I think there are a couple things worth noting before I start this story.

1. Ever since I was a tiny child I have never been able to scare easily, though my dad has said that he'd wake to my nightmares, though that's part of the story.

2. This starts to take place mere weeks after my mother died, though I'm absolutely certain it was not her, and goes on till I was around 11-12.

3. I don't remember a lot of this, it's really fuzzy in my mind and the details might be a little out of whack.

Now that that's out of the way I can start. I just thought they were important details.

So it started when I was about 8. My mom had just died and I lived in a small trailer with my dad and two younger brothers. My brothers (being 6 and 1 years old) slept in my dad's room for fear of sleeping on their own.

There were a couple reasons they were scared of there room (which was right next to mine). My mother had been taking a nap when she died in there and my baby brother could not stop screaming when he went in. I was not scared of anything though so I had no problem staying in my room.

I slept the first couple nights soundly though a bit uneasy (I had just suffered a major loss). I'm not sure when I started noticing things, but I think if I could pin point it it would have been around the second month of sleeping in my room by myself. At first it was just uneasiness, but it slowly progressed to me not being able to sleep until the sun rose. Then I wouldn't​ stay in my room unless the light was on (sometimes sending my dad into my room to turn on the light before I went in), but I was stubborn and did not want to 'wimp out', in my own 8-year-old words.

This is when the nightmares started. At this point I'm 8. I have the light on in my room and the door is always wide open with the hall light on, and my bed is moved to face the door. I start having these crazy nightmares to the point where my dad is waking up from across the house and going to my room to check on me.

Normally he said by the time he got there I was already awake and under my blankets hiding. This went on for a year. Almost every night my dad would be woken by me. So when I turned nine and decided that there was a serious issue (took me forever, right?) at this point my dad and grandparents had me going to therapy on three days out of the week and my teachers said the lack of sleep was screwing with my grades.

So I started sleeping in the living room on the couch. I didn't even go into the hallway and pass my bedroom. I absolutely refused to. Everything was calm for a long time I ended up pretty much living in the living room the only time I went to my room was to get toys and clothes. Fast forward a long time past summer and it's winter, I think. I decided, 'okay I'm 10 now. My brothers are in their room again. I can do this.'

I started sleeping in my room again. I was so wrong. I couldn't take it, at all. My nightmares came back so much worse that I started kicking in my sleep and actually yelling words. I have no idea what I was saying at the time, but my dad told me and my family it was mainly, "Shut up" and "Go away."

This progressed​ really quickly and soon I would take off running when I woke up from a nightmare until I got to my dad's room then I'd slam the door and lock it.

Now I swear to anything that something was chasing me; looking back on it now I can still feel it behind me. Out of anything I remember, that is the most clear.

I would wake up and it was behind me chasing me but I was always fast on my feet.

After a couple weeks of this I asked if I could stay with my grandma. My grandma was super spiritual (like my whole family, really), and I thought I'd be safe with her. When my dad asked why, I said, "If she catches me she'll hurt me."

I don't know why I said this or was so honest at this moment, because up until this point if my dad ever asked about me running to his room I said it was 'nightmares' and he just went with it.

He started asking me all kinds of questions.

I'm not sure what happened next. I stayed with my Grandparents for a week or two and when I came back to the house everything seemed normal.

The first thing I did when I got back was move my bed to block my closet door and then it was like nothing ever happened. My dad never asked me about it and my nightmares stopped (though I still have a had time sleeping some nights).

It was the strangest thing that's ever happened to me and after it I fell hard into the world of the paranormal.

I'm sure you could rule these out as the imagination of a child, night terrors, or just trauma from a lost loved one. But with everything I believe, this happened, and there was something in my house. It was evil. I have no idea what it was, or why I always referred to it as a female.