  dark, charcoal-grey cloaks with deeply-hooded cowls that hid their faces from my sight.  I had no idea whether they were male or female.  They never spoke to me;  they just stood there looking at me.  I could feel them even though I had the covers pulled over my head.  There was only one occasion in which one of them actually attempted to communicate with me.  It sat down beside me, tried to pull the covers off of my head, and said, “I won’t hurt you.”  I refused to give in, I could not speak.  It never attempted communication or physical contact again.

These visitors came every night for four long years.  Then, for whatever reason, the visitations suddenly stopped.  It was as if they had never happened.  But I have never forgotten the terror of those years.  I have never forgotten the terror I felt about going to sleep.   I have never forgotten what they looked like or the intensity with which they observed me.  I will never know who or what they were, but you know, I’m okay with that.  Some things are just better left as mysteries…

Advertisements
Comments
  1. bebo2781 says:

    We live in a world which is much more mystical than most people could ever imagine. The silent visitors may have been beings from another dimension, or something well beyond out understanding. One thing is for sure, they will not last forever.
    Nothing lasts forever.
    Check this out and you’ll see what I mean: http://robertocguerra27.wordpress.com/

  2. Gaycanuck says:

    Wow, that is so wild…must have been a very intenses experience for you…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s