transcript

Speaker 1:
[00:00] Hey, before this episode begins, I just want to let everyone know that my film that I've been producing for the last two years, Gale Yellow Brick Road, is now streaming on Chilling. So if you weren't able to go see it in theaters a couple months ago, no worries. Click the link in the description to this video, or just search Chilling in your app store, and you can watch Gale Yellow Brick Road tonight at home. I really hope you enjoy. Please leave an honest rating and review on IMDb and Rotten Tomatoes. Thanks again. Hey, welcome back to the podcast. I really hope you enjoy this episode. If you'd like to hear more stories like these with a different background sound, please check the description to check out my other two podcasts. If you want to get rid of all of the ads, you can subscribe for just $2.99 a month. Last thing, I really appreciate you being here, and I'd really love if you would follow the podcast and come back again soon. Thank you so much. I hope you enjoy. I began working weekly at my local bar about six months ago. It's an old, cozy little pub. Think carpeted floor, that old pub scent, little Irish trinkets everywhere, and a few Guinness drinkers lining the bar every night. There is an older clientele in the bar. I get to control the music on my shift, and there is always a pleasant, friendly atmosphere. It also pays very well, and I enjoy the banter with the locals and the odd tourists who might wander in from a nearby hotel. Being such an old building, when you are closing up on your own at the end of a shift, a deep sense of unease tends to creep in. What was a fun place to be with music and lively chatter swiftly became full of shadows and creepiness. First, the lights are switched off in the beer garden and the customer bathrooms. No big deal. Then the lights in the lounge behind the main bar are to be switched off right before you leave the building. Last night, this is the part of the closing shift where it all started to go downhill. I lifted the used beer mats from the tables before wiping them down. I had already switched the music off and the silence was unnatural to my ears, after eight solid hours of 70s and 80s tunes being played at a decent volume. Gathering the beer mats and my cleaning supplies, I turned to head to the main bar. I flicked the light switch to off and on, and in the time it took for me to walk down the two steps, I heard someone behind me. Someone very clearly and very definitely cleared their throat. Immediately I was frozen, my legs refused to work. I knew the bar was completely empty and had been for the last 15 minutes or so. I also knew that I had checked the bathrooms, and it had been raining profusely all evening. So the beer garden didn't have a single patron all night. So there was zero chance of someone still lurking around after hours. I knew I had to turn to take a look, but I really, really felt as though my heart had fallen directly into my stomach. My skin felt as though it was crawling with nerves, and I just knew that whatever made that sound from behind me had bad intentions. Still, I put down the spray bottle of disinfectant and slowly turned to face the lounge. There, in the dark, in a chair, was a lady who absolutely had not been a customer of mine all evening. Even in the dark and in the shadows of the room, I could make out that she was extremely thin and gaunt, in her advancing years. Her eyes seemed to glow at me, with all I can describe as absolute hatred. I could sense the anger radiating from her, and it terrified me. I began to shake with fear, and the beer mats in my hand landed on the floor. I managed to squeak out a very shaky, and I heard a voice. In response, I got an irate sounding moan and grunt. Not like the moans and groans from someone who had perhaps taken a little bit too much from the top shelf, and wanted to be left to sleep it off in the corner of the bar. Rather, this was the sound of someone who couldn't speak, but wanted to convey their outrage. Hello? I'm sorry, but it's time to go home. Do you have a ride, or I can call someone for you? This was a silly thing for me to say, but I didn't know else what to say. I began to doubt myself. Did I miss this person somewhere? Had she been passed out in the corner by chance and I never noticed? But deep down, I knew. I knew that this was Mrs. Taylor. Mrs. Taylor had been the pub landlady a long, long time ago, about 50 years ago, and she was a hard-lined lady by all accounts. If she didn't like or trust you, she didn't want you anywhere near the place. She hated other women with a burning passion, and she wouldn't allow any females into the bar without a male chaperone. Me, a single 20-something-year-old who enjoyed the odd glass of wine and a shot of tequila and was into hard rock music, most assuredly wouldn't have been allowed to set foot into this bar. There had been stories of the place being haunted and previous barmaids being scared out of their wits by ghostly movements, but I had always shrugged it off as nonsense. I took a step back when I got no response. The person I assumed to be Mrs. Taylor began to move. She placed a bony hand on the arm of the chair and rose up. In a surprisingly speedy and youthful way, she began towards me, letting out the most foul, high-pitched and intense scream I had ever heard, like the sound one would imagine the banshee gave out. I lost it. I turned on my heels and ran for the main door. I left my bag on the counter and ran for my life, completely forgetting about anything else. The only good thing is that the main door locks behind you, so there was no need to lock it up. I don't know why she appeared to me, and I don't know how I will face going back there for my shift in three days time. How do I explain all this to the boss without sounding absolutely crazy? Wish me luck. This happened like two and a half years ago. For context, I was in the military and lived in the barracks at the time. The barracks used to be a hospital way back when, and many people have had paranormal experiences, including my roommates and I, on more than one occasion. Ironically, all of this happened on Friday the 13th. The whole day was wild, so I'll just start with the first weird thing that happened. My roommates and I had this tradition of always going out to eat on Friday. This Friday, it was pouring rain, and we went to eat downtown at a regular random restaurant. The second we walked in, we just felt so out of place. We were sitting waiting a long time for a waiter to talk to us, until finally he came, and he was beyond creepy. He seemed almost non-human. He grinned very creepily the whole time, moved around and talked like a robot. Halfway through our meal, I noticed every single person in the restaurant was wearing the same exact shade of blue. All the men had a blue button up, and every woman had on the same blue dress. I pointed this out to my roommate, while she also pointed out to me that all the waiters were standing in the corner of the restaurant, staring, and smiling at us. I had tears in my eyes, I was so creeped out. We didn't finish our food, and we paid and left. We also double checked on the website and outside the restaurant to make sure there wasn't some event going on or a dress code. We got back home to the barracks. I called my boyfriend to tell him what happened, when in the middle of my conversation, our ironing board fell off the door from the hanger it was hanging on in the laundry room. It's never done this before, and nothing had happened for it to do it this night. The way our room was set up is when you walk through the door, you have the living room in the middle, with the laundry room on the right, the bathroom on the left, and our two separate rooms straight in front, mines on the left and hers is on the right. Me and my roommate were both sitting in the chairs on the wall near the bathroom. It startled us, but we didn't think too much of it. My roommate and I decided to head off to bed, when about 30 minutes later, I heard her open her door and whisper my name. Sarah? She whispered softly. Sarah? She said a little louder. I'm sitting in my room thinking, why is she whispering like this? I got out of my bed and opened my door and she screamed, dropped to the floor and just started crying. Hannah, Hannah, what is wrong? I yelled at her. I saw you in the mirror of the bathroom. She cried. What? I was very confused. She said it again. I just saw you fixing your hair in the bathroom. You know how you usually do, and smiling at me in the mirror of the bathroom. I looked at the bathroom. Sure enough, the light was on and the door cracked enough so you could see the mirror inside. Shivers went down my spine. The room was freezing, and something felt very... We never left the lights on, or the bathroom door opened. Neither of us had even gone into the bathroom since coming home from dinner. I wrapped us up in a blanket and we just left the room and sat in the hallway for about 30 minutes, talking about what had happened. From Hannah's perspective, she thought I knocked on her door, and that's why she opened her door. And when she didn't see me, she whispered, and then she looked in the bathroom because the light was on, and saw me smiling at her through the mirror when I was fixing my hair. She said that there was something about the way I looked. I looked off, and that's why she said my name a second time, and then freaked out when I opened my bedroom door. I don't usually write a lot, but there's something that has been weighing heavily on my mind, and I feel the need to share it. It happened when I was just 13 years old, and although it occurred fairly recently, certain details of that incident still remain a hazy memory. Nevertheless, I'll do my best to recount the nights that forever changed my life. The Amusement Park, the only renowned one in our state, had recently opened its gates as the seasons transitioned into summer. For privacy reasons, I won't disclose the park's name or the ride where this unsettling event occurred. Typically, I visited the park once or twice a year with my friends, my family, and occasionally my parents. We would roam around, indulge in tasty treats, and experience the thrill of the rides, just regular kid stuff. However, this particular visit was destined to make me swear off amusement parks for the rest of my days. It was a chilly night, that mix of cold and warm. However, the sky remained clear, which was all the confirmation that my friends Nick, Kaden, and I needed to ask our parents if we could go. Miraculously, they agreed. And in no time, we found ourselves being dropped off at the park's entrance, brimming with excitement, ready to immerse ourselves in the vibrant, thrilling attractions. Among them, there was one ride that stood out as my personal favorite. And I'm certain my friends felt the same way. Housed inside a dome-shaped building, this exhilarating ride dazzled us with a whirlwind of spinning lights and adrenaline-pumping speeds. It seemed like the perfect choice. Except for one thing. The dreaded line. Not only was it a claustrophobic person's worst nightmare, but it almost always guaranteed an agonizing weight of at least an hour. On that particular occasion, the line stretched so far that it reached one of the neighboring rides about a hundred yards away. Seeing this, we all let out exasperated sighs, realizing that we had no choice but to endure the line before we could move on. We figured we might as well get it out of the way early. As the line snaked its way forward, we noticed that on the left side, where the line extended towards the forest, there were shrubs and bushes. My friends and I didn't pay much attention to them at first, which is why we failed to notice something peculiar until we reached the large sign bearing the ride's name. It was Caden who first spoke up, excitement laced with a hint of concern evident in his voice. Did you guys see that? He exclaimed, pointing in the direction of the forest. No, what? Nick replied, glancing over at the bushes. Curiosity peaked. I looked in the same direction. There, crouched down among the foliage, was a person wearing a Jason Voorhees mask. Initially, we found it amusing, thinking it was a part of some Halloween-themed event or party that the amusement park occasionally hosted in October. However, it was July. A fact that should have raised more suspicion. Whether it was ignorance or just us being naive kids, we chuckled, assuming it was some kid playing a harmless prank. Our attention quickly returned to the ride, and we dismissed the incident as an inconsequential oddity. We endured the line for a grueling two hours, and despite the relatively brief five-minute ride itself, it was undeniably worth the wait. Afterward we decided to grab a bite to eat and enjoy a few more attractions. Time flew by, and before we knew it, it was time to head back to the parking lot, where our parents would be waiting. Unlike other kids who would typically complain, we welcomed the idea of leaving, as exhaustion started to creep in. Amusement parks can be quite demanding. Navigating through the throngs of people also making their way towards the exit, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. A glimpse of that very same Jason Voorhees mask. This time, I managed to catch a glimpse of the full figure behind it. The person was massive, towering at least six foot six, with a build reminiscent of a freight train. This man was a behemoth, and it became glaringly evident that it wasn't just some kid playing a childish prank. Subtly urging my friends to quicken their pace, we hustled toward the exit. As we reached the dark expanse of the parking lot, I finally gathered the courage to share what I had seen. I told them what I saw and how big the guy was, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and disbelief. Yeah, right. Nick responded, who was always the skeptic, especially when it came to this sort of stuff. Caiden, however, remained silent, his gaze fixated on the park behind us, an uneasiness apparent in his eyes. No, seriously, I insisted, my voice growing more urgent as Nick and I engaged in a brief back and forth. Caiden's next words cut through our heated exchange, causing us to pause and snap our heads back in the direction of the park. Little did I know that his revelation would unleash an unprecedented terror, leaving an indelible mark on my childhood memories. Guys, guys, look! Caiden screamed, his voice tinged with terror, as he began sprinting toward the parking lot. At first, all I could see were the masses of people flooding out of the park. I didn't understand what had spooked him so profoundly, and Nick appeared equally confused. Then, I saw it. The Jason Voorhees mask once again. This time, the significance of its presence registered in our minds, and we bolted in sheer panic. The colossal figure adorned with the mask was hurtling towards us at an alarming speed, clutching something in his hand, a mysterious cloth that I never had a chance to examine closely. We ran as if our lives depended on it, eventually catching up to Caden in the vast expanse of the parking lot. Together, we gasped for breath, scanning our surroundings in a frenzied state, until we spotted my parents' car. Without wasting a second, we scrambled inside, screaming at them to floor it. Although they wore expressions of bewilderment and concern, my dad pressed down on the accelerator, propelling us away from that nightmare as swiftly as possible. Interrogation became the theme of our one-hour ride back home, and it was Nick who mustered the courage to offer brief, one-word answers to our parents' relentless questions. In truth, all of us were still reeling from the shock, struggling to process the enormity of what had just occurred. To this day, I remained baffled by the man's intentions. What was he doing? Why did he single us out? Why did he do this with a ton of people around? And what horrors awaited us if he had managed to close the distance between us? I vowed never to return to that specific amusement park, although I have visited a few others since then. Nevertheless, you can bet your bottom dollar that I always keep a vigilant eye, forever wary of the lurking shadows, for you never know who might be hiding in the darkness, waiting to pounce. This was a handful of years ago. I was a new mother and home with my first born child. He was a couple of weeks old, and it came time for me to get an oil change and a tire rotation for my car. Instead of sitting in the dealership waiting room for an hour plus, I figured this would be a good opportunity to walk around this arboretum that wasn't too far away. I have been to the arboretum a handful of times before, but this time I noticed a sign for Patriot's Path. This is a paved trail that extends 35 miles throughout the county. The trails are broken down into segments as they are separated by roadways or neighborhoods. I would frequent other parts of the path and never felt uncomfortable. In fact, it was a nice way to feel connected to nature while sometimes encountering other people exercising and doing the same. Without hesitation, I decided to walk the path to kill time. I was excited to explore this new to me trail. First, the path cut through the tall grasses, then it curved and increasingly became more of a wooded area. This wasn't concerning to me, as all the other parts of the trail that I have walked on were exclusively in the woods. As I was pushing my newborn in a stroller and enjoying my time in nature, I came to a fork in the path. The other parts of the trail I have been on was always one path, no forks. The right path was on higher ground, so I headed that way. As I was going, the path was getting increasingly difficult for the stroller. Tree roots broke through the path and it was a rough ride for my baby. I wasn't able to keep the pace I was going. Since, I was going significantly slower, I looked on my map to see if it included the path and where it would bring us. On the map, the left side of the fork traveled along a waterway, so I decided to try that route. As I was turning around, I saw a man well dressed slowly strolling towards us. I got the stroller free from the tree roots and started towards him. He had his phone up to his face, as if he was on a phone call, but he wasn't talking. We got closer. I looked at him to give a friendly nod, as I usually do when passing other people. He just looked straight ahead, expressionless. When I was processing that interaction, my gut told me something was wrong. He was wearing an outfit that I could best describe as business casual. Most people on the trails are in exercise clothes. He wasn't talking at all on his phone that he was holding up to his ear. And the other hand, he was concealing it. He had it in a rigid position behind his back, as if he was carrying something that he didn't want me to see. I turned to walk the other path of the fork, and convinced myself I was just imagining things. After some more walking, I heard the sound of babbling water. According to my map app on my phone, I thought I should be able to see the waterway by now, and the path should open up to a parking lot. I felt like I should see the parking lot by now. When I tried opening the map again, my phone wasn't working. I was in the woods, alone with my baby, with no phone access, and I just had a strange interaction. It was time to turn around and head out of these woods. Much to my dismay, there was the man again, his face still expressionless, his phone still up to his ear, he was still not talking, and his other hand was still hiding behind his back. I felt my heart sink into my stomach, and my stomach jump into my throat. Why did he turn around on the first part of the path? Why didn't he turn at the fork? He was close enough to us for me to realize that he must have turned around soon after we did. He must have seen us turn down the other path at the fork. All the alarms in my body were ringing. Get out of here. When we needed to pass him, I started to jog. Hey, I'm wearing the appropriate outfit for a trail that most people used for exercise, right? Maybe my intention was to jog this whole time. I didn't stop jogging until I was out of the woods and into the tall grass. I turned to look behind me, and luckily, my son and I were alone again. I jogged some more until there was a large distance between us and the trail. We waited in the dealership waiting room for the rest of the time they were working on my car. I did go back to the arboretum after that, but I haven't ventured down that section of the trail ever again. Now maybe this was just a regular business man. Nothing happened between me and this man, and maybe nothing was going to happen. But personally, I would rather go for an unplanned jog than ignore my gut instinct and find out. To really get my story, you have to understand the layout of my third floor landing. It's not particularly large, but it's designed in a way that's just unsettling enough to stick with you. There's a single narrow staircase that creaks and groans as you climb it. At the top, the landing forms a T shape. To the left, there's my office, where I sometimes work late into the night. To the right, my bedroom, with a door that's always just a little harder to close than it should be. Straight ahead is the bathroom, with its frosted glass shower and a small high window that lets in just enough light during the day to give the space an eerie, sterile glow. That bathroom has always felt a bit off to me. Maybe it's the way the sound of the water echoes against the tiles, or how the shower door sticks sometimes, even though there's no visible damage. Whatever it is, I've never been entirely comfortable in there, but I chalked it up to my overactive imagination. One night, around 10pm, I decided to take a shower before heading to bed. It had been a long day, and I just wanted to wash off the stress and crawl under the covers. The glass panels on my shower are that kind of concave and convex frosted glass that makes everything on the other side look like a blurry, distorted shadow. I always thought it was kind of cool. It was like looking through a fun house mirror or something. But that night, it would prove to be anything but fun. The water was warm, and the steam was starting to fog up the glass. I was lost in my thoughts. I should have said this to this person. I should have said that. Letting the rhythmic patter of the water calm my nerves as I thought about the events of the day, the conversations that I had. Then, suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something, a shape. At first, I thought it was just the way the steam was clinging to the glass, creating patterns that played tricks on my eyes. But as I focused, I realized it wasn't random. It was a hand. It wasn't just any hand, though. It was dark, almost black, and seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light of the bathroom. The fingers were long and thin, too long to belong to anyone I knew. It wasn't pressed against the glass like you might imagine, but instead hung in the air just on the other side of the shower door. My heart started pounding in my chest. My family is all pale, the kind of pale that burns after five minutes in the sun. This hand, it definitely did not belong to anyone in my house. I froze, my mind racing. Maybe it was a shadow from outside. Maybe one of the neighbor's trees had bent in the window, casting a strange silhouette through the bathroom window. But no, the hand moved. Slowly and deliberately, it tilted almost as if it was waving to me. And then it did something I'll never forget. It reached for the light switch. The switch was just outside the shower, mounted on the wall near the door. I watched, paralyzed, as this hand seemed to stretch impossibly far, its fingers brushing the edge of the switch. And then, with a soft click, the light went out. Pitch black. The sound of the water hitting the tiles suddenly felt deafening. My breath was ragged, and I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. Let me tell you, being plunged into darkness while you're in the shower is terrifying, especially when you know someone's in the room and they turned off the light. I have never felt fear like that before. It wasn't the kind of fear you get from a jump scare in a movie or a sudden loud noise. This was primal, bone deep terror. I was completely vulnerable, literally naked and trapped in a small dark space with something that I couldn't explain or control. I stood there for what felt like an eternity, not daring to move. The only sound was the water, which had suddenly taken on an almost sinister quality. I kept straining my ears for any other noise, a creak in the floor, a footstep, but there was nothing, just the water and my own panicked breathing. Finally, I realized I have to do something, so I slowly and cautiously reached out, slid the shower door open. The cold air from the bathroom hit me like a slap in the face, making me shiver. I stepped out onto the tile floor, my wet feet making soft squelch noises that seemed unbearably loud in this silence. I felt my way to the light switch, half expecting that hand to still be there. When my fingers finally found it, I flipped it up, flooding the room with light once again. The bathroom was empty. I checked the door, and it was still locked from the inside. I looked under the sink, as ridiculous as that sounds, and there was nothing there. Behind the shower curtain, even in the small cabinet where I kept my towels, no one, no sign that anyone had been in the bathroom with me. The relief that washed over me was almost enough to make me laugh. Almost. But then I remembered the stairs. The staircase leading up to the third floor is old and wooden. It creaks like crazy with even the slightest weight on it. If someone had come up while I was in the shower, I would have heard it. And if they had left, I would have heard that too. But I didn't hear anything. I didn't sleep that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that hand again. Those impossibly long fingers reaching for the light switch. I stayed in bed with the covers pulled up to my chin, my ears straining for the slightest sound. But the house was silent. Nothing like that has happened since. I've tried to explain it away, to rationalize what I saw. Maybe it was a trick of the light. Maybe I was just over tired, and my mind played a cruel trick on me. But deep down I know what I saw, and every time I'm in that bathroom now, I'm terrified, especially when I take a shower. Half expecting to see the hand again. Sometimes, late at night, I'll hear a creak on the stairs. It's probably just the house settling, right? Maybe the wind rattling the old wood. But every once in a while, I'll catch myself holding my breath, waiting to hear the sound of the light switch clicking off again. Driving to pick up a friend who was at a cabin party about 40 miles west of where I lived. Sounded simple enough. I was doing them a huge favor. It was late after all, close to 2 a.m. The back roads were as dark and lonely as you could possibly imagine. No streetlights, just the faint glow of my headlights bouncing off the trees, and the occasional glint of an animal's eyes in the underbrush. I had been on these kinds of roads before, but something about this night felt different, heavier somehow. As I navigated the winding path, my phone buzzed in the cupholder. A text from my friend, bad signal, I'll stay by the road, just honk when you're close. Great, I thought. Finding this random cabin in the middle of nowhere was going to be a lot more challenging without GPS. I adjusted my grip on the wheel and kept going, trying not to overthink the unsettling quiet. That's when I saw it. A red four-door sedan parked haphazardly on the side of the road. All of its doors were wide open, and inside, slumped in the seats, were four figures. At first, I thought they might just be asleep, as weird as that would be. Oh wait, maybe they're drunk or something. But as I slowed down, I noticed their heads were tilted at odd angles, like their necks couldn't support them. None of them were moving. Not a twitch, not a breath, just limp in the dark. I suddenly felt a cold shiver. I didn't stop driving, but I could not help staring as I rolled past. The headlights didn't show much, but the scene was enough to make my skin crawl. Who leaves their car doors open like that? Who were they? Why were they sitting in the car like that? Was something wrong? I'm not proud of this, but I did not have the guts to stop and see if they needed help. My mind raced with the possibilities. Maybe it was a prank. Maybe they were trying to lure me. Something inside me told me, instinctually, keep driving. I tried calling my friend again, and there was no signal, just static and the faint hum of the engine as I drove deeper into the woods. Eventually, I reached the end of the road, where the cabin was supposed to be, except it wasn't. The cabin wasn't there. No lights, no sounds of a party, nothing. I reached a dead end. Frustrated and a little spooked, I turned around as there was nothing else I could do, and headed back the way I came. Maybe I missed the turn. By now, it was close to 3 a.m. The road felt even darker somehow. As I approached the spot where I had seen that red car, I felt my pulse quicken. The car was still there, but something was different. Only the front passenger door was open now, and the figures inside were not slumped anymore. They were sitting upright, heads turned toward the road, toward me. I slowed down, almost against my will, trying to process what I was seeing. Their faces were blank, completely expressionless, but their eyes were locked on me, following my car as I crept past at about 10 miles per hour. It was not just a glance either. It was as if they were waiting for me, expecting me to drive by again. The air inside my car was thick and heavy, like it was pressing down on my chest. I couldn't look away, even though every part of me wanted to. As soon as I was past them, I hit the gas, my tires crunching against the gravel as I sped away. My hands were shaking on the wheel. My heart felt like it was about to explode in my chest. I didn't care about the cabin or my friend anymore. That was just too much. I just wanted to get out of there. When I finally got home, I sat in my driveway for what felt like an hour, at least. I thought about calling someone. Maybe the police. But what would I even say? Maybe I could just call the non-emergency line and just tell them about something weird I saw? I couldn't shake the feeling, though, that there was something wrong. Couldn't explain it. I still can't. The next day I called my friend to see if he had made it home and I apologized profusely. He had, thankfully. Apparently, he had gotten a ride with someone else. I wanted to tell him about what I saw, about the figures that I saw inside the car, but I stopped myself. Not really sure why. Something just made me feel like I should not talk about it, like talking about it would make it worse somehow. Even now, years later, I avoid that stretch of road. I don't know who or what I saw that night, and I don't think I really want to. Sometimes I do want to. The curiosity of what I saw. It sucks that I'll never know. Sometimes late at night when I'm driving alone, I'll catch myself glancing at the side of the road, wondering if I'll ever see something like that again. One night, when I was about seven years old, bedtime came like every other night. I climbed into the second level of my bunk bed at around 9.30. I snug into my little fortress above the world. The top bunk was my favorite, hands down. Who doesn't love sleeping on the top bunk? Up high, where everything seemed smaller, I was safer up here. I drifted off quickly. I was exhausted from the day, lost in the easy dreams of a child. But that night safety was an illusion that would shatter before morning. Some point in the night I woke up. I wasn't sure why. Maybe it was a bad dream I had, or maybe I did hear something. But then I was sure that I heard something. A strained whisper. No. No. It was faint, almost like it was coming from inside my head. I lay there holding my breath, waiting for the sound to go away. But it didn't. The whisper came again, and it was louder this time, and full of pain. No. No. My small chest tightened as I pulled the covers up to my face, convincing myself it was just my imagination. I was about to close my eyes when a new sound made my heart stop, the unmistakable creak of the stairs. Slowly and steadily, the boards groaned. Someone heavy was on the stairs. My parents' bed was just across the room, and I could hear their snoring, steady and undisturbed. It was not them on the stairs. I heard the whisper again. It was more clear now, as if whoever was saying it was closer. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping the sound would go away, that I would wake up and find this was all just a bad dream. But then came the screaming. It started very suddenly, a sharp, high-pitched wail that seemed to echo from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. It mixed with the whispering and the noise that I heard on the stairs, creating a chorus of terror that wrapped itself around me, enveloped me completely. No, no, the voice continued, much louder now, blending with the screams. Terrified and wondering why my parents were not coming into the room, I slid out of bed as quietly as I could. My hands shook as I felt for the ladder, my only way down. Each rung seemed louder than the last, and I winced with every small noise. When my feet hit the floor, I crawled on the ground toward the door. The door offered a full view of the stairs, where the creaking and the whispers were coming from. My fingers found the handle, and I twisted it carefully, opening the door just enough to look outside. The staircase loomed in the darkness. It looked like an ominous void. Nothing was moving. For a brief moment, I thought maybe I had imagined all of it. How could I imagine screaming, though? But then the whisper came again, and this time from above me. No. No! My heart felt like it was trying to leap out of my chest. The sound was coming from the room upstairs. A room that no one should be in right now. I had to know what it was. I don't know why, but I just had to know. I crept toward the staircase. The house felt alive. Every creak and noise was amplified. I stayed low, peaking around corners, shaking, expecting to see someone. The stairs remained empty. Instead of going up, I decided to check the front door. Maybe I would find some explanation. Maybe someone had come inside and left the door open. My small hand reached for the light switch in the living room, but I hesitated. Something inside told me not to do it. I swallowed hard and inched toward the window instead. I peeked outside, and I saw them. Three people were standing just outside the window, their shapes barely illuminated in the pale light. They were unmoving, and they didn't say anything. I'm not sure if they could see me, but they stood still. My breath caught in my throat. I couldn't look away. I was petrified. And then in an instant, they were gone. One second they were there, and the next, just gone. My heart was racing, and I stumbled backward. I scrambled to my parents' room and leapt into their bed. My mom stirred a little bit, mumbling and asking if I was okay. How could I tell her what I just saw? There were people outside the window. There's someone in the house upstairs. I didn't really know what to do, but I did feel safer lying between them. I'm not really sure what happened that night. Maybe it was just a dream. Or maybe I really saw what I thought I did. I probably should have told my parents. It was supposed to be a cool, quiet evening with my brother, him 11 and me 12 years old. We were left to fend for ourselves this night as our parents went on a date night. We weren't scared or anything. This was kind of a normal thing, and we were used to it at this point. Our house was small. All of the lights were on, and we had snacks and a couple of movies lined up to keep us entertained until bedtime. It was just one of those ordinary nights. Nothing felt weird until we heard a knock on the door. I think it was around 8 p.m. and the knock echoed through the house. My brother and I froze for a minute and paused the TV, looking at each other. A voice followed, muffled but clear enough to hear it. Pizza. At first, I thought it was my dad playing a joke as they just arrived home. He had a habit of doing stuff like that. Instinctively, I smiled and started walking toward the door, laughing under my breath. But as I reached for the door knob, my brother told me to stop. He said, that's not dad. The realization hit me like a bucket of cold water. He was right. My dad's voice was different. It was deeper. It was warm and familiar. Who was this? It was sharper, almost too casual, like someone trying too hard to sound normal. I froze with my hand just a few inches away from the door knob. We didn't order any pizza. I called out, my voice shaking. Silence followed. No reply. No retreating footsteps. Just silence. My brother, now at my side, clutching my arm. He whispered, Maybe we should call mom. My heart was pounding now. Every beat was loud in my ears. What do I do? For fifteen agonizing minutes, we sat there, silent, not knowing what to do. I opened the closet next to the front door and retrieved my cricket bat. My brother walked over to the fireplace and picked up the ornamental fireplace poker. My eyes darted between the footpath and my brother's pale face. He was clutching the poker so tightly, I could tell that he was more scared right now than he had ever been in his life. Nothing moved. Silence. I tried to convince myself this was just a weird misunderstanding. Maybe my parents ordered us pizza and just forgot to tell us. But something told me this was not right. They definitely would have told us if they ordered pizza. Then finally there was movement again. A shadow shifted on the footpath, just at the edge of my view. The person was tall. They had long dark hair tied back in a ponytail. And he wore a long coat that seemed to swallow him. But what struck me most was that he was not carrying a pizza. He didn't run or hurry away. He just nonchalantly slowly walked away. I ducked down, motioned for my brother to stay quiet and low. We waited until we couldn't hear his footsteps anymore. When we finally felt like we were free to move around again, everything felt different. The vibe was destroyed. The cozy warmth of the house was now gone, replaced with cold, dark shadows that seemed darker than normal. I made sure every single light was on in the house, every single one. We sat on the couch, huddled together, waiting for our parents to come home. When they finally walked through the door, my brother burst into tears. My mom immediately knew something was very wrong. We tried to explain. The story sounded ridiculous even to us. I'm pretty sure my dad didn't sleep that night. He was in the living room much longer than normal, stepping outside every few minutes to make sure there was nobody out there. I have no idea who the man was, or what would have happened if we had opened the door. It's pretty scary to think about though.