We moved a block over into a new house (an actual house, not a trailer) that was supposed to be great with no skeletons in its closet. We were still in the process of moving in when I had my first experience. My Cocker Spaniel and I were walking down the hall when I heard heavy footsteps above me in the attic. The only way into the attic is boarded up and, besides my dog, I was the only one in the house. Everyone else was back at the trailer loading things into my daddy's truck. My dog, Babydoll, began to growl, looking up at the ceiling. That was strange in and of itself; Baby only ever growled at potential threats and when my papa John points at her. She bolts out the backdoor, up the hill, across the street, and back to the trailer. Whenever she ran away we always knew to look at our old house; Baby would sit by the old pond and wait for us. I ran after her, scared and tired of hearing the pacing footsteps above me.
I was sleeping in my room across the hall from the office; the room that has the entrance to the attic. I woke up to the sound of someone typing. I shrugged it off, thinking Dad couldn't sleep so he got on the computer. The next morning, I asked about it and my parents thought I was the one doing the typing! "No, I was trying to sleep last night," I said with wide eyes. My parents just brushed it off as they did in the trailer saying that it was nothing and to forget about it.
The summer of my Freshmen year I was sitting in my house, watching a rerun of Reba while Mom was at a softball meeting. I had just muted a commercial when I heard what sounded like jangling keys in the back of the house. A sense of dread hit me like a tidal wave and I ran out the front door, barely remembering to close it behind me. I sat on a step outside, Babydoll laying at my bare feet. I felt weird just a few minutes later, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end, and I noticed Baby tensing a little under my petting. Slowly, I look up at the living room window in time to see the shadow of a man walk past. After that, I practically sprinted to the softball field a few blocks away - an amazing feat for an asthmatic.
Mom said it was my imagination when I told her, telling me I read too many scary stories. My granny did too when she came to pick me up, making me walk into that house to get my shoes. I did so reluctantly, looking over my shoulder constantly for the shadow as I crossed the hall to get to the kitchen where my shoes were. That experience is the one that set me on edge; I didn't feel comfortable anymore and was rarely there alone, even if it meant dragging my lazy butt out of bed at five-thirty in the morning to ride with my mom when she took my aunt to work at Sonic. No how, no way would I stay there by myself unless I had no other choice!
On one such night, I was in the bath reading A Game of Thrones while my mom watched TV; it had been a long Monday, spent at school listening to some of my friends complain about how their lives sucked and I had it easy even though my family was barely making enough money to buy groceries and they had enough to go wherever the heck they wanted to. Anyway, I was nice and warm, comfortable for once in my house until Mom knocked on the door. "Honey, I'll see you around seven." She was leaving to take my cousin to dance class and I would be all alone for two hours. At this time, Babydoll had been put down because of her cancer and we were tired of seeing her in pain, so I had no protector or early warning system to leave.
The TV was turned off, the front door was closed, and all was silent... For three seconds. Light footsteps, like a child would cause, started up, running up and down the hallway in front of the bathroom door. I curled into a ball, the book covering my face, and held my breath until the footsteps died away. When I thought it was safe I stood up only to have the sliding glass doors of my shower/bath combo begin to shake and rattle. I screamed like a little girl, this was way worse than finding a spider in your room; at least you could see the dang spider and step on it! When it finally stopped I was almost too afraid to get out in case it started up again. The last thing I wanted to happen is to die of fright and have my mom find me naked! I got dressed quickly and basically sprinted into the living room, turning my music on as loud as I could without worrying my neighbors would call the cops and sat in my daddy's chair, shaking until my mom got home. I never told her what happened, she wouldn't believe me anyway.
My dad is a real gun nut and I've been around them since I was in diapers. In fact, he took me shooting for the first time when I was only four; facing my mom's temper afterwards. My point is, I know my way around a gun; my Walther P22 especially. It's a little pistol and easy to handle, kept on a shelf in Dad's gun room. I was home alone again that night (another dance night), I was sitting in the living room floor on a blanket, eating popcorn, and watching a documentary over horror movies when the door knob of the front door begins to jiggle. My first reaction is to look out the window to see who it was, but it was dark and the motion activated flood light hadn't come on.
I make sure that nobody had turned it off, but it was in the right position and if someone was on my porch it should have come on immediately. Unsure if there was some bad guy outside my door, I run down the hall to the gun room and grab my little pistol before going back to the front door, the knob still jiggling as whoever is outside is still trying to open it. After taking a deep breath, I sling the front door open and hold the pistol up where a person's head would normally be...Only, there was no one there. This happens a couple times every month or so and I've grown used to it, just ignoring it until it stops.
All healed after having my appendix yanked out, I was rushing around my house trying to get a bag together to spend the night with my granny. I was in my room, packing my chargers when the curtain that serves as my closet door blows out for no reason. I pause, looking at it over my shoulder. The air conditioner was off, the door was still open, and I haven't moved, so there's no reason why it should've done that. "Get your brother!" The words had been whispered in my ear and made me jump out of my skin. My brother has only been in this house once or twice, he was fully grown and lived in Stillwater with his wife and kid.
That's not the first voice I've heard either. I was sleeping in my room one night when I heard a little girl say mommy. I didn't even pause to remember that my little cousin wasn't sleeping over, I just sat right up to look for her. The laughter that came afterwards gave me pause, it was a little girl's laugh, but it sounded so mean. It wasn't normal and I quickly hid under my covers; that old instinct kicking in full force: the monsters can't find me if the covers are over my head. The little girl does this pretty frequently and usually quiets down when I tell her to shut up and go to bed.
Our house doesn't have a good heater so when it's cold and my dad's gone, I usually sleep in my mom's bed with her because of her heating pad. We always close my dad's gun room door; I'm not quite sure why, but it's habit by now. My dad would be home tomorrow and I couldn't wait. I had been asleep for about an hour when I hear the sounds of boots in the living room; I honestly figured my dad had fibbed about when he was coming home and had arrived already. The footsteps move down the hallway and I hear my dad's gun room door open, and then I heard the footsteps move from there into my parent's room until they were right beside where I was laying.
The feeling of being watched was strong, but I didn't feel the familiar warmth of my dad nor did I smell his cologne, so I peaked one eye open and saw an empty space. Scared, I turn over and curl up next to my mom. I told her about it the next morning, expecting her to make a joke about it, but what came out of her mouth had me scared all over again. "That's weird, I woke up around three to go pee and your dad's door was open." Yeah, thanks for that, mom.