A collection of stories about growing up on an old haunted dairy farm.
|It was around 1965 - 66, my brother and I now shared the big room upstairs. My bed was between the window and what is now a closet, and Jerry’s bed was between the window and the far wall.
One night, I was lying on my right side facing the wall and was awoken by something playing with my face. I swatted and it stopped. Then, it started up all over again. After several swats, I’d had it. I wanted to sleep. When I opened my eyes, a shadow hand jerked away from my face, and I watched it slide down the side and go under my bed.
I laid there trying to convince myself that it wasn’t real. I was trying to come up with anything I could to explain the hand away. But no matter how many excuses I made, I couldn’t deny the fact that it had woken me up, and that I was very much awake when I refused to open my eyes and deal with the pest.
For some reason, that night I got it in my head that the right side of my bed was cursed, and I’d never lie facing it again. It was years before I’d ever lie on my right side at night, and thankfully, that was the last of the spooky hand.