I don't frighten easily and am not in the habit of fending off fear. True that I have had some experiences in life that leave their scars, but it is because of these experiences that I am able to keep my calm now; for those past experiences were terrible enough to de-sensitize me to anything less.
I do have rare occasions when controlling rising fear is difficult, and I had one of these rare occasions just three nights ago.
I moved into a small house in a VERY quiet town just two miles away from my last home. The previous house had it's frightening moments for me, (uncomfortable feelings, voices in an empty house.. all things associated with the word haunted) but I took them and moved on, feeling that leaving the house would leave the spirits with it. This was not the case. In fact, I'm surprised at myself for being as hopeful as I am; every house I've ever lived in has had a "problem" that I seem to meet at some time or other. But later... It was early morning, I know this because I hadn't turned out my lights until 12:30, and I was woken by a familiar feeling... "Turn Over" I was snapped into action and obeyed the command instantly, for I've learned the penalty of slow reflexes. I suspected that the feeling would soon leave and I could sleep, but it persisted. I could almost feel it tugging at the right side of my bed where my back was exposed. I tried hard to fall asleep again despite the nagging, but as it kept getting stronger I started to get anxious. Why wasn't it leaving? Is it watching me? Fear started to creep in, and with it, my endless curiosity which is my constant undoing. I began building up my courage, counting shallow breath after breath until I finally turned my head, then shoulders, then legs until I was on my back looking at the doorway, where the nagging now came from.
My door is in a small corner of the room, making a short hallway into the larger part. And as I lay looking up and down the door frame, over the right side of the room, and eventually in the vanity mirror,(mirrors being a pet peeve of mine) it moved. I felt more than saw it rush up on me at first. I knew it was there by the door, and that it was small, and the short instance I had to react was used to flip myself over as fast as I could. My heart was beating so loud I thought it could hear it, and I started calming myself down quickly so that I wouldn't provoke it. I figured it would go now that it had been seen; one of my theories on ghosts is that they want you to know they are there, whether they be peaceful or angry, they demand some acknowledgement. I laid there several minutes, waiting for it to pass, but it remained. I couldn't calm my breathing, I had broken out into a cold sweat, and the nagging was growing unbearable. My hands and legs were beginning to complain from their locked positions. My neck and ears began to tingle as they do when one is horribly sick. And as I lay near tears, I decided to look again and get it over with. I again gathered some courage, very difficult to do when all energy is being wasted on fear, and rolled myself over very slowly. I stared directly at the door's left side, and there it was, crouching in the corner. My breath caught in my chest and I sat frozen as I stared. I had a slightly better view now, though not a clear one, and could see that it was squatting with it's legs up to it's chest, arms out in front keeping it's balance; I don't remember any head. It just crouched there as I "acknowledged" it, and then it ran again.
You recall that I said I knew it was small, but it wasn't small, it simply ran along the ground as it came. It didn't straighten up and run, it stayed in it's crouched position and ran, back hunched, knees rising to the chest with every footfall, and arms swinging as it came. I can't tell you what the face looked like, whether the hair was short, long, or balding, but the eyes were large and the mouth was a wide spread smile. It wasn't grinning or sneering, just a smile under two large, wide eyes. The outline of the head itself was undeterminable, you could say that the two pieces were floating at the top of their own accord with no attachment to the body. I sucked in breath as it rushed to the side of my bed, almost close enough to reach out and touch my face, then I sat up and switched on my bedside lamp. And as suddenly as the feeling came, it was gone with the light.
When I later retold this story to a cousin of mine, she reminded me of my past experiences, where the eyes are always the most vibrant expression in the spirits I encounter, and she gave me an interesting idea... that it follows me.
I now consider all my experiences to be of the same soul in different rooms of my life. I am now deciding whether to be worried about the spirit, or be comforted by it's continual presence. Facts are on both sides of the argument; the eyes are never glaring or hateful, but it is always accompanied with a menacing feeling... I'm currently researching these type of encounters, wish me luck!