I want to share with you something that happened to me in the past.

Well, I say it happened anyway. One part of me says it was just an odd dream I had as a child, however another feels that I can't refute it as simple fiction or something that was simply conceived in my mind. Before the event, and even after it, I had not experienced any sort of hallucinations, auditory or visual, and I'm really not prone to dreams of this sort either, especially ones so vivid.

The subject of Hell and "the Devil" was brought up frequently in my family growing up, mainly just as a bogeyman of sorts for us kids. At the time of this... Occurrence, I most likely didn't see any correlation between these ramblings and what I experienced, however years of pondering have made me think about it, to say the least.

It was probably around eleven PM, at least after ten because that's when my grandmother (with whom I live) left for work when she was working her old job. Ten to five every night she worked.. I know it had to have been hard on her, though the one she's working right now isn't much better. I, my grandfather, and my younger brother were the only ones in the house at the time, and it was just like any other Saturday night in the house (perhaps it was Sunday? Regardless, I hadn't had school that day, and I was free the next day as well).

Laying in my bedroom floor, with nothing better to do, I had been looking through and arranging the cards in my Yu-Gi-Oh binder. I honestly didn't have too many friends at the time due to a... Well, let's just say an 'unfriendly' school environment, so I primarily collected trading cards just for the sole purpose of doing so. My brother had been fast asleep since around nine, and my grandfather was up playing solitaire on his computer, a pass-time that you'll still find him doing today; the house was completely silent besides the ticking of clocks and the occasional mouse-click I heard from his room. I can't remember what exactly was going through my mind, other than the constant pressure my grandparents had been putting on me to keep straight A's going through middle school, despite each day that I attended being essentially a living hell. I suppose my cards and video games were my only release from it all, though at the time I found particular respite in my cards: going over them, building decks, thinking about how I would fair in an actual game with them (like I'd ever have the luxury of playing it with other kids), etc. I digress.

Laying on the bedroom floor with no one in the house up and about, I was simply enjoying the peace and quiet that I finally had to myself (my bickering grandparents' fighting 24/7 usually ensured that I rarely had any) until I began to hear what sounded like faint tapping on the roof, or at least above the ceiling in my room. I frowned, looking up for an explanation, however nothing was out of the ordinary, so my young self assumed it must have been on the roof. I got up and walked down the hallway into my grandpa's bedroom and told him about the noise, to which he stated it was most likely a squirrel. Looking back, this was an odd explanation, because for the most part squirrels are diurnal creatures, though I accepted it for what it was. I also thought to myself that it also could have been a mouse or the like, scampering up above. With that, I came back to my room and resumed my hobby without another thought to it, the noise having apparently stopped before I returned.

I'm not certain as to whether or not the aforementioned was something as mundane as a small rodent padding about or not, though I've wondered if it has any connection with what happened next, as it had never happened before that night, and it never happened afterward. What did happen next, though, is something that can't be described as ordinary, or even possible depending on your views or system of beliefs.

I figured I was just getting tired, and that it was ultimately this that lead me to begin hearing the tapping noises, so I shut my binder of cards and put it away before turning off the lights and climbing into bed.

There were a couple of things that were unusual, however, one of which being the fact that my cat, whom always stayed with me, following me around the house, etc, was not there in my bed as he usually was. I was used to having him there, and it was really comforting to have him there, as even at that age I was just getting over my fear of the dark. The only times he wasn't there is when he was sick, which wasn't very often despite his age. Another thing was that I, even in the small room that I occupied, felt like there was something watching me; that I wasn't alone. That there was another presence that couldn't be seen.

Yeah, I know it sounds like the classic "monster under the bed" story, but at the time I honestly felt that there was something there with me, and that it wasn't friendly. Despite all of this, I rolled over and tried to fall asleep (it wasn't the first time I had these sort of fears, being a childhood Nyctophobe), closing my eyes as it was much more comfortable for me to do so than to stare at the dark shadows within the room.

However, my eyes flew open when I heard a rather peculiar, unnerving sound coming from the outside. Seemingly out of nowhere, I began to hear what sounded like chains rattling together, like the clinking of prison chains. I was clearly scared of what was going on, hell, I still get chills thinking about it today. I turned onto my back and sat-up in the bed, gripping my cover tightly as I pulled it over me. I waited and waited for what seemed like hours, but the noise never subsided, nor did the feeling that I had an unwelcome guest. A choir of what sounded like unintelligible whispers joined this awful ensemble, amplifying the thick feeling of dread filling the room.

This thing, this malevolent being wanted to be noticed, and its presence was becoming more and more physical and "real" by the moment.

It was under my bed, and for whatever reason, it wanted me.

The voices and rattling became louder and louder until finally it was way too much to handle. I leapt from my bed, as to get as far away from the opening underneath as possible, and literally ran into my grandfather's room, where I ended up sleeping for the rest of the night.

Once again I felt secure; the voices faded, the chains stopped, and whatever was there was no longer with me.

Whatever happened that night has never happened again, neither has anything even remotely similar. I remember telling my grandfather about the events that happened that night, and him telling me an old tale about how the prisoners of Satan are marched into Hell bound in chains. Thinking back on it now, that sounds ridiculous, though all I do know is that whatever it was, whether it was a warning to me not to stray from the path of righteousness, or something malicious that simply wanted me myself, I'm not sure.

Whatever the case may be, I'm hoping for some feedback, or thoughts on the matter. Maybe getting other people's views on the subject will help me out, maybe give me the chance to look at what happened from a different vantage point...

After all, I have always hated being bound to one view on things.

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