A Disturbing Encounter
It was a night like any other—or so I thought. I had fallen asleep in my bed, upstairs in the house, surrounded by the silence of the night. But something disturbed my sleep. Slowly, with that creeping sense of unease, I opened my eyes. The room was swallowed in darkness, yet one detail caught my attention immediately: the sheets were being pulled from the foot of the bed.
At first, I thought it was just a dream or perhaps an involuntary movement of my own body. But when I tried to pull them back toward me, something resisted. My heart pounded against my ribs. My breath became rapid, almost gasping. The air felt colder, denser, as if an invisible presence had saturated it. Slowly, I lifted my head from the pillow, and that’s when I saw it.
At the foot of the bed, a horrifying creature was crawling toward me. Black as pitch, its body looked charred, as if it had been burned and covered in tar. It had no flesh, only wrinkled, blackened skin. Its eyes, bloodshot and glowing like embers, pierced through the darkness. The stench it exuded was nauseating—a mix of damp earth and rot, like the smell of a freshly unearthed grave.
Terror paralyzed me. My body was frozen, my blood turned to ice. A shiver ran down my spine, as if unseen fingers brushed against my skin. I tried to scream, but my voice was trapped in my throat. My brother lay asleep in the bed beside mine, completely unaware. The nightmare entity crept closer, inch by inch, until it was just a breath away from my face. I could feel its foul breath, moist and rotten, brushing against my skin, accompanied by a barely audible hissing sound.
With a final surge of desperation, I shut my eyes. Before I did, I caught a glimpse of the clock: 2:13 AM. When I opened my eyes again, determined to break the nightmare... there was nothing there.
Silence reclaimed the room. No scent, no presence. But when I glanced at the clock again, it now read 2:17 AM. Time had passed, and yet the memory of those minutes remained vivid in my mind. A dream? A hallucination? Or had I truly encountered something real?
One thing unsettled me deeply: in dreams, it's said that you can't clearly see written words or numbers. Yet I remembered the time on the clock perfectly, sharp and precise, just as I had seen it on the glowing display. And that posed a terrifying question: if it had only been a dream, how could I recall such a small yet specific detail?
The Story of S'Ammutadori
A few days later, I told my aunt Irma everything. She listened attentively, never interrupting, her face serious and focused. When I finished speaking, she took a deep breath and said:
"What you saw has a name, my dear. It's called S'Ammutadori."
It was a winter evening. The wind howled through the cracks in the house, and the fire in the hearth flickered, casting trembling shadows on the stone walls. The air was thick with the scent of burning wood and resin, but beneath that familiar fragrance, something else lingered—a faint, unsettling smell of damp earth.
Around the table, silence filled the space as my aunt began her tale.
"S'Ammutadori is no ordinary ghost, no. It’s a being that comes at night, when everyone is asleep. It climbs onto your chest and steals your breath until you can no longer move. And do you know how to recognize it? By the smell of wet earth… of death."
A shiver crawled up my spine, like a cold breath slipping through a half-open window.
"But Auntie… it's just a story, right?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
My aunt stroked her chin, letting the silence stretch between us. The wind outside howled louder, whistling through the gaps in the house, causing the windows to tremble slightly. The firewood crackled in the hearth, releasing an unexpected pop that made me jump.
Then, with a piercing gaze and a voice barely above a whisper, she said:
"I thought so too. Until that night…"
At those words, I dared not ask anything more. My heart pounded in my chest as countless questions swirled in my mind. But some things, perhaps, are better left unknown. Since that night, I stay awake as late as possible…
S'Ammutadori: Legend or Reality?
The legend of S'Ammutadori is one of the most sinister and chilling myths in Sardinian folklore. It is said that this malevolent entity attacks people in their sleep, immobilizing them and stealing their breath. Many associate it with sleep paralysis, a phenomenon explained by science, but Sardinian tradition interprets it as an encounter with something from beyond.
Some say that reciting a prayer can drive it away, while others believe that keeping a sacred object near the bed is enough for protection. But one thing is certain: those who have felt the crushing weight of S'Ammutadori on their chest never forget it.
And you? Have you ever experienced something like this?
Share your story in the comments and let us know your thoughts.
But remember: if one night you feel a shadow pressing on your chest and a foul breath caressing your face… don't open your eyes.
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