I know the story may seem very cliché, but here it is. My mother and I had just moved to my stepfather's house. At first, everything was fine. I had to share the room with my brother, which was normal. But ever since our old house, we had been seeing shadows and, mainly, I heard noises, bells, and saw shadows. My mother even saw a black tail... One night, at my stepfather's house, my brother and I went to bed, and I woke up around two in the morning, distressed and screaming. When my parents came into the room, I started telling them that I had a nightmare, where I was in a church, and a demon almost with god-like powers was destroying the church, as he opened a rift and split the church in half, and we were hanging on the edge of it. But then, from a certain part of my dream, my stepbrother continued the story. So, we looked at each other, full of fear, and then our parents said it was better to go to bed and that it was just a coincidence... We listened to them and went to bed, but things only got worse from there. Tragedies happened in my family, our great-grandmother died a week before my birthday, among other things. Like the night I woke up because of my sleep apnea and heard something, or someone, rummaging through the bags in my closet... I know it wasn't the wind because the closet windows were closed, but at the moment, I could only get up, go slowly, and close the closet. Besides, several things were disappearing from my room and some haven't appeared until today... One day, my mother reached her limit and went to talk to the bishop, and he gave a prayer to be prayed by the children of the house, in this case, my stepbrother and me, and we did it for a week. During them, we heard noises, and the flames of the candles didn't stop moving. Until, on the last day, at the end of the prayer, I looked down the hallway, and there was a black shadow, with red eyes, looking around the corner, and it smiled, turned, and left. We, full of fear, started crying, but since then, things started to get better for us.