As a child, I was terrified of the dark. I would always watch horror movies on TV and get myself scared silly. One thing I would do to help calm this fear was to leave my bedroom door open with the hall light on all night (or at least until I was asleep). I shared a room with my older sister, and she hated this.
So, one night she got her way and the door was to be kept shut. It was so dark in our room that you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. I don't remember how I got to sleep, but I did.
Suddenly, at about 1:30 AM, I woke up for no reason. And standing at the foot of my bed was a man. Although the room was pitch black, he was plain as day. I remember the surge of terror that swept over me. I froze. He stood there staring at me for a minute, and then he started waving his arms frantically (it looked like slow-mo) as if to try to communicate with me. There was no sound. He was short, with a mustache, and dark hair. He had a worried expression on his face.
After that, all I can remember is waking up the next morning with the memory of him clearly imprinted in my mind, so that's one way I knew it wasn't a dream. I can never remember my dreams so clearly.
I told my mom, older sister, and younger brother what had happened, but my sister was the only one who believed me. She still does to this day. That's because she saw him too, only on a different night.
She said that she had seen a figure sitting on the edge of my bed, too big to be my mom (she's about 5'3"), too small to be my dad (he's 6'2"). The figure I had seen was about 5'4", so he fits right in there.
I still occupy the same room with my sister (I'm 15, she's 17). I can always feel his presence in there with me. I saw him not too long ago, but it was very brief.
One thing that boggles me is why he is here. This house was built for my parents on a garden, no one died here, and this was always just farmland. I wonder...
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