To give a little background, me and my wife have been together for four years, and married for just a couple of months now. She’s always been jumpy, and it’s funny to get a rise out of her once in a while. She used to refuse to watch horror movies with me, but since I love them she has sat through a good bit of them.
We just bought a house far away from any family and friends, and her worrying has gotten worse since then. I don’t want to come off as an asshole, but sometimes it can be a bit much. She will call me in the morning while I’m on way to work and say
“I think there’s someone in the house.”
Which of course, there never is. But I love her and want her to feel comfortable so I humour her. The home we purchased is a 1940’s colonial styled home, with beautiful crown molding, glass door knobs, and creaky floorboards. When you walk through the house the creaks can be heard everywhere, so it seems like there’s someone in the house. But that’s what happens in an old house, the floors freak.
Every day now she will either call me, or yelp from the kitchen that she can hear someone walking up and down the stairs. I go check, no one’s there, rinse and repeat. But last night. Last night something changed. Something happened.
I awoke last night to my wife sitting up in bed, eyes wide and shaking my shoulder.
“There is someone downstairs walking around, I can hear them.” she said, with a terror in her eyes that I’ve never seen before.
I sat up, wiped the sleep from my eyes, and listened. This time she was right. I could hear what resembled footsteps walking right under our floor, which is where the staircase started. Knowing that there’s no way anyone was in here I told her to relax and go back to sleep. She wouldn’t budge, and whispered in an angry tone that there’s no way in hell she’s going back to sleep.
I sighed and got up out of bed and creeped over to our door. I bent down knob level and looked through the key hole and out into the hall. Nothing. Too dark. At this point she had actually freaked me out. The footsteps still came from the landing at the bottom of the stairs. It almost sounded like pacing.
I looked back at my wife who was sat in the bed with the covers up to her eyes, not saying a word. I looked around the room for a weapon, coming up with a screwdriver I had used earlier in the day. I slowly turned the handle, and looked out into the hall.
At first, there was nothing. No one on the stairs, no one in the hallway, nothing. But before I closed the door my eyes locked on the window. Ice ran through my veins. My heart stopped. My t-shirts armpits welled with sweat. In the reflection of the window was a person, standing on our steps. The only thing that showed in the dark hallway was yellow slanted teeth, and bleach white eyes. I could not tell from the short glance whether it was real or not, so I closed the door and walked back into the bedroom. I was too scared to tell her what I saw, worried we’d have to sell the damn place. The footsteps stopped as I stood leaning against the closed door and glanced at my wife.
“It’s nothing baby, go back to bed.”
Her shoulders loosened, and a long relieved sigh came out of her. We both laid down, and went back to sleep.
This morning I woke up and my wife was gone from our bed. I thought that’s funny, she always sleeps later than me, and assumed she went to grab some coffee downstairs. I threw on some shorts and trotted down to the dining room to see there was no sign of my wife, and no smell of coffee. I yelled for her through the house, and nothing. I looked out the window and her car was still here. Her wallet was sitting untouched near the fridge. Even her phone was lying on the floor near the bed. I’m worried something happened to her and it may be my fault. I have no clue what to do.