Not long after Ken had his terrifying experience in the bathroom of that house in Seattle, I had one of my own that scared me more than ever in my whole life.
It was my bed time and I had just layed down for the night. As usual, the voices began their conversations and I tried to hear what they were saying, but to no avail.
As a 7 year old, bed time was early enough so that the final remnants of dusk would still come through the window, so I could at least make out shapes near me. Laying on my back, I was playing with a little Lone Ranger action figure that I enjoyed, and I was galloping him on his horse across my chest.
I tried to ignore the ghostly conversation while the Lone Ranger saved the day.
Suddenly, I caught movement and looked above me toward the ceiling.
There was a face staring at me.
The face I saw was an older, grey haired man staring at me with fierce, angry eyes. I had never seen such anger in my life. All I could do was stare back.
“Give me that toy,” the disembodied face said to me.
I didn’t know what to do. All I could say was, “It’s MY toy.”
“I SAID GIVE ME THAT TOY!!” it shouted at me, exploding in anger.
I shot out of my bed screaming and crying and I think it took mom over an hour to calm me down. I was hyperventillating and pacing and I was hysterical. I had never been so scared in my life.
I refused to go back to my bed, in my room. Mom and dad would not hear of it.
“It was just a dream,” mom and dad said.
I was wide awake. I knew better. I began to hate that house. But, little would I know, it would continue no matter where I went.
Even last night something happened.