The paranormal has never been a foreign subject to me. Growing up, I watched horror movies, and ghost hunting shows etc. all the time. However, my family was very religious, which led me to believe there was no such thing as ghosts. *Boy was I wrong.* I thought all the hours of watching horror movies and ghost hunting shows would have possibly prepared me for this moment, again, *I was wrong.* To further your understanding of my reaction to this experience, you should know that I have pretty bad anxiety and I have for as long as I can remember. When fight or flight mode kicks in, all reality and logic go right out of the window. Predisposing me to react more extreme in scary situations (that, and I’m also a chicken).
So getting to the interesting part, it was a Saturday morning, around 10. Me and my cousins are sitting in the living room, having breakfast and watching Saturday morning cartoons. Our parents were at work until the afternoon and I was in charge of my younger cousins for the day. We’re in the middle of our gourmet, frosted flakes breakfast while watching Cartoon Network. When to our unpleasant surprise, we start hearing heavy footsteps downstairs. They sound like they’re pacing around as if *contemplating*… panic ensued.
At this moment I turned into a Marine, a thirteen year old Marine in pink pajamas. I used tactical hand signals to order my squad (cousins) to move out. One long, circular hand motion around the room followed by three quick arm motions in the direction of my bedroom. Signaling that I wanted everyone in the room to fall out into my room. I made it up on the spot, impressive I know. We stealthily scrambled to my room, trying not to raise the suspicion of the intruder below us. I was terrified, and I was in charge. It was my responsibility. I was thirteen years old and I was going to have to fight whatever was behind that door. My heart was beating so hard my chest was moving, **thud, thud, thud.** And when* it couldn’t poss*ibly get any more suspenseful and hair-raising, the footsteps started coming up the stairs.
The room instantly became ten degrees colder, and the air became almost too heavy to breathe. My heart was keeping tempo with the footsteps. **Thud, thud, thud,** with every beat my heart crept farther and farther up my throat. If I didn’t know it was impossible, I would have been scared it was going to leap right out of my mouth. The footsteps steadily climbed up the stairs, and crashed right through the metal baby gate at the top. *Cshhhh,* metal crashed against the wall. I had seconds left. Seconds before I was face to face with the first real danger I had ever been in and I had to protect my brothers in arms.
The footsteps walked right up to my door, whoever had infiltrated my home had been here before. They *knew* where I slept. This was premeditated. I thought I had the home field advantage, again *I was wrong.* **BANG, BANG, BANG!** I almost shit my pants, but it was *go time.* I found the nearest thing that would manage as a weapon and I put my war face on. But the door didn’t open, and the knob didn’t move. **BANG, BANG, BANG.** They knocked for what seemed like forever. This is the part that makes me think this was paranormal instead of any usual home invasion. The latch on my bedroom door was broken. To the point you could push the door open even when it was closed and locked. But the door didn’t budge. This was the weirdest part, I had an old stand up wind chime sitting on a shelf on the wall adjacent to the door. And when they started banging on the door, the stuff on my shelves shook so much that the wind chime started making noise.
We stayed in the room until our parents got home. When they came up stairs we burst through the door and told them everything that had happened. They checked the whole house, and all the doors and windows were closed and locked. Somehow that didn’t take make any of us feel better. I didn’t sleep well after this for weeks, and there’s a permanent chill down my spine. Well enjoy this story of one of the times I metaphorically died.