A man is watching my sister sleeping in her bed

This happened to me in the 1970s. I attend high school in a country town in Victoria about 200kms away from Melbourne. I live in an old house with wooden jarrah floors with my parents and younger sister.

One night I was woken by some creaky noises. I’m a light sleeper anyway, so I usually sleep in dead silence. I was the only one to close their bedroom door. The noises sounded like someone was walking outside my room. I looked at the gap under the door but saw no lights on, so I decided to get up and check who had woken up.

I got to my feet and opened my door a crack, peeking out of it. I didn’t see anything, no lights, nothing. I suddenly felt a cold sweat as I knew that it wasn’t my parents or my little sister, because if it was, they would have turned on the lights.

As it was dark, I tried to open my eyes as wide as possible to see better. It didn’t work. I then remembered a trick I learned on a TV show where turning your eyes slightly away from where you want to focus to use your peripherals would allow you to see in the dark.

And you know what? It did. Literally, in the corner of my eye, I saw a man standing at the entrance of the hall staring at my sleeping sister. He wasn’t my father because he was tall, thin and wearing black clothes. My dad doesn’t wear black clothes.

My heart sank as I realised what I was looking at. Obviously, I didn’t have any way to let my parents know silently, so I opened my door and yelled for my dad at the top of my lungs. Dad! Someone’s in our house! My sister suddenly woke up from the commotion.  The man jerked his head around to look at me as I caught him by complete surprise. I saw his eyes… they were black with no whites.

Seconds later my dad comes storming out of his room with his rifle in hand and my mum right behind him. My dad is a big guy with a typical rural Australian accent and is as tough as they come. The guy peels off through the living room and out of the house through the sliding door which he had forced open with a crowbar.

My mother runs to the phone to call the police which is in the kitchen next to the living room. The man can be heard chuckling loudly as he runs into the distance. My dad remains outside with his shotgun as I go check on my sister, assuring her everything is okay.

The police came over and investigated further. Unfortunately he was not found.

The man was identified by police finally, many years later. 20 years in fact. He was charged with multiple child abduction and assaults. This man was the priest of our town in Ballarat and a trusted member of our community.

To this day I still don’t have an explanation for the colour of his eyes.

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