I always wake up at 3 A.M… sometimes it’s 3:15, or maybe 3:45; either way I always wake up. I tell myself it’s because I have to go to the bathroom, or possibly to the kitchen for a glass of water, but other times I feel like I’ve been woken up by someone. My grandma tells me that most of the time being woken up signifies that one is watching you sleep, I try not to think about it that way.
My house is a blue type fortress holding three bedrooms, two bathrooms, plus a second floor holding an office space attached to an attic. At night the house is painted black as the sun disappears; the street lights add a tint of yellow to the neighborhood that you can see shine through the windows. My room is at the far right corner of the house, the room where you can hear everything. My grandparents room is in the dark left corner of the house where you can see everything.
As I lay at the end of my bed trying to fall asleep I can hear heavy footsteps above my ceiling fan. I sit up and listen harder, and this time the steps are speeding up. I slide under my plush blanket and close my ears hoping the sound would faint away. After a while of waiting I lifted the blanket and uncovered my ears and looked down the hall and saw a shadow staring back at me. I couldn’t see a face or their clothes, all that was visible was a dark black mist. I slowly returned to the underside of the blanket and fell asleep.
The next morning felt odd, everyone had already left so I was home alone again. I had turned the TV on watching my favorite shows I had missed last night. As I was sitting on the couch curled up under a throw, I heard someone turning the front door knob. As the turning became more vigorous I decided to grab the phone and hide in my room. I had assumed whoever was trying to get in left, but I heard footsteps in the foyer, at least four sets of feet some in, I knew I couldn’t fight of four people, so I climbed in my closet and dialed 911. I covered my mouth so the heavy breathing could not be heard, and waited for someone to answer my emergency call. After calling 911 five times I gave up and decided to see who had broken into my house.
I made my way into the hall, and stood at the doorway, I could hear voices, two women and a man. I figured out they were in the kitchen because of the noise the floor makes, so I peeked around the corner and saw them talking at the kitchen table. The couple seemed friendly so I emerged from hiding and introduced myself to them… they didn’t acknowledge me, not even a look in to my direction. The woman in a pantsuit started to inform the couple about the previous owners of the house. She had told them that the family before them had been murdered by intruders two years ago.