For some reason I remembered this story recently. My dad told me it several time when I was a kid, and he swears it's true. My dad is a very practical, logical person not given to flights of fancy, so personally I believe him.

My dad grew up in rural Scotland. One weekend a nearby town was hosting a travelling funfair. My dad and all his siblings, nine of them in total, begged to be allowed to go. Their parents gave in and took them to the fair. They all had a great time and stayed at the fair until quite late. Then they came home and their mum put them all to bed as it was way past even the oldest children's bedtimes.

My dad lay in bed thinking about the fair and what a great time he had had. My dad's parents were strict, hardworking Scottish catholics and didn't have a lot of time or money for things like funfairs, so this one night had been really special to my dad.

As he's lying there falling asleep, he suddenly feels a tugging on the bedclothes. He snaps wide awake. He looks down towards the end of the bed and sees a hand reaching up from under the bed. The hand is groping around as if searching for something. My dad instinctively knows the hand is searching for HIM. He scrambles up to the head if the bed, flattening himself against the wall, as far from the hand as possible. He screws up his courage and takes a flying leap towards the door. He runs to his parents' room and wakes up his dad and tells him what just happened.

His dad's response was "Go downstairs and go to my toolbox. Get out the big hammer, and if the hand comes up again, hit it with the hammer as hard as you can."

Well my dad sat up all night, clutching the hammer as if his life depended on it. But the hand never came back.

My dad swears this all really happened and swears he was awake, because obviously he got out of bed and went to his parents' room. The next day his dad looked under the bed. There was nothing there.

Cool story, huh? It still frightens me to be honest!