BECAREFUL

DEVIL NAME FEAR

RAIN RAIN GO AWAY...!!

The Story I Can't Tell

The Story I Can't Tell

I was 11 years old when we moved to Ruckersville, Virginia, just me, my mom, and younger sister and brothers. We were looking for a home. When my mom finally found one, all we could think was, “Oh my God, we finally have a house.”
The house made us feel like we belonged there, like it was meant just for us as a family. And the house was right next to our landlord, who we didn't like; all she seemed to care about was cursing us and taking all our money. But she was a very strange old lady, and her husband was also strange.
After a couple of months of living there, my mom, my brother Matt and I were kind of scared of the house. My mom had heard someone try to break in, and when she looked there was no one there even though the doorknob was still moving. My brother had come running from the basement one day to tell us he’d heard noises of metal hitting together, and when he looked up, brass buckles fell out of nowhere. The basement was always scaring everyone; you couldn't go down there alone without being paranoid that someone was lingering in the darkness, watching you.
I had shared a room with my sister, with her bed on one side of the room and mine on the other. I always had the radio on at night because it helped me sleep.
One night I woke up from a dream: I was lying in my bed and I suddenly awoke to turn my radio off. A woman with super sharp nails grabbed my hand and ripped it off of my arm. When I woke from that nightmare, I couldn't go back to sleep for a while, so I just lay there and put my head under the covers. Minutes went by and it grew very cold; I started hearing a slight moaning noise, like a woman’s voice whispering.
Stupidly, I thought nothing if it, believing it was my radio. I had awoken and went to turn off the radio, but I thought of my dream and stopped myself, beginning to sweat. I was paranoid. I took my head out from beneath my covers and lay there, eyes closed. After a few moments of silence, I opened my eyes and finally got up enough courage to turn off my radio.
I fell asleep for a couple if minutes and I woke ip to the moaning noises again and when I opened my eyes I saw her...
There was a young women standing over my bed. I could only see her for a moment. As she stood over the edge of my bed, she stared at me with anger, sadness, and fear in her eyes, though they were still and blank. She had her hair, which looked like it had just been dyed a blondish-orange color, pulled back in a bun. Her eyes were very dark brown, almost as if they were black, and her pupils were as big as quarters. She had a pug-like nose and her lips were cut from cheek to cheek then sloppily sewn together. I couldn't see her ears, but they looked as if they were also sewn to her head. I could only see from a little below her shoulders and up and I saw that she was naked.
I was so scared. I wanted to scream, but my fear held it in me. She slowly dissolved into the air. I couldn't scream so I shut my eyes and cried, but I didn't have any tears. Louder and louder I cried, until my mom said, in a tired voice, “Honey, what's the matter? Are you okay?”
I didn't answer, just cried until she said, “Come here.”
“I can’t,” I told her. “What if she's in the hallway?”
My mom thought I was delusional. She kept telling me to come to her room, so eventually I took my covers off, sat up, and put my feet on the ground. Still crying, I stood up and ran as fast as I could to my mother’s room and jumped up onto her bed. Shaking violently, I told her everything.
Of course, she told me it was just a dream and that I should go back to bed. At this point I managed to cry tears. I slowly walked out of my mom’s room, glancing down the hall way and into the bathroom. I was so scared, but I had to pee.
I went to the bathroom, leaving the door open behind me. I sat down and happened to glance towards the bathtub.
There she was, staring through the transparent curtain. She lifted her hand and started to move the shower curtain open; her hand looked like that of the woman from my dream. I darted out of the bathroom, back to my bedroom, and slept with my light on.
I never saw her again, but my brother Matt told me he had had a dream of a woman, and when he described her to me she matched the description of the same girl I saw. But every time I try to tell this story out loud, I always choke.

SHADOW IN DREAM

Dream A Little Dream Of Him

Most people out there have that one recurring dream/nightmare that never leaves us. There is nothing uncommon about that. But for as long as I can remember, I have had this one about a man who stood in the corner of my bedroom watching me as I lay in bed. I say man but it’s actually just more of a figure, really. Nothing ever happens, he just stands and stares, and over time I’ve become sort of used to it and it doesn’t really scare me anymore.
When I moved to university, I met my boyfriend. It became serious and we shared a bed most nights. One morning I awoke to my boyfriend staring at me. When I asked him why he was staring he responded with something along the lines of ‘What the hell was that?’ When I asked him what he meant he went on the explain that just a few moments ago I had been, what seemed to him as completely awake, and telling him over and over and over that there was someone in the corner of the room. He then said that I took the laptop out of the drawer as though I was going to use it but fell back to sleep leaving the laptop on my chest. I had no memory of any of this and just assumed that I had been having my recurring dream again but was sleep talking too.
About a week later I was with my Mum and sister at a theme park (ironically in line for a ghost train) and mentioned this event and the recurring dream to her. My mum looked creeped out yet kind of amused at the same time. She said that it was really weird because one of the reasons we moved out of my old house was because when she used to feed me in my high chair as a toddler, she would always see a figure out the corner of her eye just standing there, staring at us both. I have no idea what the connection is, if any, between these strange lurking figures. But to this day, I continue to have the dream.

THE DEVIL WITH IN.....!

The Devil Within

When I was a little girl, around 6 or 7, I used to have an imaginary friend. But then again, who didn't? After a few months, my mom started asking me if I was able to see something, or someone, so I told her the truth. No. Well, a couple of weeks later, I really did start talking to an actual person, who seemed alright at first....but whatever it was, tortured me and my mom for years.
It started one day after I came home from school. I went upstairs to my room to do my reading homework and I noticed that my bed looked as if someone had been in it recently. I made my bed that morning, so I figured my mom must have come in and taken a nap or sat on my bed or something. So I thought nothing of it, and got out my book and started to read. Well, about 15-20 minutes later, my mom came racing into my room, and started asking me all sorts of questions like, "what happened?!" and, "are you all right?!" At first I had absolutely NO idea what she was talking about, so I said I was fine, and she left.
The second she walked out of my room, I heard a low growl rising from the hallway, and slowly moving ever so slightly, was a tall shadow, that for some odd reason, absolutely terrified me. I raced across my room, slamming my door in the process (I got yelled at later for it) and hopped into my bed, staring at the door with my pillow across my chest, as if throwing something at the shadow figure would scare it off. After a few minutes that seemed like forever, I slowly opened my door to see a large non-human footprint in the carpet... right outside my door. I freaked, and slammed the door shut again, this time, locking it.
I never thought anything else about it until the next day, when something was missing from my room, my favorite teddy bear. I had just come in from the backyard, when I saw something tall and very dark slide from my doorway. Me being a kid, I thought that maybe my mom was in my room again, so I ran into my room thinking I'd see her there putting away my clothes.... but the only thing I saw was an entirely dark room.... even though it was sunny and warm outside. But the moment I stepped through my door, chills went down my spine, and I slowly backed towards the door. Out of nowhere, the door slammed shut in an unnaturally fast way. I screamed.
A month after that incident, my mom moved us to a new house. To this day, I won't go into a room alone without a light on first.

MY DEVIL FRIEND

The Forever Friend

Personal Experience

This story starts around the time I was in Kindergarten. I still remember him, quite vividly. His name was Joey, and he was my first friend. He never left my side, he was always there to play with me, and we laughed our way through the first year we were together. I no longer played with him by the time I entered first grade. The reason for that was because I moved schools. And also because, I was too old for imaginary friends. As I remember him, he was just a shadow on the wall. I don't recall when I first started talking to him, or why I called him Joey. I've always hated plain names like that.
By the time I was 13 my two youngest siblings, the twins Gavyn and Olivia, were Kindergarten age. I remember the first time it happened quite clearly. My step-mother, Liz, and I were making dinner (she was cooking, I was taste testing) my brother was outside with a friend, my father was watching television after having just come home from work, and my sister was upstairs playing. The walls in that house were very thin, as it was a decently aged place. From my bedroom upstairs I could hear most people's conversations and if I listened closely I could sometimes hear Liz washing dishes.
So it wasn't completely implausible that we could hear my sister upstairs. She was talking to herself, as she sometimes did while she played with her dolls. This time though, the context felt different. Like she wasn't just talking to herself, but having a conversation with another person. And then the unthinkable happened - we heard somebody reply. Liz gave me a look that said 'go make sure she's okay.' I didn't need to be told twice. I have a deep connection with all of my siblings, especially Olivia (at the moment she's in that stage where she worships me because I'm a teenager and therefore everything I do is cool). If there was somebody there who shouldn't be there, they could count on a fight from me. Nobody messes with my siblings.
So I walked into the living room, passing my oblivious father on the way, and peered up the staircase. She was in the hallway, clearly visible. As usual, she had a doll in each hand, making them converse with each other. I asked her who she had been talking to. She told me, "My friend Joey."
I went back into the kitchen, glad that I had been the first to witness a memorable part in my sister's life - her first imaginary friend. Liz and I laughed it off as our imaginations, and for the next few weeks thought nothing of it. Later though, when we visited my grandmother, both the children were playing upstairs and I heard her say his name once again, "Joey!" My brother asked her who that was and she explained it to him. He got mad, I think because he couldn't see Joey as well.
After my dad yelled up the stairs for them to stop arguing, my grandmother recalled my first imaginary friend, who's name was also Joey. I'm not sure how to explain the feeling I got next. It was just like a sinking feeling, like I wanted to vomit, but couldn't. I walked silently away when the adults changed subjects, and climbed upstairs. The twins were thrilled of course. They loved it when I played with them. I sat down and played dolls with Olivia, and read to Gavyn, just to humor them both, because hey, what are big sisters for?
Then I slyly started asking Olivia about Joey. Gavyn was immediately put off by this topic and went to play by himself. I asked her when she started seeing him, she told me she met him at school. I asked her why she called him Joey. She gave me a look that said "are you stupid?" and told me it was because that was his name. Then I asked her what he looked like. She pondered over it a minute and then shrugged. I asked her how she didn't know what he looked like, and she told me it was because he didn't really look like anything. He was just a shadow.
There's no way my sister could have known about my Joey. I'm not exactly sure if the Joey she saw was my Joey or not, but it seems likely to me. Olivia looked almost exactly like me at that age. I suppose it's possible Joey could have confused her for me? Or maybe it's because she's my little sister, I'm not sure. If it is my Joey, I'm sure he never meant to harm her, but I asked her not to talk to him anymore. She's seven now, and I haven't heard about Joey in a long time.