When I was almost 13, my grandfather from my father’s side passed away. He was 75 and had no serious medical history, so you can say his death was… a typical death of an elderly person. But it sure was a blow in the household for many reasons. During the night of the day he died, I had a nightmare. Lightning bolts were striking the main entrance of our housing complex, until one hit directly into my home. I actually heard the bang… jolted out of my sleep, and realized a shelf full of books in my room had collapsed. I did not think about it more, I just slept again and woke for school in the morning. When I returned home, I learned the news. He had passed, and a very dark era of my family just begun.


After my grandpa died, I must have been affected much more than I realized, or it was the turbulent time of my pre-teen years, or something more. For many nights in succession, one after the other, I would have intense and vivid nightmares. It was oppressive. And I am not kidding when I say “every night”, it happened every damn night. At one point I recall, I was genuinely afraid of falling asleep. I tried some things: I prayed, Ι slept at different positions, I held certain items beside me, I ended up with a ritual that made things a little better.  I was 14, come on. And then the footsteps started. Some nights, I could hear faint, but heavy footsteps, walking slowly in the house. At first I did not bother, because the steps were almost identical to my father’s heavy walking. So I just ignored. But one night it was different. I had a nightmare again, and I jolted awake. Just as I came into consciousness, I heard the steps leaving my room. I quickly turned to the door to get my dad on the act, and saw a shadow leaving the room. OK dad, gotcha this time. I leapt out of my bed and got to the door… There was no one there. My dad was fast asleep in his room, and he had absolutely no time to return there since I got up. I got SCARED SHITLESS. I returned to my bed, pulled the sheets over me and turned my back to the door. I struggled to fall asleep that night but the steps would not return again.


Some days later, a worried mom asked me something. “Son, do not think I am mad, please, but I got to ask you something”. I nodded her to proceed. “Did you happen to hear… footsteps, during the night?» A rush came over me when I realized it was not my imagination. “GOD YES mom, it has gone for days! Why?” And she told me some last night’s events. “I suddenly woke up with a heavy feeling. I could hear heavy footsteps approach my side of the bed, and then a presence leaned over me. I reached for your father’s hand and he was awake also. He told me “Be quiet, I can hear it too”. This thing checked on me, walked to your father’s side, leaned over him and then, slowly, it walked out of the room”. That was the last time anyone heard these steps in the house again. And I hope it remains this way.

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