In 1987, my family and I moved to Las Cruces, New Mexico, a nice place - smaller than most cities, but interesting nonetheless. The people there were kind, at least in the inner city. In the neighborhood where my family had moved, everyone was quiet and kept to themselves - real quaint if you were the type of person who liked those kind of things.
For me, I found it odd. No one talked to my family, or bothered to communicate during our stay there. It was like they were hiding some kind of secret, but I did notice one thing. No one came near the house. At first I thought I understood why; the house wasn't exactly a looker, if you know what I mean. The walls outside were rusted, the grass outside was tall and bushy, and the place looked like a dump; but after a while I started to notice things.
People on the streets wouldn't come near the house at all; they acted as if it was going to devour them or something. Kids on the street would point and stare, and eventually, after I started school, I learned just why the people there were so afraid of our house.
"You know that place is haunted." That's the first thing someone said to me as I stepped into that school. Not even a hello or a "welcome" - no, I got that. At first I was a bit confused.
"What is haunted?" I said to the kid in front of me - the one who decided to make that statement.
He didn't say anything, he just turned around and started walking. I was a bit curious now; I wondered if what that kid said was true, or it was just some kind of elaborate prank - something to pull on the "new kid". I was dearly wrong, I now know.
School went on for a while, and everything seemed fine. My father and mother were happy, my sister was too, but I noticed things starting to happen to me. I'd wake up in the middle of the night with a heavy feeling on my chest. It was as if something was laying on top of me or pressing against my body, but when I opened my eyes, nothing was there.
During those nights I swore I was being watched, as if someone was stalking me. There was this dark corner in my room that would appear every night. It was the only part of my room that wasn't visible during the nighttime (being I didn't sleep with any lights on whatsoever). It was from that corner that I felt something watching me - as if someone was standing there, but I was too afraid to ever go and check, not to mention I was very tired, and I tried to shrug it off and sleep. Until one night that is.
As I laid in bed that night, I was having trouble sleeping as usual. That heavy feeling on my chest had returned, and it was getting hard to breathe. I had this feeling of overwhelming fear, but I didn't know why. It was like I was fearing for my dear life without any reason.
My eyes were open slightly, and as I gazed around the room I swore I saw the shadows moving in the moonlight, zooming past my vision as if they were getting closer, and closer. Eventually, the shadows formed into what appeared to be a man, in a long dark cloak. I then woke up fully, I took a deep breath and I backed up against the wall behind my bed, but after that I couldn't move, it was like I was paralyzed or something. Whatever that thing was, that man I take it as, it came closer, it sat down on my bed and it began to crawl toward me. I saw its dark hands press against my covers, the fingers resembled claws of some sort, but that wasn't its most terrifying feature.
It had no face, no eyes, it was just darkness, a living shadow. I was panicking now, it kept coming closer and closer until it was in my face. You know, my parents always told me to pray when I felt scared. That God would answer my prayers and protect me. Well he must have forgotten about me that night, because no amount of prayer whatsoever seemed to be helping.
This thing was in my face, its hand was reaching forward, and just as it touched my face, it spoke in the deepest, darkest voice I had ever heard. I couldn't make out what it said, it was speaking in some kind of odd language, but even if it spoke clear English, I doubt I would have listened, I was too scared, to shaken up to pay attention. This thing spoke to me for I don't know how long, its dark, shadowy figure looming over me as it trailed its claw-like finger across my cheek, cutting into my skin slightly as some blood leaked down onto my shirt. I thought this was it, I really thought I was going to die that night.
However suddenly, I heard a knock at my door. I was relieved in some ways, but I was still scared, this thing was sitting on top of me, and for all I knew it was about to eat or kill me or something. After the third knock, my mother walked into the room, and she looked over at me. She couldn't see anything, I guess, she acted like I wasn't there, as if I wasn't in the room. Maybe that thing on top of me blocked her view, I don't know, but all hope was drained from my body at that very moment.
I figured this was it, I was done for, but in the blink of an eye I saw that thing get off me. It walked back to the spot where it first formed, and it began to change. My mother had left the room by now, but I was more focused on what this thing was turning into. For a moment, It looked as if I was staring into a silhouette of myself. The creature, the man, the being, whatever it was, it then waved to me, its still dark and shadowy body fading into a black mist.
I didn't stay in that room, I got up, I ran downstairs and I slept on the couch, with every light on possible. The next morning I awoke early, before everyone else. I packed some clothes, some food, and some extra cash that my father had left in a jar on top of the fridge. I wrote a small note detailing what happened on the counter in the kitchen, then, I left, and I never looked back.
I was seventeen at the time but mentally I felt much older. I eventually crossed state lines, going back to my home state of Texas where I got a job as a clerk in some crappy little convenience store on the south side of Dallas. Times were tough, but I pushed through. In all honesty I had been wanting to leave home for a long time, I just needed a reason to do it. In some fucked up way, I guess what happened was that reason, although looking back, I never did hear from my family again. I sent them letters, pictures, but nothing. I never got anything back. I figured they either forgot about me, or they just didn't care.
It wasn't until recently that I began to research on what happened that night. I had been having odd dreams lately, it seemed that that strange, heavy feeling on my chest had returned. I didn't know why, but I felt that if this thing was coming back for me, I wanted to know what it was. I visited the local library, but I didn't find much of interest. The closest I came to anything was a old Navajo legend called the "Yee Naaldlooshii". Apparently it was a demonic force or a person that would assume the shape of animals or people.
It seemed logical, but I couldn't understand what such a thing would want with me. I was scared, I didn't sleep for three days straight, and I was going on my fourth, until someone I hadn't seen in a very long while showed up at my door - my mother. She was happy to see me, but she didn't seem that different since when I last saw her. Now mind you I hadn't seen her for twenty-five years, I found it a bit odd that she still looked so young, but I shrugged it off, I was happy to see her, so very happy.
We talked for a while, but something was off. Every time she looked at me I got this cold feeling in my body. I felt as if I was staring at a different person, and after a while, I began to feel weak. I was tired, I hadn't slept for days so I just went up to my room. Before that however, my mother was telling me how my father left not long after I did, and that he took my sister with her. It was shocking, but I didn't care much, I just wanted to sleep, oh Lord how I wanted to sleep... But as I laid down in my bed that feeling returned.
That very same feeling I hadn't felt in twenty-five years. Someone is watching me from the corner of my room. I'm trying not to pay attention, I'm simply going to turn over and close my eyes. I'm not sure If I'll make it through this night, I don't know if anyone will ever find this but if you do, please, find my family, inform them of what happened here I...
The journal of John F. Moncada was found thrown in the corner of his room by police earlier this month, he was laying in his bed, calm and lifeless when they arrived. After examining his journal, police determined that the man had been up for a week or so before he eventually died from a heart attack. They also suspect that the man was hallucinating before his death, as the woman he claimed to be his mother was never there. In fact, she died twenty-three years ago in a house fire along with the rest of his family.
Oddly enough his bedroom window was open when the police arrived, and many neighbors claimed they saw a dark figure emerge a few nights ago, although there is little proof other than the witness reports. On the mirror in his bathroom however, the police found many strange symbols carved into the glass, those of which were later translated from the Navajo language. There was one word, and it was "Burden". Police aren't sure if it holds any relevance to what happened here, but the case is now closed.