The Silent Night True Events By Markham L

Here is a little item that happened to me many years ago when I was about 17 years old. I found a summer job working at a Hungarian Cultural Centre in the west end of Toronto, during the annual Caravana festival. The job consisted of washing dishes for 10 days straight. The hours were long but the pay was great for a teenager. Since I could stay at the Centre, I had no worries about transportation or meals(since I could eat there free).

Anyway I found the room that they assigned me very hot due to the lack of air conditioning and fairly noisy, facing out on the busy street and all. The room was no bigger then a small bed room. Two doors exited the room one to the hallway and the other lead downstairs to the kitchen where I worked. This door saved me plenty of time going back and forth from the kitchen. Furniture was limited to a single bed and a small chest of drawers. The only electricity was fed into the room via an extension cord. I remember that I had no ill feelings about this room outside the noise and heat, and in no time I could sleep there without any problems.

On the last day of Caravana, my supervisor decided to let me go early. So I decided to enjoy a bit of the festival. I wasn't going to stay out too late, because I had to be back at work at my usual time the next morning. I stayed at the Hungarian pavilion and had a bite to eat but in no time I was ready for bed. I guess it was about 9:30 or so when I went up the stairs to my temporary bed. So I set the alarm clock for 5:30 am and got undressed for bed. As I was laying there, I had a funny feeling I was not alone in the room. Being tired I dismissed it as just too much work and not enough sleep. As I laid there something strange began to happen. The noise I had grown accustomed to, seemed to disappear slowly as if some one was turning the volume down on a radio. The light from outside also dimmed, leaving the room in total darkness except the silhouette of the window. I was getting pretty uneasy about all this and figured I better get out. But As I was getting up I was forced back on to the bed by an unseen hand. This was too much for me so I tried to scream but was unable to make a sound. The room's temperature dropped. The room seemed to take on a life of it's own. As I looked around the room in fear, I noticed an area near the door (leading to the kitchen), even darker then the rest of the room. It looked like a person curled up in the corner just watching me. I found myself just staring at this thing all night. Every now and again I would try to get out of the bed but was forced back every time. I really thought I was going to die. My eyes never focused to the darkness and were unable to make out the figure in the corner. All it was, was an unmoving person watching me from its vantage point, this continued all night, me unable to move and it just watching me. I could see that the sun had finely began to shine outside. The light however did not seem to penetrate the darkness of the room. The effect of the light only had effect on the outside world. My alarm clock went off sending a chill through my body, again I tried to move and was forced back. Fifteen minutes later I heard and felt a large explosion outside in the stairway leading to the kitchen. At that very moment light and the sound of a street car going past filled the room. The pressure on my chest was gone and so was the figure in the corner. I bolted from the bed and ran to the door leading to the stairway and opened it. The stairs were flooded and large pieces of the hot water pipe were imbedded in the stairs and the walls. The pipe had burst at the same time I would have been going down to start work.

What ever it was saved my life. Although I'm very greatful to it, I wish never to be visited by it again. Later that day, I noticed I had a bruise on my chest, left there by the phantom hands that had held me down that night. I still have no idea who (or what) it was. Even after more then twenty years I avoid that area of Toronto like it had the plague.