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Ghosts of Canada

My Haunting Dreams—The Strangler
Hell Child of Stony Plain

 

My Haunting Dreams—The Strangler
I won't say much more about myself except that my name is Addy.   What I'm about to reveal to you is a true account of what had happened to me when I was twelve years old. It is up to you to believe or think I was delusional. Either way, for me, it was real. As real as the computer screen you are looking at.  

Dreams are common; everyone experiences them. But can anyone wake up at will with the dream still going on? And then, decide if they wanted the dreams to carry on or to stop? I didn't think so.

I can also direct the dreams as I want. Some friends I talked to say it's a dream within a dream. That is, I wake up into another dream with the first dream still going on. But if that's the case, than I'm still dreaming right now as I type this, because I haven't woke up from my last second dream. Does it all sound confusing? Well, how do you think I feel? Anyway, let me tell you what happened in one of my dreams.

I get horrific nightmares all the time, but this particular one has had me scared beyond anything you can imagine.

I was standing on a wooden platform of an old train station-like those you see in old movies. I was gazing at a crush from school some distance away. His eyes seemed to sparkle in the dim light. His name is Frank.

Suddenly, from behind him, a large man appeared. The bottom of his black cloak furled in the gentle wind as he walked. A large brimmed hat shadowed his face. He walked close to Frank and placed his gloved hands over Frank's shoulders. Frank didn't move; he just stood there gazing back at me.

I thought then that the large man may have been someone Frank knew. But what the man then did shook me with horror. Frank desperately struggled to pull the gloved hands away from his neck. I screamed for the man to stop but he wouldn't. With his big hands still squeezing Frank's neck, he turned to look at me.But I couldn't see his eyes. His face was a total 'black'; no features whatsoever.

I knew then that it was a bad dream, and I didn't want for it to carry on, so I forced myself to wake up. I did wake up, but I couldn't move-I had froze up like an ice block. I couldn't breathe either; I myself was choking. I tried frantically to move but my struggles were in vain. All that time, I watched helplessly as Frank was being strangled to death.  

Suddenly, somehow, I managed to free myself from the bind. I sprang out of bed, perspiration. In my struggle for air I thought to myself, "This has never happened before. Why now?" I meant the freezing—I had never awoken in a frozen state before.  
Over the next weeks, I kept waking up frozen. And it had gotten harder and harder to unfreeze. The more I dreamt, the more scared I became of the freezes. I wondered if the strangler was responsible.
But the strangler was not always present in my dreams. When he was, he only watched from afar. I couldn't guess what relevance he had to those dreams, but he was there nevertheless-just watching with concealed eyes under the brimmed hat.
On one weekend afternoon, as I was a little under the weather, I refused my friends' invitation to go to the mall. I thought I'd take a nap in my sister's room. I was fast a sleep when suddenly I felt something touch me at the left side of my waist. I woke up. To my horror, I was frozen. I could see from the corner of my eye the large man lying beside me. I tried to scream but couldn't. But somehow, I managed to move my right arm-only my right arm.
As the bed was flushed against the wall separating my mother's room from my sister's, I hit the wall as hard as I could hoping my sister would come and rescue me. Bang. Bang. Bang. I hit in desperation. After many hits, my hand started to hurt.
I knew I was in a dream state and maybe because of that I wasn't really making any sound hitting the wall. I thought since I couldn't do anything and the strangler could do what ever he wanted, I gave up. I told him not to kill me. I told him to do what ever he wanted but please not to kill me. He turned on his side and stared at me. I could feel his hot breath on my cheek. I still couldn't move my head so I couldn't see his eyes staring at me.
Somehow I knew whathe wanted; he wanted to #@&% me. I panicked and screamed, but as expected, no voice came out. Then, I tried the only thing left. I prayed!  
Poof! He disappeared and I woke up fully. I ran out of the room to my mother's where my sister had been watching TV. I asked her if she heard me hitting the wall. She said she did. I was surprised, because it only meant that I was actually awake! But only half awake. I scolded my sister for not responding. She thought I was only fooling around.
In the weeks that followed I saw Frank become thinner and thinner. He appeared rather scrawny after only five weeks since he was strangled in my dream. Before then, I was always nervous around Frank. But seeing him at that state, I forced myself to walk up to him. The more I talked with Frank the more I began to feel for him. I pledged then that I would do whatever it took to help him.
Frank told me he had not been able to eat as his throat gave him excruciating pain whenever he swallowed. The doctors couldn't find anything wrong with him yet for him the pain was very real. At times, he said he felt as though he was being strangled. Those were his real words.  
I was glad I mustered courage and talked with Frank. Frank himself confessed he was nervous around me. We decided to go steady. I wasn't going to let the strangler take Frank away from me now.
I knew what the strangler wanted from me and I was going to make a deal with him. I would give him what he wanted, and he should leave Frank alone.
After my last experience with the strangler lying beside me, I always prayed before sleeping. Since then, the strangler didn't bother me. But on a night in May 2007 I wanted to meet the stranger. I was ready to deal.
I prepared for bed and lay down without praying. Then I began to think of the night at the train platform. I thought and thought until I saw Frank standing some distance away-just like the last time. But this time, Frank was skinny and looked weak.
I waved to Frank but he ignored me. I was taken aback and felt a sudden pressure in my heart. I guess that's what hurt from love feels like, I thought. It was very disorientating. I pulled myself together; I knew in reality Frank feels for me and that's what matters.
True to my expectation, the strangler appeared behind Frank. This time he looked straight at me and grinned. I saw, for the first time, white teeth under the darkness of the hat's shadow. My heart almost stopped beating. His smile was sinister, and I realised he already knew my bargain before I could even tell him. The strangler then placed his hands on Franks shoulders.
I shook my head saying, "No, No, No, it's me you want!" I ran up to Frank and suddenly he disappeared. I couldn't stop in time. I ran right into the stranglers big torso. He grabbed me tight.  
"You want Frank?" He said.  
I looked up to his face, and I saw his eyes that time. He had no whites or blacks; his entire eyes were red—blood red. RUN! That's all I heard my head saying. I wanted to help Frank but at that very moment, all I wanted was to run as far away as I could from those eyes and the wide grin.  
Suddenly I woke up but I couldn'y move. The strangler was standing at the foot of my bed.  
"You have made a deal. Are you backing out now?" He said in a deep ominous voice.  
I could not let this thing into my body, I thought. No way. Then I thought of Frank. But I could not keep Frank in my thoughts too long. I was so bothered by the tall strangler in my room. My mind was going back and forth from Frank to him and to myself. I could not imagine this big man climbing over me and using me for his own pleasure. I just could not!
I began to pray. "Oh god, forgive me for letting this happen. God, please forgive me and remove this creature from the face of the Earth forever. Pleeeeeeeease!" I screamed.  
I woke up with tears running down from my eyes. I knew something had gone wrong. I picked up the phone and wanted to call Frank's cell but I saw the clock. It was 3:32 a.m. I thought I was being crazy calling this late. I convinced myself nothing was wrong. I had prayed and I was sure God would not let anything happen to Frank. So, I went to the kitchen and had a warm glass of milk.
I awoke the next morning at 8 a.m. Before anything, I picked up the phone and called Frank's cell. There was no answer. I called his home.  
"Hello." A soft woman's voice answered.  
"Is Frank home?" I asked.  
There was no reply, only soft sobs.
As I was in the kitchen calming myself with a warm glass of milk last night, Frank had been coughing and choking in his room. He managed to make his way to his parent's room and woke them by falling over them. They rushed him to the hospital but Frank was dead way before they reached the hospital.
I miss you, Frank.  

Addy, 14. Canada

 
     
 

Hell Child of Stony Plain
I used to live in Stony Plain , Canada , and there, I learned of a legendary little girl who was popularly known as "The Hell Child."

I don't know her real name, so I will call her Jean. From what I understand, Jean used to live not too far from where I used to live. Her family was ostracized by the neighbors. Jean was only six years old then, and she was always lonely. She didn't have any brothers or sisters to play with, and even the neighborhood kids were told not to play with her. (Why the neighbors ostracized Jean and her family is a mystery
to me)  

One day, a young family of three moved into the neighborhood. In the family there was a little girl of seven years old. (I shall call her Judy)  

Jean saw an opportunity to make friends with the new kid on the block and she took it. Soon, Jean and Judy became best friends. For the first time, Jean was happy; she had a friend to play with. They played everyday, and their favorite playing spot was under a tall Scotch pine tree. There was an abandoned caboose that Jean liked to pretend was a home. Judy too loved the idea of having a caboose as a play-home. The two girls were happy and promised to be best friends forever.  

One summer afternoon like any other, Jean and Judy were playing in the caboose when they heard thumping noises. Judy popped her head out the window and saw a man, dressed in black and wearing a large hat, punching the caboose. Judy was scared and quickly hid away from the man. The man had seen her and was calling for her to come out. The two girls were scared and started to scream. Unfortunately, no one else was around to hear their screams.

The man walked around the caboose, looking for ways to enter. But soon, he stopped and walked away from the caboose and went into the woods. The girls, seeing the man gone, rushed out and ran home.

The next day, Jean went over to Judy's house and received a shocking news: Judy was dead; she was hit by a car earlier. It was a hit-and-run and the driver of the car was never caught.  

Jean was devastated. She cried all day. Jean never spoke to anyone or smiled ever again. She would spend her days in the caboose and not return home until near sunset. That was her daily ritual.  

Sometimes, according to her mother, Jean would talk to herself. At first, she assumed it was Jean's way of coping with Judy's death—by pretending Judy was still with her.

It was only after a month of Judy's death that Jean started to talk with her mother. Even then, she spoke very little. Jean's mother finally learned who Jean was talking to all the time. Jean said it was a big man in a black cloak and wearing a big hat. Her mother scolded her for creating such an ominous imaginary friend, but what she didn't realise was that the "big man" was real to Jean.

Jean's Parents were worried that Jean's depression may lead to worst things beside creating an imaginery friend, so they decided it was time to take her to a psychiatrist. Somehow, soon after her parents decided that, Jean's behavior changed; she became happier. Her parents were elated and thought it was no more necessary to see a psychiatrist. Days later, tragedy struck-Jean slept one night and never woke up.

Jean's mother found some drawings and notes in the caboose. She was shocked to learn that her daughter had made a pack with the "big man."

Rumors of it spread, and Jean became known as the "Hell Child." In her notes, Jean wrote the "big man" had promised her that if she followed him, he would find her many friends. Jean believed him and accepted his deal.

Jean, the "Hell Child" had been seen on many occasions by many kids. They say she always asks if they wanted to play with her. If they accepted, their souls would be tagged, and they would be run down by a mysterious car. Two children, after Jean's death, had since been run down by a hit-and-run that was never found.  

I personally didn't believe this "Hell Child" rumor until I saw her myself. I was getting ready for bed one night when my room suddenly became cold. I felt a presence behind me and turned. I nearly wet myself when I saw a little girl my age standing in the corner of my room. She was in a long black dress. Her hair was silky and long. She was looking down to the floor. When she looked up, I choked-her eyes were blood gorged.

She asked if I wanted to play with her. I remembered the rumour and quickly replied, "No." Then my cat, Sweetpea, went to her. She asked if she could play with Sweetpea. I wanted her to go, so I said, "Okay." She then disappeared. Sweetpea let out a sudden shrilling cry, jumped on the bed, and huddled close to me. Sweetpea and I slept after that.    

My mom woke me up the next morning and hugged me before anything. I was puzzled. "What Ma?" I asked. But she wouldn't say. She just held me tight and said, "Oh so sorry darling."  

I found out later that Sweetpea had died. My dad found her at the door. Her face was crushed and she was bleeding from the eyes and mouth. She panted hard for a while then died. It could only have been a car.

I was depressed about Sweetpea so I had a friend, Christie, stay over for support that night. I told Christie about the "Hell Child," but she didn't believe me—until she saw her herself.  

We were sleeping when Christie was awakened by someone touching her feet. She saw the a girl in black dress standing at the foot of the bed. Christie knew it could only be the "hell child" that I told her about but she wasn't afraid. She talked to her for some time. And when the "Hell Child" asked her to come out and play, Christie refused. The "Hell Child" then vanished in thin air. Startled, Christie woke me and told me she had a bad dream about the "Hell Child." I said to her, "It wasn't a dream. I saw her too. I wasn't sleeping."  

I don't know if you want to believe my story, but I swear it's true.

Sakura, 17
Alberta, Canada

 
     
   

 


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