Eerie Encounters: The Visitor

It's been a while, so I thought it was time I did another Eerie Encounters story. You can read the first one here if you're interested.

Now, I know I promised stories from my time as a paranormal investigator, but I was reminded of an encounter from my childhood, and I thought you might like to hear that story.

I was probably 12 at the time, and thanks to a monster of a heat wave that hit the Ozarks, the AC had breathed its last. Well, since my little brother needed it more than I, my mother took my box fan and put it in his room until the central air could be fixed. Every day since I could remember, I have slept with a fan of some sort. Not so much for the cooling, but for the sound.

Because when the house got dark and quiet, is when my senses kicked into overdrive, and the noises started. On this particular night, I had nothing to drown out the sounds of the house settling, the train, the car traffic, or anything else really. Everything was shocking loud. Now I should say that I wasn't a particularly organized kid, and my room often looked like a tornado had come through and destroyed it. I had papers, clothes, books, and toys on the floor. Generally, I used the junk as a barrier, so I would know when someone was coming in my room. The noise let me know the door was opening, or when someone was walking in my room. I was a light sleeper, so even with the fan on full blast, I could hear the sound of someone opening my door.

On the night the fan was taken to my brother, everyone went to sleep strangle early. By eleven thirty or so, every light in the house was off, and I could hear the quiet hum of the fans going in the other bedrooms. Despite the hour, I was having a difficult time sleeping or getting comfortable. Something just felt off.

I remember I had turned over in bed, to face the wall that it was pushed up against, when I began to hear the footsteps.

They were slow, walking across my room at a pace that didn't seem right. I could hear the papers and wrappers crinkle and crackle under the weight, slowly making their way toward my bed. My room wasn't very big, and the slow procession of the steps unnerved me. Then, just as suddenly as they had started, they stopped....right next to my bed.

I was far to scared to turn over and see who was in my room, so I closed my eyes, and held as still as I could. That's when I felt the hand on my shoulder. it wasn't overly warm, and it wasn't large, so I knew it wasn't my Mom (who is ALWAYS hot), or my Dad. The hand stayed there for a few moments, then lifted, and the footsteps began to recede away from me. It was only after the footsteps had gone away, and all had been quiet for a few minutes, that I realized I had never heard the door open or close.

I spent the rest of that night on the floor of my little brothers room. When I asked my parents the next morning about who was in my room,they gave me odd looks. Neither one had been in there, and my little brother had been completely passed out no more than five minutes after the weird steps in my room.

To this day, I still have no idea who or what touched me in my room that night.

Love and Lightning Bugs,