I could’ve sworn I heard it, someone walking around downstairs. Some might call me paranoid, heck, some might even call me crazy, but I knew the truth. There were strange sounds coming from the first floor of my house.
I recently moved out of my parents’ house and have finally begun the life of living alone (I think). The first few days felt like when you’re home alone for the first time as a kid. Suddenly, all noises make you jump a little bit, from the washing machine to your neighbor starting his car. But I’m an adult now, and things nowadays tend to bother me more than scare me.
I decided to have my bed upstairs. I probably chose that because I slept on the second floor at my parents’ house, and the thought of having my bedroom right next to the front door just didn’t sit right with me.
The other night, I could’ve sworn I heard noises coming from downstairs, not the typical house noises like creaking and such, but more like somebody walking back and forth, like when people stumble upon a difficult situation in movies. The first few nights I brushed it off. I know, I might seem like an idiot for it, but I was convinced my mind was playing tricks on me, especially now that it’s my first time living alone.
The next day, which was yesterday by the time I’m writing this, I finally came across my neighbor, and we introduced ourselves. He told me his name was Ben. He looked like an average middle-aged man, at the start of hair loss and was constantly in his garage working on different stuff. He told me that he used to work at a circus, but avoided the question when I asked him why he left the job. He mentioned that he lived alone, and I shared that I do the same. He then asked me, “Oh really? I thought there was some blonde woman living here with you?”. It caught me off guard; I didn’t understand what he meant by that at first. I was mostly confused, The only blonde woman in my life is my sister, who has never even been to my house. “Blonde girl?” I asked him, confused as hell. He gave me this creepy look, like a look of regret. Like an “I just told this guy something I shouldn’t have” type of look.
When I got back into my house, I had to check the windows. I don’t know, I guess I was just very creeped out by that interaction we just had. I walked up to my window. I didn’t actually believe that he would be out there still, so I just opened the curtains completely. He was not out there anymore, as expected. Then I looked over to his house, and there I saw him, staring into my window from his. It seemed like we scared each other a little bit. both of us jumped back. He then closed the curtains.
I stepped away from the window, more creeped out than before. What was the deal with this guy? I didn’t want to worry too much about it though. I mean, we both were peeking through the window; maybe I am just as creepy as him? I tried to push it off as just a very bad first interaction. The blonde girl stuff still creeped me out though. I looked up at my wall, which is filled with pictures of me and my sister, who again is the only really “blonde” woman that I have in my life like that.
I went upstairs, tried to do some writing on my computer, before laying down in my bed, eventually falling asleep.
I woke up to pitch blackness. I looked at the clock and it was around midnight. I had been sleeping for hours. After becoming a little bit more conscious, I started to hear it again. Steps, downstairs. I guess the paranoia was still in me from the little interaction earlier that day, so I decided to man up and do something about it. I wasn’t man enough to go downstairs, but I was man enough to get out of bed and start walking around my room.
Now, it’s important that I explain my house for the rest of the story. The first floor has the bathroom, living room, kitchen, pretty much everything. The second floor is really just an attic. it’s one room, which I decided to make my bedroom. The stairs also have two directions. You go down five steps, take a 360 turn, and another five steps to make it to the first floor. This setup makes it pretty much impossible to look down at the first floor and vice versa, so I had no way of knowing if anything was down there unless I actually went down half the stairs and exposed myself.
After wandering around my room for some time, I came across different things I could use to find out if there really was something down there. In the last drawer, I found a red clown nose—you know, the noses that make that creepy but funny sound when you squeeze it. Before you ask, I have no idea why I had a clown nose in my drawer, I don’t even remember placing it there. Ridiculous? Yes. Weird? Yes. Useful? Maybe. I decided that it would be the perfect object to use to find out if someone was truly in my house. I walked slowly to the stairs and threw the clown nose down the stairs. It didn’t make any noise, thankfully.
Having it there on the stairs somehow made me more calm, and I decided to go back to sleep. I was constantly rolling around, though; I just couldn’t close my eyes for longer than 10 seconds before feeling the need to open them again. As I lay there, it happened.
A quick, disturbing noise came from the stairs. Something or someone had stepped on the clown nose. I heard footsteps rushing down the stairs and the sound of someone running around downstairs. After a minute or two, it all went silent.
I haven’t slept since this happened. I’m utterly terrified. I don’t want to call the police because I feel like it would be a bad image having a police car show up at my house after living here for only a few days. Whoever was breaking into my house at night was trying to get to the second floor, which meant trying to get to me.
I went downstairs earlier this morning. Nothing seemed to have changed. I don’t even know how anyone could’ve gotten into my house; nothing here is unlocked, not even a window is open. I decided to do what I love most and write all of this down, just to really get a clear picture of what is going on here. As I write all of these recent events down, I’m starting to see it now. With nothing open or unlocked, I suspect he might be in here still, and I’m scared to go downstairs again.