I have never experienced anything paranormal, ever. I’ve never had a door randomly slam, or randomly open. I’ve never had the faint echo of footsteps ring around my house, or a sudden cold breath colliding with my nape. I had gone fifteen years without anything like that, but that changed a month ago.
It was a saturday night, my parents were out for the weekend with my brother, and my sister was at work, so I was left alone, just me, only me. I was in my room, listening to music on full blast, scrolling on my phone, trying to cure the enveloping boredom that had sickened me. The night sky held no stars, just pitch blackness, and streetlamps flickered outside, my road as barren as the arctic. The sound of my washing machine downstairs rang through the house, its tumbling making a racket that could be heard over anything.
My clock struck eleven o’clock, and simultaneously, almost as if commanded by something, the lights went out, consuming my house in darkness. I wasn’t that bothered by it, like I said, nothing paranormal has ever happened to me, but something felt… off. I tried to call my dad to tell him about the outage, no signal, I tried to google how to solve a power outage, no internet.
I was by myself no longer.
Wanting to find a source of light, I opened my bedroom door to search for any solace in the dark, instead I saw… it. Standing at the end of the corridor, right hand on a small wooden pillar that sits at the top of my stairs, was a man, or what I thought was one. The darkness of my house led to little of his features to be shown, but what I did see was more than enough to make me fear for my life, a feeling I had never experienced before then.
Tall, skinny and lanky, the man stood with his back bending to allow him to stand in my house. He was dressed in a suit, a ruffed up, tattered suit that ripped at the seams. His top was unbuttoned at the top, plots of what looked to be stains all over. The man had no hair, of what I could see, but I could see his smile, that damned, blood curdling smile, teeth crooked and dirtier than a forest, his bottom row jutting out ever so slightly.
I’d never seen anything like it, this man was so clear in front of me I knew it wasn’t just the darkness messing with me. I could feel his presence, his gaze with his invisible eyes, I could feel his grasp, keeping my eyes locked on his horrifying figure. I stood there for what felt like hours, unable to keep my gaze away from me, the man’s slow, heavy breathing like a cacophony of torment and fear.
Then, without any stimulus, or danger in sight, no rime or reason, he walst down my stairs, silent footsteps. I heard the front door open, and close soon after, the lights magically igniting back on, and my sister calling out to me, signalling her return.
I have never told anyone this, never. Not my family, not my friends, no one. Even when my sister returned from work, it was like I was snapped out of a trance, like all the fear I felt was sapped from me at that moment. But now it has returned. My parents are going away for an entire week in two days, my brother is leaving for university tomorrow, and my sister is working later than ever. I fear that next time I’m home alone, the lights will go out, and that man will do more than stand.