I was awoken in the middle of the night by a strong, warm breeze.
I couldn't move my body. Despite my attempts, I couldn't scream. Panicking, I tried to calm myself down and practiced my breathing; something I'm used to doing.
I didn't grow up in a warm and comforting home. To me, home was the cries of my mother. Home was the rage of my father. Home was the closet I'd cry and hide in until things calm down. It did get better as I grew older; my parents rarely talked to each other, let alone fight. I rarely see my father at home and rarely hear my mother talk. There's also this doctor of some sorts, he gave me medicine and techniques to use when I start feeling lost. The more I met with the doctor, the less I felt troubled. I'd feel like I was floating on cloud nine — no screams and such, just me in my own little world. It was nice. It was better but it didn't change the emptiness I'd sometimes feel, although I had the prescriptions to help, I never understood what it was. My friends say it's warmth. I never had that. Still, I was happier—at least, I believed I was.
As I attempted to steady my breathing, I saw a dark figure creep its way just outside my door — I forgot to close it before I went to bed. It was like a shadow, probably someone in my family walking around or heading back to their room. But something about it didn't feel or seem right.
The opening of the door was but an inch wide. But there I felt the figure staring at me and observing my every minute movement. It lasted for a few seconds and disappeared in a blink. I saw nothing.
A week later, it happened again.
I got home feeling mentally exhausted after staying up all night beforehand and immediately fell asleep as soon as I enveloped myself with my covers. Lying in bed, I was awoken once again but this time I had control of my body. My clock read 1:12. I stood up and walked towards the mirror; as I took a look at myself, I saw reflected in it, my bedsheets forming a hump like someone was in it. Slowly, I ambled towards it.
And on my first glance, it was me. I saw myself sleeping on my bed when I was in fact standing right beside it.
I was convinced that it was all just a dream and nothing more. But that was when I felt something creep behind me — something large, dark, and forceful. My body froze as its large hand and long slinky fingers took hold of my arm; goosebumps started forming on my body and chills went down my spine. I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I was lying on my bed. Letting out a sigh, I thought it was all over but I was wrong.
I sensed a shadow slowly edge out from under my bed to over my side and behind me. My muscles wouldn't cooperate with me as I tried to move. The shadow slowly grew bigger and bigger shrouding me in darkness. The air smelled like the forest after a rain surrounded by fog — it smelled like death. I was panicking. My heart started beating fast. Screaming again and again with the hope that my sleeping parents and family members could hear.
The figure I've been seeing was of an old hag. She had long craggy and haylike gray hair, a pale green face, and a petrifying, delusive smile. Peering from the side of my bed her black and bloodshot eyes stared straight into mine like she can see through my soul and was searching for something. Even though I tried my best to move my body and just run, I couldn't move my head, my arms, my fingers—everything. I was there lying down next to a creature who could very well be the cause of my imminent death.
I screamed as hard as I could and the creature just snickered at the sight of me panicking. It jumped right on my chest and pushed me down on my bed. Neither could I breathe nor could I scream, but I still tried to do so in vain. My heart was racing— it was beating so fast that I couldn't even tell if it was still beating. The hag was screeching and its disfigured smile grew bigger and wider, showing her pointy and sharp teeth. The pressure she put on me grew, like she got stronger —like she was feeding on my fear.
Screaming, I tried to force her off of me but can't. My breathing started to stagger and I considered giving in to the fear. I lost the urge to fight back and closed my eyes. When I once again opened them, the hag was gone. She disappeared without a trace. Even the stale stench was gone. I looked at my clock and it read 1:12.
YOU ARE READING
The Phantom Beneath My Bed
ParanormalA sleep paralysis story that may or may not have happened.