My imagination
784 Words
This happened when I was a child. We lived in a smaller house at the time, and I shared my room with my older sister. We had a bunk bed, and I slept in the lower bed. Or, at least, I tried. For no valid reason, he seemed terrified of sleeping there.
My parents got tired of being dragged to sleep in their bed night after night, so they suggested that I sleep next to my sister in the upper bed. My sister did not like the idea, but agreed to the end on the condition that I slept so that my head was at the level of his chest and not in front of his face, since once I punched him while he slept and I did it bleed from the nose.
I, of course, accepted his terms, since he took me out of the lower bunk. He slept by his side and everything seemed to be fine. I no longer had nightmares and I felt more secure in being with my sister.
One night, however, I could not sleep. My sister smiled contentedly while dreaming. I heard the beating of his heart and saw his chest swell with each inhalation. Paying attention to the muted sounds of the night, I noticed something dark moving in the corner of my eye. Naturally, I turned to see what it was, but all I saw was the wooden edge of the bed.
I did not give much importance and I turned to my sister. Soon after, I saw the movement again. I turned around quickly, but again, there was nothing.
I got scared and I hit my sister. I closed my eyes, tensing them, and waited until the dream overwhelmed me.
The next morning, I woke up without my sister by my side. I took a small look over the edge of the bed before going down the steps. I walked to the living room and found my sister watching television, so I went with her to watch the children's program. I did not mention that I had seen something move around the bed, thinking that he would laugh at me or tell me it was nothing.
The day happened like any other. But the later it was done, the more nervous he was. I tried to lengthen the event of going to bed, but my mother gave me the order to do it eventually. I brushed my teeth and went to bed. Our parents came and kissed us good night.
My sister had fallen asleep fast. I grabbed my sheet and hoped that the movement had been the work of my imagination. But there it was again. I was afraid of him, but I wanted to know what it was. I turned cautiously, but when I saw it directly, it disappeared. I stopped looking at him and, as I supposed, he came back. I prepared to see him again, this time more slowly and with care not to see him full.
It worked. I saw what it was: a hand. A green bony hand with brown tones. She peeked out with her long black nails on the side of the bed. By that point, I was terrified. I turned more fully automatically, only for the hand to suddenly withdraw. Despite how scared I was, I crawled along my sister's side to peer over the edge and discover who the hand belonged to.
Nothing. Just the bare floor and the lower bunk. I lay back and, when I pulled my gaze away, the hand rose up the side once more. I should not see it, but when the hand landed on the open space of the bed and took hold of it, I could not resist it anymore and I turned around, causing it to retreat. I kept looking at the point where he always got up and did not do it again. I started to get tired, so I fell asleep soon.
Every night was the same. I saw the hand, but never to whom it belonged. I stopped seeing her when we moved to my current home and my sister and I had separate rooms.
I thought of the hand as a product of my imagination fueled by my fear of the dark. For that reason I never mentioned it.
It was a few years ago that I was talking to my sister about our old neighbors, a sweet old couple, when we started thinking about all kinds of things we remembered about that house.
For the first time, I told him about that sickly green hand that had hidden them. She saw me surprised, and said: "I used to see her too".
- Writer
