I was about ten, and I used to live in a small town called Uvalde. It's a good place to rise kids I guess, nothing real major really happens there. I was with my friend Rigo on my front porch shooting water guns at the dark. We were playing the army stuff "die you evil monster" kind of thing. Well we must have struck a nerve. I went inside to refill my water gun and Rigo came about ten seconds after, so I ran outside as fast as I could so I could hide and wet him. I hid behind the fence that divided our houses with a huge pecan tree hiding the moonlight. As I saw him come outside, he turned away real fast as if someone called him and ran inside.
I looked at him through the glass door that we had, as I was walking up the sidewalk, and he started to come back outside so I took off to hide. As he was standing there I began to laugh because I knew that if he didn't find me he would go home and have to walk right passed me and I would wet him. Just then I heard my name in the most awful way that you could hear. It sounded like some kind of demon talking to me. I took off to the porch where Rigo was standing and he asked me if I had heard something? I said my name.
Just like two chickens we ran inside and told my sister and she looked outside as if there were someone there, so she could believe us. I closed the door and we talked about what happened, wondering if it was the BIG D calling us. As I was growing up we were always told if you weren't inside by a certain time, that he would come get you. And I tell you what, being a hispanic and having your grandmothers and aunts and uncles tell you stories about what happened to them, we have no choice to believe.
In the end we never spoke about it for fear that it might happen again. Could it have been IT? You tell me. I hope you enjoy