When I was five years old, my family and I lived on a turnip farm.

Because we were so poor, we often did things the old-fashioned way, such as fetching buckets of water.

On one night, it was my turn to fetch the water, but it was late,

and since I was only five, I didn't want to go outside. After a moment of fussing, I grabbed the

bucket, headed out the door, and went down past the barn to the stream. I filled the bucket and

headed back toward the house, and then I stopped dead in my

tracks. Five feet in front of me on the path was a grotesque and giant hairy creature with the

creepiest green eyes I had ever seen. I was terrified, and I screamed for my life, and I ran back to the house.

When I got through the door and out of breath, my dad asked where the buckets of water were.

I explained to him what had happened, but he didn't believe me.

He told me to stop this foolishness and get the water, but I was too scared, and I refused to go unless he went with me.

He went out on the porch with me and scoped out the area, and when my dad didn't see anything

out of the ordinary, he made me get the buckets by myself. And as fast as my little legs could carry me,

I headed back down past the barn into the stream,

and I picked up the bucket where I had dropped it, and I filled it up again.

When I ran back to the house, I spotted the creature again heading toward the barn.

And I ran to my dad, and I told him the monster was going toward the barn.

But he told me not to worry about it, that the creature was probably just taking a bath. After my encounter, I was often

teased about my experience with the green-eyed monster. Still today, people tease me about it.

I work late nights in suburban Suffolk, Virginia.

Tonight was creepier than usual.

I had my hand on my pistol, and I rested on a bus stop bench not far from my house.

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