VixelZone
Let me begin with this, I am not religious, but I do believe in some things existing. 

For as long as I can remember, I've been blessed with the ability to see the dearly departed. One clear memory I have is seeing my roommate's deceased wife as she sat beside me on the couch one early school morning. A kind but playful woman, who constantly moved my mother's keys about the house. 

My family is all Christian, so I grew up in homes with crosses on the walls and bibles in the bedrooms. We went to church and all behaved like decent people, most of us anyway. My father was the kind of man who got bored of women after a few years and moved onto the next, so my parents seperated when I was young. I didn't have a pleasant childhood, so I did what any broken child did, and i prayed that everything would work out for the better. 

Now I've heard many people claim they've heard the voice of God or Jesus, and they swear it moves them to the right path, or motivates them to keep going. I never heard a thing, and when things just got worse and worse, I decided to step over the line. I told God that if he really was real, he would help us, get us out of this hard life, make the bullies leave me alone, and to my then 8 year old self, this sounded good at the time. 

Of course everything just got worse and worse, and I renounced God and Christianity, saying it was just a ruse to get people to stay in line. Sometimes I regret that decision. Not long after renouncing everything I was raised to believe, I noticed things were a lot darker, a lot heavier. Maybe I just grew up, maybe I made a mistake. 

My brother and I were like best friends, keeping each other company when no one else was around, getting into trouble together, and exploring places kids weren't suppose to be. One night, well after midnight, we were playing a game of hide-and-seek in the dark, which wasn't much of a game when we had a 30×30 foot area that consisted of a small kitchen and small living room. We lived in a one bedroom apartment and he slept in the Living room. 

It was his turn to count, standing at the fridge and going to 10, before walking to the threshold between the kitchen and living room. I was ahead of him, against the wall and his dresser by the front door, huddled there and watching for him, when I noticed two red dots above the foot of his bed. I knew he saw it too, as he told me to turn on the light that was above my head. I was paralyzed with fear when I saw there was more of a body shape to the darkness than before, connected to those dots. My brother turned on the kitchen light, the switch right beside him. The dark was gone and so were the dots. We both decided to stay up the rest of that night with the lights all on and the tv playing a cartoon. We never spoke about it, but had a mutual understanding that it was not a good thing to have seen. 

A few years later, when I was living with my father, in 5th grade, I had my own room, beside my step sister's room and across from my father and step mother's. The house had hard wood floors, which is important to know. It was late at night, a date night for the two adults in the house who were out in the town probably having drinks at a bar. My step sister and I had been talking out our open doors, the hall light on as we spoke about childish things. Being a school night, we knew if we were caught awake, we would get in trouble and decided that if we heard the garage door opening, we would pretend to have been sleep and call it a night. So when we heard foot steps through the living room, we immediantly quieted down, listening to them approach. The steps stopped right outside our rooms, and I peeked a look. My heart jumped. Nothing was there. "Lilly?" I called out, sitting up in bed. "Yeah?" She answered. "No one's home." I said, getting out of bed. "I'm going to go check to see if they're back yet, stay in bed. If they are home, it's better if only one of us gets grounded." I stepped into the hall and glanced in her room, she was sitting up in bed but stayed quiet as I walked down the hall and to the laundry room, which was connected to the garage. 

I slowly opened the door. Empty. No car in sight. I shut it, and with my fear of something behind me, something everyone gets when walking away from a dark area, I rushed back to my room. "Are they home?" I heard my step sister ask as I hopped into bed. "No." I knew she was wondering it too. What had made those footsteps? There was obviously no who to it, so what was it? It was now that I recalled to her my previous encounter with the unknown, not realizing how scared it made me to talk about it until I was shaking by the end of my story. We didn't live in that house long, too expensive and riddled with scorpions and wolf spiders. You don't know true fear until a large spider walks across your living room floor by your feet like it's lived there with you for decades. 

The next time I saw the being, I understood to be a demon, was when I was in a trailer with my father and step family, my room at one end and my step sister's right by it, a small bathroom before my room and after her's. It was late at night once again, when I had to go to the bathroom, so I got up and opened my door. From my room, I could see down the hall, through the living room, kitchen, parents bedroom and into their bathroom, but of course their door was shut, so the kitchen was the furthest. 

In the kitchen, in the dark, stood an even darker mass, roughly 8 feet tall. My brother's 6'7, and this thing would have towered over him, so it wasn't him. Wasn't my father who wasn't nearly that tall, and definitely wasn't my step mother or sister, who were around my height of 5'6. It seemed to be going through our cabinets, which wouk d squeak when opened and I hadn't heard them open, nor had I heard anything walk on our floor which would creek, unless you stepped in the right places which only my step sister and I knew about. 

The thing turned its head to look at me, those same red eyes piercing me. I moved, darting into the bathroom to hide. I was terrified, and it took me 5 minutes to decide to be brave and face my demon, literally. I opened the door and instead stood a different demon, my step mother making coffee in the kitchen. I had later told my father, who's religious, but doesn't believe in ghosts, demons or the sort. 

My step sister and I had decided to keep our bedroom doors shut when the footsteps started back up, walking up and down our hallway and sounding like a man wearing steel toed boots, you know, the kind that working father's wear and you can't take off with because they're too heavy. It happened every night, no matter the weather. My father, when told, claimed it to be the armadillo who lived under the trailer. Last I checked they couldn't wear boots and walk up and down my hallway. I heard the little guy crawling under our trailer, which sounds metallic as the metal scraps his hard back. Definitely not boots on wood. It seems no matter my location, it follows me.

Even now, living with my mother In a different trailer, the demon has followed me. My anxiety has gotten to the point where every window is covered, every doorway lit, and there are no reflective surfaces left dark. Tv's and mirrors are covered, or the tv is on. I do my best to avoid the dark so I don't come across my demon again. 

So I warn you. Don't test higher beings, they may just renounce they're protection over you and leave you to deal with the evil they kept at bay. I don't claim to be religious, but I find myself closer to believing now, than before the demon showed up.
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AmmeJeanRomeo
@VixelZone - Love this story. Very creepy. 
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anonymous3
talk to a spiritualist and don't be afraid this thing can't hurt you if you are stronger than it
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Artemis Gasai ArtemisGasai12345
anonymous3: correction, it actually can hurt you no matter what if it's a non gaelic demon, theres a website that tells how to get rid of them called JoyOfSatan.org, don't hate the name or the people in it.
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