This story is pretty detailed, so I'm going to get right into it. Only relevant details, though. I'm 22 years old, freshly graduated from college.
Since I was maybe 3 or four, my family's lived in a three-story home in a relatively nice area. If you're picturing the quintessential suburban neighborhood, you've got the right idea. As for the layout of the house, this is all you need to know.
My bedroom, which is on the second floor, has a window that faces the street. And the only window in my dad's home office, which is on the third floor, also faces the street. That's it.
The reason I'm writing this is because after the events of last week, I'm now 100% convinced something sinister is happening to my family for some inexplicable reason I can't even begin to conceive of. And if I'm connecting the dots correctly, which I'm pretty sure I am, it's been going on for years. This first relevant thing happened so long ago that I don't even remember how old I was, but I was young enough to still be in middle school, so it had to have been at least 10 years ago.
It was either a Saturday or a Sunday since I didn't have school. And as I was walking downstairs for breakfast, I overheard my parents talking in the kitchen. I didn't catch much of the conversation, but I was able to hear my dad talking about how something had happened again, and it must have been at least a little concerning, judging by the tone he was using.
My parents didn't tell me what was going on when I asked them about it. They actually didn't tell me directly for over a year afterwards, but I learned the real story a few days later from my older brother. My dad's a lawyer and often works into the night whenever he's pressured to finish something that doesn't get done at the office.
And that's what he was doing until about 2:00 a. m. the night before I overheard him talking to my mom about the incident.
According to my dad, he was working away at his desk at around midnight when he noticed a Chevy Suburban drive down the street at like 5 mph. That's not an exaggeration. He claims to this day that the car looked like it was crawling down the street, as if someone had taken their foot off both the gas and the brake and was just letting the car idle forward.
My dad didn't think much of it until he saw the exact same car drive back down the street, only this time in the opposite direction. And then, even more strangely, the car actually parked across the street right in front of our house. My dad didn't take his eye off the car for a good few minutes straight, waiting to see whether someone would get out of the car or if it would drive off, but neither happened.
The car just sat there. My dad didn't have the time or the patience to devote the rest of the night to watching the car, so he went back to work, glancing out the window every so often out of curiosity, but nothing happened for hours. He sworn no one ever got out of the car since he would have noticed movement out the window if they had.
Eventually, he fell asleep at his desk around 2:00 a. m. without even completing his work.
But here's the crazy part. When he woke up around 5:30, the car was still there in the exact same spot. What happened while he was asleep remains a mystery, but my dad said he was so shocked to see the car still there when he woke up.
He thought he was dreaming. The car ended up leaving before sunrise, and even after finishing his work, my dad was so unsettled he couldn't sleep. I would eventually learn that this wasn't the first instance of something similar happening, that my dad had seen cars drive back and forth on our street late at night before, but it was definitely the strangest.
No one in the family really thought anything of it for several years, though. It was most likely just someone sleeping in a very coincidental spot. And at the very worst, it was someone driving around random nice neighborhoods and casing houses.
Fast forward a few years. I'm 15 now, a sophomore in high school. I remember the second occurrence much more distinctly, partly because it was more recent and partly because it actually happened to me.
I was up late making beats in my room, something I did quite often during that time in my life. Like I said earlier, my room has a window that faces the street, which I can always see out of since my desk is right in front of it. I was vibing out with my headphones in when something from outside my bedroom window caught my eye.
It was a little flicker of light, definitely unnatural and definitely not my imagination. I diverted my attention to the window and saw the strangest, most unsettling thing. There was a squadron of cars, at least three of them.
They were driving down the street at a slow speed. That by itself doesn't sound so bad, but I quickly realized that the people in the cars were shining flashlights at houses. That's where the flicker of light had been.
I kept watching in the state of confused angst as whoever was in the first car swept their flashlight beam across the house next to mine. Then they started shining their light at my house and I actually ducked down underneath my window sill when I realized the beam was about to sweep right past my window. Not 2 seconds after ducking down, I watched the flashlight beam illuminate my ceiling for a couple seconds before everything went dark again.
I waited a good 20 seconds before reemerging, and by the time I did, the cars were much further down the street. I watched as they got to the end of the street and turned off. You can probably imagine how I was feeling in that moment.
It was tough to get much sleep after that. I obviously told my parents about it the next morning, and as a family, we collectively agreed that it was a group of thugs casing houses, probably looking for ones with no one home that would make easy targets for a home intrusion. My dad installed a Ring camera after that, and he even put some security cameras with motion lights in our backyard.
I can't remember for sure, but I think my parents might have talked to a few of our neighbors to see if anyone had experienced something similar. A couple years later, the next thing happened. While doing some landscaping in our backyard, one of the contractors my dad had hired claimed to have found a small hidden camera tucked into one of the bushes near the fence.
It was tiny, no bigger than a car key, but it was definitely a camera. It was battery powered, and the battery had long since died. It didn't have a SIM card or any memory card inside, which meant it wasn't storing anything locally or using cellular data, but that didn't rule out the possibility that it had been streaming footage to an external device nearby while it was active.
My dad said the most likely explanation was that someone had been parked close enough to receive a live feed until the battery gave out. Why anyone would go through the trouble of hiding something like that on our property and then just leave it behind was a complete mystery to us. But it definitely wasn't the kind of thing that you stumble across by accident.
As furious as my dad was, he couldn't figure out when or who had placed it there. Even after combing through the last few months of security camera footage, or at least everything the thing had recorded and stored, I was convinced that one of my friends had been pranking us. But even after pestering all of them, no one fessed up to placing that camera there.
My parents were really worried we were being targeted, and they even reported everything to the police. But the home security they had already installed was pretty top-notch. So, it wasn't like they could upgrade things much.
Nothing happened for a little while after that. It wasn't like there was this cloud hanging over our heads. We all just kind of moved on with our lives the way most people probably would.
The next thing worth mentioning happened a few years after we discovered the camera. Our immediate nextdoor neighbors moved away and their house was reinhabited super quickly. Like it was only vacant for a few weeks at most.
That's not exactly the most unusual thing. My neighborhood has always been a very desirable place for families to live. However, I noticed pretty quickly that the people who moved in weren't parents, just a youngish couple with no children.
I remember finding that odd considering the size of the house, but I assumed maybe they were planning on starting a family or maybe they just wanted a big place all to themselves. On several occasions after they moved in though, I caught them looking into our yard through their top floor window, always at strange hours, either really early in the morning or really late at night. At first, I figured they had a workstation or office up there like my dad, and they were just seated right in front of the window.
But then I noticed they were always standing, which eliminated the desk hypothesis. I knew I was just being paranoid, but I'm a pretty observant person by nature. So, if someone's going to do something out of the ordinary, I'm going to notice it.
Either way, I didn't think much of it. just found it mildly amusing that our neighbors seemed fascinated with the layout of our yard or whatever else it was that they were always looking at. One night while walking my dog on the street, I couldn't help but noticed my neighbors in their kitchen through their big bay window.
They were sitting at a table and for the first time since they had moved in, there was a third person with them. The guy had really distinctive features. He was fully bald, really muscular, and had the thickest eyebrows I'd ever seen.
The three of them, he and the couple, were just sitting and talking at the table. Nothing unusual. But as if they noticed me looking, the woman swiftly walked over to the window and pulled the curtains over it.
She didn't actually look out the window at me. None of them did. But I couldn't shake the feeling that she shut the curtains because somehow she knew I was watching.
Either way, I didn't forget about the man that had been with them. His face was just so distinctive. I don't really know what else to say.
Okay, so now that you've made it this far, you're probably thinking that I'm some paranoid schizophrenic. I mean, that's what I'd be thinking, too. But I would never in a million years be sending the story in if what happened next didn't happen.
Like I said in the beginning, this happened last week. So about another few years after the last thing I talked about a few weeks ago, my family took a trip to Paris. My older brother had been dating his girlfriend for years, and everyone was pretty much expecting him to propose while we were there because we were going with her family, too.
A few days into the trip, we were at this random bar. Everyone was there, me, my parents, my brothers, his girlfriend, and her parents. We were sitting in a booth enjoying a few drinks and having some good conversation.
I was maybe halfway through my drink, zoning out of the conversation, when I happened to glance across the room. There was this guy sitting alone in a booth just casually sipping his drink and looking around the room. Something about him seemed familiar, but I couldn't immediately place where I'd seen him before.
But then, like a light switch had been turned on, I realized it was that man who I'd seen at my neighbor's kitchen table years ago. There was no way. I didn't want to believe it.
What were the chances this random guy from my neighborhood would be in the exact same bar as my family in a foreign country, no less? I tried to convince myself it was a coincidence. But the more I stared, the more certain I became that it was him.
Then he caught me looking at him. We locked eyes for what felt like forever, but was probably only a few seconds. He knew, I knew, and he knew I knew.
I could feel it. Then, without finishing his drink or paying his bill, he got up and walked out of sight. I immediately excused myself from the table and tried to follow him, but I couldn't figure out where he had gone.
I ended up just sitting back down at the table, trying to suppress the nasty feeling I had. Telling myself that the guy just happened to be on vacation the same time we were was the only way I could continue my night with my sanity. A few days later, we were doing some typical touristy stuff.
It was broad daylight and we were just walking around the city when I saw him again. That same guy. I can't understate how shocking it was.
If the first instance had just been a coincidence, this completely shattered that theory. He was standing maybe 50 ft from us, snapping pictures with a professional looking camera. I couldn't tell for sure, but it kind of seemed like the camera was pointed in our direction, even though there was a famous monument behind us.
I watched as he then turned a corner and disappeared out of sight. I finally told my parents about what was going on. I gave them every little detail and assured them I wasn't going crazy.
My parents actually believed me, my dad especially, and he even suggested cutting the trip short. We didn't end up doing that, but the rest of the vacation was awful. When we finally got home, my dad checked as much security footage as was stored, but didn't find anything.
I really don't know what to make of all of this. I don't know what these people want from us or who they even are, but now I'm convinced they've been watching us for over a decade, which sounds insane. And I only have reason to believe things are going to escalate from here.
I live near Angel National Forest. I've been hiking those trails for years and I know them well enough that I don't really worry about getting lost or anything like that. I'm comfortable out there.
The night this all went down, I'd gotten some bad news over the phone earlier in the day. It was the kind of news that makes you feel like you need to get out of the house and clear your head. Some people drink when they're upset, some people call a friend.
I go for a hike. It was around 8:00 when I set out. I wasn't planning anything ambitious.
Just wanted to clear my head, maybe tire myself out enough so that I could actually sleep when I got back. Night hikes aren't unusual for me, especially on trails I know well. There's something about being out there in the dark that usually feels meditative.
The fog that night was something else, though. I had checked the weather before leaving, but conditions at elevation are always a gamble. By the time I was a little ways in, visibility had dropped to maybe 20 ft.
Everything beyond that was just gray. I tried using my flashlight at first, but the beam just bounced back at me off the moisture in the air. It actually made things worse, like trying to drive with your high beams on in a snowstorm.
So, I mostly kept it off, letting my eyes adjust to what little ambient light filtered through. I had music playing to deter any animals from bothering me, which was something I picked up from my dad. About an hour in, I noticed a smell.
It was faint at first and I actually stopped walking for a second because it caught me so off guard. It didn't smell like natural wood smell. It kind of smelled like perfume, which I know sounds absurd, but that's genuinely what it smelled like.
It wasn't strong or overwhelming, just this distinct floral scent that had no business being out there. I looked around, which was pointless because I couldn't see anything anyway. And by the time I'd finished scanning the fog, the smell was gone.
I didn't really know what to make of it, so I just brushed it off. About 10 minutes later, though, there was a new smell. This time, it was something a little more familiar.
Campfire. So, I instantly connected the dots. There was someone camping somewhere out there, and that also probably explained the perfume smell.
But the smell was only there for about 30 seconds before vanishing, which was a little strange. It wasn't until smelling the third smell that I thought something was really off. It was this herbal almost earthy scent that I immediately recognized from my childhood but couldn't place.
The familiarity of it combined with how completely out of context it was unsettled me. I probably should have turned around the moment things felt off, but I kept hiking. Things were normal for a while and I started feeling better about everything.
But as soon as I felt even the slightest sense of calm, I noticed a flashlight beam on the ridge to my left. The ridge runs parallel to the main trail, but sits maybe 100 ft higher. And there are no marked trails or access points up there, which I know for a fact because I've looked at maps plenty of times, wondering if there was a way to get up.
The terrain is too dangerous. You'd also have to bushwack through some seriously nasty stuff to reach that elevation from where I was. And yet, there was clearly someone up there.
The beam would turn on, sweep across a section of the ridge, then turn off, and then a few seconds later, it would turn on again somewhere else. In that very moment, I realized listening to music was now a huge liability. So, I turned the music off and listened.
Whoever was up there was whistling, which sounds normal enough, but it really freaked me out. If I could hear them whistling, they would have definitely heard the music I was just playing. At that point, I was several miles into the trail.
The smart thing would still have been to turn around, but I didn't want to. There was a little overlook spot up ahead that I knew about, so I told myself I'd take a break there and think things through. But as soon as I made it there, I saw something that made everything about 100 times worse.
There was a stone sculpture sitting on a flat rock near the edge of the overlook. I knew what that meant. I instantly stood up, turned around, and started walking back the way I had come.
But out of nowhere, I heard rapid footsteps approaching me in the direction I was walking. It was unmistakable. 100% a person's footsteps, not an animals.
I didn't even have time to think. The footsteps were so close that all I could do was hold my ground and prepare for an altercation. I didn't even have time to run.
But as soon as the footsteps were right on me, they just abruptly stopped. It was really, really scary. I kept staring into the fog, but I couldn't see anything.
Part of me thought whoever had just charged me was now standing still, somewhere out of my field of view, but that didn't make any sense. If I couldn't see them, how in the world did they know where I was? I waited another few seconds and then pulled out the switchblade I always kept for protection.
I kept holding my ground, just waiting to see or even hear something, waiting to be attacked. But now it was just dead silence. I didn't know what to do.
I didn't want to announce my presence, but I was pretty sure whoever was out there already knew I was there. The thing that made it so much worse was that the footsteps had come from the direction I needed to go to get back. There was no alternate route.
If I wanted to leave, I had to walk directly toward where those footsteps had come from. I tried to hold out, but I couldn't wait there forever. So, I started moving.
I was fully expecting to see someone eventually, at which point I don't even know what I would have done. But the further into the fog I went, the more I started thinking that whoever had been there somehow ran off without me hearing them. The paranoia was excruciating.
Every few minutes or so, I swore I heard one or two extra footsteps, like someone was matching my pace from behind. Now, I kept looking over my shoulder, but there was nothing but fog every time. That lasted for about a mile or so.
It was genuinely the most tense mile of my life. I was being stalked. I was certain of it.
Out of nowhere, something crashed through the bushes somewhere behind me. It was so loud that I physically jumped. This time, I couldn't control myself.
I yelled something out as a pure terrified reaction. I turned around to the spot where the noise had come from, but again, I couldn't see anything. At that point, I genuinely felt like I was going to lose my life in that forest.
So, I started running. I don't know why it took me so long to run, but the moment I started running, I didn't stop until I made it all the way back to my car. And the whole time, I heard crashing coming from somewhere behind me.
I was definitely being chased, but I didn't care. I still consider it a miracle that I made it back to my car in one piece. I didn't hike for months after this experience, and I never got an answer for what happened that night.
This happened close to 20 years ago back when I was 15. My parents were in the midst of a really ugly divorce at the time, and my mom thought it would be a good idea for me to spend a few weeks with my great aunt Lucy in upstate Vermont while they sorted out the legal stuff. I wasn't thrilled about being shipped off to some relative I barely knew, but I didn't have much choice.
Aunt Lucy lived in this massive Victorian house that had been converted into apartment sometime in the 60s. She owned the whole building and rented out the top two floors to tenants while she lived alone in the sprawling first floor unit. The place was beautiful in a very specific old-fashioned way.
High ceilings, original hardwood floors, intricate moldings around every door frame, movie type stuff like that. What struck me as odd right away was that Aunt Lucy seemed to avoid certain parts of her own apartment. She had this huge master bedroom with tall windows and beautiful antique furniture, but she slept in a small den off the living room instead.
That was actually one of the things I asked her about, to which she just replied that the main bedroom got too much morning light. I then stupidly asked if I could sleep in there then, to which she just glared at me disprovingly. You got to remember that things were a little different back then and respecting your elders was practically law.
So after that interaction, I held my tongue, not wanting to upset her further. The first few nights I was there, I kept hearing what sounded like someone walking around in the apartment above us. I figured it was just one of the tenants, maybe someone who worked late shifts.
But the weird thing was how methodical the walking sounded back and forth like someone pacing the length of the apartment. After about a week of this, I couldn't keep things to myself and mentioned it to Aunt Lucy over breakfast. She again gave me this strange expression and said the second floor had been vacant for over a month.
I insisted that I'd been hearing someone walking around up there every night, but she just shook her head and told me I was just hearing the building settling. Her explanation didn't make sense, but I wasn't about to argue. The next morning, I told Aunt Lucy I wanted to see the vacant apartment.
She seemed reluctant, but I kept pressing and eventually she agreed. Just like she said, the second floor was completely empty. But as we walked through the rooms together, I saw something that immediately validated what I'd been hearing.
There were fresh scuff marks on the hardwood floors, like someone had been walking the same path over and over. The marks formed a clear pattern from the front of the apartment to the back, exactly matching the route the footsteps seem to make each night. When I pointed this out, Aunt Lucy said the marks were probably from the previous tenants, but they looked too recent for that.
I told her this, but she just dismissed me like I was some babbling child. That evening, she suggested we watch a movie together, which we'd never done before. As it got later, the footsteps from upstairs started up again.
I looked at Aunt Lucy, expecting her to finally acknowledge what we were hearing, but instead she just turned the volume up and pretended like nothing was happening. I was stunned. My first thought was Aunt Lucy knew exactly what was going on and just didn't want to tell me.
The next day, I called my mom and mentioned the situation. And you know what's crazy? Even my mom seemed to know what was going on.
She told me not to bring up the footsteps with Aunt Lucy anymore and that it was quote a sensitive topic. One night near the end of my visit, I woke up around 2:00 a. m.
needing to use the bathroom. As I was walking back to my room, I glanced toward the staircase that led up to the second floor. The door at the bottom was slightly a jar, and I could have sworn I saw a faint light moving around up there, like someone was walking with a flashlight.
I immediately went to bed and did mention it to Aunt Lucy. I just wanted to get the hell out of there. If it hadn't been for that night the two of us watched a movie, I would have assumed Aunt Lucy was causing the footsteps, but that was impossible.
My mom refused to explain things to me when I got back home. And this actually caused quite the rift between the two of us. Years later, I found out through a cousin that Aunt Lucy had sold the building and moved to Florida.
According to my cousin, there had been some kind of incident in the apartment back in the '90s. Someone had died there under unclear circumstances and the family had tried to keep it quiet. That was also around the time Aunt Lucy had inherited the building.
I've never believed in ghosts. I don't say that to sound dismissive or close-minded. I just genuinely don't.
I think that's a pretty dumb way to interpret things you don't understand, to be frank. So, when I think back on what I experienced in that house, I always find myself searching for some other explanation. Maybe Aunt Lucy was sheltering someone up there, a relative in trouble, or someone who needed to stay hidden.
Or maybe she was being blackmailed, forced to let someone live in her building without anyone knowing. Maybe the incident my cousin mentioned wasn't as closed as the family wanted to believe, and whoever was responsible still had some kind of hold over her. Or maybe the entire thing was completely made up, and my cousin was needlessly gossiping.
I really don't know. What I do know is that my mom knows something and I'll never forgive her for withholding that information from me. I think this is just one of those things that will never have an explanation.
