The summer before my last year of college, I lived in a treehouse on a friend's property on a large island. Set back in the woods a bit, it was pretty secluded. I loved it. It was quiet and I could do pretty much whatever I wanted which usually involved an entire six pack of PBR, nudity, a pellet gun and Grace Slick on vinyl (there was an extension cord running from the workshop up to my tree dwelling, allowing for a few lights, a record player and a cell phone charger). One night after a long day of working a fun but tiring tourist-town retail job, I came home, grabbed a beer, ditched my pants and got to work. I stayed up pretty late, maybe 2am, then tucked myself into bed.
To preface, I experience sleep paralysis a few times per year, usually when I'm stressed out. This was something entirely different.
I woke up sometime later, maybe a few hours -it was still dark. There was a shrill noise ringing through my head, almost like high-pitch static. My eyes popped open, and the entire treehouse was glowing red. My entire body felt like it was buzzing. I could look around, but I couldn't move. Slowly, the red light, the vibration in my core and the noise faded out, pretty much in sync. Once they had all disappeared completely, I could move again. Breathing heavily, I sat up and turned on my lamp. The horses in the barn next door were losing their shit.
I was so freaked out I couldn't get back to sleep for hours. I tried to read a book, but I couldn't concentrate. Finally, as the sun started to rise, I dozed off again. When I woke up, I went into the property owner's house (part of the rental deal included bathroom/kitchen/laundry access) and made some oatmeal. I was still freaked out, but happy to have slept. A few hours later, I headed into work.
Here's where it gets creepier.
I worked with this awesome woman who is now one of my closest friends. We'll call her Kelly for privacy's sake. As soon as I walked in, she noticed how tired I was. Throughout the evening, I was just kind of floating, with my mind elsewhere.
"Come here," she beckoned, when the shop had cleared out around dinner time. "What's going on with you?"
I told her about the red light and the paralysis and the noise and the horses. She nodded.
"Let me tell you something," she started. "There is some really fucked up juju on this island." She went on to tell me this story:
When she was a kid, growing up on the other side of the island, her grandparents owned a big piece of property with a small farm. One evening, she was there with her family, including parents, siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles. When her grandmother called everyone in for dinner, the kids came running and left toys all over the yard. After the meal, her grandfather offered to pick up after the kids.
When he came back in about 10 minutes later, he didn't have any of the toys with him. He looked like he had seen a ghost and his face was white as a sheet. "What's wrong with you?" her grandmother asked him. He shook his head and went straight to bed. Some of the adults went out into the yard to check out the situation. The toys were right where all of the kids had left them. The field up beyond the yard was smoldering. Worried there had been a brush fire, everyone walked up to check it out. When they got there, there was a perfect circular ring, about six feet across, burned into the tall grass.
The grass never grew back and Kelly said she always got a weird feeling whenever she got near the circle. Her grandfather wouldn't mow near it and everyone who saw it just picked up bad vibes. "This isn't the first time they've been here," she added. "They come all the time. My son used to see them when he was little and he would try to talk to them."
"Who?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"He just called them the green men."
