Terrorized by Gnomes

I am 48 years old. I grew up in rural Oklahoma when there were only 3 channels on our huge Zenith T.V. that was really more like furniture than just a T.V. We had one rotary telephone that was stationed in the middle of the house and it was actually on a party line….you had to wait for your neighbor to complete their call sometimes before you could place your own. Basically…we lived way out in the sticks- the nearest neighbor was half a mile away. My family consisted of both parents ( who were exceptional ) and a great younger sister. I had a great childhood….for the most part. 

From the ages of 8 to 12, I was routinely visited by “entities”. I don’t really know what they were and have only recently taken to thinking of them as gnomes. These were not of the kindly, garden variety. They were humanoid, no taller than approximately 3 feet…physically, bony is what always comes to mind. There was no facial hair and I never really nailed down an age….I just kind of knew they were much older than me. They always came at night…I didn’t have a clock nearby so I can’t tell you when precisely. They were quiet, and wore badly fitting brown tunics with pointy hats of the same color. I cant tell you why they came and I’ve never been able to figure out what they wanted. They were completely evil and any intentions they had were bad. I knew this to the bone. They terrified me in a way that I have never been since. Maybe they fed on that fear. The only defense I could think of was to play possum. I would pretend to be asleep and pray they would leave. Sometimes these visits would also involve a large ….for lack of a better term….Shadow Person. Mind you….all this happened before these were actually a thing. No matter how well I pretended….they knew I was awake. 

Even at that young age, i was physically bigger and maybe even stronger than most of them, but confrontation was never an option. They terrified me to the bone. The strange thing is there was rarely any physical interaction. At the most, on a rare occasion….I would feel a bony finger prod me. It still makes my skin crawl and at the time I would cry thinking the end is near.. On the very few occasions when I would muster enough courage to do something, I would gather myself and spring out of bed and sprint to my parent’s room and wake my father. This would go on and on, month after month, and my poor father was beginning to doubt my sanity, I’m sure. He would routinely do his room inspection and nothing would be there. He never put shame on me, but I put it on myself for waking him. He worked hard and I was interrupting that work for nothing. I quit involving them and just took it.. The morning became my best friend. They would be gone before daylight. It was my only saving grace. It was taken away one morning when I opened my eyes and one of their faces was leering at me, inches from my own. Never knew he was there. I closed my eyes quickly and shook with fear. The face was ugly….It’s almost comical but he reminded me of Alfred E. Neuman from MAD magazine, only completely malevolent. It makes me feel foolish to say that, but it is what it is.. 

This wasn’t a knightly affair….and I was too young to think of tracking and recording when and maybe why….but it happened frequently. Now I think they were letting me recharge between visits- if that makes sense?  On very rare occasions,  I would see them outside as I was playing  (always when I was alone and no one else around)  I would get a sudden, intense fear, look up and see the brown robe out in the middle of a pasture. Not moving or doing anything, but I knew who they were there for.. It was always menacing. As far as I know, no one else in my family experienced this….as far as I know. I vaguely remember trying to bring it up at the dinner table one evening and being hushed by my mother. I never brought it up again. Not many days go by that I don’t think of those days, and I’ve often tried to blame my imagination for being too vivid…..but I can still smell them. It was a rancid, unwashed body smell, and it always announced their presence.

And just like that….it stopped. Right around the age of 12. I don’t know if it was the onset of puberty and my “discovery” of the opposite sex or the fact that I was baptized and saved at that age. I like to think it’s the latter. I am a Christian, although not always the best of one….but that thought gives me comfort. It’s been 40 years since those events….and I’m a big, “tough” guy who’s been in a fair amount of scrapes and works construction….But I can’t guarantee that If I saw one of those little bastards now, that it wouldn’t have the same effect as it did then.

That’s my story boys….do with it as you will…whatever you do with it, know that it did me good to get it out of my head and into words. and I appreciate you for that.