I was born and lived in Bluefield, West Virginia, until I was 6 or 7 years old, and had many weird experiences there. I had a situation in 1980 where very strange things happened in the house I lived in.
I had a situation (I say ‘situation’ rather than ‘experience’ because I feared for my life) where I walked into our kitchen one night and saw two yellow eyes in the dark staring at me. My mother, who was kind of a hippie, was messing around with a Ouija board with my father and some friends at the time – as many people probably did during the late 60’s and 70’s. (I don’t really know if I can say this was the cause of all that happened. I even had a dog named Ouija and don’t put much stock in their effectiveness.) I ran into the living room and told my parents what I saw, but they explained it away, saying it was headlights coming in the window from a passing car. I knew even then the difference between headlight reflections and eyes. What I saw looked like a cat’s or dog’s eyes when light reflects directly off of them, and they weren’t coming from the window or upper wall, they were there inside the kitchen.
A little while later a big Doberman showed up on our front porch. My father ran it off because it was growling and acting like it was going to attack. No one knew who it belonged to – it was not our neighbors’ (we knew them all – people were friendlier like that back then). A few days after that I started seeing what looked like a black cat walking around on the beams of the unfinished closet. I told my mother, who again dismissed it.
My brother and I shared a room, and I had forgotten all about the experience until he started waking me up and saying he saw ‘black men.’ I did not know what he meant, but he said they stood in the corners watching us all the time. My father (a Marine) would not allow us to have a nightlight so my brother and I started using a Lite Brite toy and plugging it in to have some light should we need it in an emergency. Each night my brother woke me up saying he heard or saw them running under the bed and around us in the dark. I figured it was only his imagination and the dark playing tricks, but it did make me think about the black cat I had seen.
Finally my brother got over it about the same time that I woke up to it. My father had finished the closet and I awoke one night to see someone standing in front of it. I could not see them fully, just a shadow of someone standing in front of the closet’s white door. With the help of a little light from an outside street lamp I could see them just standing there. I closed my eyes and prayed like hell… I didn’t open them again but hid under the covers until I fell asleep. Some time later I was awakened in the middle of the night by what sounded to me like men marching. I heard someone saying something like “Attention” maybe…. I thought it was the TV or some war flick my Marine father was watching. I opened my eyes and saw writing all over the walls. It looked like grade school writings with scary stick figures and symbols. I could barely make them out in the dim light but they were scrawled everywhere. I woke up my brother and flicked on the Lite Brite but there was nothing on the walls or in the room; in fact all of the lights were off and no one else was awake in the house at all.
The next things that happened, actually happened in the daylight. My brother woke me up early one morning. He said that he was playing with his toys in bed (as we often did when we were young until our parents got up) and had dropped his toy truck in the gap between the headboard and the mattress. The truck had gone under the bed. When he looked in the crack (which was about six inches wide) to try to get the truck, he said he saw someone under there looking at him. My brother was shaking and nearly in tears…. I think the only thing that scared him more than that was the fear of waking my father up early on a Saturday morning.
I looked in the crack and saw nothing. There was no one there. In denial myself, I told my brother to go back to sleep, and I rolled over to do the same thing. When I did I could see into the newly designed closet which still had the infamous ‘always open’ door. In the bottom of the closet there was a stack of blankets my mother kept there for storage…. I saw the blankets move as if something was under the top one. I also noticed that it wasn’t folded any longer, but bunched up as if someone were curled up underneath it and lying on the rest of them. For some reason the only thing that popped into my head was that it was the black cat. I don’t know why, because whatever was under there was much bigger than a cat or a dog: it was human size. I got up, creeping toward it slowly…. I had made up my mind that I was going to move those blankets and see what the hell it was, once and for all. Brave or stupid, I don’t know.
When the blankets moved again, my brother grabbed me so hard and ran that I actually had a bruise and big bleeding marks on my arm from his fingernails. He pulled me into my parents’ room and cried and cried about it. No one believed him… and me, I knew to keep my mouth shut.
I didn’t sleep much the first week after that. I would try to nap in the afternoon so my brother could sleep and I would stand guard. My father went away for Marine duties a few days later, leaving me and my brother alone Friday and Saturday nights while my mother delivered newspapers. We decided to sleep on the couch with the lights and the TV on so we would not have to be in the dark bedroom.
I remember watching Night Tracks music videos and fell asleep. I remember slightly waking up to the sound of the TV being turned off. I thought it was my mother coming home and I almost went back to sleep thinking she would boot us off the couch at any minute, but I didn’t hear anything else… it was silent. I opened my eyes and saw a face looking at me, but it was no normal face. It looked like an old, shriveled-up man or woman with stringy white hair, and dead looking eyes (I’m getting chills just writing this). The face was just inches from mine and I screamed, pulling the blankets over my face to protect me, but nothing happened. I wrapped my feet and legs tightly against my brother’s, who was lying on the other end of the couch, out of comfort but also to make sure he was still there. After a few minutes I peeked out again and didn’t see anything. I didn’t get back to sleep until my mother got home around 6 a.m.
My brother and I slept in the bed with her until my father got home several days later and made us sleep in our own room. Fortunately for us the house caught fire shortly afterward. The cause of the fire was supposedly a plastic chair (my brother and I each owned one) that had been knocked over onto the floor by the furnace and melted, causing the fire…. The funny thing is, neither of my parents claimed to have done it and neither me nor my brother would get up at all after lights were out, especially alone.
My parents had not been getting along, and after a particularly violent fight, my mother, brother, newborn sister and I left that town. My father stayed behind. We moved and I forgot about it for a few years… or tried to, anyhow, until my father committed suicide. It was weird going back to that town (thank God the house was long gone). Nothing had changed much – it was still a sleepy little place, but it held a dreamy weird feeling to it and dredged up a lot of unwanted memories. I was glad we had just a short stay there. I don’t plan on coming back.