I was eight years old when I had my first paranormal experience. Funny that I can remember it happening as if it were yesterday – when I have so few memories of my childhood.
We lived in a large, three-bedroom green stucco house that stood at the back of a deep lot. I can still see the orange Spanish tile roof on the house. Mom was way ahead of her time with the xeriscaping and had a large garden out front, mostly made up of succulents, cacti, and rocks.
At the time, my brothers hadn’t come along yet, so it was just my folks, my two younger sisters, and me. Life was pretty ordinary. Mom was a housewife, yes, that’s what they called stay-at-home moms at the time. Dad was the breadwinner, working as an auto mechanic.
School was out for summer vacation, and Daylight Savings Time wasn’t even a thing yet. That made no difference; Mom’s always been a structured soul, and though it wasn’t dark out, we kids still had to go to bed at the usual time. It seemed wrong somehow that we had to be in bed, and it wasn’t even night time – but at eight years old, you don’t get a vote. I remember faint sunlight glowing through the curtains as I fell asleep.
It was the middle of the night. The house was quiet, but something must have wakened me. I thought I’d gone blind because I couldn’t see anything but dark. It was unnerving, and I was afraid. The hairs on my neck stood up, while my eyes probed the darkness for the source of my fear.
Across the room near the door were two red eyes staring at me. Set at an adult’s height, they blazed in the dark. My breath hitched in my throat, and I was momentarily speechless. When I found enough courage to call out, my voice shook, “Da-dad, Daddy?” There was no response.
I pulled up the covers and hid my eyes; maybe it was just my imagination. Lifting my gaze, I saw the glowing eyes still looking directly at me. My heart pounded in my chest – I tried calling for my dad, mom, anyone to come to help me. Nobody came. Pulling the covers over my head, sobbing and trembling with fear – I heard a voice telling me to pray. I did, never looking outside the blankets again, but crying myself to sleep.
The next morning, I told Mom what happened. She’s a very rational person and assured me that no one could have gotten into my bedroom – the house was locked up at night. It was only a bad dream – that neither she nor dad would let anything happen to me. Mom hugged and patted me, trying to make me feel better. I didn’t feel any better.
From that time on, I was afraid to be alone in my room at night. I often sneaked the light on if I woke up in the night. Dad must have had radar or something because he’d come in and turn the light off. I never felt safe in that house again and developed a deep fear of the dark. Fortunately, we moved out of the house a couple of years later.
PostScript – At eight, I had a child’s faith, and when I heard a voice telling me to pray, I knew God would protect me. I believe HE did. Over the years, I’ve learned that many have reported seeing glowing red eyes in the darkness. The most common answer to What – is Shadow People. The Why – No one knows for sure.