Speaker 1: This happened a couple years back when I was twenty six.
My single mother had just passed away, and being the
only child, their house was left for me to either
sell or move into. I was living in a really
nasty apartment because I couldn't afford much back then, and
after much deliberation, I decided to move into the house.
It was already paid off, so I was saving a
considerable amount of money by moving in. My goal was
to hopefully save up for a few years and get
back on my feet, then sell it and buy the
house that I wanted. Once my lease was up at
the apartment, I moved across town to the house. It
was part of a community of farmland owners, but in
the recent years most of that land had stopped being
used for farming and was left as just empty fields.
That's what happened with my mom's land as well. It
was pretty much just an old barn style home in
the middle of a huge field with only a small
overgrown path leading to it. In the first week living there,
I spent most of my time cleaning and getting all
of my stuff where I wanted it. During one of
these nights, while I was cleaning, I heard a car
coming toward the house. I looked out of the window
and saw an old pickup truck driving down the overgrown path.
It was very strange, being that the only reason for
them driving here would be if they were coming to
the house. But just as they approached the end of
the path, they slowed to a stop. I could make
out a male figure in the driver's seat, but couldn't
make out any specifics. They stayed there for a moment
with their headlights shining over the field, before they did
a three point turn and drove away. I thought they
probably just typed in the wrong address or something, but
it was kind of creepy to see someone coming all
the way out here so late in the night. A
few days went by, and by then I'd finished getting
the house cleaned up and organized. It was a Sunday
night and I was staying up late watching TV and
eating a home cooked meal when a familiar sound came
up in the distance, a car driving toward the house.
I looked out the window again and saw that same
pickup truck coming down the path, this time with all
its headlights off. Knowing it couldn't possibly be an accident,
this time, I was more worried. I quickly looked at
my phone and saw it was nearly one am, so
why would anyone be coming here. The truck came all
the way to the front of the house and parked.
Then a man got out and started walking up to
the porch. I waited anxiously, but after a minute there
was no doorbell or knocking. I cautiously went up to
the front door and looked out the peep hole. A
man was standing right on the porch, looking directly at
the door. I was terrified as he looked like he
was contemplating something. Then he turned around and went back
to his truck, getting in and hurrying away. I was
really creeped out, so I called the police and reported it,
but there was nothing else to be done. I went
to bed that night with a really bad feeling about everything.
Apparently I was right, because I woke up to what
I thought was the sound of a knock at the door.
It was just a single knock. I got up right
away and looked out the window, but the truck that
I thought i'd see wasn't anywhere outside the house. I
quietly left my bedroom to try and go downstairs and
see who it was. But just as I reached the
top of the steps, I could see that the front
door was slightly open. I froze, and moments later I
heard footsteps walking through the hallway below me. I quickly
hid in the spare bedroom that was next to me
and died nine one one As the footsteps grew louder
and started coming up the stairs. They went straight into
the main bedroom, and I could hear them moving stuff
around like they were looking for something. I was too
scared to speak to the officer on the phone, worried
the intruder would hear me, so I just sat there silently.
They spent a few minutes going through the bedroom before
leaving and going back downstairs and finally exiting the house.
I started talking to the officer as I ran up
to the back window to see if I could identify
them before they got away. It was dark, but I
could see that it was the same man who was
on my porch earlier. He was walking in the backyard
toward the field of tall grass, eventually disappearing in it.
Police came by and tried to find any evidence to
help with the case, but my description of the man
was about all there was that was helpful. I don't
know what that man wanted, but he seemed to be
looking for something specific. It makes me think maybe he
knew of something my mother had, and after hearing of
her passing, he wanted to steal it. But once I
realized he had to have known I was home and
probably in the bedroom, it terrified me to think about
how he still went in and looked around. What was
he planning to do to me if I was still
in there. I ended up selling the house a month
later because I was too scared of him coming back.
Even now, I still check every few months to see
if there were any reports of recent break ins at
that address, but it's been quiet ever since that night.
Three years ago, I moved down a few states on
the East Coast to a new city to work in money.
I couldn't make the trip to see the place before
making the move, but I was only renting, so there
wasn't too much risk in it. It was mid September
when the movers came and loaded everything up, then dropped
it off at the house. The landlord was nice enough
to let the movers in for me to unload because
I wasn't actually arriving there until the following week. It
was a Monday evening when I finally arrived and saw
the house in person for the first time. It was
a mess, with boxes everywhere and furniture laying all around,
but the house itself was all right. The layout was
interesting and that it was very separated. It was a
single story, with the kitchen and living room on one
side of the house, then on the other side was
a long hallway with all the bedrooms and bathrooms. Since
it was already late, I went to the master bedroom
and started working on getting the bed put together, then
shut off all the lights and went to sleep. I
didn't have a clock set up yet, so I don't
know what time it was. But in the middle of
the night, I woke up to an odd sound. I
thought it was a noise the house was making, but
I wanted to see what it was and if it
was something I needed to let the landlord know about.
I got up and walked over to the bedroom door.
As I got closer, though, I realized it was coming
from somewhere down the hallway. I opened the door and
it stopped almost instantly. The hallway was pitch black, so
I flicked on the light, but nothing was there. I
slowly walked down and peered into the living room. It
looked the same as it had earlier, but I turned
on the lights and looked around just to be sure.
On the floor there were a lot of footprints scattered
between the boxes that were laying around. I knew it
was likely from the movers, and with no other signs
of anything, I went back to the bedroom. It took
a while for me to fall asleep again because I
kept thinking about how the sound stopped as soon as
I opened the door. I tried to come up with
any possible way this could be the house making noises,
but nothing came to mind. When I drifted back asleep,
it felt like I only stayed asleep for a minute
before I was woken up by a sudden thump, followed
by footsteps running down the hallway. My eyes shot open
and I looked over at my bedroom door. The door
was wide open and on the ground were clear footprints
coming right up to my bed. I got up and
hurried to see who was there, but by then they
were long gone. All that was left were scuffed prints
from them running away. I got my phone and called
the police, locking myself in the bathroom until they arrived.
When they did, they oddly found no signs of a
break in aside from the footprints. I convinced myself that
they might must have gained access during the week before
I arrived at the house, but something still didn't sit
right with me. After unpacking and checking each box, nothing
seemed to be missing. It obviously makes me wonder what
they were even doing in the house, But the biggest
mystery is why did they walk up to my bed
and what was that thump sound that I heard just
before they ran away. The landlord was eager to allow
me to break the contract and move out, so long
as I didn't say anything about the break in Publicly.
At the time, it sounded like he just didn't want
anyone to be scared away from the house so that
he wouldn't miss out on his rental income, But now
I'm not so sure. When I was twenty one, I
made the poor decision to move out of my parents'
house before I could afford a place on my own.
It was something I'd actually planned out for months, searching
for cheap apartments, roommates, and anything that could help me
move out. For some reason, I just prioritized moving out
on my own over everything else. After months of searching,
I found a post on Facebook about a room for
rent in my area. It was a two bedroom house
and the owner was renting out the second bedroom. I
sent him a message on Facebook and got a reply
in minutes. He asked a couple of questions, then sent
over a document. It looked like a huge list of
rules for moving in all simple stuff that's pretty much
common sense. After agreeing to all the rules, he let
me come over to look at the room that same day.
When I got there, I was very surprised at how
clean and well put together the place was. It looked
like it was a model house, so perfectly decorated and furnished.
The owner, Terry, was a little bit weird though he
was in his late twenties, but his personality and looks
didn't match the way the house looked. He was wearing
a dirty T shirt and just had a weird way
of talking. Still, I was blinded by the possibility of
moving out that I didn't even care. A week later,
I packed up a rental van with my stuff and
drove it down to the house. When I walked inside,
I almost thought I'd walked into the wrong house. It
was so empty, no decorations or furniture except for an
old couch in the living room. It was a completely
different looking place than the one I'd seen the first time.
Terry was standing there and acted like nothing was different,
talking my ear off about how excited he was to
have a roommate. I asked about all the furniture and everything,
but he basically ignored my question and just went straight
to moving my stuff into the house. Being a little
weirded out, I still moved in. Several weeks went by,
and to be honest, I rarely even saw Terry. He
was always working and didn't get home until late at night.
But about a month in I started realizing that Terry
had stopped coming home most nights. It was maybe once
a week. I'd hear him get home around two or
three am. He'd hang around downstairs for a while, then
leave and wouldn't show up for another week or so.
Part of me didn't care, because I was happy to
have the house to myself, but another part of me
was curious about what he was up to. I mean,
he wanted me to move in so bad, but now
he's never here. Then one night, at two am, weeks
since I'd last seen Terry, I was woken up to
him banging on my bedroom door and yelling my name.
I got up and rushed over. Terry was standing in
the doorway with sweat dripping from his head and look
of anger. Do not leave your room, he said in
a harsh voice, then grabbed the door and ripped the
handle out of my hands, slamming it shut. I stood
there in shock, listening to him walk downstairs. I opened
the door quietly, and after a few seconds I heard
the sound of him dragging something heavy across the floor
and into the garage. I ran downstairs to see what
was going on. There was a smear of mud and
dirt going across the kitchen and leading up to the
garage door. I tried to open it, but he'd somehow
locked it from inside. I realized it was best to
just remove myself from the situation and ran out to
my car, driving away while calling the cops. When they
got to the house, Terry was already gone and the
smears on the floor had been cleaned up. After some
days of investigating, it turned out that Terry was actually
rent the house from someone else. So I wasn't even
allowed to have legally moved in, and all the documents
he sent me and had me sign were fake. Terry
likely wasn't his real name either, and as far as
I know, he never showed back up after that. I
don't know for sure what he was up to, but
he was so adamant about me staying in my room
that night, and with him vanishing afterward, he clearly had
something horrible he was hiding. But what really confuses me
is why he wanted me to move into the house
and live with him so badly. I can't help but
think that he had some sort of plans for me,
and I barely got out of there without having to
find out the hard way