My watcher came when I was five or six. I woke up and felt I was being watched. My dad said ask what in the name of god did it want, but I was too scared to breathe. By the time I was in my teens, I'd pretty much forgotten it.
When I was twenty-eight, my three year old son came to me one morning and said he'd wanted to get in my bed, but had seen eyes by my bed watching me, and got scared and hid under his covers. I figured maybe my watcher had never left.
Again I forgot about it. Until one morning just a few years ago, when I'd awakened early, and saw a light, human shape with no features highlighted against my dark closet doors, hurrying along the foot of the bed, going toward the window. I said, "WOW!" and it vanished. At seventy-four, what I'd loved to have said was, "Wait! Don't go."
For some time as I'd be waiting for sleep, I'd hear shuffling and snuffling sounds on the floor at the other side of the bed, and sometimes felt my comforter tugged at. Other times It felt like something was butting against the bed.
One day I went into my bedroom for something, and saw one side of my lace curtains all messed up on top. It made me think of two big birds scuffling there. The curtains were fine when I'd gotten up, and there was not a single thing in the house that could account for what had been done to them.
And since that day I haven't heard a thing on the floor at the other side of the bed. I hope my watcher still watches over me. I've often thought it might be the spirit of the woman I'd dearly loved in my last life, and who'd loved me, waiting for me so we could be together again.
When I was twenty-eight, my three year old son came to me one morning and said he'd wanted to get in my bed, but had seen eyes by my bed watching me, and got scared and hid under his covers. I figured maybe my watcher had never left.
Again I forgot about it. Until one morning just a few years ago, when I'd awakened early, and saw a light, human shape with no features highlighted against my dark closet doors, hurrying along the foot of the bed, going toward the window. I said, "WOW!" and it vanished. At seventy-four, what I'd loved to have said was, "Wait! Don't go."
For some time as I'd be waiting for sleep, I'd hear shuffling and snuffling sounds on the floor at the other side of the bed, and sometimes felt my comforter tugged at. Other times It felt like something was butting against the bed.
One day I went into my bedroom for something, and saw one side of my lace curtains all messed up on top. It made me think of two big birds scuffling there. The curtains were fine when I'd gotten up, and there was not a single thing in the house that could account for what had been done to them.
And since that day I haven't heard a thing on the floor at the other side of the bed. I hope my watcher still watches over me. I've often thought it might be the spirit of the woman I'd dearly loved in my last life, and who'd loved me, waiting for me so we could be together again.