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This experience happened to me between the ages of 8 and 10 years old, which was in 1990-1992, in Houston, Texas. My mother had lost her job and, as a result, we were forced to move from our three-bedroom home into a very old, very small, garage apartment behind a relative's house. From the moment I set foot in that house, I had the creepiest sensation that we were not wanted. Seeing how distraught my mother had been over the loss of both her job and her house, the last thing I wanted to do was add to that by complaining about how the apartment made me feel. At first, nothing out of the ordinary happened. It was just the feeling. In my room, I was particularly creeped out by the tiny closet that faced my bed. I stayed away from my room as long as I possibly could. But as bedtime reared its ugly head, I had no choice. I had to sleep. I awoke one night to the sound of the closet doorknob rattling. It was just a slight rattle, but it was enough to cause me to sit straight up in my bed and turn my reading lamp on. Once the light illuminated my tiny bedroom, the rattling stopped. Terrified of who or what was attempting to open my closet door, I jacked my pogo stick under the doorknob. After testing how effective the pogo stick was as a door stop by trying to open the closet door, and satisfied by the results, I returned to my bed for a restless sleep. Waking up the following morning, I was absolutely horrified to see the pogo stick laying on the floor and the closet door wide open! I was relieved to discover that it was my mother who removed the pogo stick in an attempt to find some missing keys. My mom was puzzled by the sight of the pogo stick being propped against the door and asked me what that was all about. I confessed my fear of the closet and the apartment itself. Of course, she dismissed it as being my imagination. Yeah, right. If only.... For the next few weeks my closet didn't misbehave. The doorknob hadn't rattled. Though I was still creeped out by it, I hadn't propped my pogo stick against it. Then one night -- I don't know quite what time -- I awoke to the sound of a door slowly creaking open. There was a sudden gust of ice cold air. I opened my eyes and saw an incredibly dark figure standing there. It was pitch black in the closet, yet the dark color of that figure stood out. As I watched the entity in my closet, I saw that it had two fire-red eyes. The eyes stared at me and I could tell that this wasn't a nice entity. Trembling with fear, I closed my eyes, covered my head with my blanket, and prayed for the figure to go away. I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I remember is waking up in the morning. This went on almost on a nightly basis. I became so terrified that I slept with all the lights on as well as the TV so I could block out the terrible sound of the door creaking open. This took a great toll on me emotionally and psychologically. I did my best to hide my anguish from everyone. After about a year of this torture, the entity grew much more terrifying. I would awake to see it maneuvering around my room. It would hover over my bed at night. It would tamper with the light and the TV, causing both to turn on and off. When the lights would go out, the room would be illuminated by the red glow of its evil eyes. Throughout the whole ordeal, the entity never touched me. Then one night, I awoke to find myself gasping for air. The feeling of an ice-cold grip around my neck led to a physical struggle between it and me. Unable to scream or breathe, I prayed over and over in my head. After what felt like an eternity, it was all over. The struggle left me with red hand marks around my neck. It was the last straw. I ran to my mother and broke down. I told her of all the horrible things I was experiencing. After seeing the hand marks around my neck, she vowed to get to the bottom of things. The next night, mom slept in my bed. Wide awake in her room, I heard my mother scream a few obscenities followed by the slamming of the bedroom door. She barged into the room, grabbed me by the hand, and the both of us left immediately. We went straight to my grandmother's house. On the drive to my grandmother's, my mom broke down. She kept apologizing to me over and over again for my being subjected to this activity for so long. When she asked me why I kept quiet all that time, I explained to her that I was afraid it would have made life worse. Needless to say, we never returned to the apartment again. Aside from retrieving our belongings, that is. My mother still feels guilty about what happened. I must admit, even at 29, and with a family and non-haunted home of my own, I am still afraid of the dark. Thankfully, it was my last encounter with the paranormal. Source

33avatarHiker snaps 'gho...
Wed Aug 26, 2015 1:23 pm
Baron View latest post



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