As a child, I feared the dark, haunted by whispers I couldn’t understand. But one night, just before Christmas, I saw a mysterious red light at the bottom of the stairs. I thought it was Santa—until a powerful voice ordered me to stop. The crash that followed sent me running, and in the morning, we discovered something had torn down the decorations and thrown a piece of furniture across the room. There were marks—deep indentations where something had gripped it. That night changed me forever.