01 May 2019 | Shadow people, Your Stories, Your True Encounters
I don’t remember my exact age at the time. I think I was 4 maybe, but I remember it so clearly to this day, my encounter with the so called Hat Man. For the record I turn 20 this year.
I lived a fairly normal life. Had both parents who loved me above all else. Nothing was out of the ordinary in our family, I wasn’t baptised though, but my grandmother wanted me to be. I was put to bed as usual and fell asleep after my lullaby. They both sang for me and left the nightlight on like usual since I was a little afraid of the dark, which became worse after that night. I woke up at night and felt something was wrong. It felt like I was being watched by something by the door. I sat up and looked around, quickly spotting the dark figure in the corner. He was taller than the doorframe and wore a top hat as well as a long trenchcoat. He had white eyes, glowing almost and just watched me. I just stared, unable to say anything. I pulled my duvet around myself, terrified he might hurt me. It felt like he was a bad person, just pure evil. I was sure he would walk over, which he surely did. His footsteps were soundless but he visibly walked over, so I did what any other kid would do and screamed out. He continued approaching me with fast steps before the door was opened and he just vanished into thin air. My father walked inside and over to me, probably thinking I was having a nightmare, but I explained everything to him, which he obviously didn’t believe. He let me share bed with them though, which I did for maybe a month or so. My mother believed me in some way since she told my grandmother. I remember seeing her pale up and just look at us all in shock. “It was the devil.” She said without hesitation. “You were visited by the devil himself.” She repeated and hugged me tightly. “It’s an omen for something bad to come. It happened to me as well.” Just to throw it out there, she was a member of Jehova witnesses, reading the bible and all that.
Years prior to this my mother lost her father when she was 11 years old. Then my twin uncles lost their father when they were 11 months. In 2011, I lost my mom, still being 11 years old myself as I hadn’t turned 12 yet. My grandmother brought it up right away that this was his doing. I remember this event so clearly and thought for years I was the only one.
Submitted by Iselin
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