I’m Jime, and this story hails from my eighth-grade days, just before my graduation. It transcends sleep paralysis or mere dreams; it’s an inexplicable experience etched deeply in my memory.
One sunny day, while lying on the family room couch, I straddled the border between sleep and wakefulness. The TV droned softly. Abruptly, I found myself immobilized—an unsettling sensation. I attempted to move, yet a bizarre tether seemed to bind me to the couch. The feeling of an unseen presence intensified, tangible despite my solitude at home.
As seconds stretched, a strange cough echoed from the living room—distinct, sickly, and disconcerting. My gaze, though restricted by the paralysis, detected a shadow’s movement on the linoleum, inching towards the carpet. The adjacent light casted a silhouette, emanating from the kitchen, where no one was present. The interruption abruptly ceased as the phone rang, yanking me from my paralyzed state. The strange presence receded, replaced by the mundane urgency of answering the phone.
The caller ID startled me—it displayed an unintelligible number. Puzzled, I answered. Static crackled; an unsettling pause followed by a voice, raspy as a Scooby-Doo villain’s. “Your day will get weird,” it hissed, an eerie clicking sound marking the end. Two more clicks ensued, and before I could react, “Now it becomes weirder…” resonated through the line.
A subsequent sensation drew my attention upstairs—a cough akin to that earlier. I ventured upwards, investigating the strange noises and contemplating the possibility of an intruder. My mom was at work, my dad in Denver; I believed myself alone. Yet, a feeling of being watched persisted, gnawing at my nerves.
The search led me through the house—every room inspected, every corner scrutinized. My heart pounded as an odd chill enveloped me. I entered my mom’s room and the small hallway connecting the guest room, where an unsettling aura had always lingered. Coughing sounds echoed again, originating from the bathroom. Trembling, I peered into the bathroom, observing nothing amiss. Oddly, the sensation of dread waned. The guest room beckoned, the source of my childhood unease. Approaching it, I felt a connection, as if a force was responding to my thoughts. The presence had diminished, but as I stepped into the guest room, an inexplicable coldness enveloped me. My attention shifted to the bathroom door, where a sense of trepidation consumed me. Inspecting it, the wall’s edges crumbled, revealing a dark hole. A pale arm briefly emerged, like a fleeting touch across the hole.
Fear gnawed at me, yet I spoke defiantly, demanding answers from the unknown. Silence lingered, followed by a surge of pain, my head striking solid wall. Blinking, I realized the hole was gone, leaving me perplexed in an atmosphere of bewildering mysteries.