My husband, August, and I, Kai, live on the second story of a large apartment complex. The buildings are tightly packed and close together. Our walls are thin enough that we can hear people going up and down the metal stairs.
Another note about our buildings, the windows are a bit odd. In the apartments themselves, the windows don’t quite seal properly. During big snowstorms I always find snow on the windowsills. In the hallways and stairways, there are holes for windows, but no glass in them. Wind goes freely through our building which can sometimes produce a really haunting howling sound.
Last night, we were laying in bed, just talking and chatting. I made a dumb joke and he acted offended, got out of bed and left to go to the kitchen. I was laughing the whole time because he was just being goofy. I heard him rummaging in the kitchen and presumed he was grabbing a snack while he was up, so I went onto my phone to watch some tiktoks.
When he came back, he was kind of chuckling.
“I didn’t know you could whistle,” he said.
I looked at him confused. “I didn’t whistle.”
I’ve never been able to whistle. Not once in my whole life. I can imitate the sound decently enough to get my dog’s attention, but it’s never been a skill of mine. I also recently got my lips pierced, so even if I could, I wouldn’t be whistling right now.
His face went as white as a sheet. “I heard someone whistling. I thought it was you.”
I shook my head. “It’s probably just the wind. It can be eerie sometimes.”
He nodded his head, though I could tell his hands were shaking. “You’re right. Yeah.”
He left the room and I heard him turning on the sink a couple of times and chugging glasses of water. When he returned, he just stood in the doorway looking annoyed.
“I know it’s you. Please stop,” he said firmly.
“It’s really not me. I promise. Like I said, it’s just the wind.”
“Did you hear it?”
“I heard the wind. There’s no whistling.”
I stared at him, trying to get him to understand that it’s nothing paranormal or odd. He finally relented. He entered our bedroom, closed and locked the door behind him and got back into bed. He never locks the door to our room. We never lock the door. We simply have no need to. The front door is locked and the windows are locked so there’s no need to lock the bedroom.
I gave him a sideways glance before returning my attention to my phone. He just sat uneasily and stared at the wall. After a couple of minutes, it began to freak me out, so I suggested we go to bed. It was nearing midnight anyways. He agreed. So we began our nighttime routine. Skincare, teeth brushing, plug in devices, etc etc.
Then I heard it. I was climbing into bed while he brushed his teeth when I heard it. A high pitch first, then a low pitch. It was distinct and human. Something told me to open the blinds and check, but I resisted, instead, I crawled into bed and pulled the blankets tight around me.
August joined me a bit later, after turning off the lights. I stayed still in bed. I usually gave him a kiss before bed, but something about the blinds, the outdoors, and the storm outside gave me pause. I didn’t want to turn to look at the blinds.
“Kai, aren’t you forgetting something?” He teased. All the tension was gone out of his voice. It was like he had forgotten about the whistling already.
“You’ll have to come over here if you want something,” I said back.
He laughed and leaned dramatically over me to kiss me. I leaned into it, enjoying his warmth. But when I opened my eyes to pull away, I saw it.
It looked like a child, fingers curled around the top edge of our window and toes just barely able to touch the windowsill. It was silhouetted in the blinds, it’s shadow only visible by the streetlight outside. It whistled. High, then low. The wind howled, rattling the building.
I screamed and frantically reached for my phone. I flipped on the flashlight and shined it directly on the window. The shadow was gone. August looked at me wearily.
“You saw what’s whistling?” He asked.
I nodded, still pointing my flashlight at the window. “Please turn the lights on. Now please.”
August hopped up from the bed and flipped the light switch. It took it’s time turning on. One old light bulb flickered on. I glanced up at the ceiling in the dim light, watching the shadows stretch out around it… almost in the shape of a person. I swallowed hard. The second bulb flickered on, destroying the shadows.
I turned off my flashlight and sat upright in bed. August joined me, putting an arm around my shoulder and pulling me tight.
“I don’t want to know what it is. Don’t tell me, but I don’t think we can sleep tonight,” he said.
I couldn’t agree more. It’s now three in the morning and the whistling won’t stop. My dog is sleeping right underneath the window, which he never does. I think I need to open the window and see what it is. Maybe it’s just cold.