Latest / Shallow Nights: Scary Bedtime Stories / Eerie Echoes in a Quiet Neighborhood - Scary Paranormal Story

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Eerie Echoes in a Quiet Neighborhood - Scary Paranormal Story · Shallow Nights: Scary Bedtime Stories

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Dear diary, I guess I don't really know how I'm supposed to
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start this thing. The therapist recommended I
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acquire some kind of journal to help catalog my thoughts.
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It's supposed to keep me grounded and in the present if I
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start to have another panic attack.
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So here we are. It's Monday the 9th and I'm
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supposed to be at work right now, Except I'm not.
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I moved house today to a new build condo in a quiet suburban
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St. I had something of a mental
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breakdown earlier on this year that left me hyperventilating on
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the wrong side of the guardrail on the Golden Gate Bridge.
1:01
It took two agonizing hours of talking to a police officer to
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convince me not to embrace the void and to choose life instead.
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I was then immediately whisked away to a hospital to be
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evaluated by a psychiatrist. The next day I went home and
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immediately listed my apartment for sale.
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There were too many memories left there that I didn't want to
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keep and I needed a fresh start. My new place is exactly what the
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doctor ordered. It's a modern 2 up to down.
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I think that's what it's called, Townhouse.
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It really has all the things a growing millennial needs.
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USB ports in every outlet, high speed Wi-Fi, good cell
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reception. I'm in love with the place.
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There's an open plan kitchen and living area towards the back
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with these amazing floor to ceiling sliding glass doors.
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These lead onto a cute little deck and a tiny patch of grass
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I'm told is called a lawn. I wouldn't know, I've only ever
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lived in apartments. Towards the front there's a
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spare room which until I have more money is going to remain
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unfurnished. It will probably just end up as
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a storage closet for the stuff I couldn't leave behind me when I
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moved, but definitely don't have a need for heading upstairs,
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which is honestly more of a mezzanine.
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There's my bedroom and bathroom. The bedroom sits at the back of
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the house, above the deck, and the bathroom takes up the front.
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The whole place is wide open, spacious, and it lets the light
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in. It feels like my soul is taking
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a deep breath of fresh air. I have a neighbor, and I'd
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assume that their house is a mirror image of mine.
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I've not met them yet, but I hope that I bump into them soon.
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A little human contact couldn't go far amiss in my new life.
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I guess I should go and unpack more of my stuff, it should help
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ease my anxieties about my new place if anything is in some
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kind of order. Do you say goodbye to a diary?
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I have absolutely no idea. There needs to be a guide about
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diary etiquette online somewhere.
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So it's like 10:30 PM-ish. I've just got back to my room
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after a frantic search around the house for my breaker box.
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Can you believe it? 12 hours in the house and I get
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a power cut. I fell asleep with the landing
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light on and I guess the sudden absence of light woke me up.
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I jumped out of bed and initially thought I was blind.
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Suburbia is really dark at night.
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My eyes eventually adjusted enough to penetrate the
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darkness. I fumble my way down the stairs
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into the kitchen and grabbed the flashlight off of the fridge.
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It's one of those cheap magnetic ones.
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I received it as a gift and a stocking 1 Christmas.
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I flicked it on and scanned the kitchen for the breaker box.
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It wasn't in the kitchen or the living room.
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It was in the spare room behind four boxes of my junk.
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I moved the boxes and lifted the lid of the breaker switches, but
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nothing had tripped. I was just thinking about which
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number I'd need to dial to get some kind of idea of the
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situation when there was a dull thud followed by a sharp click.
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Confused and out of sorts and unfamiliar surroundings, I held
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my breath for about 5 seconds and then I heard the hum of the
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fridge. The power was back on.
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I emerge from the spare room into the partially illuminated
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kitchen and approached the fridge to reattach the
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flashlight. I thought I caught a glimpse of
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something in the corner of my eye just as I was about to turn
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and head for the stairs. It looked like there was a
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figure out on the deck. I rushed for the outdoor light
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switch. It was one of those really
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bright halogen security lights. They're usually activated by
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proximity but need to be reset in the event of a power cut.
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There was a burst of light onto the deck and the lawn behind it.
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There wasn't a trace of anything.
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No figure, no footsteps, not even any poop from an animal.
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Whatever shadow I thought I had seen evaporated like a mist.
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I think I'm losing it again already.
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Tuesday, July 10th, 2018. Hello diary, I apologize for my
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minor outburst last night. The Internet tells me that what
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I experienced was a rolling blackout and I guess my mind was
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just playing tricks on me. Today is my first day back at
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work after a week off, so I'm stressed and honestly a little
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anxious about that. I work as a graphical artist for
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a bank. I produce their advertisements
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and customer facing posters and emails.
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It's really fun work, but there are tight deadlines and I'm
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constantly trying to please everyone.
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Hopefully my first day back isn't quite so intense.
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With a bit of luck, I won't have to endure another power cut
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tonight. Diary, there's a footprint on my
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deck on a set, or a trail of footprints.
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Just one enormous muddy boot print right outside the sliding
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doors. If I were to put my foot where
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the print sits and close the doors, my toe would be pressed
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right against them. Someone was stood at my door.
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I didn't catch it last night because it was dark and the deck
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is stained a deep chestnut color.
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I don't know what to do, I've called the police but they
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completely dismissed me. I'm sorry ma'am, there's nothing
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we can do without an intruder actually present.
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I called my friend Matt to stay over for the night.
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Me said I'll crash on the couch which makes me feel a little
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more secure. I think if I can spend one night
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in the house without a disturbance I'll feel better at
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the end of the day. It was 1 blueprint.
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It might have been there before I even moved in for all I know.
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Oh, I've forgotten all about it in the morning.
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Wish me luck diary. I'm turning in for the night.
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Wednesday, July 11th, 2018. Good morning diary.
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I slept like a log last night. No nightmares featuring big
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footed muddy intruders inexplicably appearing on my
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deck. I found Matt sat at my breakfast
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bar upon my arrival to the kitchen.
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He claims he didn't experience anything out of the ordinary
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last night aside from some creaking in the house.
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With it being a new build, I'm willing to put this down to the
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house settling or me turning over in my sleep.
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I'm feeling incredibly positive today.
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I'm falling in love with a new house.
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I'm starting to feel safe and I've just had breakfast and
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coffee before work. For the first time in years.
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I'll be late home from work tonight.
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I've been invited for drinks with some colleagues as a sort
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of welcome back celebration. It'll be nice to get out of my
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head for a while, even if it is aided by alcohol.
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Thursday, July 12th, 2018. The back door was open this
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morning. I came downstairs to get a glass
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of water and some painkillers to alleviate the headache I had as
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a result of last night's antics. A thoroughly deserved headache,
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I might add. I felt the cool morning air
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raise goose pimples on my neck and make the hairs on my arms
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stand on end before I reached the bottom of the stairs and
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located the source of the chill as I rounded the corner.
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I don't remember much of last night after getting home, but
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I'm fairly confident I didn't touch the door.
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I'm not a smoker and I haven't owned a pet for years, so there
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was no logical reason for me to have to open the back door last
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night at all, let alone leave it wide open.
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I'm going to the hardware store immediately to pick up new heavy
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duty locks and I've got a locksmith arriving later on this
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afternoon to install them. I have an appointment scheduled
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with a security company later on this week to get an alarm system
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installed with a remote panic button.
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This situation is slowly deteriorating into something I
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can't explain away as month old footprints and strange sleeping
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behaviors. I'm going to go around to the
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neighbor and see if they've heard or experienced anything
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similar. I definitely feel better if I
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had a nearby friendly face that I could turn to for support.
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I can't keep calling Matt every time I make a stupid mistake
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when I've had one too many daiquiris.
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I don't think anybody lives next door.
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I knocked on the door and rang the doorbell, which still
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worked, surprisingly, and received no answer.
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After some observation, the house was absolutely spotless
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externally and internally. I'm not sure that it was ever
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inhabited. Every window on the ground floor
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is covered with a pair of heavy blackout curtains, except for
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one, the front room. Peering through the window, I
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could make out a solitary wooden chair in the middle of the room,
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facing the window. I saw no evidence of any other
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furniture, past or present. There were no indentations on
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the carpet, no empty boxes, no discoloration on the walls.
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It looked as if the house had remained untouched since it was
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built earlier this year. I don't feel comfortable about
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this at all. Something just doesn't feel
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right. I'm going to ask some of the
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other people in the neighborhood about the house and see if they
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can shine some light on this for me.
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In the meantime, I'm going to invest in a safety chain for my
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front door. I don't feel safe anymore.
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Friday, July 13th, 2018. Friday the 13th.
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One of only two unlucky days this year.
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I'd like to say that I don't believe in superstition,
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especially as my therapist believes that it doesn't have
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positive effects on my mental health.
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However, today has been extremely negative for me.
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My declining attention at work has caused them to put me on a
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short stress sleeve. My supervisor believes that I
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may have returned to work a little too soon, and so I've
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been told to take this Saturday and the entirety of next week
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off to get my crap together. I think I'm just going to spend
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the entire time in bed. I don't have the energy for
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anything else. My locksmith hasn't been able to
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get out to my house yet either. It's apparently a break in
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season, whatever that means, and he's been snowed under with lock
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changes. I've bought and attached a
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safety chain to my door. It's funny, I don't even know
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what I'm trying to keep out at this point.
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I just want to feel comfortable in my new home.
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It happened again. There's no way this is a
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coincidence. 2 power cuts in five days in a new build.
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I can't rationally explain this away.
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I wasn't even asleep this time. I was lying in bed, staring at
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the ceiling and fantasizing about the Golden Gate Bridge,
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when my thoughts were rudely interrupted by a sharp click and
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a dull thud from outside. I was plunged into almost
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complete darkness and started to panic.
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My heart started pounding like it was attempting to crack open
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my sternum and escape my chest. My breathing became shallow and
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rapid, like oxygen was suddenly in short supply and I needed
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every molecule that was available to me.
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I sat bolt upright, no longer in my stupor but suddenly very
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alert. I listened hard for any sound
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that might seem out of the ordinary.
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I couldn't hear anything over the sound of my own breathing
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and the constant pounding drum beat in my chest.
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I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and gingerly dropped my
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feet onto the carpet. I had recently relocated the
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flashlight to my bedside drawer and I hastily retrieved it.
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After a few seconds of fumbling around with shaky hands, I found
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the on switch and the darkness gave way to an orange glow that
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now felt familiar and offered a tiny scrap of comfort for my
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jangled nerves. There was a Creek from
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downstairs. I entered the landing and
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listened with batted breath. I wasn't sure if I was preparing
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to run or to club an assailant with my tiny flashlight, but I
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was prepared for something. No sounds.
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I crept down the stairs one at a time, listening for the faintest
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sound. After 5 minutes of silence, I
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was satisfied that my kitchen was free of intruders.
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I approached the back door and gave the latch a solid tug.
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It was locked tight. I headed to the front door and
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ensured the safety chain was still secure.
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My final stop was to check the spare room for the Breakers.
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I left the boxes out of the way from last time.
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If I'm honest, I haven't had the energy to rearrange or unpack
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them. Unsurprisingly, the switches
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were all up. In my complete panic, I had
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dialed 911. Feeling my cheeks flush a little
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with embarrassment and regretting having been so hasty,
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I retired to the couch to await the arrival of the police and
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thought of what I would tell them to convince them I wasn't
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either crazy or wasting their time.
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The police arrived with a knock at the door.
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I approached cautiously and opened a tiny crack through
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which I could check that they were actually police.
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When I was sure, I carefully slid back the safety chain and
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ease the door open for them to come in and search the house for
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intruders. They seem distracted with
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something else and as if they had better things to be doing,
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which they probably did. Their search was basic, checking
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under beds and wardrobes with just a cursory glance into the
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bathroom. I was left with a copy of a
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police report and the instructions to dial 911 again
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if I felt unsafe. Sleep came for me there on the
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couch around 2:00 AM and I awoke with a start just now at 535.
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I'm tired and I need coffee. Screw this house diary.
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Saturday, July 14th, 2018. It's around 4:00 PM now and I'm
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too tired to function. Still no word from the locksmith
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or the security company. I'm not sure this police report
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will protect me if push comes to shove.
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I spent the past few hours on the phone making plans to get
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out of here. I have an Airbnb from tomorrow
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and five apartment viewings this week.
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I'll have to rent this place out and write off my plans of my
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dream home. I'm going to pack everything I
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need and get an early night. I'm leaving very early tomorrow
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as I have a pretty decent drive to make on the move again.
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I hope this isn't going to be a recurring theme for me.
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Sunday, July 15th, 2018. Hi there Diary, I did not move
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out this morning. I found myself unable to leave
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my bed and unavailable to answer the phone.
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I made some mistakes this week Diary.
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I think it was good that I bought a security chain for the
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door. It's smart, cheap and simple.
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Double checking doors and windows is also a great plan
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when one fears an intruder. The security system would have
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proven to be overpriced and ineffective had it arrived
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before my departure. The new fancy deadbolt would
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have appeared to have been of little use.
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Also, these things only serve to keep intruders out.
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My first mistake was checking in on the House next door.
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I forgot to lock my door, or maybe it didn't occur to me as
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necessary. I was only feet away, right?
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What could possibly happen? My second mistake was falling
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asleep on the sofa yesterday morning.
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It was careless. I was exhausted from my ordeal,
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and after seeing off the police officers, I'd neglected to reset
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the chain on the door. My final mistake was being so
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loud on my phone throughout the day on Saturday.
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Anybody could have heard my plans to leave, and so quickly
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too. It was almost like I was
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fleeing. That would have been smart.
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You see, I was right in my Friday panic.
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There was a reason to be scared. He was hiding behind the shower
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curtain. The police didn't see the muddy
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print on the floor, nor did they see the sprinkles of dirt on the
16:08
bath mat. They didn't even turn the light
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on. When I left for coffee, my
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uninvited houseguest crept under my bed and waited.
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When I retired to bed early, he waited for my breathing to
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become slow and deep. He then emerged slowly and
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silently. He rose up beside the bed like a
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ghoul and produced a blade. A beautiful thing, obsessively
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cleaned and meticulously maintained.
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The blade was pressed against my throat for a brief second before
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it glided across and all my blood spilled out.
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I gasped for breath. I tried to scream.
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Nothing came out. With my eyes wide on my hands
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clasping at my throat, trying in vain to staunch the Crimson
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flow. I'd imagine my last thought was
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a wish that I'd spent a little extra cash and got that Airbnb
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one night earlier. My life faded and I collapsed
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motionless on the top of my duvet.
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The man then reached under my mattress, produced my diary and
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proceeded to fill in my final day.
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Wouldn't it be such a shame if I'd ended the week on a Saturday
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and B. If you're reading this, maybe
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check behind your shower curtain before locking yourself in for
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the night.