I was about 14-15 years old and living in my parents mobile home in southern california. We lived in a quiet beach town where everybody knew each other and nothing bad ever happened. Anyway, It was a school night about 11pm so I was laying in bed waiting to fall asleep. In those days I had a loft bed, which looks like a bunk bed except instead of a bottom bunk there was a desk which had my computer and tv and stuff on it. It was getting close to summer so I had my window open to let in the cool air. I was just about to fall asleep when my screen fell off my window sill and crashed onto my bedroom floor. Now this still isnt a strange occurence because I would often come home and leave through my bedroom window so the screen did not perfectly fit into place due to me taking it off so regularly, so it would periodically fall off but it did startle me and got my blood flowing. So i rolled over in bed and looked up at the ceiling and thought I would just put it back on in the morning. Then the pungent, sickly sweet odor wafted up into my face. I couldnt exactly put my finger on what that smell was but i thought it was very strange and I should maybe check it out... but slowly because I was tired and it was most likely a raccoon that had died under the house (wouldnt be the first time) So i rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, sat up in bed, and let my legs hang off the side. My heart jumped up into my throat as i saw a large tattooed arm reach through my window and feel around on the floor in my bedroom. The guy grabbed the screen and slowly, quietly pulled it out the window. At this point I was freaked the fuck out and my adrenaline had kicked in at levels my pre-pubescent body had never before experienced. My eyes started to water, I stopped breathing, and time stopped. I thought it could have been some crazy crack head coming to kill us and steal all our valuables. seconds ticked by and I sat there in my bed not two feet above the window the arm had just shot through. I thought maybe he will just go away. But of course he didnt. To my horror I watched as the mans arm grabbed my window frame once again then he pulled himself up slowly and a leg crept through next. It was silent and had I been asleep this mountain of a man would have come into my room without a sound and we never would have know he was there. But, I was not asleep. I grabbed the bowie knife I kept underneath my pillow (because I, just like every other teenage boy, was a badass) and I yelled at the top of my lungs "I HAVE A KNIFE GET THE HELL OUT OF MY ROOM!" and before the guy could completely pull himself up into my room from outside I scared him. He lost his footing and fell backwards out my window and into rosemary bushes outside cussing and spittin. I remember yelling out for my dad and saying something along the lines of "DAD SOMEBODYS BREAKING IN" and he was at my bedside faster then I could get the words out. He looking out the window, told me to stay there, and jumped out the window after this smelly fucking ogre. He never did find that guy but police came and looked and eventually they decided it was a drunk homeless guy who was desperate and looking for a place to sleep and maybe some free food and stuff to pawn. So we locked up the house fixed my window and went back to bed a couple hours later. I didnt sleep that night. That was an incredibly tramatic experience for me being that I was essentially the person who had to confront a home invader. But that isnt the scary part. Whats truly horrifying is, a couple days later we found a makeshift home underneath our house with a sleeping bag, water, extra clothes, and a big ass hatchet... This guy had been living underneath our house for god knows how long without anybody knowing he was there. I believe he chose to come in through my room because It was the only room in the house that was open to the outside that you could not see a person sleeping in it unless you where standing in the room (because the loft bed made it look like it was only a desk from the outside). I still think to this day the dude had planned on robbing us, cased the house, and chose my room as his entry point because he could get in quietly so he wouldnt wake anybody up. He then built his home under our house and waited for his opportunity. Then whenIi left my window open he decided to strike. Ive had tons of crazy scary shit happen to me in my life but that series of events that unfolded was easily one of the most fucked up things thats happened to me and it really opened my eyes to the fact that crazy fucked up things do happen to normal people and you should always hope for the best but plan for the worst.
TLDR; crazy tattooed ogre man tried to break into my bedroom when I was a kid