Friday, November 1, 2013

The hand on the wall

Image stolen from the scary pages of

WHEN I was a small kid, I often see, hear and feel the presence of other beings in a room which are not visible to anyone else, and I was not silent about it. My sister and two brothers were scared to sleep with me in the same room because I keep pointing at the walls and the door and telling them what I saw.
My mother thought I had worms and had me de-wormed several times hoping to put a stop to “my over-active imagination”, but no matter how many deworming sessions she conducted, things did not change. I keep seeing them all especially at night when I try to go to sleep.
I see midgets and giants and can hear them talking and calling me to join them, and I remember getting so scared I wish nighttime would never come. When the images started coming out, I would wake up my father and ask him to accompany me to the restroom to pee but that was just an alibi so I won’t have to close my eyes again. It never worked. As soon as I close my eyes, and sometimes even if my eyes are open in the dark I can see so many people in the room.
We moved to several houses but it was always the same. One time, my parents had to spend the night away and we were left with Inday Tita, a cousin from my father’s side.

We all decided to sleep in one room—me and my brothers on the floor, and my sis and cousin on the bed. Only I and my sister who was doing her homework was awake. I was lying on my side facing the bed trying to force myself to fall asleep and was on the brink of it when something compelled me to turn to the wall. I did, and what I saw stopped me cold. 

A huge hairy hand was on the wall, outside the mosquito net and trying to get in. I blinked several times and rubbed my eyes hoping it was gone but it was still there, as big and as alive as ever. I was so scared that I shook everyone awake while pointing to the hand on the wall. They did not see anything.
I was already white as a sheet and I sat and cowered trembling as far away from the wall as I can, but the hand was still there. By this time, everyone was already awake and getting scared. My youngest brother who was about four years old that time and who did not understand what was going on brushed his hand on the wall that I was pointing to and I grabbed him. He felt nothing on the wall.

I moved to the bed and slept beside my cousin, scared to close my eyes but more scared to keep it open.
The next day, my cousin mentioned about what happened the night before to our neighbors, and some started talking. We learned that the previous owner of that house died on the very same room that we slept in.

When my parents arrived the next day, my mom started another de-worming session for me, but even I knew she did not believe it was worms anymore and even if she deworms me every second of the day, things will not change and I can still feel and see them.  My hair still stands on end every time I remember that night when I saw a hand on the wall.

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