tissuegiraffes Thread

My life is the most mundane one you can think about, but here's what happened to me. I work at a summer camp where counselors and campers stay overnight for a week. I really hated my room, as I found the bunk beds and walls to be too small for my taste, so instead, I decided to secretly start sleeping in the staff lounge. The staff lounge entrance has a simple electronic lock for which you need a 4-digit code for it to open. I found the couches to be much more comfortable than my bed and felt right at home. Sleeping at camp never made me happier! Until this one time.

Because it's summer and from where I am, nights are often warm, I didn't need covers so long as the ceiling fans were off. But this time I woke up in the middle of the night shivering. Usually in the movies, at this point, the character freaks out and checks around with a flashlight before (s)he gets jumped by an ugly man. But this was a quick fix for me with a couple extra couch cushions placed on top of me. As I was trying to get back to sleep, however, I heard footsteps moving towards the door. There's about five rising steps before reaching the door, and they creak with the smallest of pressures. No big deal, I thought, someone's simply here for a midnight snack. I began to doze off again, returning to the calls of my dreams, when the error sound beeps. The 4-digit code that was entered was wrong. No big deal, I thought for the last time, I always mess up the last digit with my giant thumbs.

Again, 4 beeps followed with another error beep. I was disheartened, as this was clearly ruining my beauty sleep, maybe this idiot soul has bigger thumbs than me? I got up slightly and opened my mouth to call out the password, when I froze at the sound of another error beep. All of us counselors have it memorized since we go up here all the time to access our laptops and the kitchen, and campers are all heavily supervised at night time with our night duty. So who was it that was trying to get in?

I listened keenly to perhaps hear any identifying clues of whoever was just outside the door. With the fifth attempt, the stranger seemed to have given up, as footsteps began to descend away from the door. But the way it happened was far from relieving. Listening intently, I could even hear my heart pound against my rib cage, I never heard a single breath, nor did I hear the way that carpet scrunches when you pivot to turn down the stairs (the hallway was not big enough), meaning the stranger went straight back down from whence he came from, in pitch darkness, backwards.

The truly scariest part of my night, I swear on my life, was when I could no longer hear the footsteps. I heard a small voice, tiny, but nevertheless unlikely to belong to a real child, that rose slowly from the base of the steps to my couch.


Not two seconds later, the loudest BANG erupted from a nearby wall, making me literally let out a little piss and scream like I had never gone through puberty. No doors were ever opened, no doors were ever closed. The stranger should still be in the building. So I sat vigilantly with vacant eyes and hypersensitive ears until the break of dawn.