My mother divorced my father in 2000, and by 2001 we were living with her boyfriend and soon to be husband Eric. I was new to his home and city. I quickly made friends with a superstitious girl who was not afraid to try something at least once. We were both raised LDS (mormons) and we were both doubting our religion. In an attempt to answer many questions, she and I decided to use her sister's Ouija Board. Some of our questions were answered, but many remained unanswered. Slightly disappointed, we went to her room to talk. That night, as we lay in her room, unable to sleep, we began to hear shuffling noises outside of her bedroom door. Afraid to open the door we turned on the light and watched her door, praying that it would remain shut. Unfortunately, the door did not remain shut. I have heard many stories of doors creaking open on their own, and if the door opened I just expected it to creep open. It did not. The door violently swung open, revealing the dark hallway. The light in her room did not just turn off... the light bulb burst. We sat screaming in the darkness hoping someone would hear us and come to our aid. Unfortunately, we were the only living souls at home that night. We ran from her room upstairs and out the front door. We went immediately to her longtime friend's house, where we stayed for the remainder of the night.
The next morning we cautiously entered her home to find her room totally trashed. All of her things were thrown around, the room and her mattress was laying next to her bed. When her parents came home, they called the police and reported it as an intruder. It baffled the police, they didn't know where the "intruder" entered from, what his motive was, how the light just burst and not a single fingerprint was found.
We thought that we were through with what ever had entered the room that night, but we were wrong. Every night around 2:30 to 3:30 am, for the next month, I was tormented. I would hear my name in the darkness and was once even forced awake by my bed shaking. My mother dismissed my stories as outrageous and an attempt for attention. I refused to sleep in my room and was often found on the couch in our living room in the mornings. Then one month after the first attack, it just stopped. I began to think that maybe I was delusional and maybe suffering from a psychotic episode. I did my best to just forget, but couldn't, it was like having something lurking just in front of you in the darkness waiting.
Two years later after putting with an immense amount of bullshit at my mothers home, I moved in with my father and his family. I felt safe at my dad's home and was able to live my life like none of it had ever happened. I was care free and living on the edge. My dad gave me space, understanding, and time to heal. Once I settled down, and finally was free of my burdens, it began again. This time it was more subtle. I would dream about hate, and unspeakable horrors. One of my worst dreams was of a young girl committing suicide after being violently rapped by her best friend. I would wake up in a sweat, always at 5:00 in the morning. It still happens today. If I manage a dreamless night, I am awakened by the whispering of my name. Whatever it is, it has not only attacked me, it has also attacked my friend who has suffered more than me by far.
Loading comments....
