My mom took the door to my
room/ nursery off soon after I was born. Her childhood home had burned
down, so she thought this a wise decision. When I was four or five, I
remember waking in the middle of the night and feeling anxious. My gaze
drifted to my open door frame, where I could clearly see the top of the
staircase. It was faintly illuminated by the little plug-in nightlight
in the hallway. Seeing the house dark and silent, I started to curl up
and go back to sleep when I heard a small pattering. Almost like a tiny
dog was trying to climb up the stairs. There was a slight pause in the
pattering. Then a face appeared.
An infant sized face, but with very adult-like features stared straight into my room. Its skin was stark white and where its eyes should have been were black, hollow sockets. It simply stood/ hovered at the top of the stairs, peering back at me with...I don't know. Curiosity? Indifference? I couldn't read its expression. Then it was gone. I still remember exactly what it looked like. But I never told my parents what I saw. I just asked for a door.
So many years later...jump to when I had recently turned 22.
I was fairly well off for someone in their early twenties - living in a small, cheaply rented house with two other roommates and my beautiful collie mix named Bella. Since adopting her from the shelter, I had made a habit of leaving my door open at night so she could sleep at the foot of my bed and still leave to get a drink or roam when she wished. Up to this point, I had always slept with the door closed. The event from 17 years before was just a bad memory that had led to paranoid habits. I thought it was about time I let it go. So at first, the occurrences began with what I believed was a mind trick.
In those dream-like moments before sleep descended, I thought I could see a tall shadow at the end of the hallway, watching me. I would fall asleep and not think about it again until the next night. This went on for weeks. At some point, I remember thinking that it was much closer to my doorway than it had been the night before. However, my beautiful Bella was right there, warming my feet every night and keeping her post vigilantly. I stopped looking at the doorway before I'd drift to sleep and dismissed the shadow as a product of before-bed delusions.
One night while my roommates were spending their nights elsewhere, I felt Bella jump off the bed to go roam. This was not unusual and I rolled over to go back to sleep. Sure enough, I felt her leap back on not but two minutes later. But her landing felt different. She kept crawling up towards my head then a heavy weight was on my back and I felt something holding my hands down. I gasped for breath while the air was slowly being pressed out of my lungs.
I thought I was going to pass out. I knew this wasn't Bella and I couldn't scream for help. A squeak escaped my mouth when I felt a breath of air near my right ear, brushing my hair to the side. Shaking from panic and the pain, I heard a deep, hoarse voice whisper in my ear, "You're mine."
The weight instantly lifted and I couldn't roll over fast enough. I took in gulps of air, trying to catch my breath. No one was in my room. The sound of Bella's bark made me jump, but take action - I grabbed the knife under my mattress and went to search the house. Slowly, I moved from each of the bedrooms to the bathroom to the living room to the kitchen and then the laundry room. Neither the shadow nor Bella were in any of them. I heard her bark again, making me jump and look out the sliding glass door that led to the back yard. There she was, tail tucked between her legs and looking up at me, whimpering softly. I dropped the knife, unlocked the door, and hugged her when she leaped back inside.
It was only then that it struck me - I had to unlock the door... I checked and then checked again, disbelieving what I was seeing. Both the back and front doors had been locked. I slept in a hotel room that night. But I was sure to sneak Bella in with me. That was over a year ago. Now, Bella sleeps in my room every night with the door closed. I keep her water dish and a box filled with newspaper in a corner of the room. I still haven't told my roommates what happened. And I don't plan on it. This doesn't involve them. This thing has been after me. But hell, if it decides to turn up again, I plan on fighting.
An infant sized face, but with very adult-like features stared straight into my room. Its skin was stark white and where its eyes should have been were black, hollow sockets. It simply stood/ hovered at the top of the stairs, peering back at me with...I don't know. Curiosity? Indifference? I couldn't read its expression. Then it was gone. I still remember exactly what it looked like. But I never told my parents what I saw. I just asked for a door.
So many years later...jump to when I had recently turned 22.
I was fairly well off for someone in their early twenties - living in a small, cheaply rented house with two other roommates and my beautiful collie mix named Bella. Since adopting her from the shelter, I had made a habit of leaving my door open at night so she could sleep at the foot of my bed and still leave to get a drink or roam when she wished. Up to this point, I had always slept with the door closed. The event from 17 years before was just a bad memory that had led to paranoid habits. I thought it was about time I let it go. So at first, the occurrences began with what I believed was a mind trick.
In those dream-like moments before sleep descended, I thought I could see a tall shadow at the end of the hallway, watching me. I would fall asleep and not think about it again until the next night. This went on for weeks. At some point, I remember thinking that it was much closer to my doorway than it had been the night before. However, my beautiful Bella was right there, warming my feet every night and keeping her post vigilantly. I stopped looking at the doorway before I'd drift to sleep and dismissed the shadow as a product of before-bed delusions.
One night while my roommates were spending their nights elsewhere, I felt Bella jump off the bed to go roam. This was not unusual and I rolled over to go back to sleep. Sure enough, I felt her leap back on not but two minutes later. But her landing felt different. She kept crawling up towards my head then a heavy weight was on my back and I felt something holding my hands down. I gasped for breath while the air was slowly being pressed out of my lungs.
I thought I was going to pass out. I knew this wasn't Bella and I couldn't scream for help. A squeak escaped my mouth when I felt a breath of air near my right ear, brushing my hair to the side. Shaking from panic and the pain, I heard a deep, hoarse voice whisper in my ear, "You're mine."
The weight instantly lifted and I couldn't roll over fast enough. I took in gulps of air, trying to catch my breath. No one was in my room. The sound of Bella's bark made me jump, but take action - I grabbed the knife under my mattress and went to search the house. Slowly, I moved from each of the bedrooms to the bathroom to the living room to the kitchen and then the laundry room. Neither the shadow nor Bella were in any of them. I heard her bark again, making me jump and look out the sliding glass door that led to the back yard. There she was, tail tucked between her legs and looking up at me, whimpering softly. I dropped the knife, unlocked the door, and hugged her when she leaped back inside.
It was only then that it struck me - I had to unlock the door... I checked and then checked again, disbelieving what I was seeing. Both the back and front doors had been locked. I slept in a hotel room that night. But I was sure to sneak Bella in with me. That was over a year ago. Now, Bella sleeps in my room every night with the door closed. I keep her water dish and a box filled with newspaper in a corner of the room. I still haven't told my roommates what happened. And I don't plan on it. This doesn't involve them. This thing has been after me. But hell, if it decides to turn up again, I plan on fighting.
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