Really scary stories

Chapter twenty-nine

When I was 15, I was going through a phase where I was very interested in what could best be loosely described as metaphysics. Now, I had outgrown things like Ouija boards and seances in middle school, but at age 15 I remember being interested in things like reincarnation, higher selves, spirit guides, the spirit world, etc.

I only had a passing interest in non-human entities and human spirits, but I didn't give it too much thought - I thought it was a possibility they existed, but like everything else I was studying at that time, it sounded cool, but I didn't really believe it. It was just the way that us white, middle class, suburban kids got our kicks back then.

At first, I ignored the sensations that I was beginning to feel when I was alone in my room. I had a vague feeling that I was being watched, but I brushed it off. This went on for a couple of weeks - every now and then, whether it was day or night, I'd get the feeling of watchful eyes on me. I tried to ignore it.

After the first few weeks, the feeling became more pronounced, especially at night. I would wake up in the middle of the night convinced someone was in the room with me. I'm a very down-to-earth person, but I try to trust my gut, and my gut was telling me that I wasn't alone. I would wake up, look around the room, see nothing, and try to go back to sleep.

One night, during a glance around the room after I'd been woken up, I saw the Dark Man.

It was one of those times where you weren't sure if your eyes were deceiving you; what looked like an outline of a humanoid figure was standing at the foot of my bed. It had no distinguishing features, no face. I could see through it, but it was darker than everything else around it. I threw my covers over my head, convinced myself that it was just my imagination, and went back to sleep.

The days that followed got progressively more intense for me. I didn't see the Dark Man during the daylight hours, but every now and then at night, I'd see him - usually at the foot of my bed, but a couple of times standing in the corner of the room. He was always the same shape and size. I was still being woken up almost every night between 2am-3am - sometimes I would wake up with a start like I'd had a nightmare (but I hadn't), and sometimes it felt like something had touched me.

The touch is hard to describe - I want to say it was almost like a punch, but it wasn't that hard. You know when you make a bad joke and your friend playfully punches you in the shoulder? It felt like that. All of this was unnerving enough, but one night when the Dark Man pressed down on me, I'd had it.

I know what some of you are going to say - "sleep paralysis." That's what I thought at first, too. I was scared out of my wits and had to believe something, but this was not sleep paralysis. For one, I was not asleep nor was I anywhere near to falling asleep. No, it felt like something jumped on top of me all of a sudden. I jumped up immediately and although I was 15, I spent the next three nights sleeping with my mother.

I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what to do. I didn't want to tell my parents, since they'd think I was nuts, and the only friend I told laughed when I told her. It had gotten to the point where I could only be in my room with all the lights on, and I was spending most nights sleeping on the couch in the living room or sleeping with my mother (something I would have rather died than admit to back in those days).

I vividly remember sitting on my bed, all the lights on, and telling my friend over AOL IM (this was the mid-90's) that I was going to try to communicate with "it." I don't remember how I tried to do this - methinks I probably convinced myself that I was meditating and that that would somehow do something. Teenage logic.

Eventually, I did break down and tell my mother "there is something in my room." Mom, being the sweet Midwestern woman she is, helpfully suggested I talk to the pastor of a church we did not attend but otherwise thought it was all in my head. Meanwhile, I was terrified to be in my room alone.

I could feel the presence almost all the time even if I couldn't always see him, and I was beginning to be able to smell him - he smelled like something burnt, which scared the ever-lovin' shit out of me. I did half-hearted "cleansing" rituals which I'm sure accomplished exactly nothing. I tried talking out loud to it, but still it was there in the dark.

There were a lot of small incidents connected with this - things disappearing, words appearing in weird places, pets coming into my room and staring intently at nothing - that I'm sure I could placate my mind with excuses as to what they were. But the way I finally got rid of the Dark Man was something so stupid that I'm almost embarrassed to admit it. I wrote him a letter.

My letter was very heartfelt, I'm sure - a begging entreaty mixed with teenaged bravado about spiritual warfare and even a few "I don't need you watching over me, I can handle everything on my own" type sentences - and I left it face up on my bedspread, then left the room for an hour. When I came back, the letter was face-down on my bedspread. This is important - there were no fans in my room, no open windows, and my bed was far enough from the door that the act of closing the door couldn't have caused a draft. But from that time on, I had no more visits. I've never had anything else like that ever happen to me.