This will never be read but I want to play 'ask reddit'.
I remember once when I was six years old being very, very sick. My parents were going through a divorce, so my dad and brother were no longer living with my mom and I in our now very empty house. It was a ranch style, elongated and not very wide, and the only way to get downstairs was through the stairwell at the opposite end of the house from my room.
I woke up suddenly from a deep sleep at three in the morning because I heard the basement bathroom door creak open, which was directly below my room and connected to my brother's room.
Except my brother didn't live down there anymore.
I remember laying in bed, listening to the humidifier hum on my dresser, to the sound of my mom snoring two rooms away, and to the very soft and distinct sounds of footsteps moving across the floor in the basement. They were painfully slow, but I could hear them moving. First through the laundry room. Then up the stairs. I heard each step creak ever so softly, and I remember sinking down into my bed and pulling my blanket up to my chin.
They reached the upstairs landing, now just a kitchen and hallway away from my room. And still they continued, the boards creaking softly every few seconds, closer and closer. I had to have been dreaming. It had to be the fever. My imagination was getting the best of me.
The creaking was right outside my closed bedroom door now. I was shaking. I pulled the blanket over my head, knowing it was just my imagination. It HAD to be.
I heard the door scraping on the carpet. No. Then came the creak right next to my bed. This is how I die. I nearly pissed myself from fear, working up the courage to reach over and flick on the light, convinced that once I did whatever was outside my bed would reach out and grab me and that would be the end.
I waited a solid minute before I finally got the courage to grab my lamp and push in the lightswitch, throwing back the covers.
My room was empty. The humidifier still hummed, I could still hear my mom snoring.
And my door was open.
I didn't sleep anymore that night. Maybe it was just the fever. Probably my imagination. But to this day I have no explanation to the door being open when nobody else was home. And the carpet in my room was high enough that you had to PUSH the door open to get in. And we had no pets.
Still get chills whenever I think I hear someone opening the door or rattling around in my house. I'm now 23.
The other story I have to tell is when I was five years old I heard a noise outside my bedroom window, opened the blinds, and a barn owl swooped down from the tree below and smacked into the window. I had to sleep in my parents' room for about a week after that. I will never forget his big yellow eyes as he came in like some bird of death or something.