Back in 2008 when I was 6 I had lots of paranormal experiences. I don’t remember them all but I do have plenty of memories from the ones that truly terrified me. The most terrifying being the time I spoke to the devil himself.
In the house I used to live in growing up every night I would wake up and feel immense fear, I couldn’t fall asleep by myself and every night I’d end up sleeping in my parents bed. I would have nightmares of things ripping me apart, eating me, torturing my family and pets. They were awful, gruesome nightmares that seemed to never end. When I woke there was always this shadow of a man standing at the foot of my bed. He never moved, he never changed, he just stood. I would be paralyzed with fear and hide under my blanket. I never knew when he’d leave or when he’d return to watch me but whenever I uncovered myself he’d be gone and I’d run to my parents room. I’d always wake up around 3 am to pots and pans crashing. It was so loud and my heart would instantly start to race. No one else but my sister has heard the pots and pans banging in the kitchen but she was never scared like me. I knew even then it was trying to lure me out there, I never went into the kitchen, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I would be so scared the only thing I could do was plug my ears and close my eyes and wait for them to stop to again run to my parents.
I spent every night crying and panicking. I never felt safe, I was always being watched and I was always being tormented. This lasted for years and no one would believe me. No one would believe there was a shadow man staring at me every night. They didn’t believe anything was in the kitchen because nothing was out of place. I was told it was just my over active imagination until my mom caught me talking to myself.
I was sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace staring up at the mantle. I was all alone, in the middle of the day, wearing my nice church clothes. My mom walked in on me and asked me who I was talking to. I turned to her and said “the little boy with red eyes. His name is Satan.” At the time I only knew Satan as the devil. I had never heard that term for him. My mom grabbed me and took me outside to redirect my attention and to get me to stop but I still remember him. I remember exactly how he looks. He was a pale, thin boy, sitting with his legs dangling off the mantle. He had a very nice smile, he wasn’t scary at all I felt no fear. The only thing was the bright red eyes.
A few years later when I 8 I was baptized. Since then I never had another experience, I’m not sure if it was coincidental or not but gosh am I glad my mind is finally at ease.