Written Confession: Remembering the Red-Eyed Hatman
The following written confession was submitted via email:
This is a memory that has been with me for so long that I’m not sure if it is real or a dream. The facts that I do know align with this being a true story. I was unaware of the phenomena of “hatman” until somewhat recently when I went back to school and had to take a creative writing class. I wrote about this memory, and one of the people in class brought up “hatman.” I didn’t know so many other people had experiences similar to mine, so many that he has a name.
When I was six, my sister and I came up to spend about a month with our grandma in Indiana. This was a time when she was very religious and was very involved with her church. Her pastor had some girls around the ages of me and my sister, so we were invited over to play. This pastor’s house was an old farmhouse in the country surrounded by cornfields. They had a small shed in the backyard that the girls used as a playhouse. Even though it was summer and hot, we decided to play in their “playhouse.” There were three other girls besides me and my sister in there. For some reason, we closed the door, and it was nearly pitch black in there while we were playing. It was decided that we would all stand in a line and braid each other’s hair. I think I was in the front of the line. The girl who lived there was in the back. After a few minutes, the girl in the back said “Ow” and told her sister to stop pulling her hair. Her sister denied pulling her hair, and we all went back to what we were doing. Another few minutes went by and the girl in the back said the same thing. Her sister denied it again and pointed out that someone was braiding her hair at the moment, so she couldn’t be pulling her hair.
It was at this point we all realized we weren’t the only ones in the shed. Chaos ensued as we all screamed and ran out of the shed toward the house. I may have been the youngest, and I’m pretty certain I was the smallest. I know I was the slowest because I was at the back of the pack. I remember turning around to look behind me while running to the back door. What I saw has been seared into my memory ever since. There was a tall man – solidly black – a few feet in front of the shed. He was blacker than black everywhere except the glowing red eyes. He looked tall with moderately wide shoulders and narrow hips. He looked like he was wearing blue jeans and a button-up shirt. He had on what I have learned is called a businessman stetson, which is basically a cowboy hat with a smaller brim. When I turned around and saw him, he seemed to not really be pursuing us but I’m pretty sure I still ran as fast as I could to the back door. I have vague memories of being in the house after we all ran inside, but I’m assuming none of the grow-ups believed us. And I might have been the only one to look back on the way into the house, so I may have been the only one to see the figure. This all occurred around midday. It was a bright sunny day too. I remember a clear blue sky with a few random fluffy white clouds.
I’ve had other paranormal things happen off and on throughout my life but this was, by far, the most dramatic thing I have ever experienced. To this day, I still try to avoid looking at those yard decorations people use that are cutouts of people painted black, especially the cowboy ones.
