Hands in the Night

The Divine Mr. R. By The Divine Mr. R., 20th Jul 2015 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Guides>Paranormal>Ghosts & Spirits

A recollection of a childhood incident in which I experienced a haunting first-hand.

The Grasping Hands

When I was a young boy, I remember experiencing and, on occasion, seeing many strange things that I had no explanation for (and still don’t.) I would like to share with you an experience which occurred around the age of nine in my childhood home.

Shortly after my parents divorced, it became a practice for me to spend the weekend with my father at the house where I had spent six happy years growing up. This, however, is not about divorces or family troubles, but about a strange incident which kept occurring during the night, and on occasion, during the day. I was around eleven when this happened, my father had remarried, and my kid sister having been born around three years prior. My bedroom which was upstairs had been given to her, since I simply wasn’t around much (every weekend, and alternating holidays,) so my father and step-mother had given my bedroom to my sister as a nursery. I honestly felt bad for her, due to previous experiences in that room, but that’s a story for another time.

At any rate, my living space had been moved down into the basement. This wasn’t as bad a deal as one would think, as I had a larger space to myself, and it emulated the bedroom of an older cousin who I admired as somehow more adult and cooler. The only downside was that it was a little chilly in the winter, but very cool during the unpredictable Ohio Valley summers. All in all, it wasn’t a terrible trade-off. So, during one of my weekend visits that my dad had helped me set up the curtains that would partition my living space from the rest of the basement, and I proceeded to settle in.

It was on my first night sleeping in my new bedroom that I noticed something unusual. I awoke to the strangest sensation, as though someone were laying their hands on my legs. A little above the knee, no real pressure beyond the sensation of having something cool press against the skin. I was – justifiably – weirded out by the experience, and tore away my sheets to see what was going on. However, when I looked, there was no one there to account for the sensation.

The strange feeling, however, persisted for a little while longer before I managed to drift off to sleep.

I tried to tell my father and step-mother what had happened that night. Despite my father wanting to listen, he was never much of a believer in things he could not see. My step-mother, despite being a church-going Catholic, took no interest and further convinced my father I was making it all up for the sake of attention. I did not yet dislike my bedroom, but I found it tremendously disturbing and was offended that I wasn’t believed. I did not cry or get angry, but tried to put it out of my mind as a figment of my imagination.

Later that evening, while sitting downstairs in my room and playing videogames (I had and still have a love of the Mortal Kombat franchise,) I again experienced the feeling of having my legs grabbed by some cold, unseen hands, but harder this time. It did not feel as though nails were digging into my legs, but it felt as though something were trying to grab me and pull me down through the floor, but failing due to the obvious logistic issues of this. I felt no true weight, merely the sensation and a cold presence which seemed to fill my living space.

I remember running upstairs screaming for my father, and telling both step-mother and my father what had happened. However, once again I was disbelieved and told to go back to bed. With a great deal of hesitation, I did so, though I felt betrayed by the people who were supposed to watch over me. The next day, sometime after lunch, I was sitting outside on the front deck and felt a tremendous pressure on my legs, as though something were man-handling me and trying to pull me down through the earth again. The pain was only slight, but it was enough to surprise me and make me cry out. I had to have a look and recall pulling up my shorts on the deck to see what happened. There were red marks over my thighs at the spot where the hands had been.

When I saw this, I went inside and tried to show my father and my step-mother. My step-mother immediately decided I had done it to myself for attention and told my father I needed therapy. My father just shook his head and walked away. It was after this that I decided to spend fewer weekends at my father’s house, if for no other reason than to avoid the grasping hands that seemed to have come without prompting, and appeared to follow me through my childhood home.


Childhood Stories, Demon, Ghost, Haunting, Horror, Paranormal

Meet the author

author avatar The Divine Mr. R.
The Divine Mr. R. is an intuitive reader, writer, and Urban Shaman from the Ohio Valley. He will be writing about divination, the paranormal, and chiming in with advice.

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