Around the time I was six (year 2000-2001), I moved into this very old, ornate apartment in Oak Park, Illinois. The apartment itself was beautiful with a long hallway, nice kitchen, large living room, and three bedrooms. I was a little shocked to learn later that the monthly rent was only $800. This might be the reason why.
I was appointed the large "master" bedroom by my parents, complete with a small bathroom. I can't explain why, but this small bathroom gave me a really bad feeling. I don't think I used its all-white, enclosed facilites even once.
A short time after moving into this bedroom, I began to experience some very peculiar phenomena. The first occasion I can remember was what seemed like a bad dream. Some time in the middle of the night I awoke to find a red-hooded spectre coming toward me from the wall parallel to my bed. It came down from the wall at about ceiling level, ever approaching me. I kicked and kicked at the figure as it approached, while it kept saying, "Kicking only makes me come closer." Right before it made contact with me, I threw a wild punch and it suddenly disappeared.
As any reasonably freaked out kid would do, I ran into my parents' bed and cried to them about the encounter, while they assured me it was only a bad dream. I chose, to my ignorant benefit, to believe them.
A while later, the same thing happened again, and again, until I finally decided to move my bed from that position (catercorner to the bathroom) to directly across from the bathroom.
What a bad choice. Soon after moving my bed, I began to experience even more active phenomena. On one occasion just as I was settling into my bed, about to fall asleep, I felt hands grasping at my back from the matress. This was extremely unnerving. I immediately moved my bed from that top bunk to the bottom one, convinced something was able to access me too readily from below.
This was when the real fun began. One night, I awoke to find the usually closed bathroom door wide open with the light beaming strongly from within. As strange as that was, there was also a long line of hooded spectres, streaming from the bathroom. The line went right up to my bed as one of the hooded beings would (this may sound just a little odd) pick me up and put me on the floor next to my bed. Then, the thing would disappear and the next one would take its place, attempting the same course of action, and so on and so forth. After about the second one, I lost conciousness, thankfully.
I kept telling my parents of these encounters and they would give me the old lines, "You're just having a bad dream..." or "Your eyes are playing tricks on you." Well, no matter how tricky my eyes are, I doubt they could convince me of the actual physical contact that was taking place.
The most intriguiging encounter is as follows. After awhile of these strange things happening to me, I had to convince myself that these were only dreams. One night changed that belief drastically.
On said evening, I was just being tucked into bed by my mother, still wide awake. After tucking me in, she walked out and shut out the lights on her way. As soon as this happened, there seemed to be a large shadow in the middle of my room. I didn't think it was anything at first, until my eyes focused to the dark, and I saw the horror for what it was: a roughly seven-foot-tall, black-hooded figure standing in the middle of my room, still as a statue.
I couldn't figure out what it was until it started moving toward me. I saw that its long, cloaked arms were slowly extending from a wrapped position about its body. I saw this and was frozen to the spot, as the figure began approaching me in very slow, unsteady, jerky movements.
It came closer and closer, until I finally screamed for my mother."Mom!" I yelled, and her reply was, "Go to sleep!" That was not helpful at all. Upon me yelling for my mother, I was renedered speechless and petrified, unable to move from my bed. The figure also began to move toward me even faster, increasing its jerky movements as it came.
It stopped when it got to my bed, and I had a closer look at its full image. All-black cloak, hooded, shadowed face, bony, rotted hands, and a true height of about seven feet tall, towering over me. It scooped me from my bed and promptly placed me on the floor. Then it ran out of my room, disappearing into the light of my hallway.
For awhile I could not move from the floor, and when I could, I ran into my mother's room, a place of some sanctuary from these terrifying events. (On one occasion I had climbed into bed beside her and witnessed a small shadow-boy follow me into the room, upon noticing me, he scampered off into the hallway.)
These are just some of the more memorable events in my time at that building, with the latter being the final. I have asked myself for my entire life, "What could this mean?" My guesses range from spirits of death, finding me unable to be carried into the after life, to agents of fate, giving me some sort of message.
The fact that the rent on that beautiful place was so low, and the shadow-boy I had encountered, leads me to believe that maybe this had happened before, and maybe the spirits had prevailed. Maybe the boy I saw was a remnant of their practice, stolen away in the night. All this is merely speculation, for I have no positive answers to what occured then. I have been seeking these answers for my entire life, to no avail. If anyone has any answers, please do not hesitate to cantact me at my email: firstname.lastname@example.org or my Facebook page, under Zachary Duncan.