The house I grew up in was built into the hill. The rooms in the back had windows up high like a basement. If you walked on the path behind the house, you could just step onto the roof.
There was a shed that the path forked off to, the path went down hill and into the shed. There was a small doorway inside that led to the other shed, and this opened up to the carport.
One day me and my brother went on that path to look for sticks to roast marshmallows on before the sun went down. We ended up goofing around too long and it was getting dark before we knew it.
We were about to head out when a skeleton jumped out of the shed and in front of us. It’s eye sockets were glowing red. We tried to run, but more skeletons poured out and we were surrounded.
They got my brother and were dragging him down into the shed. I was trying to scream, but no sound was coming out. I reached for him and he grabbed onto my hand. I squeezed and pulled with all my might and my brother started kicking the skeletons. One by one they started to fall, but there was still so many of them.
I remembered what a woman told me once. She said there was a verse in the Bible that said the demons shutter when they hear God’s name, so if I ever encountered a demon, all I had to do was say God’s name and they would leave me alone.
But how can I say His name when the demons are preventing me from screaming? I didn’t know how, all I knew is that I had to do it. With all my will I yelled out, “Jehovah!!!!!”.
Instantly the skeletons all disappeared. It was just me and my brother back there in the dark.
We found our way to the front, covered in dirt. We told our parents what happened, but they didn’t believe us. We never spoke of it again.