Two Tales of Midnight Horrors

At the time of my tale, I was maybe seven or eight. We lived on base because my father was in the military, so we had a small house. My two brothers had their room while I shared a room with my older sister, and one night I had never been more thankful she was there.

I slept with a teddy bear, and my sister said I would often toss and turn, sometimes elbowing her in the middle of the night. Some mornings I would wake up with my teddy bear across the room. I didn’t think much of it; I probably tossed him in my sleep.

I awoke one night, bear missing, my sister sound asleep next to me. I felt so awake, and so scared for no discernible reason. My first instinct was I wanted my bear. I glanced up to look for him. It was dark, but the moonlight lit up the room enough to make out figures of various things, like the dresser to the right of our shared bed. I began to look around the room for my bear and froze when I saw a figure at the end of the bed.

It was a dark figure, looming and shapeless, with small red eyes that seemed like small menacing flickers. I instantly pulled the covers up over my head, foolishly thinking this would keep me safe. My breath was hot, and I could barely breathe under the covers. My first instinct was to wake my sister. I began to reach for her, but then I thought to myself if this was real, I didn’t want to involve her. I didn’t want her to get scared, or worse, hurt.

I hid under those blankets, hot breath after breath, for what felt like a century. I didn’t dare move a muscle, and I couldn’t shut my eyes. I could still feel it’s presence, whatever it was. I could tell it was still there, it’s gaze searing through the blankets. I couldn’t help but wonder what it wanted or what it was going to do. I was afraid to scream or make any noise, because I wanted none of my family to be involved. I wanted them to be safe.

I dared another peek. I pulled my covers just enough for my eyes to see the end of my bed. My heart dropped. I felt sick to my stomach. It was still there. It was still staring with those red flickers. It was tall, inhumanly tall. It’s shapeless form looked almost as if it was smoking, spreading further the longer I looked at it. I felt like it could see right through me.

I slammed the covers over my head again and didn’t so much as blink. I think the only thing keeping me from spiraling into complete panic was my sister peacefully sleeping next to me. I watched her chest move steadily up and down. I felt her warmth and calming energy, but I still refused to move. I was so uncomfortable, but I didn’t dare. I stayed that way until I saw the sun creeping up, the light pouring through the blinds. I felt relieved; the sun was up so I was safe. With that I drifted off to sleep.

To this day if I wake up in the middle of the night, I can’t help but have the sickening feeling that if I woke up, something malicious must have woken me up.

...

After reading the draft of the above story, I called my sister to tell her a tale of my own. This is that story:

I awoke in the dead of night with my sister sleeping peacefully beside me. I glanced around my bedroom and listened to the typical stillness of an Ohio night, permeated with the chirping of insects. Unsure of what woke me, I rolled over to go back to sleep.

I heard the sound of footsteps, and my eyes shot open again. Besides my little sister in the bed next to me, there wasn’t anyone in the room. It sounded like the footsteps were crossing my bedroom floor, but that must be my imagination. Surely one of my brothers was trodding down the hall to the bathroom.

Then I heard it, a distinct creaking sound coming from my left. I slowly turned my head to see the cradle, where I kept my dolls and stuffed animals, rocking. I tried to call out to my mom without waking my sister, in an odd whisper-yell. Over and over again I called out, hoping that someone would come, but of course they wouldn’t be able to hear me without waking my sister. When I heard some shuffling sounds from the cradle, I made up my mind. I got out of my bed and ran to my parents room.

I woke my mom and explained to her what had happened. She told me that the sounds must be a mouse running across my floor and scurrying in the cradle. She walked me back to my room and tucked me into bed. As I tried to fall back asleep, I ignored the voice telling me that the footsteps I heard were much heavier than those of a mouse.

A few nights later, I woke again in the middle of the night with the distinct feeling that something had woken me. Goosebumps spread up my arms as I heard the slow footsteps plod across the room. I turned my head to follow the sound towards the window, and the cradle. The wood creaked as the cradle first dipped away from the window, like it did when I climbed on it, and then rocked back to level out. I got the sense that someone had walked across my room, climbed in the cradle, and sat staring out the bedroom window.

My stomach lurched and palms began sweating, as I tried to lay still. I kept whispering to myself that it was just a mouse, but I knew that the sounds I heard didn’t fit with those of the tiny creature. I laid in bed staring at the cradle, afraid to look away or make a sound until at some point my eyes became too heavy, and I drifted off to sleep.

The sounds of the footsteps and creaking cradle became a familiar midnight melody to me, as I heard them repeatedly over the next few weeks. Unsatisfied with my mother’s explanation, I confided in my best friend about the noises I heard. She whispered to me almost reverently, “It sounds like you have a ghost.”

She proceeded to tell me that the housing we lived in was old, and more than likely a ghost or two haunted the area. I thought about our conversation many times over the next few days. At times when I was playing outside, I would look up to my bedroom window with the unnerving feeling that someone was watching me.

...

This second story happened in the same bedroom that the first one took place in, while we were children. Neither of us shared our stories with each other until writing them as adults. What do you think? Do you believe in ghosts or monsters? Have you ever experienced something you can’t explain? Let us know!

Thanks so much for reading!

-Clever & WTF