In the tender phase of my early twenties, I found myself embarking on a new chapter of my life. I had just detached myself from the emotional entanglement with my ex-partner, leaving me nursing a bruised heart and the sole guardian of our two amazing cats, Sunny and Daisy. I moved into a modestly-sized apartment, its dimensions dwarfed further by the absence of another human presence. The silence echoed in the corners of the rooms, making the space feel larger and more isolated than it was. Something I would have to get used to.
My first day in the new dwelling was consumed by the task of setting up my new life. I was busy unpacking boxes, arranging furniture, and comforting Sunny and Daisy who were clearly agitated by the sudden change in their environment. Their nervous energy had me overindulging them with treats in a desperate attempt to soothe their anxieties. The day whittled away with these activities until I found myself sprawled out on the couch, watching Netflix on my laptop. The exhaustion of the day crept up on me, pulling me into a deep sleep in the middle of a binge-watching session.
Suddenly, I found myself stirring from slumber in the dead of night. The exact hour was unclear, but it was definitely that eerie window of time where the rest of the world was deep in sleep. A sense of disquiet clung to the edges of my consciousness, the kind of sensation that immediately communicates that something is very, terribly, wrong.
There was a peculiar feeling of being observed, a sensation I couldn’t shake off. I fumbled around, searching for my phone. Once located, I switched on the flashlight function and let its beam pierce the darkness. The light revealed Sunny and Daisy sitting rigidly by the door, their eyes locked upwards. Cats have a reputation for peculiar behaviour, and I rationalised this oddity as another of their whimsical antics. I moved towards my bed, hoping to shake off this unsettling aura and sleep properly.
Despite my efforts, the unease lingered. I tried to coax Sunny and Daisy to join me in bed, resorting to the familiar “ps’ps’ps” calls and other forms of persuasion, but they were unyielding in their fixation on the door. Eventually, sleep managed to claim me once again, but it was fitful at best.
Morning came without the usual feline wakeup call of a cat sprawled across my face or the chore from hell, aka insisting meows demanding breakfast. The apartment was enveloped in an unusual silence. My attention was quickly drawn to the door, where Sunny and Daisy remained transfixed. An involuntary shiver traveled down my spine each time I glanced in that direction.
Summoning my courage, I declared out loud, “Ok, that’s enough,” as if the sound of my voice would shatter the eerie quiet. Desperate for a distraction, I filled the room with the sound of music from my laptop. I scooped up my cats and carried them to their feeding bowls, which seemed to finally break their trance. With a sigh of relief that the unsettling episode had ended and encouraged by the good beats, I resumed the task of unpacking and settling into my new home.
As the day transitioned into the early evening, my phone buzzed with an incoming video call from my friend Jenna. A vibrant and vivacious spirit, Jenna always had a knack for brightening up my day. She began talking excitedly about her latest horror movie findings and then pivoted the conversation to my recent move. Noticing the absence of my feline companions from the frame - a rarity during our video chats, she inquired about their whereabouts. Instinctively, my gaze wandered back to the door, and I felt a shiver of unease.
Noticing my furrowed brows and the sudden shift in my demeanor, Jenna instantly muted the sitcom playing in the background at her end. She asked, her voice full of concern, “What’s wrong?” I released a long sigh, “This door… it’s just… it’s been freaking me out. Sunny and Daisy are glued to it, and I can’t seem to distract them.”
She let out a chuckle before her expression morphed into a more contemplative one. “Maybe it’s the Peephole Prowler,” she suggested cryptically. Jenna had a flair for the dramatic, often weaving intricate tales brimming with suspense and intrigue. She was our go-to person for creepy urban legends during late-night sleepovers. Now, it seemed she was at it again.
“Alright, I’ll bite. Who or what is the Peephole Prowler?” I asked, rolling my eyes indulgently at her theatrics.
“Well,” Jenna began, a hint of glee in her eyes, “the Peephole Prowler isn’t really a ‘who’ but more of a ‘what’. It’s said to be an entity of sorts that infiltrates apartments and instills terror among the residents. Its presence is marked by an unnerving feeling of being watched.”
“Oh, great, Jenna,” I retorted, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “That’s exactly what I need to hear to get a good night’s sleep.”
Unfazed, Jenna pressed on, her voice dropping to a dramatic whisper, “The strange part is, it always starts with the sensation of being observed. Then, residents report seeing someone peering through their peepholes. But when they check, there’s no one there. The most chilling part? Those who’ve experienced this often vanish without a trace.” She raised her voice for effect and added, “But apparently, the key is to never open your door. I think I read somewhere that it keeps you safe!”
I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity. “Oh sure, the ghostly Peephole Prowler who respects door codes. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
Jenna, still wearing her mischievous grin, added, “Well, don’t worry too much! The Peephole Prowler is said to be tied to some sort of game. And since you’ve never played it, you should be fine.”
“Okay, Jenna,” I replied, my eyes rolling into the horizon. Despite her tendency for theatrics, I felt an odd sense of comfort from her words. I ended the call with Jenna and sought refuge in cat videos, a perfect distraction from stupid peephole stories.
Before retiring for the night, I moved Sunny and Daisy from their position by the door, growing increasingly unnerved by their unblinking vigilance. To distract them from their peculiar fixation, I kept a stash of treats (bribes) by my bedside, their content purrs serving as a soothing lullaby. Just as I was about to surrender to the day’s exhaustion and extinguish the lights, a soft knock echoed in the stillness.
A rush of adrenaline surged through me, causing my heart to throb painfully against my ribcage. I found myself frozen, eyes locked on the peephole. I chastised myself internally, attributing my burgeoning fear to Jenna’s eerie tale. But the dread of what could be lurking on the other side of the peephole was paralyzing. My heart pounded in my chest as I looked at the peephole. I told myself it was just Jenna’s silly story getting to me. I didn’t want to look through the peephole. The fear of what I might see was too overwhelming especially considering it was far too late for anyone to be visiting. My mind was filled with images of the Peephole Prowler. My heart pounded in my chest as I stumbled back to my bed. I grabbed my phone and texted Jenna about the knocking, but she laughed it off, calling me a scaredy-cat. I tried to laugh with her, but the fear was clawing at my insides. I put my phone down and tried to go back to sleep, but my mind was spinning. I tossed and turned, the words Peephole Prowler circling my mind like a broken record.
Just as I was on the edge of sleep, Sunny and Daisy bolted upright. Their fur bristled, their eyes wide and alert, once again fixated on the door. An icy dread snaked down my spine, leaving me paralyzed. With great effort, I slowly got up and inched my way towards the door. Summoning every ounce of courage, I braved a glance through the peephole. A wave of relief washed over me, so profound that it left me weak-kneed. There was nothing.
After this ordeal, I managed to go back to sleep again, cradling Daisy who seemed to have sensed my distress and nestled up to me for comfort. The next morning, however, the unsettling tableau replayed itself. Sunny and Daisy were once again absorbed in their silent watch of the door. No amount of coaxing with toys or food could break their fixation. Their unwavering attention on the door left me disturbed.
This cycle continued for days. Each night, I would hear knocking, and every morning, I would find my cats in their unchanging vigil. Occasionally, I was sure I heard whispers or some indistinguishable noise, but I fervently attributed it to a neighbor although Id heard no such noises from them otherwise. At this point I felt consumed by terror and the thought of just moving out hit me more than once.
At some point I realised i’d run out of food and had to make a run for some groceries. I hadn’t had to go out much as I’m working from home, so this was a great opportunity to get more aquainted with the neighbourhood. As I came back, excited from the outing as I’d also bought some cat treats, Id actually completely managed to forget about the Peep-whatever-thing. As I got closer to my apartment door however, I heard it. Knocking. I looked around but there were no people visiting the neighbours. Was someone messing with me? But why?
With a sense of impending doom, I cautiously advanced towards my door. The knocking had ceased, and in its place hung a silence so deep it seemed almost tangible. Then again, a knocking that without a doubt, came from my door almost gave me a heart-atack. How in the world could there be knocking from INSIDE my apartment? I wavered momentarily before resolving to peer through the peephole. Surely, Jenna’s tale was just a prank, and my persistent fear was nothing more than a figment of my overactive imagination. I hadn’t been sleeping well so maybe this was all just in my head. As I pressed my eye to the peephole, hoping to dispel my fears, I saw something that turned my veins to ice.
Two eyes of unnatural brilliance stared back at me. They seemed to shimmer in the dim hallway, casting an almost phosphorescent glow. And chillingly, they were focused directly on me. Recoiling in shock, I stumbled back, the groceries in my grasp tumbling to the floor. I desperately rubbed my eyes, attempting to dispel the terrifying vision. But when I dared another glance, the glowing eyes remained, unblinking, as if boring into the very depths of my soul.
Terror clenched its icy grip around my heart, and I retreated from the door, ready to run. From their perch by the door I could hear Sunny and Daisy hissing loudly. In that moment, I realized I couldn’t bear the thought of my cats in danger. Ignoring my own escalating panic of whatever was in my apartment, I quickly unlocked the door and dashed inside. Yet, impossibly, there was no one there.
Had I lost my mind? The scattered groceries strewn outside and the agitated state of Sunny and Daisy were stark reminders that this was not a figment of my imagination. I secured the door behind me, a chilling thought crossing my mind - was I locking something out or trapping something inside? Sunny and Daisy shadowed me as I hastened to the safety of my bedroom, their tails puffed out in evident distress.
With trembling hands, I fumbled for my phone and dialed Jenna’s number. When she answered, my voice was shaky, barely a whisper. “Jenna… The eyes… I saw the eyes.” Silence reigned on the other end. “What eyes?” she finally asked, her voice uncharacteristically grave. I could tell that she wasn’t jesting this time. “The Peephole Prowler… I saw it, Jenna,” I stammered, the words tumbling out in a frantic rush. “Glowing eyes were staring right at me. And when I opened the door, there was nobody there.”
Jenna remained quiet for a moment, then she instructed, “Stay calm. Secure all your doors and windows, then leave. You should take Sunny and Daisy and come stay at my place.”
Her words were a beacon amidst the storm of panic. I hastily packed a bag, gathered Sunny and Daisy, and fled my apartment, my emotions a jumble of relief and terror.
Jenna resided on the other side of town in a charming, three-story house. She had a guest room, and Sunny and Daisy quickly acclimated to their new environment. Despite the horrifying events that led me there, Jenna proved to be a wonderful host, her hospitality instilling a sense of comfort and safety. As I settled onto her sofa. However, a nagging question began to brew in the back of my mind.
“Hey Jenna, how did you even come across this Peephole Prowler tale?” I asked, unable to keep the tremor from my voice.
Jenna threw me a peculiar glance. “Well, you know my love for urban legends. But really, I was just pulling your leg and never imagined it could be real.” She cocked her head to one side and shrugged. “And to be honest, maybe it was just your apartment settling? I’m not saying I don’t trust your experience, but new places can have their quirks, and you’ve been under a lot of stress. I’m sure whatever it is won’t follow you here; you’re safe with me, bestie.”
Her words gnawed at the pit of my stomach, leaving me unsettled. Naturally, I had questioned my sanity amid these strange occurrences, but everything about this experience felt frighteningly tangible.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” I managed to mumble. The following morning, I awoke early to find Sunny and Daisy behaving oddly once more. Their focus was locked onto Jenna’s shut bedroom door, their tails twitching in apprehension. A wave of déjà vu swept over me, bringing with it an insidious sense of dread. I decided to investigate. Jenna was already out, having left early for work. I gently nudged open the door to her room, revealing a space that was tidy and well-kept, the lingering scent of incense heavy in the air. As I surveyed the room, my gaze landed on a slip of parchment paper, half-concealed under her pillow. Intrigued, I picked it up. I could tell it had been printed from some online forum catering to horror enthusiasts, and it was adorned with Jenna’s handwriting, which I recognized from countless notes shared during our college days. The title emblazoned at the top made my heart lurch: “Summoning of the Peephole Prowler.”
The beginning seemed to be a copy paste of some internet user and their comment.
“Booooy do I have news for all of you! The PeepHole Prowler gameeeeeeee. This can be a game you play with friends, but I advise using this on one person. I’ve tried a couple of games and the more people that are on the other side of the door (the ones you can convince, lol) the more people will be haunted by the Prowler. I did this with a couple of bullies from highschool, met them at a party and I can say - it was more successful then anything I’ve ever tried before. Anyways, I found the below from another forum; I didn’t think it would work but def confirmed it for you guys so use with moderation”
The Prowler is a patient hunter, slowly driving its chosen victim to the brink of paranoia and insecurity before ultimately claiming their soul in their most fearful moments. The Prowler could torment its victim for days, sometimes weeks, before finally striking.
The steps to summon the Peephole Prowler:
Locate a door with a peephole, preferably one leading to a personal space such as a house or an apartment. Rooms work but can fail, it is difficult to distinguish what setting makes a room eligible so try to avoid this if you can.
Wait for nightfall, as the Prowler is a creature of darkness.
Position a mirror facing the peephole to create a symbolic gateway for the Prowler.
Knock thrice on the door at a time when the intended victim is on the other side.
Recite the Invocation: “Peephole Prowler, I beckon thee. Cross through the gateway, let your eyes see. I fear your presence, I fear your gaze. Enter this realm, set my heart ablaze.”
Leave the door undisturbed until sunrise.
The Prowler, once summoned, can not be banished. However, it could be redirected toward a different victim through the same ritual, in which case the Prowler will change targets.
There were more comments, seemingly from other users of the forum on the back of the page.
“I’ve heard of this game before!! You forgot to add that if you use it on someone close, like a real loved one, you’ll get a wish or something. I tried it on my sister before but I don’t think it worked because I don’t really love her, you know? Figured blood and water and all that but all she did was disappear. Ngl, my life did get better tho so no regrets here”
“I let the Prowler take my dad so I could cure my Grandpa of cancer, the best thing I ever did tbh, this was a total lifesaver, but apparently, I heard if you use it twice, it can come for you instead, OP be careful!”
“Can confirm that it works but wishes are total BS”
“Was too scared to try it, finally did but didn’t get it to work, are you guys serious about it working!? Can someone take me through it step by step i’m stupid”
My heart pounded in my chest as I read the chilling instructions and the comments of what seemed to be complete psychos. Was this some kind of sick joke? Could Jenna have done this intentionally? A cold dread settled within me as I contemplated the possibility. My rage simmered under the surface, stoked by the betrayal of a trusted friend. Jenna had subjected me and my pets to an unimaginable horror just for something I could only imagine was a perverse delight. I felt the sting of this betrayal keenly and resolved there and then that Jenna would face the consequences of her actions.
Riding a surge of adrenaline, I reviewed the ritual’s instructions. They were disconcertingly simple, necessitating only a handful of commonplace items and a specific incantation. I was to knock on Jenna’s door, invoke the Peephole Prowler, and use a mirror for the gateway. Luckily I had a small make up mirror with me, which according to the instructions should still work.
As night fell, my heart pounded like a drum in my chest. To guarantee Jenna wouldn’t interrupt the ritual and that the door would remain untouched until dawn, I slipped some of my sleep aids into her evening tea—my sleep had been restless and troubled for obvious reasons, resulting in many nights of sleepingpill aids.
I chanted the invocation, careful to use the exact words as the instructions. An unnerving silence fell over the house as I finished. I waited, half-expecting something out of the ordinary to occur. But nothing did.
Respecting the ritual’s dictates, I didn’t dare open the door until dawn. I bundled up in a thick jacket and spent the remainder of the night outside in the chill, my ears straining for any knocking sounds or spectral whispers. Despite my fear, I took solace in knowing I had given Jenna a taste of her own cruel medicine, and I prayed fervently that the ritual would take effect.
In the days that followed, I kept a close watch on Jenna. She seemed her usual upbeat self, blissfully ignorant. However, the cats began behaving oddly around her, hissing and steering clear of her room.
A sense of grim satisfaction washed over me when Jenna mentioned feeling watched and hearing strange knocking on her door. I couldn’t suppress a smirk. “Perhaps it’s the Peephole Prowler,” I suggested nonchalantly, echoing her own words from earlier.
Jenna’s eyes widened in fear, but I felt no sympathy.
This was a monster of her own making, and now it was turning on her. As for myself, I hastily made arrangements to leave Jenna’s house and possibly even the city. After all, there were plenty of places to live free from the menace of glowing eyes in peepholes, and as for the gift or blessing from the prawler, mine had already come through after seeing the dreaded fear in Jennas eyes.