![]() I resisted the urge to call out since I wasn’t sure I wanted to be found by who or what might be out there I didn’t know which way to go so I just picked a direction. I cried for a little bit and then stood back up. I didn’t have another scratch on me and I wasn’t even that dirty. I looked at my other foot but it was fine, and as a matter of fact so was the rest of me. By the light of the moon I could see that they were everywhere. I played in the woods by my house all the time and so I knew them really well, but if these weren’t the same woods then how could I get out? I took a step and felt a shooting pain in my foot which knocked me back to where I had just been laying. I stood up to orient myself, but I didn’t recognize these woods. This only added to the surreal feeling, but after a while it seemed like I just wasn’t going to wake up because I wasn’t asleep. There was a deflated pool float right in front of me – one of those ones shaped like a shark. I thought I was dreaming, but that didn’t seem right, though neither did me being in the woods. I sat up immediately and tried to figure out what was going on. I had heard the footsteps but was too far gone to be woken up by them, and when I was awoken it wasn’t from the sound of footsteps or a nightmare, but because I was cold. But one night I didn’t wake up on the bottom bunk. This would happen once or twice a week, but waking up on the bottom bunk wasn’t too terrifying. Despite all the creepiness and footsteps the only weird thing that ever happened was that every now and then I would wake up on the bottom bunk despite having gone to sleep on the top, but this wasn’t really weird since I’d sometimes get up to piss or get something to drink and could remember just going back to sleep on the bottom bunk (I’m an only child so it didn’t matter). I told my mom about the footsteps and she said that I was just imagining things I persisted enough that she blasted my ears with water from a turkey baster once just to placate me, since I thought that would help. This coupled with the fact that, due to the nature of our house, there was a fairly large crawlspace underneath filled my mind with imaginary monsters and inescapable scenarios which would consume my thoughts when I was awoken by the footsteps. There were a lot of woods surrounding the neighborhood that I would play in and explore during the day, but at night – as things often do to a kid – they took on a more sinister feeling. We lived in the kind of house you see being transported in two pieces on the interstate, but my mom took good care of it. ![]() As a kid, the muffled, rhythmic beats sounded like soft footsteps on a carpeted floor, and so as a kid almost every night – just as I was about to drift off to sleep – I would hear these footsteps and I would be ripped back to consciousness, terrified.įor my entire childhood I lived with my mother in a fairly nice neighborhood that was in a transitional phase – people of lower economic means were gradually moving in, and my mother and I were two of these people. In a quiet room if you press your ear against a pillow you can hear your heartbeat. I’ve never had to tell this story with enough detail to actually explain it all the way, but it is true and it happened when I was about 6 years old.
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