Do you ever walk around, going about your day, and feel a cold breath on your neck? Or, if you’re really unlucky, do you ever walk into a room and feel as though something deep down inside of you is telling you to run far away from it?
Scientists would tell you that this could all be explained, while chuckling at your frantic ideas. Actually, any rational human being would debunk your fears and call you slightly crazy for believing in such odd notions.
However, that doesn’t stop the unknown from happening.
So, wherever you are reading this, sit tight, and read closely, as I tell you a slightly crazy story of my own.
One afternoon, I was getting dressed to go grocery shopping. My parents happened to be out and about, so I was home alone. Usually, this is not frightening, but on this specific day, on this specific hour of 3:45 p.m., I would never want to be alone again in the house.
I sang along to Kim Carnes’ “Bette Davis Eyes,” while I got dressed in my bathroom. Having my normal amount of sing-along fun, with my “mascara mic,” I found myself dropping it and feeling a sharp pain of fear. I had heard something–something that made me stand in silence, unable to even pause the music.
I heard a loud bang near my garage. I thought this was it. Someone is going to break in. How am I going to handle this? What do I do?
As I ran from the upstairs to the downstairs kitchen, near where the garage is located, I heard another sound.
Except this time, it wasn’t a bang. It was the sound of the garage door trying to be forcefully opened. The knob was shaking, and I stood petrified, afraid to move or blink.
I called my father, asking him if he closed the garage because I thought someone was breaking in from the inside of it. Between his frantic words of worrying, he said no, and that he was positive it was closed.
Summoning the courage to look outside the laundry window, where you can see the outside of the garage, I found that it was indeed closed.
At this point, I was afraid to glance at the garage door, knowing that for whatever reason, what I’d find would scare me beyond belief.
The garage door wasn’t even locked, my friends.
It was open. So, if a person was trying to break in, all they simply had to do was turn the knob, to which all of those aggressive attempts would have done the job to successfully open it.
I walked away from the door, back to my kitchen, to collect myself.
Asking if I was sure of what I heard, telling myself that it could’ve been anything else, I heard another sound.
The garage door began to shake again, making a loud sound that blared like someone beating a drum uncontrollably.
I stood staring at the hallway that leads to the garage door, listening to the hellish sound of the door trying to be pushed down, until I moved ever so slightly to look outside the kitchen window.
At the corner of my eye, standing at the end of the hallway, I saw a figure that made my stomach curl, and tears sprung from my eyes.
I ran from my kitchen to the front door, all the way to my parked car outside my house and sat there motionless for an hour, until my parents returned home. I had never in my life been so afraid that a storm was coming from my eyes, and my body was shivering like I had been in the rain for hours.
When my parents finally got back, my mother sympathetically told me that our family member who had been in the hospital had passed at exactly 3:15 p.m.
To this day, we wonder if it was her that came to say goodbye.
So, when you’re gallivanting this Halloween, knocking on doors or visiting those “haunted sites,” be afraid.
Friend or foe, you’ll never know–what you’ll find on the other side.
