I am the daughter of a pastor and lived in the parsonage right next to the church where all of these events took place for four years, between the ages of 8-12. This story is from when I was either 9 or 10.
I would often go over to the church for various reasons, this story relates the last time I ever went over there alone. The church was a pretty standard country church, the top floor was the sanctuary, and the basement was the classrooms. The front doors where the kind that close behind you unless you prop them open, as was the door leading down the narrow stairway. It was on these stairs that I had one of the creepiest things happen to me by far.
I was headed down the steps; I was on the next to the last step, when it felt like something grabbed my wrist and started to pull me (I could physically see finger marks on it). I was yanked off the steps with such force that I was off the ground, I got this vague felling that it was pulling me towards the storage room that was in the basement (I sometimes get feelings like this when dealing with these things, but I am by no means 'in tone with the spirits') and I screamed out: LET ME GO! When suddenly, something grabbed me from behind and yanked me back up the stairs and outside. When I realized I was standing in front of the door outside. I ran like hell from there.
At the time, I had no idea what was going on, it was not until much later that I started to put it all together, and not until this past year that I really talked about it, so if the story seems flimsy in spots, it's because my memory of somethings has faded. I have many more stories from my time living there, but for now: what do you all think about what happened to me?