I’ve lived in this house for the past 23 years.
Just like the past eight-thousand nights, as I was going to bed, I reached out to turn off the light switch in the stairwell. The one right at the top of the stairs, on the left-hand side as I go up.
Except it wasn’t there.
I stopped and looked down. My hand was pressed against blank wall. I turned around, and saw the switch on the other side of the stairwell.
Huh?
Had the switch always been on that side? It had been so long, I’d never really paid attention to where exactly the light switch was. It was pure muscle memory. Reach out… turn off the light… go into my bedroom.
I looked down. “Oh.” I was holding a freshly-laundered sheet and pillowcase in my left hand. That stopped me from turning off the light. Instead of switching hands, my muscle memory just told my brain “Hey! Go ahead and turn off the light with your other hand!”
Silly brain.
There was nothing wrong.
I opened the door to my bedroom and started pulling the fitted sheet over the mattress. I pulled the cloth straight, straightening out the wrinkles, neatly tucking the corners underneath. I repeated it four times, then with a sigh, got up and went into the bathroom. I reached to flick on the light—
Blank wall.
What the…
I extended my other arm. After a second of fumbling, my fingers found the switch and flipped it on. I scowled at myself in the mirror. At the reflection of my bony hand, frozen on the light switch.
I’m pretty sure the light switch was on the other side. Next to the towel rack.
Not… there.
I walked over to the counter and pulled the bobby pins out of my hair. Then pulled it all up into a ponytail, securing it with a neon green hairtie. I reached down for the drawer to pull out my toothpaste.
Except my fingers grabbed empty air.
I looked down—to find the drawer pull a few inches lower than I expected it to be. “Geez, what’s wrong with me today?” I muttered under my breath. I grabbed my toothpaste out of the drawer, squirted it on my toothbrush, and furiously brushed my teeth.
I bent over the sink and cupped my hands, filling them with water. I sucked it up, swishing, and spit it out. Straightened back up—
Huh?
Over my shoulder, in the mirror, the fitted sheet sat bunched up on top of the mattress.
My heart dropped. I definitely put that sheet on. Then I frowned. Did I? Or did I just… think… about doing it? I turned around, staring at the bunched fabric. The cute little green polka dots distorted with the wrinkles.
Then I shook my head and walked over to the bed. Flapped the sheet in the air, then lined up the corners. Pulled it taught, tucking each corner underneath.
“Looking good.”
I walked over to the windows and closed them. Locked them. Pulled down the blinds, then pulled the curtains over them. Without the light of the moon, the room was pitch dark, save for the sliver of golden light spilling out from the bathroom door.
Leaving the bathroom light on so I wouldn’t trip over myself, I sat down on the bed and turned on the desk lamp. Pulled my Kindle off the nightstand and opened the novel I’d been reading. Some dramedy about two very different women switching bodies. I read for several minutes—but then something caught my eye.
The mirror.
In the full-length mirror across from the bed, I could see my reflection: blankets cozily wrapped around me, cup of water on the nightstand, Kindle in hand. Except there was something horribly, horribly wrong.
My hair was down.
No. I put my hair up in a ponytail. In the bathroom. I was sure of it—otherwise, I would’ve gotten my hair wet in the sink when I brushed my teeth.
Unless… maybe I absentmindedly put it back down while I was reading?
The neon-green hairtie sat on the nightstand. I grabbed it and quickly put my hair back up. Then I stared at the mirror. My reflection stared back, eyes wide.
You’re just tired.
You’ve had a hell of a day. Hell of a week. The presentation at work, fixing the cracked window in the basement all by yourself. You just need a good sleep.
I reached over and turned off the lamp.
Darkness enveloped me. And it felt somehow… too dark. Usually there was light from something, even if it was just the blinking white light from my laptop, indicating sleep mode. But this was just pure darkness. Thick, heavy darkness like a fog, filling the entire room.
Go to sleep. You need sleep.
I cuddled up to my pillow, closed my eyes, and began to fall asleep—
My eyes shot open.
The light.
I’d left the light on in the bathroom.
And now it was off.
I pulled myself up out of bed. “Hello? Is anyone there?”
Oh, good idea, Hannah. Announce yourself like every victim in a slasher movie ever.
Groping in the darkness, I felt for my phone. I’d left it on the nightstand. Which should’ve been a foot or two to my right. But as I continued to feel, my hand only fell on empty air.
Where the hell is the nightstand?!
I walked forward with slow, halting steps. Then my toe collided with something. I hissed in pain, but reached down and finally found the sleek smooth metal of my phone.
I turned on the flashlight.
And my blood ran cold.
My bed. The nightstand. It was all on the left side of the room, not the right. I stared at it, my heart pounding in my chest. The white light jittered across the wall as my hand shook.
I turned around, towards the bathroom—
But I was staring at the windows. The curtains closed tight. I whipped around, and there was the door to the bathroom—on the other side of the room.
“What the fuck?!”
I ran to the bedroom door. Turned the knob. Swung the door open and raced down the hallway—
The stairs.
They didn’t lead down.
They led up.
My flashlight followed the wooden steps as they went up—turned ninety-degrees at the landing—and then continued upwards. At the top, there was a shut door. A door I’d seen a million times.
The door to my basement.
A dream. This has got to be a dream. I pinched myself, screamed, tried to force myself awake. But I was still standing in the hallway. The hallway that led up to the basement door.
I raced up the stairs and opened the door. Or tried to—it only opened a few inches before the chain lock caught. I thrust my entire weight against the door, pulling the chain taut. But the door wouldn’t open any further.
“Let me out!”
Light blinked on. On the other side of the door.
And through the crack… I could see something. Something familiar. A hallway with a cuckoo clock. Cream-colored walls. An opening that led to a small, wallpapered kitchen.
It was my house.
And standing in the kitchen was a woman. A woman with dark hair pulled back with a neon-green ponytail holder.
Me.
She held a toolbox and a garbage bag. Something like glass clanked against each other with each step she took. Then she disappeared around the bend, towards the garage.
“Help!” I screamed. “Help me!”
But no one came.
I’ve tried calling the police. Tried calling my mom, my friends, anyone. It never goes through though. It seems like I have some sort of internet connection, though, and I’m not even sure where this will be seen. But I hope someone will see it.
And I hope you can help me.