On a warm summer day when I was about 12 years old (early 1980s), I was home alone for a brief time (family had gone to the grocery store). I had always been terrified of the demons and was constantly worried about a possible demon attack. Being born in, growing up a Dub, the Devil and his demons were always either on my mind or not too far from conscious thought. I was terried of ever doing anything that might displease Jehovah. The warnings at the Hall and in my family were thinly veiled "be good or the demons will get you." The constant stories of demon attacks that were told and retold scared the living daylights out of me. As I remember, I really lived in fear.
So on this warm summer day, I was watching television, laying on the sofa in the living room and my hand wandered a little, and it made brief contact with my genitals. I don't remember if I was itching or if it was something more "sinful," but no sooner than my hand made contact with my privates, the sofa started moving.
I cannot even begin to describe the terror I felt. The sofa was moving, and I froze. I couldn't scream. I couldn't move. It was moving back and forth, up and down. I mean, the damn thing was jumping up and down! This seemed to go on forever, but it probably lasted 10-20 seconds. I finally was able to get up, and in my panic, I dove through the front room window. The unlocked door was right next to the window, of course. Needless to say, I wasn't thinking too clearly at the time.
Outside, I was literally running up and down the street screaming something about the demons getting me. Fortunately, a kind old couple lived next door. They came outside and brought me into their house. They calmed me down and tried to clean me up. That musn't have been easy, as I was hysterical.
Once I was calm enough, they turned on the television. The news was on. It was an earthquake.