Things That Go Bump in the Night

This is the story of the time I experience sleep paralysis.

I can remember when I truly became terrified of the night. To clarify, I don’t mind the dark, I prefer things in a dim light. What terrifies me is what I can’t see. I’ve always believed in spirits, in ghost, those don’t bother me. I heard stories growing up, though, of the other things that go bump in the night. I didn’t believe those tales. Then again, I tend to need proof of things of that nature before I believe they exist. I got my proof.

I remember hating the nightmares I used to have. Always recurring and lasting a week before leaving me alone for a while. They always had a theme, something I needed to learn or something that was relatable at those moments. I hated them, but they were bearable. I became adjusted to them. I started expecting them. They were like clockwork. They wore me out but I knew I’d get through them. This night was different. It wasn’t just a nightmare.

I always keep the scenes of the nightmares with me after I awake. They don’t fade away. This time though, I couldn’t remember what on my mind before I woke up. I just know I was absolutely paralyzed when I woke. I wish I meant that just metaphorically. I couldn’t move. I don’t recall a time before when I was more fearful for my life. I didn’t even know why I was so panicked at first. I instantly knew I  couldn’t move, which is a good enough reason. Then I looked in the right corner of my room.

I don’t know who he was, or what he was. He wasn’t a figure. Not like the others I’ve seen. He was staticy, almost like he was having difficulty being there in the first place. Almost like he was fighting to be there. Then he kept flashing, zapping around the room. It was around my bed. It was like he was trying to reach for me but he couldn’t quite do so. Then he stopped. Now he was in the left corner. His demeanor had changed. I could feel a wave a violence coming off of him. I knew, I knew, he was going to get me. I don’t know what he was planning on doing once he did, but I didn’t want to find out.

I can’t explain the feeling of me trying to call out for help. It was a struggle to get my vocal cords working. I wanted to scream and cry out for help. I could feel the scream in my throat. The words were on the tip my tongue. It was almost as if the words were too heavy for me to lift from my mouth. I managed to scream, a pathetic one, but at least I tried. I didn’t think anyone had heard. I had this god awful sense of dread wash all over me. This was it. I didn’t know what was about to happen, but I was pretty certain it was about to be the end of me.

I could feel him about to lunge. It was at that time that I was snapped out of whatever trance I had been in. My mother had heard my pleas. She was trying to ask if I was okay. It took me a moment to process. I rushed out of bed and out of the room. I immediately turned on the light. I’m sure I looked just as frantic as I felt. I explained to my mom what occurred and I was scared to even step foot back in the same room. I didn’t go back to sleep. How could I? I’ve never been as afraid to sleep as I was then. Even now I check the corners of my room at night, waiting to for him to try again.

Author's Note

I'm not sure I described the figure well enough for the audience to imagine so any feedback on that would be appreciated.