My grandfather once had a very strange experience. This happened in the 1980s in rural India.
My grandparents lived in a small town, named Domohani near Jalpaiguri, India in a house made of tin and bricks. Across their front door was another house which remained closed all the time. A reclusive widow lived in this house who seldom interacted with anyone else in the village. This woman had a problem, a serious one. She was susceptible to possession. In India, there's this belief that a person born under a certain astrological sign is more prone to supernatural interactions. This poor woman was one of them.
Every night, this woman would get possessed and unearthly screams could be heard from behind her closed doors. Nobody knew what happened inside.
One night, the screams became too horrifying. Dual voices could be heard, along with gurgling sounds and high pitched shrieks. The villagers mustered their courage and decided to check. They lit up their fire torches as there was no electricity back then, and they all gathered at her door. The screams grew more and more tormented at this stage. The strongest of the lot kicked down the door with a few tries, but as soon as the door opened, the screams stopped.
Needless to say, everyone was super creeped at this point. Since my grandfather was an elder, everyone looked to him for leadership. He slowly inched his way inside, holding his torch up high. The flames of the torch illuminated only enough space for my grandfather to take one small step at a time. As he inched forward, he heard a sickening sound. A crunching, slurping, gurgling sound. They all froze.
My grandfather slowly moved the torch in the direction of the sound and there she was, sitting in a corner, wearing bloodied clothes, hair dishevelled. An overpowering stench overcame all of them. She was sitting in a pile of filth. She was biting and tearing the flesh off a young hen which had had the misfortune of straying into her house. Blood and guts spilled from her mouth as she gnawed on the raw carcass of the poor bird.
She then suddenly stopped and slowly made eye contact with my grandfather. The whites of her eyes were a feverish yellow and her lens were ash grey in colour. My grandfather remembers those eyes to this day. Then, before he could react, she lunged at him with unnatural speed, and bit him straight on his thigh.
My grandfather woke up with a scream, sweating and panting. Yes, this was a nightmare, but it wasn't just any nightmare. As my grandfather reached for the jug of water he always kept by his bedside, he felt a sting in his thigh. He grabbed an oil lamp and held it over his thigh, and lo and behold, the bite mark was there, distinct and green.
Needless to say, this freaked out everyone in the village. The villagers performed holy rituals to keep the negative energy at bay and they just sort of learnt to live with the haunted house amidst them. The villagers never ventured out after sunset, or anywhere close to the house, even during the day.
Eventually, with time the screams died and so did the woman. The authorities removed the widow's self mutilated body from the house. The house was demolished and burnt. Traditional rituals were performed to calm the spirits.
Today, my grandfather is no more here, but needless to say, I still shudder when I get to think of that woman, especially her eyes.