"Michael, Is That You?"

The following is an account from my father, whom after many years after the event took place has never been able to make sense of what he experienced. And from talking to him about it, he'd rather NOT try and figure it out.

I was 10 or 11ish? And I'd been going to the same church for all my life by that time. My dad was a deacon and my mom the church secretary. So any time my older brother and I wanted to play pranks, shoot videos, or have airsoft wars, we had the perfect place. There's not an inch of that building we hadn't memorized, vandalized, or tampered with just enough to stress out the staff and frazzle our mom.

Anyways, all the deacons of the church were on rotating shifts for locking up the building after Sunday morning and evening, and Wednesday nights. My dad's month was August, and my brother and I would usually stay to help. This duty is mainly just waiting for people's conversations to end, or at least be taken outside, and canvassing the building for any stragglers, kids, or chatty-cathies, closing doors and windows, and setting the alarm before you left. Really not that difficult at all, save for the fact that once the building was totally empty, well, you didn't wanna be there by yourself. Especially at night, don't ask me why, the building sometimes took on a malignant vibe that was palpable.

It was a Wednesday night when the incident occurred. I had chosen to go home with my mom, so it was just my brother and my dad there this time. Pay attention to this next detail; my dad had told my brother to go outside and wait for him in the van while he finished inside. And as my brother went outside, my dad locked the front door behind him. However, my dad, like every male, makes his tasks a lot more difficult than they have to be sometimes.

On this night, for example, he'd already locked the room with the light switch for the auditorium, right as he realized he hadn't checked the emergency exits in there yet. So instead of opening up the door again to turn on the lights, my dad walks into an almost pitch black auditorium lined with rows of pews. And trust me, as much as the green EXIT lights glow and the light from street lamps, you're lucky to see anything in there at night. My dad checked the right door and crossed over to the left, opening and shutting the door to make sure it was closed all the way. There are three double doors leading into the auditorium, and as my dad turned to leave, a dark silhouette-like figure stood in the center of the middle door.

It appeared to my dad my brother had found another way inside. "Something you need, Michael?"

No answer, the figure moved closer.

"Michael?"

Now it seemed to start running, straight for my dad. "MICHAEL, QUIT PLAYING AROUND, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" my dad shouted.

The figure stopped and took a nose dive straight under a pew. My dad squatted down, seeing nothing. A few seconds more of waiting, trying to process what he'd just witnessed, and then my dad became very frightened, feeling the hair on his neck stand. As he bolted out of there, my dad ran into a pew, a blue and purple welt was left on his torso. Frantically he set the alarm and bolted outside, locking the front door behind him.

He looked toward the van, and inside it sat my brother. "Did you see anybody come inside while I was in?"

"No."