One night, as I lay in my crib, my eyes suddenly opened to a chilling sight. The only light in the room came from a streetlamp outside, casting eerie shadows across the walls. In the dimness, I saw something inhuman creeping toward the top of the crib on my right side.

What I saw was a black hand, its skin sticky and tar-like, making it look unnatural and menacing. The hand had three claw-like fingers, and it moved very slowly, reaching for the top of the crib. The arm extended further, but I could never see what it was attached to; the rest remained hidden in darkness.

As the hand drew closer—about three inches from the top of my crib—I screamed in terror. My grandfather rushed into the room. The moment he switched on the light, the hand vanished without a trace.

I was only eighteen months old, yet the memory is as vivid as if it happened yesterday. This was the first night terror I ever experienced, and its horror has stayed with me ever since.