No One Was There
My husband and I rented a really old house. We had to fix it up a bit before my son came home from the NICU. We took down the wallpaper and painted, took down the popcorn ceiling—the whole nine yards. The basement was unfinished and had been vandalized by the teenagers who had lived there before.
There was angry graffiti everywhere. We didn’t bother finishing it because we didn’t really need the room. I went down there once out of the year we lived there. When I did, I had a creepy feeling as if someone was watching me—angry. Sometimes that creepy feeling would come upstairs.
I would give it a week or so, thinking it was in my head; then, I would sit in the car with the baby while my husband burned sage to clear it out. He said the feeling while he did that was heavy. He would see very angry figures coming at him through the smoke.
We had countless experiences there, but two stuck out the most. One day, I was showering and the baby was in a little bouncer seat in the doorway. I opened the curtain. Just as I did, the can of air freshener that was sitting on the back of my toilet went flying toward my baby.
If the door weren’t just slightly shut, it would have nailed him. I went full-on crazy. I started yelling, telling them if they were going to mess with anyone to mess with me because he was just a baby, and so on.
As I was doing so, the detachable shower head went flying off at me, hit the end of its rope, and swung down. It shut me right up. On another occasion, my husband and I were in bed. My son was in his room right down the small hallway, fast asleep. We had the baby monitor on.
My husband and I were lying in bed together. We would usually talk for a while, then say our good nights and fall asleep. As soon as we said our good nights, we both heard—clear as day—a little girl laughing on the baby monitor.
My husband jumped up out of bed, but I already knew no one was there. I couldn’t move until finally, I fell asleep. Story credit: Reddit / K1MBOL33