My wife and I live on what would be the perfect set for a horror film—dirt road, no street lights, isolation, and plenty of creepy trees.
We bought my childhood home, and for as long as I can remember, people have been creeped out by the house. Visiting friends would be unable to sleep, kept awake by weird noises and strange feelings.
Meanwhile, I slept like a baby on Ambien. It never fazed me.
But I get it now. I hear the weird clicks of the furnace, the creaking of the settling structure as the temperature changes. I’ve gotten up a few times to check on strange noises from another room, but two recent occurrences stand out more than anything else.
One night, as I drifted off to sleep, I heard the bedroom doorknob twisting. Someone was opening the door, and since Tanya, the only other member of the household, was sound asleep next to me, that posed a potential problem.
Within two seconds, I was out of bed and standing in front of the door with an outstretched arm to block it from opening and a clenched fist to throw at whoever was on the other side. I growled,
“Hey! What are you doing?”
About that time, I heard, “Hunnie. Hunnie. Anthony, what’s going on?” The light flicked on. Read More…