The following story is about the most bizarre thing that's ever happened to me in my life.
It occurred when I was six years old, back in 1992.
I lived in his older-like house, that still had this Victorian look and feel to it. I felt there was just 'something' about my closet in my room, mainly it was the attic that made me curious, but I avoided it as much as I usually could.
A few times I've heard pounding and banging coming from the attic as well, waking me up in the middle of the night. I didn't inform my parents of this, so they didn't know.
Well, my father wasn't going to be at home for a while, because he was fixing our next-door neighbor's car for some money. He wouldn't be in the house till 11.00pm I think he said. My mother worked graveyard, so she couldn't be there for me that night either. Since father was next door and all the doors were locked, I just told myself I'd be okay.
I turned on the television and used that as my nightlight in the living room. I also turned on the oven, outside and bathroom lights, because mother always told me to keep lights on in the house to make it look like there's adults up if I was ever left home alone.
I was going to take a bath before I went to sleep, but when I went and turned on the light in my bedroom, I heard loud banging coming from inside my closet...the attic, I was sure of. The banging was so loud and hard that pieces of the ceiling came down. I was a bit afraid, but fear didn't overcome me that much at that point. I pretty much wanted to know more still
. About five minutes after that happened, I walked inside the closet, looked up, and gazed at the attic door for a time. I remember father had this ladder, but it was too big because it was one of those house-roof-ladders. Then I used my common sense and grabbed a chair from the living room, put it in my closet and began climbing up to the attic door. What happened thereafter will forever remain with me and haunt me.
I slowly and a bit hesitantly pushed the attic door open as much as I could. I didn't really succeed, and something ended up pulling the attic door off for me in the end, from the inside. Fear got a little more intense within me, but I headed on anyway, wondering what lurked up there in the attic. I peeked inside and saw nothing but blackness and grayish dust once in view from the light shining from my room. I finally pulled myself up inside the attic and sat down, looking around in curiosity. There was some pounding, as if a man's fist was socking the wall, over on the far end from where I sat above my closet. I gripped my teddy bear, and held the flashlight in my hand tightly as I stepped towards it. I aimed the flashlight on the ground whenever I walked, to make sure I wouldn't fall or trip over something, but whenever something strange happened, like a feeling of someone's presence or a sound coming from somewhere, I'd stop dead in my tracks and lift the light up, trying to figure out what it was.
This occurred for about ten minutes. Then something even more eerie happened. I felt someone standing behind me, and my hair began lifting up, as if I was falling. I looked down and even though my feet were clearly on the attic flooring, I even began to feel as though I was falling.
Not long after, I felt this rope around my neck, and when I touched my neck, I felt and touched an actual noose. That's when I had the feeling I should run and never look back nor enter that attic again. I listened to my intuition, and began to run for the open attic door. That's when things got progressively worse.
I saw the attic door was slowly, as if taunting me, closing, and I eyed it as it slid itself shut. At that point, I couldn't scream because I was so afraid, and that's when the socking on the walls began again. I turned to see what it was that was doing it, thinking maybe the light will harm it somehow. Once I aimed the beam of the flashlight on the wall where the socking was coming from, I saw the most terrifying thing in all my life...truely.
I saw a transparent ghost-like man, who had a cloak on, and whose face was deformed, his expression was filled with hatred, evil and pure wickedness. He held a cane, and wore a top hat. He looked really Victorian. His mouth opened and he screamed at me really loud, his raspy angered voice pierced my ears, and I quickly ran for the attic door that was, for some reason, now opening back up. But right before I dropped myself down back to my room, I looked up towards where the man was once more, but he was gone without a trace. I jumped really fast down onto the chair, heard it fall over behind me, gripped my teddy bear and flashlight tighter, headed down my room, the hall, and past the living room out of the door. I ran to my neighbors house and knocked on the door, asking for my father.
My parents believed everything I said, especially my mother, and we moved from that house shortly afterwards. She even let me sleep with her in her and father's room.
I still think of that man though. I've been lead to the conclusion that maybe he was hung in the attic. He was hateful and mad, and put me through his experience by making me go through it up there with him. Maybe he just wanted someone to hear him out or understand or maybe he was just a hateful spirit that wished to harm me.
Since then I've called him Mister Cane, because of his walking stick that I saw him with that night. What's even more of a mystery is that the day before we moved away from the house, I found a top hat lying on my bed. My room was empty and filled with just a few boxes, and the top hat didn't belong to any of my family or neighbors.
My father took it and sold it to a pawn shop for some easy money before we left. I, however wanted to keep it. For some reason, I felt that he left his hat for me as a way of saying thankyou...or goodbye.