I used to live in Grand Bruit and one day when the house was empty because the kids were at school and my husband was off working, I decided it would be a good time to scrub the floors.
I got my bucket and got to work, listening to the radio as I did my housework.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash of movement, and realized an incredibly tall, very thin man wearing a long cloak was standing off to the corner, but he had no feet.
I couldn’t see his face, and we had no such person in our lives who might have come through the house without calling out and so oddly dressed to boot.
The hairs stood right up on the back of my neck and I could feel myself start to sweat. My heart skipped a beat and then almost tore itself out of my chest I was so scared.
The man felt so evil, so cold and angry, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him fully. I just kept scrubbing and started to pray for him to get out of my house, to leave me in peace and not do me any harm.
I don’t remember if I made any noise, but I know I just kept scrubbing those floors as hard and as fast as I could.
It took forever for him to move across the floor and he made no sound when he moved. Not even his cape rustled, but I could feel his movement when he glided past. I don’t know what I would have done if he’d reached out to touch me.
Finally, I spied him slipping through the wall on the other side of the kitchen.
I felt such a relief, breathing so hard, and trying to get myself warmed up again.