THE BLACK HAND

When I was a little girl I had an intense, paralysing fear of the dark. Even as an adult I don't like the dark and I guess that you could say that I am still very afraid of it.

No one could ever understand why I was so afraid to be alone in the dark, and even, at times, when there was someone else present.

Many times my parents would forcefully send me to bed in my dark room all alone. More often then not I would be awake screaming and begging them to let me sleep with them until sheer exhaustion would send me into a fitful sleep. They believed that this would help me overcome my fear of the dark. Little did they know that it wasn't really the dark that I was afraid of, but instead of what would appear in the absence of light. My fear was such that eventually I couldn't bare to even walk past a dark room.

It all started when I was about four years old and was finally big enough to have a "big girl bed." I was so proud of myself and couldn't wait to sleep in my brand new bed. The first few weeks were fine and I would fall asleep almost as immediately as my head hit the pillow.

But then one night I was woken up suddenly by my bed shaking. I opened my eyes and laid very still, too afraid to even make a sound. Just as suddenly as the shaking began, it stopped. I felt relief and in my child's mind I didn't even once think that it could have been my imagination. I just knew that it had really happened. But being a child, I also wasn't all that upset by it and fell right back asleep. This continued for the next couple of nights.

And then one night something new happened. I was woke up again by my bed shaking and laid there, very still, waiting for it to stop. But it didn't stop... The bed just kept shaking. I then felt something pulling the covers off of the side of the bed and when I looked over I saw a black hand on the covers. I screamed bloody murder. My Mom was in the room in seconds, turning on the light and asking what was wrong. I told her that there was something under my bed trying to get me, but she told me that it was just my imagination and to go back to sleep.

When she went back to her room, she left my door open and the hall light on. The rest of the night was uneventful.

Eventually my night time terrors worsened. Soon I was so terrified that all I could do was lie there as this black hand reached out from under the bed and pulled my covers off. But then one night the black hand touched me. I was so terrified, all I could do was shake. My eyes followed the black hand to a black arm, then to a black shoulder and then to a black head. My mouth opened to scream, but no sound came out. I was paralysed with sheer terror.

I don't remember what happened next. I just remember waking up the following morning and telling my Mom what happened. She let me sleep with her that night and nothing happened.

Finally, my Mom sent me upstairs to share a room with my aunt and my nights were once again uneventful.

I'm not sure if what I experienced were the imaginings of a four year old girl who was afraid of the dark and had a creative mind, or if it was a real experience. But whatever it was, it has left a deep impression upon me. To this day I can't stand to sleep in a bed unless one side is flush against the wall and I am "protected" from the other side of the bed from pillows. As if that would really offer much protection!

ROBERT'S HANDS

One night while lying in bed and thinking of my friend Robert (name has been changed) who had been tragically killed years before in a hit and run accident.

My thoughts consumed my mind and I lost track of time and of reality, which is why the following experience didn't scare me as it should have.

I remember lying on my side crying into my pillow, trying to muffle my sobs as not to alarm my parents. Suddenly, out of the darkness, very cold hands touched my arm, stroking it in a very comforting manner. My door was locked so no one could have walked into my room, even if they had heard me.

As the hands touched me, I cried all the harder, suddenly feeling even more despair over the loss of my friend. No matter how many years go by, the pain will still be there. Robert was a kind, sweet boy and his loss left a huge hole in my life.

I could feel the hands moving from my arm to my face and then my hair. I could feel fingers running through my hair and occasionally touching my face, almost as if to dry my tears.

Just as I was about to fall asleep I felt a cold press of lips upon my forehead and heard a soft, barely discernable, voice whisper, "I am here. I am always here." I promptly fell asleep and dreamt of Robert throughout the night.

To this day I believe that it was him coming to let me know that he is still with me and knows that I still, and will always, love him.

HAND PRINT ON THE WINDOW

here is a covered bridge in Harford County, Maryland that is reputed to be haunted. It crosses a shallow ravine in a residential neighbourhood. Once you cross the bridge there is a dead end road with about 10 houses on it.

The bridge was built somewhere in the middle of the 19th century, but I believe that there must have been a recent repair and/or renovation of the bridge due to the fact that the planks were remarkably clean and free of warping, splitting, or cracking.

It isn't unusual for people to go down to the bridge at night in an attempt to see or hear something ghostly, much to the dismay of the small community's residents. The number of visits to the bridge increase around Halloween.

One cold October about 3 years ago, six of my friends and I went down to the bridge. I lead the way in my car, followed by some other friends in a truck. Once we got to the bridge, I crossed and parked my car on the grassy area on the side of the road. My friends parked behind me.

We got out with our flashlights shining and walked the short, dark distance to the bridge. I felt uneasy from the moment I saw the bridge, but I convinced myself it was because of the fact that if someone took exception to our presence on the bridge, they could call the police and have us all arrested for trespassing.

And so, being the oh so brave female that I am, I took a deep breath and continued my walk towards the mouth of the covered bridge. I shined my flashlight towards the bridge and saw my friend Kenny standing near the side of the bridge looking at something on the wall and in the distance I could see the glowing ember of my Christine's cigarette.

So far so good, I thought to myself as I continued forward. I absently noticed as I stepped onto the bridge that suddenly I was colder, which I later found strange due to the fact that the bridge provided a barrier against the cold wind that night and it should have been a slight bit warmer.

I walked to about the center of the bridge when I suddenly felt the bridge shudder, as if many people were jumping on it, and then stop just as suddenly. I looked around , but all I saw was Kenny doing the same. There was no one jumping and only the very faint sound of the wind blowing and my breathing.

I walked to the other side of the bridge and turned around. I could see my car's windshield glaring due to the faint illumination of a porch light. Kenny and the others were standing on the other side of the bridge and Christine was slightly in front of me, just by the "wall" of the bridge. But who was that in the shadows walking towards me? I held my breath and waited. But the mysterious person never emerged. I directed the beam of my flashlight into the darkness, but the only thing on the bridge was a few leaves and Christine walking across to join the others.

I started back across the bridge, slightly shaking and very unnerved, when out of the darkness I heard another set of footsteps, very distinct and very heavy. I turned to look behind me, but nothing was there, much to my dismay. I turned and ran off of the bridge, reaching Kenny first and telling him that I was ready to go. He could tell I was frightened and only laughed, thinking that I was scared of nothing.

I kept insisting I wanted to leave when suddenly Christine said, "What the hell is that?" We all turned to see a faint misty shape moving towards us very slowly. It only took us all looking at it for just a moment to realize that it had a very definite human shape. I stared in fascination while the others turned and ran. Kenny, realising that I wasn't with them, ran back and grabbed my arm, dragging me with him towards my car.

I kept looking behind me at the shape until it disappeared upon reaching the other side of the bridge. When I reached the car I got in the passenger side and threw Kenny the keys, insisting he drive, because I was too shaken up. Just after Christine got in the back seat there was a tremendous thump upon my rear window, almost as if someone's hand had slapped the windshield. I turned to look behind the car, but no one was there. Everyone else was in the truck which was driving towards the bridge.

Kenny started the car and turned around, heading towards the bridge. He slammed on the brakes as a dark shape ran across the beam of light cast by the headlights. I watched in fascination as the shadowy figure ran across the ravine on thin air. I heard Christine squeal as Kenny spun wheels in his hurry to get out of there.

I remember kneeling on the seat so that I could get a full view of the bridge as we left. As it faded into obscurity I shuddered, realising that I had had yet another brush with the paranormal.

Later that night we all decided to go to Denny's. As we got out of the car I saw a shape high up on my rear windshield. Higher than the reach of any of us that were present that night. A shape that sent shivers down my spine and made my knees weak.

It was a hand print, perfectly formed, situated up near the top of my rear window in such a place that someone would have to be standing on the trunk of the car to make.

I swore to myself that I would never to go back to that bridge if I could help it and so far I have kept that vow.

Submitted from: Jaime, MD, USA

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