I’m new to this forum and am a young college student. I just happened across this forum when looking for help. The story I’m about to share with you has taken place over the last decade and there is quite a bit to talk about, so please bear with me. It may sound like something straight out of a horror movie, but I assure you that I’ve lived it and am not making a word of it up.
I spent half of my life growing up in Germany, where I was born, and moved to the US when I was 10. My family rented a house for a few months, then bought one shortly after Christmas of 2001. That’s when things began to happen.
Before moving in, my baby brother (who was then 3 or 4) had no issues sleeping through the night in his own room. From the moment we moved into our house he has not slept a single full night in his room alone. He will start out in his bed, then when my parents fall asleep he will move downstairs to the couch. He is now 14 years old and to this day is scared to death not only to sleep in his room, but to even be alone in our house when it starts getting dark.
I don’t know his personal experiences, other than he cannot explain why he is so terrified, but I have my own.
My parents talked about how I never had imaginary friends as a young child, but after moving into the house I seemed to make some. My doctor attributed it to the stress of moving so far from where I’d spent my whole life and the culture shock of coming to another country. I don’t remember any of the experiences of having “an imaginary friend” even though I was 10+ years old and have vivid memories of other events at that point in my life and previously. Other occurrences happened, like hearing strange noises or seeing things that weren’t actually there, but nothing really bad began happening until I was in high school.
Over the course of my high school career, I had a very strained relationship with my mama consisting of feelings of inadequacy and shame. My mama had a rough life before she met my papa and she grew into a hard woman because of it. She is not very good at showing emotion beyond anger and she has always had high expectations, so I often felt like I wasn’t good enough for her. But I remember my mama being extremely emotionally charged all the time; usually she was calm, but when I was in middle school she began to run a bit more aggressively and expressed anger a lot more. Then the first incident happened when I was 13. I had just had a screaming match with my mama about something stupid and I was really upset. When I’m upset, I like being in a tight, enclosed space - so I always used to crawl under my desk and ball up in the area for your legs. I felt sick, like something was ripping my stomach apart. I was just sitting there, staring down at my abdomen, then closed my eyes. You know that effect you have after staring at something for too long, then when you close your eyes it’s like you’re still looking at it but it resembles a photo negative? That is what I saw when I looked down, only one thing that wasn’t there when I had my eyes open was a set of white-hot clawed hands digging into my stomach. I jumped out from under my desk and sat on my bed, but still felt like those hands were digging into me – this time on my shoulders. I remembered what my Oma told me about dealing with evil spirits, so I called on the power of Jesus. I yelled “In the name of God and Jesus Christ, leave me alone!” and the hands instantly flew off of me as if they had been burned. I never told my family what happened.
