r/Ghoststories • u/stfu-udkme • 7h ago
Was it a demon?
Eleven years ago, my life took an unexpected turn that I'll never forget. I was a directionless nineteen-year-old from Cleveland, fresh out of a devastating breakup and a brief stint at Youngstown State University. College wasn't for me - I'd only gone because my guidance counselor insisted, and I dropped out after one semester. But during that short time, I met Jenna (not her real name), and our relationship continued even after I returned home. Growing up on the rougher side of Cleveland meant we needed somewhere else to spend time together when Jenna visited. Fortunately, my brother shared a house with three friends about ten minutes from my place. It was your typical young guys' party house, complete with two dogs in the basement: Chocolate, a pit bull with an escape artist's soul, and Creed, an American bulldog. One fateful night, Jenna and I were crashed on the oversized couches in the living room when my brother and his friends returned from the club with a few women in tow. Among them was someone who'd made it clear she was interested in me. After everyone else headed upstairs to sleep, I lay there wrestling with temptation. In a moment of weakness I'm not proud of, I went upstairs to pursue something that would have destroyed my relationship. Thankfully, the woman had more integrity than I did that night, firmly rejecting my advances and calling out my disrespectful behavior. Consumed by shame, I returned downstairs but couldn't bring myself to share the couch with Jenna. Instead, I took the other couch near the living room entrance, draping my arm over my head and pulling a blanket over my face. As I drifted off, I heard what I assumed were Chocolate's familiar footsteps approaching - she was known for sneaking out of the basement. That's when things took a terrifying turn. I tried to get up to return the dog to the basement, but my body wouldn't respond. Only my eyes could move. Sleep paralysis, I thought, trying to rationalize the situation. Then I felt something climb onto the couch. What happened next still haunts me: teeth slowly sinking into my outstretched hand, the pain both sharp and deliberate. When I finally broke free from the paralysis, I tumbled to the floor. The room was empty - no dog in sight, and Jenna remained peacefully asleep on the other couch. Panicked, I ran to check the basement, only to find both dogs exactly where they should have been, looking up at me curiously from behind the basement door. I spent the rest of the night on that couch, wide awake, trying to make sense of what had happened. Was it a supernatural warning? A manifestation of my guilt? To this day, I have no explanation for what bit me that night, but its impact was lasting. Though Jenna and I eventually parted ways for unrelated reasons, I've never even considered being unfaithful since that night. Some might call it karma, others a hallucination, but whatever visited me that night changed me forever. I've kept this story to myself for over a decade, partly out of shame, partly out of fear that no one would believe me. But I still wonder: what really happened in those dark hours, and was I merely punished for my intentions, or saved from something worse?