“I grew up on an animal sanctuary in the countryside of Pennsylvania. My parents worked and built the place from scratch, and for years we rescued animals from around the world.
The place was new, but felt cold and scary. Something gave it an ancient feeling. I was four years old at the time my parents suspected an evil presence. The things that worried them seemed to come straight from a horror film.
When I was young, I began drawing pictures of a face at a window. I don’t remember this, but my parents tell me now that I would wake up screaming and crying about seeing a face looking into my window at night. The window was to the right of my bed and overlooked nothing but cows, chickens, etc.
The night that forced us to move was the night my mom was strangled in her sleep. She claims she hit my dad’s shoulder to help her wake up, but he says she never did that. That some night, at around four a.m., something mauled two of our goats at the sanctuary and killed a bunch of our chickens. There was broken glass everywhere, and the alarm was going off, though it said it was still armed.
After that, we went to stay at my grandmother’s house which was less than two miles away. It’s now been eight years, and we have yet to visit the sanctuary property…”
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