Toys R Us Demon Child

I’m a 31-year-old female from Cleveland, Ohio. This story is old, but still sticks out in my mind all these years later – whenever I go into a mall now, I break out into a nervous sweat because of that… thing I saw so many years ago. No one I’ve told has ever believed me – family, friends, coworkers; they all just give me this sideways glance and mutter that I’m crazy behind my back. But I’m not; I know what I saw – I can never forget it.

This story takes place in 2003 in my hometown. The Iraq War had just kicked off and my dad, who is in the Air Force, was stationed in Qatar; leaving just me, my mom and my aunt, Tracy. She was a bit of a wild child, and at age 18 got herself pregnant. She kept the kid, and my dad took pity on her and let her live with us. At this time her son, matthew, was turning five. I liked Matthew a lot more than Tracy, and I wanted to get him something nice for his birthday. So I went to Toys R Us to see what your typical hyperactive five-year-old might enjoy.

It was a beautiful September day, warmer than normal; so I was glad to be inside the air-conditioned store. There were kids running around everywhere, dragging their aggrieved parents from aisle to aisle. I had to smile; I was the same as a kid – I was a girly girl who loved her dolls and always wanted a new one. I wandered the aisles, trying to think of something we could have fun doing together since Tracy was always off with her girlfriends and payed less attention to Matthew than he deserved. Then it came to me: the Lego aisle – all kids loved Lego, and I did too as a kid. So I hustled off to the Lego aisle, which happened to be at the very back corner of the store.

But as I approached the second to last aisle, I paused. A weird feeling washed over me; a sudden, totally random sense of dread building in my stomach. I paused, glancing around. If it was affecting anyone else, no one showed it; they were going about their business – kids running around, parents trying to her them. Everyone else acting normal helped relax me, so I took a deep breath and walked to the Lego aisle. I turned the corner – and froze.

The store was packed – you couldn’t go down any of the aisles without seeing at least three families perusing the merchandise, with a couple employees helping them. But the Lego aisle was suspiciously silent; and empty – all save one kid in a dark grey hoodie with the hood pulled up, standing alone in the middle of the aisle sideways to me, looking intently the Lego sets stacked neatly along the shelves.

That uneasy feeling returned, but my good samaritan instincts pushed it aside: here was a kid, alone in the aisle and probably lost. I put on my best smile, walked forward, stooped to his eye and asked, “Are you los-”

The words froze in my throat.

Because when that kid turned and looked at me, it felt like my soul died inside me. His eyes were black – deep, soulless, pitch BLACK. His skin was terribly pale, and when those inky black eyes met mine, he smiled – but his smile was way too wide. It stretched up his cheeks, mouth wider than I thought humanly possible, and his parted lips revealed a mouth full of needle-like teeth.

My mouth flapped uselessly. Dimly I felt a warm trickle of piss running down my leg, and my heart nearly burst when he – it – spoke to me. “HELLO JESSICA,” it said, a voice nightmarishly deep and harsh – and then it hit me: It knew my name – KNEW MY FREAKING NAME. “I’M SO LONELY – WON’T YOU PLAY WITH ME PLEASE??” It reached out with one hand, and hand which looked disturbingly normal and kid-like – palm up, as if inviting me to take it.

That was what broke me out of my trance. I turned around and blasted out of that aisle, skidding as I made my turn and upending a display. An employee shouted at me but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to stop running until that thing was a distant memory in my rearview mirror. I dove into my car, slamming the keys into the ignition and stalling it three times before I got it running. As I burnt rubber pulling out, I glanced up and saw a store manager waving and shouting wildly at me – and behind him, leaning out from behind his legs, was the thing – waving a now-taloned hand at me, grinning that maniacal, alien grin and staring at me with it’s cold, lifeless black eyes. I sped out of there and never looked back.

Years on I’m still not sure what it was. My searching has suggested, obviously, the famous Black-Eyed Kids, but they seem to show up mostly at night and look much more normal. Maybe it was a demon, but why was I the only one that seemed to have seen it? I still don’t know – maybe I really am going crazy. But in case I’m not, crazy Toys R Us demon kid? Let’s never meet again.

Wendigo Invites Himself

My name is Tricia Wert and I want to tell you my story. English isn’t my mother language so I’m really sorry if you need to rephrase some of my sentences. The story that about to tell you is 100% real. Isn’t a fantasy and I know it would be sound so crazy. It’s my real horror story and it still happening right now.

So, let begin my story this way. I’m a women who lives in Quebec, a french city in Canada. Since I was little my life was full of strange experiences but this kind of things don’t bother me. I live my life like a normal person whatever I can see or heard…Until last month.

At the  last October something strange happen to me. It begin with a nightmare.  The most horrible nightmare ever with a ton of blood all over my room and I heard a Latin chant. Like a prayer. This prayer was chanting over and over again.

Then I woke up in suet and with a lot disgusting by seeing all this blood.

I try to forget the nightmare and do my journey normally. So, the same night I do again a strange dream but this time I was in a train station near my home and wasn’t alone. It had an unknown person with me. I don’t remember all the dream but I know he was a male and I remember his eyes.

Those eyes with a cold silver color.

They seems to glowing like a cat’s eyes.  And the smell… He smell like frankincense with a touch of jasmin. One kind of intoxicating smell. I remember he said something to me with some rage in the eyes but I can’t recall what exactly he told me.

During this conversation, I still heard the same prayer that the night before. It’s like it have a dozen of people hide in the shadow and chant the prayer.

The only word in this prayer I remember clearly is “tenebris” and give me shiver to my spine.Suddenly, someone pass by and see us and the young women warn me to go away right now. I remember vividly the voice of this women. I can heard again his warning while I wrote this line.

Then the stranger  grab her by the shoulders and push her hardly on the track of the train and…well she’s gone, she vanish under the train. I just woke up frozen by fear and with this horrible vision.

I woke up to go to work and suddenly I feel sick.

My stomach hurt like it have lava fire on it and I felt so dizzy. I can’t barely move with this pain. I had no choice to call sick to my work and so…things goes worse.

After feeling sick I return to slept, thinking that would pass and felt better but no…it was worse and painful. In that evening  I stop to eat. I can’t eat anymore. All the food burn inside me causing me a lot of pain.

The burning is so hard that I can’t thinking or move. Also, everything smell bad and taste awful. Obviously,  I’ll go check with a lot of doctors and specialist and they found nothing wrong about me. My body seems fully healthy and functional but I can’t eat anymore without hurting myself.

This week I realize that the only food I can digest his the raw meat or barely cook. It’s make no sense and I know how this revelation sound crazy and disgusting.

Since that week, a month ago, I lose more than 20 pounds and I feel so cold all the time. I’m unable to warm my body. Nothing works. I also feel like I heard everything in the street and I can smell every odors. Everything has a strong smell .

I don’t feel like myself anymore and I didn’t know what it’s happening to me. I can’t work anymore and I try to be low profile. I remark the eyes on me from the people on the street and they seems to see something strange into me. That’s scare me a lot. Well, no doctor can’t found anything wrong physically or psychological and I feel lost and alone.

For those specialists I’m really normal but inside me I know something is wrong, very wrong…

I told you my story with a lowly hope  that some of your followers maybe know who or what invite himself in my house…into me. I listen some of the story on your channel and the wendigo thing seems to be the whom visit me in my dreams. As I write this line, I feel so cold again and the night is coming and with it, the nightmare come back. I’ll see him again tonight in my dream and tomorrow I will feel out of my body again…I don’t know where he drag me but I had no choice to follow him.

I don’t afraid of him anymore. But I also know, that I’m only the shadow of the person I was before and I don’t know how coming back…So the darkness envelops me and I cry tonight for your help.

 

Haunted Forest Story

Hey there Dark Daddy, I new at this and have been wanting to submit stories from my life for along time. Many of which I will keep to myself, as I am currently putting them into a paranormal comic book. For the record, I am a 27 year old mom. This story is one of my earliest memories that string together the paranormal happenings inmy life. Your video wanted a haunted forest story, and I have one for you.

I was very young, probably six or seven, but maybe as young as 5. I have always lived in Southeast Michigan and everyone here camps, we headed four hours north- the exact area I don’t remember and was too young to care. It was my Aunt’s cabin. An aunt that I had an intimate connection with. My mother’s family comes in two forms, extreme Baptists, and witches. Yeah. I know. Witchcraft is a path that runs in our family and I talked to my Witchy Aunts about scary things I didn’t understand. This is important later. The ride felt like an eternity, with my four siblings, my mother, and my one aunts family in the next car. It was nighttime when we finally got there. I remember us driving slowly up a paved road, you gotta drive slow at certain times of night because deer are everywhere. We round a corner and staring at us, unmoving, is a massive buck. My brothers marvel at it, saying how tasty an eight point buck would be. I stare at this animal, it didn’t look..  Right. I felt like crying. I’ve seen deer, many times, at this age. I felt, disturbed. His eyes weren’t right and his mouth hung slightly agape. It was odd behaviour. We drove around it, but I couldn’t stop staring. The gaze of this animal followed my eyes as we passed by. I stared, afraid and accusingly, like I felt its existence was a lie. The buck smiled at me. The corners of its mouth curling unnaturally around its face. Not something a deer does. I felt horrified, yet validated. I was an old child, already seeing too much of human beings, and so exposed to the horrors of nature. I felt heat releasing from my body, and my soul screaming at it, telling it to GET BACK. The encounter beginning to end was was only about two minutes, but we all know how time has the sadistic tendency to slow itself and prolong our fear in moments like these. I wish that was the end of it.

We all slept in the living room, exhausted in our sleeping bags. The cabin was freaking awesome. Two stories, small, but the layout was super neat. I remember waking up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. I remember sitting up amongst the sleeping bodies and in the darkness, it stared back. A black mass towering outside the large windows of the cabin, staring me down, watching my entire family sleeping in the living room. It was very human, but I remember being confused by its long forearms. It was so dark from it being cloudy I couldn’t make anything out. I was already on edge from seeing that odd buck. It wasn’t until decades later that I would connect the dots between the odd buck and this humanoid figure. I felt more empowered, it was less scary to confront a strange man than a smiling buck. A single pane of glass was separating us. With one throw of its body, it could break it and get us. The fact we had ten people versus one black shadow man didn’t factor into my judgement. I felt my family was in danger. I felt angry, I wasn’t sure why. But in my fear I whispered harshly “Get. Back. STAY AWAY FROM MY FAMILY.”

And, like the kid I was, ran to the bathroom and stayed there. I know my behaviour doesn’t make sense, but I was six years old. I did my business quickly and stood at the sink thinking of what to do. I looked for a weapon, but not a real weapon, i told myself, because i could get in trouble. I took a nail file and eventually left the bathroom, creeping along the floor and pressed against furniture.

I was gunna fight em. Whatever it was. I was gunba fight him. There was no shadows at the window.

The air was buzzing, I felt the shadowman was still there. Somewhere, watching.

Sleep took me eventually. The morning I woke up everyone had already been awake. My older cousin gave me a bowl of cinnamon cereal. I told him. “I saw a shadowman outside the window last night.” He hesitated, uncomfortable before he smiled and said. “Didja flip him off?” I laughed and said no. He looked and me and smiled telling me quietly “Remember what my mom says? Don’t tell people stuff like that, it scares them. Don’t tell Cate.” My sister cate was two years older but didn’t have the same problems I had. I should add I am the youngest of a large family.

The day goes on and we play and scream and run around in the woods near the cabin. Two neighbour kids in the cabin down the road joined us. The cabins are very spaced apart. Our cabin had a shed thirty feet from it. The area was fairly open and the adults were building a fire as the younger ones acted like kids and had a contest to see who could find the vest stick and had swordfights.we ran back and forth across the dirt road, playing in puddles and being our age. I remember seeing my aunt near the fire pit behind the cabin, being the whimisical woman she was, she struggled with a lighter. It wouldn’t light. My siblings and cousins weren’t around but I could hear their yelling and laughing. My aunt looked around, snapped her fingers and make the flame on the lighter jump to life. I giggled, peering at her like a guilty pixie from the side of the cabin. She told me to shut up and go play.

I looked past her and saw my sister standing near the shed. I ran toward her, and she turned and bolted, I picked up the pace thinking it was a game of “keep away from the obnoxious little sister” Cate’s favourite game at that age. When I rounded the corner of the shed. No one was there.

There was so many trees, I knew she was hiding behind one of them. I called out LOUDLY to her. “YOU CALL ME CHUBBY BUT YOURE THE UGLY ONE.”

 

Sisters.

Nothing stirred.

“Cate?” I called out. She liked to scare me. So I walked around to peer around trees. I kid you not, I only took a few steps, and looked around then the shed and cabin was gone.

I stopped and turned, keeping my feet planted. Michigan has a lot of forested areas and parks, and I’ve gotten lost before, so I kept my feet planted so I know the direction I came from as to not get turned around.

I turned my body to face the direction I knew I came from. Did I wall further than I thought? I was shook. No way I ventured so far from the shed. I walked in the direction I came. No shed between the tress.

I felt panic. If I was lost, I know my sister was lost. The sun was high in the sky. I knew I was going to be fine, I was good at getting myself out of situations like this. I absorbed a lot of skills from my siblings, so I was a street wise kid. I saw a large, knobby tree, the kind that come alive in cartoons. The curves in it reminded my of the tree from disney’s Pocahontas. I hugged the tree. Tree hugging was a thing I did. Oddly enough my niece did it wheb she was toddler, and my daughter hugs trees and talks to them. This wasn’t a behaviour any of us were taught. Its was just something I did. I believed trees had feelings.

“Shh.” A whisper came from my left. I froze. I remember seeing a yellow haze drifting between the trees. I wasn’t afraid of it, just perplexed. “I think I’m lost.” I said out loud. No one was there. I didn’t know why I spoke outloud or to whom, the haze got larger. I hugged the tree next to me.

“HEY!” A loud male voice yelled. A tall man in ripped denim stood fifteen feet away. I became afraid. I couldn’t speak. I don’t know why.

I stared at him.

“HEY!” the voice came again. My eyes widened. I heard a voice, but the man’s lips were not moving.

“Come here.” The voice had more malice.

“No..” I whispered quietly. I knew he wasn’t someone I should listen to. Something was wrong. My stomach was churning. I felt myself sweat.

“COME. HERE.”

I clenched my eyes shut. I felt a voice inside me say “You’re in danger.”

“NO. Go away. You can’t hurt me.”

I open my eyes and see the manmoving towards me. But, he isn’t walking like a person. He’s lurching, with one arm tucked to his side. His cheek bones are uneven, the skin is warped. He isn’t a real person. I back up and turn my head. The golden fog brushed againat my skin. It felt comforting even in this odd moment. I was full of fear yet knowing i was goimg to be ok. When I look back, he was gone. This intensified my fear, it rose instantly and gripped my throat. If I could see him, I knew which way to run- away from him. I started screaming. Just screaming and making as much noise as I could. I felt a tug in a direction, like an instinct.

I moved in that direction continuing to scream. I knew my voice would carry and alert someone. I ran for what felt like forever. Finally I bumped into the neighbour his face was distorted with concern. My mom was right behind him.

I was bombarded with questions. I was two miles from the cabin. Two miles? My adult brain is wracked by the fact. I took only a few steps from the shed, and somehow ended up two miles from the cabin. I told my mother I was following cate into the woods. She stared at me, confused. You didn’t follow anybody, cate was across the street with the other kids.

I was bawling. That was impossible. I saw my sister run behind the shed and followed her.

My aunt looked at me concerned. “They tried to take her away.” She said to my mom knowingly. My mother hissed something nasty for her to be quiet. “Nobody is trying to take you away. Why did you wander off by yourself?”

I didn’t answer my mom. I shouldn’t tell people things like that. About the man that wasn’t a real man. Things like that scare people.

As an adult, knowing what I know now. I think I encountered a skinwalker. I believe the buck, the shadow, and the thing pretending to be a man were the same entity. I also wonder about the kind voices and gold fog, I believe there was a forest spirit guarding me. I know stories of skinwalkers they don’t just disappear like that, they are persistent. Before we left the cabin. A large black dog stared at me from the woods. It had wolf-like featured and golden yellow eyes. I didn’t feel afraid. I remember smiling at it from the car and waved. I felt thankful. I still feel thankful. I never went to that cabin again. But I have seen that wolfdog spirit since this experience. My aunt tells me it’s a guardian spirit. We have them protect us from malicious entities. Damn, I am so grateful for that.

GET OUT!

When I was around ten years old, I went with my older sister to a babysitting job she had so I could meet the kids and make some new friends. We played for awhile and had fun, the oldest one and I doing her little brother’s makeup to make him look like a clown.

At some point, we started talking about ghosts. They told me that there was a ghost in one of their closets that, if you stood or sat in there next to a specific jacket, it would grab your arm and pull you down. We talked some more about ghosts and similar things for a bit, then we decided to do something that I regret.

We decided to see if the ghost would talk to us. We put out a blank piece of paper and a scarlet crayon on the table in the room the closet was in (I think it was a dining room), and we asked a few questions. What was it’s name, how did they die, stuff like that. Then we all went to the livingroom, making sure we shut the door to that one room and no one left our little group.

I don’t remember how long we had waited, but we finally went back in the room to see if any answers to our questions had been written down on the paper. Well, there was something on the paper, but not what we were expecting;

Written on the paper, in all capital letters, was “GET OUT

We all got scared and went to the house of one of their friends, who had been my classmate awhile back. Once there, we all wrote “get out” on a piece of paper in capital letters to compare to the one from that room. The only one who didn’t do it was the little brother, who was the youngest of us all and didn’t know how to write yet.

After that, my sister called our mom to ask her what we should do, and she was told to get the bible the kids parents kept in their bedroom and start reading aloud from it, and I believe to also call out something like “the spirit of Christ repeals you”, though I can’t remember for sure.

I never went back there, and my sister never told me if anything had changed or not. When I think about it, I hope that it worked and whatever was in that house was gone.

My haunted childhood home

What I am about to share with you are a few paranormal occurrences that happened to me growing up in my childhood home.

I have told very few people about this, but it has been weighing on me for years.

I am 27 years old now, and these things had happened to me from the ages of 5 to 18, 18 being the age when I moved out of my mother’s house and into my first apartment.

Let me start off by saying that I am a very rational person. I work as an internal auditor for a major corporation in my area, and am a mother of an 8 year old boy and two dogs, so my personality is more serious than fanciful, but I have NEVER denied the existence of the paranormal.

I grew up in an older, rougher neighborhood of St. Paul, Minnesota that used to be a swamp or bog, but dried up enough so houses could be developed. Remnants of the swamp are still present to this day. My block was filled with families of middle class people, making happy homes in an otherwise tough area. The houses were older, mine happened to be near 100 years at the time, and it showed.

I was raised by my mother, had one sister, Shannon, who is two years my junior, and one German Sheppard named Jersey.

I am going to need to explain the layout of the house, as it will be important for the events that occurred throughout my childhood.

My house was decent sized, two bedrooms on opposite ends of the house, living room, bathroom, porch and kitchen on the main level, a basement with two storage rooms, a half bathroom with only a shower and a mirror, a laundry room, sitting area and a spare room my mom converted into a guest bedroom. My mom and sister both had rooms on the main level; my sister’s was located near the narrow stairwell to the basement and my mother’s just off the living room. My living space was upstairs in the attic which had my own living room and bedroom that was just a few steps down from a mini balcony. In my room, I had a very large walk in closet.

My first childhood memory is actually my first experience with whoever or whatever was in my old house. I remember sitting at this desk my mom built into the pantry in the kitchen which had become her home office. Back in the 90’s when computers where just starting to make their way into homes, I was excited that once my mom was finished with her projects, she would let me play on it. I would sit there for hours just play typing or being a weird little kid. One day, however, as I was messing around on the computer, I remember feeling very, very cold. It was weird because it was summer time, and though it was dusk, it should never have been that cold. Then, something caught my attention.

From the kitchen, I could see into my little sisters room and the open entrance to the basement stairs. Thinking maybe it was my sister darting into my peripheral, I turned to look at her, only to see me, but not me. At the top entrance of the stairs, I saw a perfect clone of myself in the same princess nightie I was already wearing, except whatever it was had big, black eyes.

It just stared at me for a couple moments, looked towards the stairs, then back at me, before once again turning towards the stairs and walking down them slowly, as if beckoning me to follow. I did not. I might have been a little kid, but I wasn’t stupid. And I was not sleeping or dreaming, as just a few moments after that thing disappeared, my mother called to me to get off the computer and get ready for bed. I remember that occurrence vividly to this day.

Another experience I had in my house that I actually shared with my sister was in our basement. We had always hated going down there. It was oddly cold, even in the summer, and gave us the creeps. One night when I was in middle school, I was babysitting my sister so our mom could have a well deserved dinner night out with her friends. Mom asked me to get a jump start on laundry, and begrudgingly I obliged. The laundry room in the basement was one of my least favorite rooms.

While I was down there putting clothes into the machines, I heard a bunch of toys go off in one of the storage rooms. I remember jumping up and getting pissed off thinking Shannon had tried to scare my, so I ran out of the laundry room to yell at her, only to find no one there. I yelled for her and she came running from the living room upstairs into the basement with me. I asked her if she made all these old toys go off at the same time, and she said, “No, I haven’t. I’ve been up watching TV in the living room.” After she said that, we both heard a low, feral growl coming from behind one of the shelves in the storage room. Needless to say, we booked it out of there and went back upstairs to where our dog, Jersey was sleeping and held onto her and each other until our mom came home. That was the only time I had ever heard that growl, but not the last time all the toys would go off randomly, seemingly on their own.

The next experience I had was when I was a teenager, in the basement bathroom. I was taking a shower downstairs for whatever reason when suddenly, I heard a loud bang and saw a black shadowy figure out of the corner of my eye above me. I immediately jumped out and screamed for my mom. I wrapped myself in my towel and moments after, my mom came down in a panic asking me what was wrong. She had heard the noise too, and thought I had slipped, fell and called for help. She was shocked to see me perfectly fine, but scared. I told her about the black shadow, she sort of scoffed at me until I noticed her turning to leave, satisfied that I was okay and it was just an “old house” noise, until I saw her eyes widen and her jaw drop. I turned to look in her direction, and on the mirror, there was a large crack, with a long, smeared hand print in the condensation. She didn’t even have to ask if it was mine or not, because if it was, my hand surely would have been bleeding or scratched, which it wasn’t.

Now, onto the last and final experience I am willing to share that truly opened me up to the fact that there is more to this world than I could ever imagine.

As I have stated earlier, I had the entire attic to myself, which, as a moody teenager, I loved the idea of my family not being able to sneak up on me or bug me as much. If they really wanted to talk to me or see what I was up to, they needed to make an effort to get up the stairs, walk through the living area and across the balcony, which by that point, I would have heard them coming.

On more than one occasion, I would see a black shadow of a man. It looked like an older person by the way the shadow body would slouch a little, like old people do. He never would do anything but appear in my room at night when it was dark, but I would still see him. Somehow, he was darker than the nighttime lighting. I would see him walk into my room, look at me, walk towards me a little, then disappear like he was never there. I never saw his face, just a shadow. I admit that over time, it did not scare me anymore. Not even my dog would wake up when he would show up, which was almost nightly, so I didn’t think he meant me any harm.

That all changed one night when I was 17 years old. It was about 11:30 PM, maybe midnight, and the rest of my household was long asleep. My loyal and loving dog Jersey, once again, laying at the foot of my bed. I have always been a night owl, so I was still wide awake, writing in my journal with the help of the little lamp on my night stand, when all of a sudden, I felt this weird pressure on my head and shoulders, and a chill that ran throughout my body. Jersey’s head then popped up from her sleep. She began to stare at my walk in closet door. All of a sudden, the doorknob started to jiggle, like someone is trying to turn it, but couldn’t. It was just a closet door, so no one could be in there, even if they tried, and it wasn’t locked.

It was then that the hair on my neck began to stand up, and Jersey started to growl. I quickly turned off my lamp, and threw myself onto the opposite side of the bed where my dog was, and hung onto her neck, while she continued to growl, only now, she was growling at the shadow man who had appeared once again. This was the first time Jersey even reacted to him or it, and she did not keep her eyes off of him.

This time, he didn’t walk towards me, but only looked at my and then walked to my closet, through the door. He walked through the freaking door! I don’t know why that scared me so much, I knew he was a shadow, but I had never seen that happen before. Jersey then jumped up and ran off my bed and began to growl louder, more threateningly at the closet door. And that’s when it happened.

From the other side of the door, I could hear my heavy oak dresser start to rattle, then it was all out shaking. I didn’t dare go in, but I could tell it was shaking from side to side, as if something or someone was aggressively trying to empty it fast. The best sound I can use to describe it is a washing machine shaking while in spin cycle and one side is heavier than the other.

The dresser was violently making that noise so loudly, that it woke my sister and my mother up. The first person I heard coming up the stairs was my sister. She was screaming my name and I could tell she was afraid like I was. All the while, Jersey was barking and growling like I had never heard before. Once I saw Shannon, I jumped out out of my bed and ran to her, sobbing while my dresser just kept shaking violently. She was just as terrified, hearing what was coming from my closet. Only a couple short moments after my sister came into my room, my mom was there. She grabbed us both in her arms and in her authoritative voice, she commanded for my dog to “come”, and then it stopped.

It just… stopped.

As soon it did, the pressure, chill, and hairs on the back of my neck went away, and Jersey calmed down.

Nothing like that ever happened again, which I am glad for.

I don’t know why it only stopped when my mother spoke. I don’t know why it happened to begin with. But it did.

I moved out of that house not long after when I was 18, as I had gotten pregnant with my son. I don’t know if it was one or more “ghosts” or maybe a “demon” or poltergeist that was doing it, but I am glad I no longer live at that house.

My mom ended up selling the house and moving a little over a year after that happened when she married my step dad, but since my grandparent’s still live in that area, I often have drive by on my way to their house. Every time I do, the hair on the back of my neck still stands up, and I feel like whatever it is, is still there, and that it is watching me, waiting for me to come back.