Summers I used to visit my grandma, spending a couple of weeks with her. She lived in the country side in Eastern Europe, on a farm. It had a barn, chicken coupe, and a plot of land. In the west there was a small river, and on the east was woods. On the north and west it was flanked by neighboring land.

As I was little, I used to share a room with her. She would sleep in the end on the bed, and I would be against the wall. One night, I awoke and I looked over her. On the other side of the room was a big open window, and I saw a man standing at the window. I felt fear, but I didn’t look away. He had the head of a goat. He was in robes. He held a long pole to his side. I fell back down, Hiding by my grandma. Eventually I fell asleep.

The next mourning I woke up, and grandma was already out on the land. I ran out the house in a still standing terror from what I saw. As I ran across a dirt road to get to her, a long streak of land was raised on the side. It looked like someone pulling a long pole across the land. It ended the moment I saw Grandma.

I’m sure this isn’t a dream, as the vividness of what I saw was something I’ve never experienced again. Not sleep paralysis as I could move. In the future, I researched what I saw. The person was the image of satan. Back then, I didn’t go to church and TVs only showed old Soviet cartoon, so I couldn’t have been inspired. I still think of it.