It seems I'm going in order of my ghost experiences. The last story I submitted was my first sighting and this is my next experience.
Again, I was around 8 years old. My brother and I shared one bedroom with a bunkbed. It was a nice little setup, since my brother didn't like to sleep alone. At first, I could sleep peacefully, and I rarely thought about my window kid or any other bumps in the night or things falling. That ended when I started actually researching the paranormal. I had a sudden interest in all things ghost. I checked out informational books about them at my school library, along with people's 'true' experiences.
I still felt no fear in any rooms of my house. No presences. Most kids would have had nightmares after reading those books, but I was fine. I wasn't scared to sleep with my covers off (it's pretty darn hot here in Utah during the summer) or to walk around my house at night.
Then, it started. I was suddenly terrified to set foot in the bunkbed room, and I didn't know why!
I dreaded going to sleep every night, and my parents assumed it was insomnia. It wasn't. You see, I could have fallen alseep if I wanted to, but instead, I forced myself to stay awake. It was that terror. That fear that I was going to die if I slept.
Every night, it took me hours to work up the courage to stand and dash across the hall to my parents' room. And sometimes I was just too scared to move. I'd spend those nights huddled under the covers, crying and sweating.
My mom and dad let me in the first couple of months and let me sleep in between them. Strangely, I felt safe in their room. I had no problem falling asleep. So, then, it was the bunkbed room, right?
I guessed so. By then, I was feeling like I wasn't alone. I wasn't, of course, my brother was there, but you know what I mean. Like there was someone next to me. Watching me. Waiting to kill me.
It escalated further when my parents started locking their room. It was horrible! I'd pound on their door and cry for them to open up. Luckily, my dad's a bit of a softie, and he'd always let me in.
This whole thing lasted nearly two years. My Abu (grandpa) died while it was still going on. Of course, he would never make me feel so scared.
Then, as suddenly as it came, it stopped.
I was suddenly able to sleep in the room at night. I could get up and walk down the stairs to get water without fear. I could use the restroom in peace. What a relief this was for me! By that time, I knew ghosts and demons were real. I knew my Mr. Bad was real (even if I don't know exactly what he is). I also knew he was gone. Sadly, not for long, as he made a grand re-enterance recently. That's a seperate story, though.
I talked to my brother about my experience recently, and he said he felt nothing. That was strange to me. It was such a powerful terror that came and left suddenly. Surely it wasn't my imagination, right?
I didn't end up telling my dad about these experiences for nearly four years. He felt bad for locking the door and confided that, he too, sometimes had to endure a night with our Mr. Bad. I never told my mom, and still haven't. She'd think I'm crazy.
Of course, during those night terror years, other small things happened, concerning the window kid and some others, but, again, that's another story.
Thank you for reading. Any advice concerning Mr. Bad is greatly appreciated.