When I turned 9 years old we moved across the state to a new home in a bigger city. My Dad had gotten a new job a few years prior and got the opportunity to make a lot more money at the new job. He was a salesman and the guy is a natural born talker. He made more money his first year on commissions than the two years prior at his previous job. He then bought a percentage of the company to secure a good income for years to come. When the opportunity to move to a new city with a bigger population which means more sales opportunities was presented, he immediately decided to make the move. My mother supported the decision and I, the only child, was impartial for the most part. The move seemed exciting and I figured I’d make new friends at my school and all would be well. We made the move and it was great. With my Dad making all this money we moved into a much much larger home than before. We never even looked through the whole attic, it was so big.
The house featured a luxury kitchen on the first and second floor. 8 bedrooms even though there were three of us. The house was massive to say the least. I was given the opportunity to have the entire upstairs to myself, I would basically have my own home up there. I would have a house of my own at 9 years old, all the amenities were present on that second floor alone. I thought that was exciting until I started to get a look around upon arriving at the house. It was daunting how big it was. I felt all alone when my mom walked downstairs and I was up there alone. I decided to opt out of living upstairs alone and moved my stuff into the room closest to my parents. We lived in that house for 5 more years before I switched rooms upstairs. I was fourteen and I thought I was grown enough to live upstairs on my own, with all that space. We hardly went upstairs before I moved up there so it was pretty empty. But I had figured out how to shop online and convinced my mom to hook me up with all the basic fourteen year old necessities. We had bean bags, video games, a ping pong table, a pool table (even though we didn’t know how to play), a slurpee machine just like the ones at gas stations that I found on ebay. To say the least I had a sweet setup and very quickly became the house of choice for hangouts with my friends.
Then at about 16-17 years old when most teenagers start experimenting my group of friends was no different. My parents had never had any trouble out of me at any point in my life, I mostly did all the same bad stuff as the other kids, I just never got caught and I can look anyone in the face and lie to them. So by the time I was 16 my parents very rarely came upstairs and when they did it was to tell me something important and that was not a common occurrence. At 17 years old, four days after my birthday I had a group of 13 people including me in my upstairs. My parents knew people were over but had no clue who was there or not. The group was 7 boys and 6 girls. Everyone had told their parents they were staying at someone else’s house so we were in the clear. No one there had ever smoked before so we lit a J and passed it around. It only went two rotations and every one there was super baked. It was a great experience and everyone had a good time.
We eventually put the joint out and decided to watch a movie with the lights on. I say it like that because when I flipped the light off it caused a grumble from a few people. So I flipped the lights back on and asked what the problem was. About half the group wanted to keep the lights on and they wouldn’t say why. When I nagged them a few times they admitted my upstairs was kinda creepy and they were super high and it scared them. I laughed at them and told them I was scared too when I was 9. But I relented and kept the lights on for the movie. We didn’t have it turned up very loud because we’re all getting really quiet at this point. That is the first time it happened. We all heard a little thud and everyone in the group whipped their heads up to see if someone had stood up and made a noise or something but no one was standing. The group then went into panic mode and I made the suggestion to run to my room and we did immediately upon suggesting it. I had a pellet gun in there that looked like a real gun and a wooden katana, but it had some weight to it. Me and two of the other boys decided to get weapons and check the whole upstairs. It took us about fifteen minutes to declare it clear and everyone came into the TV area. A couple of people in the group wanted to go home but no one was going to drive impaired from my house late at night. I gave them the option to call their parents if they wanted to go home and they decided that was a bad idea.
About a month after that incident I was upstairs alone and without a doubt in my mind I heard footsteps. So I looked up at the door waiting on my mom or dad to open it and they never came to the door and the footsteps stopped after three or four. I got up and checked around the upstairs and went downstairs and my mom was the only one home and I asked if she came upstairs and she said no. At that point I kinda freaked out and I told my mom about the footsteps and she seemed to take no interest in my display of emotion. She said I just thought I heard something, but I didn’t.
About a week after that I got home from school and went upstairs and a light in the kitchen was turned on. I knew for sure that the light was off when I went to school that day so I again questioned my mom who told me she hadn’t been upstairs in a long time. Finally about a month after that the whole family went to another city three hours away to visit my grandparents for the weekend. When we got back and walked into our house instantly we could all tell something was up. The downstairs pantry door was open and that door is always, and I mean always closed. We never leave it open after going in for a snack and it was for sure not left open the whole weekend we were gone. My dad slowly approached the door when the worst jumpscare any of us had ever experienced quickly unfolded. A bearded skinny man in beat up clothes bolted straight out of the pantry directly into the middle of my dads chest knocking him onto the floor and the bearded man took one look at me and my mom who was screaming her head off and ran directly at the stairs and up the stairs out of sight.
My Dad jumped up to follow him but my mom yelled at him not to follow but instead get his pistol in case the man was dangerous. Me and my mom hurried outside to the street so we could see if he went out the window and my mom called the police. My dad got his pistol and joined us outside. The cops showed up in about seven minutes and entered the house. It took them an hour and a half to find the guy. Apparently there was another door leading into a room in the attic none of us had ever gone into. He had been staying up there for a few months and was arrested and charged with a couple different things. All in all one of the scariest things that has ever happened to me.