From 1951 to 1957, I lived in low-income apartments in Brooklyn, New York, when I was one year to seven years old. We were a family of four. My father was adopted by a Spiritist woman. He was a carrier of demons, though he was unaware of it because he did not practice his stepmother's religion.
My mother was Roman Catholic, but has seen a lot of ghosts when she was a child in the old predominantly Roman Catholic/Spiritist Puerto Rico of the past. Puerto Rico today is mostly Protestant and ghost sightings are few. My sister was immune to the supernatural and I had experiences with the supernatural a lot.
Sometime around 1955 in the night, I was in bed and I couldn't get any sleep and it was dark. I happened to look toward the closet and the door was open and pitch-black. Yet my eyes noticed a sort of faint glowing outline of a tall figure of a man dressed in a hooded robe of Death. I couldn't see its face but a pair of fiery red eyes were staring at me intently.
I jumped out of my bed and ran toward my parents' bedroom and buried myself under my mother. I told my mother what I saw and she didn't believe me or perhaps didn't want to believe it because she encountered apparitions a lot in Puerto Rico.
This encounter with the hooded demon happened almost every night until my mother got fed up with it and said, "This is the last straw! I'm going to see what my son claims to see." She saw it and she believed me.
Today I am 62 and my mother is 82. We talk about my past experiences with evil spirits. She told me that in those nights I would not sleep until dawn comes. I said, "Mami, now I can sleep because Negrito went away." Then I would sleep fitfully come dawn.