The Old Hag

I have always been inclined to fear the unknown which is found in the darkness, both as a child and then later in my years as a grown adult. Such an inclination was most likely the direct result of my mother’s dabbling in the supernatural and paranormal while I was a very young child. I can easily recall my nights spent in bed when I was a child, lying with eyes wide open as I surveyed the room to be sure no other was there with me and praying for sleep to overcome my restless body and come quickly. The real creature of fear, however, with a life and breath of its own – and an even darker and more disturbing beast by nature - first began when I was only seven years of age. Though I am now forty-seven, the same dreaded fear has remained steadfast at times to follow me into the years of my early youth, college years, and much later years. As as a result, much to my consternation, I still often opt for the comfort of a night light to overcome unknown dangers to be found in the darkness.

The evil old hag. She invades like a creature from the bowels of hell's fires. The creepy thought of her is easily enough to rack my body in shivers, and I desperately want to run from just the thought alone. To where I would run, I have no earthly idea as the old crone seems to lurk even where I seek to hide. When she visits, there is no escape to be found from this tormenting, evil creature derived from slumber's depths and the surreal stuff of which the most terrifying nightmares are made. With her gnarly, knobby hands and face, she will rip your voice from your lungs, rendering any chance of movement impossible once she lands hard and heavy atop your chest amidst cackles of glee and screeched incantations you’ve no desire to hear or understand. She is the epitome of hell, evil incarnate in every possible sense of the word. What's even worse and most unfortunate is that the old hag and her invasive sleep paralysis is an all too real event suffered by far too many - just as she's been for me over the prevailing years.

The two – the old hag and sleep paralysis - are synonymous or one and the same. They can easily evoke the fear and thunder of hell’s fury in one brief, dark night’s consummate visit. Though only mere seconds or minutes may in reality tick away on the clock, you’re left with the sensation of a year or more passing in the realm of one night’s fitful sleep. The difficulty with and the inability in prying open the eyes is very real, excelling in the the darkness of the mind's third eye. One can sense or see the evil that has come to terrify all the way through to the core of your soul. Once granted a reprieve and allowed to open your eyes, one then quickly rises from the bed and turns on every possible light in an attempt to banish the old crone and any of the residual effects left in the wake of her horrifying visit.

As I said, I was only seven years of age when the old hag visited me for the first time. I remember being very much awake though I also seemed to be in a drugged or semi-conscious state. Though I tried and tried, I was unable to open my eyes to search the darkness of my room, unable to move my body in any possible way. Interestingly enough, each occurrence also brought the dreaded feeling of weighing at least five hundred or more pounds (though I may have weighed all of sixty pounds at the time). Needless to say, it was a disturbing and a crippling sensation that invaded to render my young body completely immobile. Yes, I was only seven, but even then I was keenly aware of the presence of some lingering evil – a vivid haunting of a unique, strange creation that had entered and permeated the scope of my tiny room. Though someone slept in the bed beside me, I was unable to summon a voice or strike out a fist in a cry for help. There was never any rhyme or reason associated with the horrifying event or the occurrence of the old hag’s visit. At times, it came out of nowhere and without any warning, while at others, it was mostly likely precipitated by stress or frictions endured. Either way, the experience of the old hag was not one to which I gravitated or one for which I longed in any capacity as it was always terrifying in its intensity.

It was many years beyond my seventh birthday when I first heard the tale of the old hag in relation to horrifying event of sleep paralysis I'd experienced multiple times. The old crone was described on a paranormal show I learned of the old folk tale of the old hag, perpetuating through the years since the Middle Ages. I also viewed and detailed one woman’s nightly nightmare of visits from just such a sordid and horrendous old hag. Despite seeking professional help, the woman still endured repeated nights of sleep paralysis, torture, and an inability to rest peacefully without a visit fear of the old woman's reoccurring visits. I was horrified. This woman’s plight seemed far worse than anything I’d ever experienced in relation to the same type of event, but nonetheless, her story struck a chord and resonated with me, adding substance to what I had actually experienced. My own visitations were tormenting enough, and though I never actually saw a visage of an old crone while it was occurring, the impending fear and evil prevailed each time it occurred. This especially held true during my vulnerable college years, rattling me, and leaving a mark unlike any other. It appeared to me that whether one actually saw or visualized an old hag or simply felt an evil presence (like me), we all fought against the same unsettling sensation derived from such an event. For me, the story and the image of the old hag fit the bill, precisely capturing that which I had endured off and on throughout the many years.

As I write this somewhat detailed account of my personal experiences or tribulations with sleep paralysis and the old bitty or hag, I am left with a strong inclination to pause at my desk where I sit writing, look all around and behind me, in order to assure myself I am, in fact, still entirely alone. Despite not having had an old hag attack in recent years like the ones described herein, I am left with the haunting, vivid recollection of just such an unreal and unwanted visitation which is too easily pulled from the recesses of our worst fears. I wonder if, indeed, I have given renewed breath to such a horrendous memory, thereby summoning the old crone from reticent recesses to provoke another unwanted, surrealistic attack. I hope - and I fervently pray – that will not be the case herewith.

There is, without a doubt, one thing of which I am certain:  the echoes of the old hag’s all too realistic visits and the sleep paralysis should remain a fear that is well buried though never to be forgotten.