The Person At The Other End Of The Room

About ten years ago my parents, my two older sisters, and I moved into this house. I had to admit that I liked the look and layout of it and the corner lot it occupied was charming but I never liked one particular upstairs bedroom. It was the one at the back of the house, the only one on its side of the hallway.

When my sisters and I were picking which room we wanted, there was an argument over who would take this room. No one liked it. It wasn't because the paint had peeled off of the walls or that the windows didn't seal and invited a chilling breeze to sweep up your spine. It was because of the eerie feeling you got when you walked inside. To end the dispute I finally suggested that I take the room and my sisters gladly agreed.

At about 4:00 every night I would wake up in absolute terror for no reason that I could imagine. I felt like someone was standing at the foot of my bed staring at me. I couldn't move for minutes on end. And when I finally felt brave enough, I bolted for the door, ran downstairs and turned on every light I could find. It would take an hour for my heart to stop beating against my ribs. Eventually I would go back to my room and slowly fall back to sleep.

One day everyone else was gone and I was left alone in the house. I forget what I was doing to occupy myself but whatever it was wasn't alleviating my boredom. I started to explore. When I walked past the open door of my room I thought I saw it move just barely. It didn't make a sound. I immediately stopped and watched, waiting to see if it would move again. A few seconds later it slammed shut so hard that I could hear the windows in the house shake and a burst of wind blew my hair back. I ran downstairs and paced the dining room floor until the rest of the family came home. I told them what had happened but they assumed it was the wind coming through an open window. I don't personally agree with this theory. I was there and the wind outside wasn't near strong enough to do anything like that.

Another day many months later I was sitting at my desk and I started to hear footsteps above my head. They were distinct heavy footsteps pacing above my head. I stood up and followed them with my own. Back and forth they went across the width of the room. They lasted about thirty seconds and then stopped. There's nothing up there but a crawl space. Not even an attic.

My parents had started to fix up the old house and were looking at the back of an upstairs hall closet at some water damage when my dad noticed a patch of wood nailed to the corner. He was immediately curious and pried the wood away from the wall. Its absence revealed a hole behind which was a space between the back wall of the closet and the outside wall of the house. He found a flashlight and shined it inside. When he did, he began to make out shapes. He reached his hand in and began pulling out various dusty, damp, items that were quickly identified. All very old. A blanket, a shoe, and something wrapped in white cloth. The cloth was wrapped tight. It looked like a baby. We all panicked and thought we had stumbled upon a young corpse. We hadn't. It was an old, well preserved doll. How the items got there we don't know. It seemed that someone had put them there. But who and why?

My parents have since seen, heard and felt other things that I don't wish to try to repeat. We still live here, although I am very anxious to leave.

It's getting to be around 4:00 now and I better get situated. I want to be read