Truth is more horrifying than fiction...

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"One, two...he's coming for you..."


Time passed as it tends to do. My mother has just given birth to her first child, yours truly. Holding true to her vow of 14 years prior, she named me Dale after poor little Buggy. Now she was as you may have already guessed, only 18 years old. As if being that young was not problem enough, My father had, you guessed it, hit the road. So she opted to live with grandma, who accepted me with open arms. Life was very different now, they were no longer living in the relative comfort of a friendly small town, but in the  big cold city of Edmonton, Alberta. This is where my nightmare begins. It was near the middle of February, and a dark, cold and dreary day. My mother had laid me down for a nap in my crib in the upstairs bedroom, and she was in the kitchen with my grandmother and three uncles having coffee and chatting. Suddenly my mother had a very uneasy feeling that she couldn't shake. Nobody paid any attention as she went upstairs to check on her two week old boy.  I've asked my uncles about this many times over the years and they all say the same thing...The scream they heard from my mother upstairs was one that nearly scared the life out of them...

They all scrambled up the stairs, fearing the worst. When they all piled into the bedroom, they found my hysterical mother clutching me to her chest and crumpled down in the far corner of the room, opposite the crib. They quickly went to the task of trying to get me away from her to see what was wrong with me, but to their amazement and disbelief, I was fine...but my mother was hysterical. It took the better part of a half hour to calm her, and when they did and found out what had made her scream like that, none were ready for what they heard. My oldest uncle said it almost made his blood freeze.

She had just turned the corner to enter the room, and she froze. For before her, standing at the middle of the crib looking in was a dark man. This was no ordinary man, though, not a burglar, which would have been easier to take at the time...not by any means. This was black man, and was dressed in a top hat and tails, all black. The otherworldly thing about him was that his torso hovered about a foot above his waist and you could see right through. He was dirty, having the appearance of coming directly from the grave. and there was a death itself...In the split second that it took my mother to see this, he took his attention off of me and turned his head to her and spoke the following in a rumbling low voice;



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Email The Author -  Dale A. Moses