One night when I was about 7 years old, I went to sleep at around 9:30 and got into the second level of my bunk-bed. I soon fell asleep, but then I woke up in the middle of the night to someone whispering “No, no” repeatedly as if they were in pain, thinking I just imagined it I tried to go back asleep. And then that’s when I heard it, the creaking of the wooden boards on the stairs, slowly getting louder and that whisper “No, no”. I knew it wasn’t my parents because they were sleeping in the bed next to mine. Then I heard some screaming along with the foot steps coming up the stairs and again the whisper of “No, no”. So I slowly got out of bed, crept towards the ladder to get to the floor and I slowly began to crawl towards the bedroom door in the dark which had a full view of the stairs. I opened it without creak in the darkness and I saw nothing moving in the dark nook of the stairs. But I now heard the whisper of “No, no” coming from the room upstairs which nobody used. I silently crept towards the stairs, but I kept the lights off, and I began to creep down them so I could check the front door. Nothing was out of place, so I turned on the living room lights and that’s when I saw it for an instance. The silhouettes of three people outside the living room window and then they were gone. I proceeded to turn on every light in the house and crawl into bed with my parents as I waited for it to be morning.
I was 5 when the civil war in Afghanistan started, and I saw some pretty gruesome stuff. One time, a man was beheaded in the market and hot oil was poured down his body. The oil would somehow stimulate the nerves and the body would start writhing, simulating a dance. This was called “dance of the dead” and it was used to scare political opponents. Another time, I saw a man being run over by a tank repeatedly until his body was absolutely shredded. The last gruesome occurrence I saw during the war happened on my street. I was looking at the window when a man on the street was shot by an anti-aircraft gun perched on top of a mountain. Needless to say his body was buried in pieces. Apparently, the fighters on top of the hills overlooking Kabul would make bets with each other over hitting random civilian targets with different weapons.
I had a stalker for a number of years. One day out of the blue he sent me an email saying “Ever been raped?”
I had, but nobody ever knew about it. I lived alone at the time, and I was terrified of him for years before law enforcement finally took me seriously.
I was about 7-8 years old and normally after school my mom sets up the tub so I can have my afternoon bath. Keep in mind that my bathroom was tiny and there were no room for someone to hide in without being spotted immediately. So my mom watches me go in the tub, gives me a toy and walks away to the kitchen to finish cooking. I wanted to splash around in the water with my toy so I closed the glass sliding door of the tub. As soon as I closed the sliding door, it quickly opened on its own. My tiny little mind couldn’t fathom how that happened. A few seconds later the sliding door rapidly opened and closed for a few seconds. I started screaming and my mother ran to the bathroom to find me crying in the tub. I told her what happened but she didn’t believe me. The sliding door was closed when she found me crying in the bathroom. For over 20 years it bugged me. Was it part of my imagination? It felt completely and entirely real.
When I was around 6, my family lived out in the rural desert in Southern California near a Cahuilla tribe reservation. We had a few acre ranch that was beside small mountain (or large hill). My room had large windows that faced towards the mountainside and as such, it was always extremely dark at night so there was a motion sensor porch light that was attached over the backdoor which you could see from my window, think of an L on its side. Backdoor lead to a room we never used but anyone coming to the property thought it was the front door.
Anyway, one night, while trying to sleep I hear a tapping on the window like a subtle scratching. I wake up and see two very striking yellow eyes and the silhouette of something at the window, very canine. Now we had coyotes here but this was the size of a small man, far larger than any coyote and there were no wolves in the region – we had a dog, but a border collie was no where near the size of this.
So we stare at each other for a few moments, just dead still – I’m completely frozen on what to do while it just stares back. It begins to scratch again at the window then turns and walks, upright, to the backdoor and tries the handle. The light goes on, see this furry dog-man thing trying to get in and I freak. Remember running out of my room and grab a rifle we had in an case in the living room (like 15 feet away from my door) and then run back to my room. There it is, on the other side of the glass looking at me. It sees the rifle then bolts into the dark.
I never knew what it was and I only learned about ‘skin-walkers’ much later. Never told my parents but I slept with that Winchester rifle beside my bed for a few years after.