I was chased by something abhorrent

[This is a story that my mate told me in a pub about a year ago. He swears it’s true, and he’s not one for fibs, and I’ve never heard anything like it before, so I thought it would be good to share it. It’s a bit long winded, so bare with me.]<br><br>When I was a kid, I used to have this thing where I’d wake up in the middle of the night and not be able to move. I assume it was sleep paralysis or something, but at the time it was terrifying. <br><br>It started when I was 5, but stopped when I turned 14. It would happen about 3 times a week. Sometimes I’d wake up in the early hours of the morning, but it was always at the same time in the summer holidays. My parents assumed it was because of the heat at first, but as it went on they started to think it was more serious so I was referred to a specialist. <br><br>Nothing was ever diagnosed and the specialist said it was down to anxiety. My parents were in utter disbelief. To them, it made no sense. I was a perfectly happy child, aside from the night terrors at least. So they took me to a therapist to try and work through the anxiety. <br><br>It was a waste of time if you ask me. The therapist was a bit of a dick and was implying that my parents were abusing me and that’s why I was having the night terrors and why I was so anxious. My mum was in utter disbelief. To imply that her or my father were abusing me like that was utterly horrific to her. <br><br>My dad got very angry and was about to hit the therapist, so we left. The night terrors continued up until I was 14. So the therapist was clearly talking out of his arse.<br><br>Things took a turn when I was 11 years old though. One night, when I was in that paralysed state, I became aware of something moving in my room. I could see the door move, and I could see a figure blocking out the moonlight that was shining through my window. <br><br>I panicked and was consumed with a sense of dread. To me, this was something demonic that had come to take my soul and drag it to hell, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. All I could do was look at it, frozen in place, screaming for help that never came. The figure never got closer, it stood by the door, as if it was watching me. Eventually, I fell asleep again. Or at least I think I did.<br><br>I remember telling my parents the next day, but they were sceptical about what I was saying. To them, it was all just a bad dream that was made worse because of the night terrors. But I knew what I was saying, and I know what I saw. And I never forgot. <br><br>The night terrors continued, and that figure continued to be present. Every time I was paralysised, the figure by the door would appear. Just stand there, watching me. I’d scream at it, but my voice never made a sound. I could see my lips moving, but what wanted to come out never did. <br><br>Then when I was 14, the night terrors abruptly stopped. I never had them again. It was as if something had been released. But that figure continued to haunt my dreams. The first few times I could move and the figure was present, I tried my best to run away. But running didn’t help. No matter how fast I ran, the figure was always behind me. No matter where I was, or how I got there, the figure was always present. <br><br>I tried to get my parents to send me back to therapy, but they were hesitant. All they wanted to do was focus on me getting through my school years, so they could send me to university to become a doctor. I didn’t want to be a doctor, but I just went along with it. I didn’t want to disappoint them. <br><br>I tried to navigate these nightmares on my own then, and got by just fine. It was a constant source of annoyance, but I didn’t let it take over my life. The figure never actually did anything to me, it simply followed and watched. It was very courteous, in a way. It never even tried to confront me. I started to feel like I was in an episode of that show where that guy is always being watched by the devil. <br><br>I finished school, got into university and prepared to study to be a doctor. My parents were thrilled and rewarded me by letting me go on a trip with some friends to Italy. <br><br>This is where things took a turn. I’ve never been much of a drinker, but when I was in Italy I decided to indulge a little. Just a couple of beers with dinner, but something about it just made me feel so much better. I was getting over my night terrors and I was starting to forget about the figure and my dreams. <br><br>But like clockwork, the night came. The figure came, and I was chased. I ran through the streets of Italy, in pursuit of something that I couldn’t see in the real world. I was tripping over my own feet and taking wrong turns, but in my dream I was running through fields and up hills, in a desperate pursuit of something that was going to end my life should it catch up to me. <br><br>I ended up in some abandoned church in Italy, hidden away in the mountains. I was so confused and disoriented, and at that point still very drunk. The figure was nowhere to be seen, but I knew it was coming. So I locked myself in the confessional booth and waited. <br><br>Eventually, I woke up. The figure was gone, and so were my friends. I was in a hospital bed in Italy, and was in a lot of pain. The doctors told me I was in an accident, but it was my own fault. The doctors told me that I had been drinking and somehow ended up in a hidden church in the mountains. That I had fallen down the bell tower and gotten very badly hurt. <br><br>I was in hospital for a couple of days, but I never saw my friends at all. The hospital staff said that they had been contacted and were aware of what had happened, and were told that my parents were coming to pick me up. I had no idea what had happened to my friends, and nobody seemed to want to tell me. So I just assumed they had gone home. <br><br>It wasn’t until I got back to England that I learned what really happened. My parents came to pick me up, and they didn’t seem very pleased. They barely said a word to me the whole way home, and didn’t let me stop to get anything to eat. <br><br>It wasn’t until we got home that I found out that my friends hadn’t gone home. The police had found them a few days after I’d been taken away by ambulance. They were in the same hidden church where I’d fallen down the bell tower. Their bodies were sprawled across the floor, broken and bloodied. <br><br>They had no idea how they got there, as it was several miles away from where we had been staying. They said that I’d come back drunk about an hour after we’d started eating dinner. I was acting strangely and aggressive, and after about an hour I’d run off into the night. They tried to follow me, but I had already gone. <br><br>The police found me a couple of days later, and I was in much the same state as my friends were. Broken and bloodied. The police said that they could see that I was suffering from something, but couldn’t quite tell what it was. But they assured me that it wasn’t my fault. <br><br>They offered me counselling again, but I shut them down. I didn’t want to believe that I was responsible for this. So I locked myself in my room and never came out. My parents left me to it, but the figure never left me. <br><br>It followed me everywhere, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it caught up to me. To this day, I’m running from something. The figure may have started in my dreams, but now I can see it everywhere in the real world. <br><br>Every time I try to run, I end up somewhere completely different. And it’s only a matter of time before it catches up to me. So I have to run faster, and run harder. Because I know what will inevitably happen if it catches up to me.