1 Hour of Home Alone on Rainy Night Horror Stories | Vol. 1 (Compilation)

I was 18 at the time, and it was the beginning of summer, so I was off from school and didn't have any job. The majority of my time was spent inside the house, playing video games, watching YouTube or TV, or just relaxing. When this happened, my parents were out of town for a few days, leaving me with the house. This was a common thing and was never a big deal. Sometimes I'd invite friends over or whatever, but this night I was just enjoying the time to myself. I was watching a rerun of one of

my favorite shows on Netflix while also scrolling through my phone. It was late; I don't know the exact time, but I think maybe 11 or 12 when there was a knock at the front door. I paused the TV and went to see who it was. It almost didn't even register in my mind that it was so late, but thankfully it did; before I carelessly would have opened the door, I looked in the peephole and saw two men, both wearing similar clothes, just waiting for me to answer. I stood there and thought for a second whether

or not to let them know I was home by asking what they wanted. I ended up staying quiet and just watching, waiting for them to leave. But a few seconds later, they called out, "Hello, we're here looking to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Ian." That was my parents they were referring to, though I changed the name for privacy. Confused, I still remained quiet, knowing it was far too late for any sort of visit, even if it was important. After a minute, the men looked at each other and said something quietly, then walked off the porch.

The outdoor lights were off, so I couldn't see where they went, but I never saw any headlights or cars show up, which had me wondering if they'd walked here, which would only make things weirder. I went back to the TV but left it on pause for a while so I could hear if they came back. It only took a few minutes until I heard a pair of footsteps outside the house. They went up to the porch, but instead of knocking like they did before, they started making their way around to the side of the house.

I got up and ran to the back window. As they got to the backyard, I saw them open the fence and enter, and I hid away from the window so I wouldn't be seen. But I could hear them go up to the back door; they started talking, then began messing with the door. I took this as my chance to get my phone and hide inside the garage. I called the police, explaining the possible break-in that was taking place, and after less than a minute, a loud pop sound vibrated through the house, and the back door

slid open. Their footsteps went through the house and straight to the stairs going up to the bedrooms. A door opened; they entered and then closed it behind them. But after that, there were no more sounds. I waited for a horrifying and slow 10 minutes in silence before the police pulled up to the house. When they did, there were a few quick footsteps upstairs, then the two men started arguing. A few officers came in through the back door and ran upstairs, while another came to the garage and helped me outside. The men didn't resist the arrest,

but they also didn't speak a word on why they were there. Despite weeks going by and it being somewhat obvious that they weren't simply robbing the house, the only thing they could charge them with was breaking and entering. It scares me, though, that they seemed to be looking for my parents, and it almost felt like they were going to wait upstairs for them until they came back from their trip. I think back to whether or not I should have shown myself and if that would have stopped the break-in, but something about their behavior tells me

that they still would have broken in and would have done to me whatever was necessary. I live on the outskirts of a midsized town in Wyoming. The whole reason I live here is because owning a huge plot of land isn't as impossible of a task as it can be in most other states. My house is small, but it was cozy enough for living alone. This happened four years ago, in 2019. It was spring, and we were going through a month of pouring rain almost every single day. It was a Sunday, and I was home from

work, spending the day watching TV and resting. Sometime around 6:00 or 7:00, I got an unexpected knock at my door. I barely heard it through the rain, and when I opened the door, I was even more surprised to see it was some random guy—not a mailman or anything of the sort. Someone coming all the way out onto my property without notice was very unusual, being that it was far out of the way. "How can I help you?" I said. The guy, looking to be in his late 20s, said he'd been camping out in the woods

nearby and had gotten into some trouble and needed a place to stay for the night. With the location of my house, if he wasn't lying, then showing up at my doorstep would make sense because I was the closest place within the woods by at least 5 or 6 miles. It was also pouring out, which made me feel even worse for him, but it still didn't take away from the possible danger of letting a stranger into my home. I offered him a phone call to get a ride into town, but the guy denied. My offer, after

bluntly saying he couldn't stay here, the guy walked off. I watched him go down the dirt road a little ways, then he veered off and walked into the woods. As odd as that was, I didn't have it on my mind for more than a few minutes before I was back to watching TV. I didn't check the time very often, but it had to be at least 2 hours later and well into the night when I saw an orange glare coming from the window by my backyard. I got up and moved the curtain; through the rain

and fog, I saw a campfire right in the middle of the woods outside my house. It was small, flickering under a large tree as the rain poured down on it. Standing next to it, there was the outline of a figure holding something. I couldn't tell, though, if he was facing my house or into the woods. After a moment, I closed the curtains and picked up my phone, calling the police to let them know about this person outside my house. I knew it would take probably an hour for them to get here, and whoever was out

there wasn't doing me any harm, but at the very least, I wanted them away from my house before I went to bed. Once I got off the phone with the officer, I checked the window again. The fire was still burning lightly, but the figure wasn't there. Then I heard footsteps coming toward the house. I ran to the other window and caught sight of him walking past with a hunting rifle in his hand before he turned the corner and went to the front door. He banged on it a few times, then it went quiet. I grabbed

my self-defense handgun from the hallway closet and hid around the wall, still trying to process the situation I was in. He hit the door again; this time, I could tell it was with the stock of his rifle, nearly breaking a panel out of the door. In this moment, I could only think that I had to try to deter him immediately before it became life or death for one of us. I shot around toward the edge of the door frame, deafening myself for a second as the shot rang through the house. When my hearing came back,

all I heard was the rain pouring down—no footsteps, banging, or yelling. I gathered up courage after 5 minutes of no sounds and looked out the peephole, seeing an empty porch, and outside in the yard were clear footprints going away from the house. He must have run right after the shot. During the couple of seconds I couldn't hear, police did a thorough search and found some strange details out by where the campfire was. They found the duffel bag with evidence of it having been buried nearby and likely dug up just hours before the attack. What they

told me is that it was most likely a burglary kit or possibly even a murder kit that was planted in advance, with the intent to be dug up and used later on. This means whoever attacked me had planned it and had been right outside my house at least once before that night. Why he attacked me specifically is not known, and who and where he is currently is still no closer to being figured out than it was 4 years ago. I still live in the same house and worry every day that he might come back. When

I was growing up, I lived with my mom in a small house during my middle school and high school years. She took up an overnight job, so most nights of the week I was alone between 8:00 p.m. and 4:00 a.m. This happened a few months before I graduated high school. On a regular night at 7:30, I said goodbye to my mom, like usual, then I played some video games for a few hours. It was a school night, so I couldn't stay up super late, but I still stayed up later than I should have. Around 11:30,

I shut everything off and went up to my room to get in bed, but I was on my phone for probably another hour before falling asleep. When I woke up, I thought I heard a door closing downstairs. I looked over at the clock next to my bed and saw it was 3:30, so I assumed my mom had just gotten home from work early. I turned over and tried to go back to sleep as I listened to footsteps walking around downstairs. After a minute, though, I started listening more intently. Usually, my mom would go straight upstairs

when she got home to get ready for bed, but it sounded like they were just walking around. As I listened for another 2 or 3 minutes, I realized they weren't even stopping at all; they were going through each room, walking slowly as if they were taking a tour of the house. I started to get a little nervous that it might not be my mom and could be someone else. I got up and turned on the light in my room, and almost right away, the footsteps stopped. I listened from the other side of my door and

still heard nothing. Carefully, I opened it and looked out into the hallway. I was expecting to see some light coming from downstairs, but the whole house was dark. Whoever was walking around down there hadn't turned on any of the lights, which frightened me more than I already was. I made sure not to make any sounds and stepped further down the hallway until I was at the top of the stairs. Then I knelt down and looked through the railing to see into the living room. Nobody was there, and even in the dark... I could tell that

nothing had been moved at all; my PlayStation was still there, and in my head that was a telltale sign that there was nobody else in the house except for maybe my mom. I mean, if someone was here to rob us and had walked through the whole house, they definitely would have taken the most expensive thing in the room. At that point, I just wanted to know if it was my mom who was walking around or if I was having some weird auditory hallucinations. I walked down the steps to the bottom and called out, "Mom, you

home?" There was no response or signs of movement in the whole house, so I walked through the hallway into the kitchen. Right away, I saw a shoe print on the tile floors, and when I looked up, my eyes locked on a figure across the room. A man was sitting at the dining table with a dark mask on; his clothing was all black, which made it difficult to fully make out any features of him. He was looking at me, but he didn't say anything or even move. He stared at me with an emotionless look. I ran

straight back upstairs and locked myself in my room as I called 911. The operator kept me updated on the police's estimated arrival, but after a minute, I heard the man slowly walk across the downstairs and over to the bottom of the staircase. I was whispering to the operator in a panic until I heard the front door open and the man walking away from the house. Not even 30 seconds later, I saw headlights shining through the window; my mom pulled into the driveway, and I ran outside to meet her and tell her what was going on.

When the police got there, they did a thorough search and found nothing incriminating that would help us find the man, but from what it seems, the man wasn't there to rob us. He also didn't seem to have any interest in me either, which means that he was most likely trying to hurt or abduct my mom. It would then make sense why he broke in only minutes before my mom usually gets home. It makes me think about what could have happened if I hadn't gone downstairs to see who was there, or if my mom had gotten

home just a minute earlier and gone inside, unknowingly of the man that was waiting for her. I'm 32 and live alone in a rural house. I have a few neighbors half a mile down that I talk to sometimes, but I mostly keep to myself and only go into town when I need to. I'm half-retired, so I spend most of my time at home, but a few months out of the year, I do some contracting work. At the time, it was late fall, and on this day, I was getting all of my equipment from out in

the yard and storing it in the shed to prepare for the winter season. It was just a bunch of tools and lawnmowers and stuff like that that I'd left out. Anyway, while I was outside, I saw something unusual—a man was walking along the road that connected to my driveway. He had nothing on him, no backpack or camping gear. For context, this road he was on was entirely empty, aside from the few houses like mine, and the town was a four-hour walk away. I watched him until he disappeared far off down the road. After he was

gone, I looked down in both directions and saw no cars on the side of the road in either direction. It was really odd, but after a while, I stopped thinking about it and finished up with my yard. I was back inside before dark and made dinner while I cooled off. As I sat there, a sudden thud from outside startled me up from the table. It was a wooden thump, like it had come from where the shed was. I looked through the window out into the yard, and the door to the shed was wide open. It

was old, but the door had never unlatched on its own like that before. Still unsure of exactly what was going on, I knew I had to check on it and close the door, at the very least. I got my rifle, just in case, but I was confident it wasn't going to be anything dangerous. Walking out to the shed, I listened intently and heard nothing other than the quietness of the night. I looked around the field as well and saw no sign of wildlife or people. When I got to the open shed door, I turned on

my flashlight and shined it inside. Nothing looked out of place. I stepped in and did a more thorough search for any animals hiding, but still, there wasn't anything. I closed the door to the shed and made sure it was secure, then started walking back. As I made my way through the field toward my house, an eerie feeling grew inside me. I didn't know what it was, but it continued to grow. As I reached the front door, I stepped in and locked the door behind me. As I walked into the hallway, I saw a shoe print

right on the floor. I flicked on the light, and going across the hallway was a line of dirty shoe prints leading up to the spare bedroom. My heart started beating faster as I held my rifle up and took a deep breath, then carefully walked up to the door. I leaned my head against the wood and listened, hearing what sounded like someone breathing right on the other side. Before I could even think on what to do next, the handle twisted from my grip, and the door... Swung open, I jumped back and held the rifle up as

a man looked like he was about to charge at me, holding a huge metal shovel up. I think my gun stopped him in his tracks, though he stood in the doorway, holding the shovel like a weapon and with a face full of rage. I yelled as loud as I could for him to stay back, trying to sound intimidating, but I was undoubtedly terrified. The man kept his distance, but his face full of anger never faded. From this moment, though I didn't know what to do, cops wouldn't be able to make it here for probably an

hour if I called, and I definitely didn't want to hold him at gunpoint for that long, risking anything to happen. As we stood in a strange silence, the man suddenly threw the shovel in my direction, then sprinted back into the room. I ran in to see what he was doing and watched him start crawling out of the window. Part of me wanted to stop him, but another part of me couldn't get myself to. He jumped out and ran off into the field, escaping into the vast empty night with no way of knowing where he was

running off to. To this day, that man has never been identified, and his intentions are unknown. All I can say is that if I hadn't had my rifle in my hands, or if he had gotten the jump on me, I likely wouldn't be here today. I don't go on many trips out of town, so this was one of the few times I've had to stay somewhere other than a friend or family member's house. The area I needed to stay in was small, and most of the hotels didn't look very nice. But to my surprise, there

was a single home listed on Airbnb. It was my first time using the site, but the house looked like a decent place—much better than the hotels. I requested the dates, and in a few minutes, the place was booked. The following week, I started the drive. When I got to the town, which was about 14 hours from my city, it was well into the night. The town almost looked deserted compared to where I was used to living; all the houses' lights were off, and all the stores were closed. No people or cars were out; of course,

it was the middle of the night, so I didn't expect this small town to be lit up and active at this time, but it was still eerie, considering I hadn't seen it during the day. I only came in with this as the first impression. The street that took me to the Airbnb was dark as well, leading through a winding, forested neighborhood until I eventually ended up at the house. It was one of the few that had its porch and outdoor lights on, but one window upstairs had a light coming through it as well. I figured

the last customer had just made the mistake of leaving it on, so I thought nothing of it and started getting my stuff up to the front door. I got the key code from my email and opened the door, getting inside and locking the door behind me. I quickly put my stuff in the corner of the room, then went upstairs to turn off the light that was left on. It was one of the spare bedrooms, only having a bed and a small dresser in it. I flicked it off, then went to the main bedroom to set

up my things. I was only staying for one night, but I had it booked for two because I needed to be there late into the following day. I was up for no more than an hour before finally getting in bed and turning in for the night. I rested my eyes and tried to sleep but was lying awake for a long time. I sat up quickly, hearing a thud run through the walls of the house. I stared at the door, trying to think of what could have caused the sound, but with no ideas coming to mind,

I got up to check. I opened the door softly, peering into the upstairs hallway. It was dark and quiet now—no more thuds, only the sound of the house swaying in the wind. I stepped back and quietly shut the door, but a strange feeling came over me that had me wait as I thought more about the sound I heard. As I stood there, soft creaks started to go along the floorboards from the other room. I listened with my ear against the door as the creaking moved into the hallway and then began making its way toward the

door. I was so in shock that I almost didn't realize it had to be the footsteps of someone approaching. My heart started racing as they came right up to the other side of the door. I put my hand tightly on the door handle to keep it from moving, and only a moment later, I felt it pull down. As soon as I resisted, they eased off. There was a small moment before suddenly the handle was forced down, and they slammed into the door. It swung half open before I pressed my body back into it. I only

saw half of their face in the doorway, but in their eyes was an anger that I didn't expect to ever see. After a struggle, I somehow managed to push the door back into the latch and lock it. The man on the other side tried to get it back open, but after yelling a few unpleasant words toward me, he ran downstairs and out of the house. I was still catching my breath, and my mind was racing, but I gathered. Myself up and dialed 911. For such a small town, they came shortly. After the owner of the

Airbnb continued with the case after I left on the following day, I wish I had kept up with it. That man seemed so desperate to get into my room and was in some state of rage, as if he wanted to hurt me, as if I'd done something to him. Everything about it is disturbing, and I don't think I'll ever get it out of my head. But Airbnbs probably won't be something I take part in again for a long time. This was about three years ago. I was staying in a rental house while vacationing to see

my brother. He lives six hours away from me, so I don't get to see him very often, and he only has a one-bedroom apartment, which makes me have to stay elsewhere when I do see him. The house I rented out was really close to my brother's apartment. It was the same price as nearby hotels, so it was an easy choice to go for the house. I had gotten into town early in the morning and met up with my brother for lunch, then got some groceries and was back at the rental around 5:00. The place didn't

have a lot to offer other than a couch, TV, and bed, but for the price, I wasn't expecting too much. I stayed up until 9:00, then got in bed. It had been a long day, so I was looking forward to getting a good amount of shut-eye. I laid in bed awake for longer than I wanted, falling asleep after an hour. When my eyes opened, the room was in full darkness, and I could sense that it was the middle of the night. Before I could even check the time, though, I heard something outside the room—footsteps slowly

walking down the hallway, and then a door closing softly, followed by silence. It was like my whole body had frozen, laying in the bed still and staring through the dark room. After a minute passed with no more sounds, I got up and looked into the hallway. At the far end, I could see the front door, which I knew was the door I'd heard them close, but I didn't know if they were still in the house or if they had left. I quietly walked through the other rooms, not seeing anyone. Actually, the only sign of them

having been here was the front door being unlocked. I didn't see any footprints or notice anything missing. After checking the locks on all the doors, I called 911. They came fairly quickly but didn't do much of anything. They said to make sure all the doors were locked and to contact the owner, but aside from their useless advice, they provided no intent to figure it out. I stayed up that night and waited until morning, unable to sleep. After calling the owner of the rental and discussing what had happened, I went to see my brother. While out,

the owner let me know that he had changed the pin code on the door, which did make me feel a lot better. I was out until late that day, though, getting some dinner and drinks with my brother and being dropped off at the rental sometime between 8:00 and 9:00. I went to the couch and sat down, feeling sleepy but also feeling that nervousness again about the situation. Every time my eyes were about to close, my head would be filled with fear of the intruder coming back. Knowing I needed to sleep tonight since I didn't get

any last night, I decided to go through the house again and check the rooms in hopes of easing my mind. I walked around the living room and kitchen, then went down the hallway to the bedroom. I opened the closet and checked the attached bathroom, and just before I walked out, I heard footsteps running through the hallway toward the bedroom I was in. I swung around the corner and only caught a glimpse of a large man as he slammed the bedroom door shut. Then I heard his footsteps departing and going toward the living room while I

stood in place and just listened. He went all around the living room and kitchen, staying inside the house for probably two minutes before I heard the front door open and close behind him. Police came quickly after I called again, and this time the homeowner came by as well. The living room and kitchen looked like they'd been ransacked. The furniture was scattered all over, and the cabinets were all open, with the things inside them having been tossed over the floor. After a closer look, though, the owner didn't see anything that was missing. It looked more like

whoever that man was was looking for something very specific and nothing more. I left the rental and got a hotel after that, and within a few days, I was never updated again about anything. I assume he was never found, but the situation has left me with a lot of questions. Something that really gets to me is that I had checked the entire house that one night, so where was he hiding? How long had he been in the house with me? Was he watching me? And what would have happened if I had fallen asleep on the

couch? I was 22 at the time and living in a very small one-bedroom house in the cheapest area of my city. After work on a Friday night, I hopped online to game with a bunch of my friends. It was the perfect night for staying up late with a heavy downpour outside and no work or school the next day. We played for probably two hours before a sudden sound had me put everything on pause for a... Minute it was a thump sounding like it was upstairs. My initial concern was a possible leak in the roof caused

by the rainfall, so I went up to look. The only rooms upstairs were the single bedroom and a half bath, and neither of them had any signs of leaks anywhere. So, I ran back down and got back online with my friends. I was on for a while, only getting off at 2:00 a.m. because everyone else went to bed. I shut everything off and sat on the couch with some snacks while I watched YouTube on my phone. Ten minutes in, I heard another thump; it was from upstairs again, but it was so muffled that it almost

sounded like it was on the roof or something. I did an even more thorough search of both my bedroom and the bathroom up there, but there wasn't anything showing itself to be the cause of the sound. I was sure it wasn't thunder either, because it vibrated through the walls like something literally hitting the house. After ten minutes of looking around, I was so determined to figure it out that I put on my shoes and went out into the rain to see if there was something more noticeable from outside. At first, I saw nothing of significance,

but then I noticed a tree branch getting pretty close to the side of my house. It was a large and sturdy branch, though, that was a good 3 or 4 feet away from the siding, and even in the rain it wasn't really swaying all that much. It seemed unlikely that it could reach the side and bang up against the house. As I looked at it, though, I realized there was a small window on the house that the tree kind of covered up. It was higher than my bedroom window, meaning it had to be an attic.

I had no idea there was an attic in this house. The hatch was definitely nowhere noticeable, and the roof wasn't a steep slope, so it didn't look like there would even be room for one. This hidden window was the first I'd ever seen to indicate there was an attic. I went inside, even more curious than I was before, and started searching for this hatch that I had to have somewhere. It took a minute, but I found it inside my bedroom closet. It was small and perfectly smooth, with the ceiling basically blending in aside from the

tiny gaps from where it opens. I stood up on a box and pulled it down, releasing a rusty ladder from the opening. Immediately, I was hit with a rotten smell, followed by another thump sound from below. I could tell the attic was extremely short—maybe 2 feet tall at most. I climbed up carefully and looked into this tiny space, basically a wide, dark tunnel, and at the end, by the window, I could make out a figure ducked down on all fours and looking straight at me. I almost fell off the ladder trying to jump down and

run away. I heard them shuffling around as I got my phone and left the house, calling 911 from my driveway. The cops got there and detained the man, who was just some homeless person. Apparently, he climbed the tree up to the window and made his way in, staying up there for at least a week without me having noticed. The absurdity of it all was almost unbelievable. I moved out very soon after that. In every house since, I've always checked the attics, but the one thing that has stayed with me is the image of that man

at the end of the attic on his hands and knees, staring at me with eyes resembling both fear and anger. For the past few years, I've been working two jobs and typically leave my house around 6:00 in the morning and don't get home until 10:00 at night. Then I sleep, and on most days I repeat that same schedule. Unfortunately, that's just the situation I've been in for a while. But this happened just a couple of months ago. I had come home one night and did what I usually do, which is shower and get ready for

bed. But while I was in the shower, I heard some movement that sounded like it was just outside the bathroom door. I quickly got out and checked and saw nothing, so I figured it just had to be the house creaking or something. I finished cleaning up and got in bed. All throughout the night I kept hearing these odd noises coming from all throughout the house—mostly just some sort of creaking, kind of like if it was really windy outside and making the house sway. But there was no wind and no reason for the house to be

making any noise. At one point in the middle of the night, I even got up and walked around to try and find out what it was, but I found nothing. In the morning, I was very tired and had to work the whole day, relying on coffee to keep me awake. By the time I got home, I was exhausted and sleepy, really hoping for a good night's sleep. I went right upstairs and turned the shower on, but before I even got in, I heard something outside the bathroom door again. This time I was sure it was

right outside the door, and it sounded like it passed right by and left the bedroom. Although, as unlikely as it was, it really sounded like something had moved across my room. I knew I had to look to see if someone was there, but I was feeling really uneasy. When I did finally get the courage to look, I didn't see anything. I walked through the whole house and did a quick look. around each room, but I was convinced it had to be something odd going on inside the walls or under the floorboards. I showered and got

in bed, falling asleep just before midnight. The instant I woke up, I knew something was wrong; it was very dark, so it was still well into the night, and the entire house was silent. I wasn't sure what had woken me up, but I could feel that it had something to do with the sounds I'd been hearing. I peered over at the door and saw the slightest movement of a shadow from under the crack. I jolted up and stared across the room; my heart immediately started racing as I saw the shadow move away from the door

and heard them begin walking down the upstairs hallway. I was horrified and frozen in fear, but it must have been the surge of adrenaline that got me out of my bed and made me swing open the door. I looked out, and standing at the end of the hallway was the dark outline of a man; his eyes were the only thing that really stood out to me. They pierced through me with a sense of anger and restlessness. I slammed my bedroom door shut and locked it; the man's footsteps immediately went down the stairs, but I took

another 30 seconds before I heard him leave the house. I got the police to come as soon as possible, but they didn't have much luck. They found a few signs of the man being in my house for at least a few days, but that was about it. I don't know where he was hiding, but I always think back to when I'd hear him walk past the bathroom door. Maybe he was sleeping in my bed and then quickly would hide in the closet until I got in the shower, where he would take the opportunity to leave

the room. I also wonder why he spent that extra time downstairs before leaving the house when he knew I'd seen him and had likely called the police. Everything is just speculation at this point, but knowing that some random man was hiding in my house while I was sleeping is a horrifying thing to think about. As far as I know, the man hasn't come back, and there have been no updates on his identity. Last year, I moved into a new house far from the city. My new job was work-from-home, so I had no reason to be

in a cluttered and expensive city anymore. For the first couple of months, I was enjoying everything about the place, especially being so far from other people. But on a regular weekday afternoon, I got a knock at my door. This was actually the first time anyone had come up to my door at this place since I moved in, so it caught me a little off guard. I went up and opened the door to a tall, middle-aged man. "How can I help you?" I smiled to be friendly, thinking he was probably a neighbor from down the street.

But strangely, the first thing he did was lean to the side and look past me into my house. It was like he was trying to see who else was home. Being weirded out by his behavior, I pulled the door in and blocked the way with my body before saying anything. The man turned and walked away from the door. I stayed and watched him go all the way down the driveway and continue walking until he got to the street, where he got into a parked car and drove off. Without a doubt, that was the strangest encounter

I'd ever had with someone up until that point, and I really had no idea how to even think about it. That night, I stayed home for dinner just to make sure the man didn't come back. I debated calling the police to put in a report, but I thought I'd sound stupid for doing that just because some man came up to my door and did nothing. Around 9:00 p.m., I turned on the TV and tried to get myself more relaxed before trying to sleep. While I was on the couch, though, I heard a voice speaking outside.

I quickly muted the TV and listened; it was muffled, but I could make out at least two separate people talking somewhere in the back of my yard. I ran up to the back window and opened up the blinds. In the distance, I could see two figures walking across my backyard. One of them had a long tool or object in his hand, but the other one was too hard to see clearly. They walked between the trees in my yard until they reached the side of my house. I went over to the side window and tried to

see where they went, but I lost track of them, and they had stopped talking. The loud knocking at my front door made me jump and sent chills through my body. I walked up, trying not to make any noise, and looked through the peephole. There was one man dressed in dark clothing and wearing a hat that covered his eyes. He had to be one of the men I'd just seen, but where was the other? "What do you want?" I yelled, figuring they likely already knew I was home, or maybe I'd scare them away. The man stayed

on the doorstep and looked over at the side of my house, then looked back at the door. After a few seconds, the lack of response started to terrify me. I went back to the living room to get my phone and call the police but was interrupted by a loud smashing sound. By another and another, I looked across the hall and saw a man hitting a shovel against the back door. He saw me and looked at me for a second, then ran away. I was so scared I hesitated on whether to call the police or try

to find somewhere to hide. The best answer was obviously to do both, but my thoughts were interrupted again when I heard the side window getting hit. I got my phone and dialed 911 while the man continued to hit the window over and over. But just as the police picked up the phone, everything went quiet, and it stayed quiet until the police came. When they pulled in, I was surprised by a sudden commotion outside. It turned out to be the man at the door, who had chosen not to leave, and after a closer look, it was

the same man who'd come by earlier that day. Strangely, when the police detained him, he refused to say anything about the other man that was with him. He denied everything over and over, even though there were clear cracks and dents in the doors and windows. It was frustrating to listen to, and even weeks later, the man still refused to detail why he had come by my house twice that day or who the other man was. Everything remains so unanswered that it still creeps me out to this day. Why was the man trying to break in

so badly, and what purpose did the man at my doorstep serve to aid in the break-in? I moved away in the following months, and I've since only been hoping that it wasn't me they were after, or are still after. I was using Craigslist to sell an office chair that I no longer wanted. It wasn't broken or damaged and was barely even used, but I just didn't need it anymore. It took a few days, but eventually, I got a message from a man who was interested in buying the chair. We had a short phone call, and

he seemed like any other nice guy. He was willing to pay my asking price too, so everything seemed perfect. We set to meet at a local Walmart parking lot, which I opted for to keep it in a public setting. Come Friday afternoon, I called the man and let him know I was on my way. Then I drove down to the Walmart and got there right on time. He said he drove a gray Honda Civic, which I realized was very generic and basically useless information. He knew which car I drove too, so I was hoping he'd

see me at least and come over, but time ticked away and there was no sign of him. I sent a text, and a few minutes later, I called, but now he wasn't picking up. I stayed in the lot for nearly an hour waiting for him to show, but as the sun was going down, I decided to just go home. For most of the drive, I was just annoyed and upset that I'd had to waste my time for absolutely no reason, but about halfway back, I realized that a car had been behind me for a while.

I got nervous about it, but once I pulled into my street, they turned away. After going inside and tossing my phone and stuff on the counter, I went back out to bring the chair inside. As I walked down my driveway, a car pulled up along the road and parked right in front of my house. I couldn't tell for sure, but it looked very similar to the car that was behind me earlier. It was a dark red sedan looking to be at least 15 years old, with rust all around it. I quickly got my chair out

of my car and went inside, closing the garage and locking all the doors. I peeked out the windows and watched as the car just sat right in front of my house, still running and everything. I checked my phone to see if the man had ever responded, and he still hadn't. That's when it all really started making me nervous. After another minute, I heard a car door open and close. I looked out the window again and saw a figure in dark clothing standing beside the car, but he was facing the house as if he was inspecting

it. Once I saw that, I closed the blinds and dialed 911, explaining to the operator that a creepy man was outside my house and that I thought he followed me home. They sent an officer on their way, and I thanked them, then hung up. I pushed the blind up slightly and checked out the window one more time. His car was still there, but the man was gone. I could feel my heartbeat getting faster as I went around to each window and looked, but it wasn't until I got to my back door that I saw the

man again. He was standing inside my fenced backyard and was looking up at my house. I didn't know what he was doing, but it was really creeping me out, and all I could think was that at any moment he was going to try to break in. After a second, the man started walking to the side of my house. I went back to the front window to see if he was going back to his car, but he didn't reappear. Then I went around to every window again trying to find him, but a few minutes later, the

police showed up. The car was still left outside my house, and the man was nowhere to be found. What's worse is that the car was completely empty, not having a single piece of paper or even a fingerprint anywhere inside or outside of it. It was apparently bought from... A junkyard years ago, but that was the earliest record they had of it. The police were just as weirded out as I was, especially since the man just disappeared, leaving his car behind and showing no effort to break in. One thing we can say almost for certain is

that it was likely the same man from the list who had used an untraceable email and account and followed me from the Walmart parking lot to my house. It's been a couple of months since all of this, but I still worry because why else would he have taken the time to inspect my house on all sides if he wasn't planning on coming back any day now to finish whatever it was he came to do? When I was 21, I made the poor decision to move out of my parents' house before I could afford a place

on my own. It was something I'd actually planned out for months, searching for cheap apartments, roommates, and anything that could help me move out. For some reason, I just prioritized moving out on my own over everything else. After months of searching, I found a post on Facebook about a room for rent in my area. It was a two-bedroom house, and the owner was renting out the second bedroom. I sent him a message on Facebook and got a reply in minutes. He asked a couple of questions, then sent over a document. It looked like a huge

list of rules for moving in—all simple stuff that's pretty much common sense. After agreeing to all the rules, he let me come over to look at the room that same day. When I got there, I was very surprised at how clean and well put together the place was. It looked like it was a model house—so perfectly decorated and furnished. The owner, Terry, was a little bit weird though; he was in his late 20s, but his personality and looks didn't match the way the house looked. He was wearing a dirty t-shirt and just had a weird

way of talking. Still, I was blinded by the possibility of moving out that I didn't even care. A week later, I packed up a rental van with my stuff and drove it down to the house. When I walked inside, I almost thought I'd walked into the wrong house. It was so empty—no decorations or furniture except for an old couch in the living room. It was a completely different-looking place than the one I'd seen the first time. Terry was standing there and acted like nothing was different, talking my ear off about how excited he was to

have a roommate. I asked about all the furniture and everything, but he basically ignored my question and just went straight to moving my stuff into the house. Being a little weirded out, I still moved in. Several weeks went by, and to be honest, I rarely even saw Terry. He was always working and didn't get home until late at night. But about a month in, I started realizing that Terry had stopped coming home most nights. It was maybe once a week I'd hear him get home around 2 or 3 a.m. He'd hang around downstairs for a

while, then leave and wouldn't show up for another week or so. Part of me didn't care because I was happy to have the house to myself, but another part of me was curious about what he was up to. I mean, he wanted me to move in so bad, but now he was never here. Then one night at 2 a.m., weeks since I'd last seen Terry, I was woken up to him banging on my bedroom door and yelling my name. I got up and rushed over. Terry was standing in the doorway with sweat dripping from his

head and a look of anger. "Do not leave your room," he said in a harsh voice, then grabbed the door and ripped the handle out of my hand, slamming it shut. I stood there in shock, listening to him walk downstairs. I opened the door quietly, and after a few seconds, I heard the sound of him dragging something heavy across the floor and into the garage. I ran downstairs to see what was going on. There was a smear of mud and dirt going across the kitchen and leading up to the garage door. I tried to open

it, but he somehow locked it from inside. I realized it was best to just remove myself from the situation and ran out to my car, driving away while calling the cops. When they got to the house, Terry was already gone and the smears on the floor had been cleaned up. After some days of investigating, it turned out that Terry was actually renting the house from someone else, so I wasn't even allowed to have legally moved in, and all the documents he sent me and had me sign were fake. Terry likely wasn't his real name either,

and as far as I know, he never showed back up after that. I don't know for sure what he was up to, but he was so adamant about me staying in my room that night, and with him vanishing afterward, he clearly had something horrible he was hiding. But what really confuses me is why he wanted me to move into the house and live with him so badly. I can't help but think that he had some sort of plans for me, and I barely got out of there without having to find out the hard way. Three

years ago, I moved down a few states on the East Coast to a new city due to work. Due to money, I couldn't make the trip to see the place before making the move, but I was only renting, so there wasn't too much risk in it. It was mid-September when the movers came and loaded everything up, then dropped it off at the house. The landlord was nice enough to let the movers in for me to unload because I wasn't actually arriving there until the following week. It was a Monday evening when I finally arrived and

saw the house in person for the first time. It was a mess, with boxes everywhere and furniture lying all around, but the house itself was all right. The layout was interesting in that it was very separated. It was a single story, with the kitchen and living room on one side of the house; then, on the other side, was a long hallway with all the bedrooms and bathrooms. Since it was already late, I went to the master bedroom and started working on getting the bed put together, then shut off all the lights and went to sleep.

I didn't have a clock set up yet, so I don't know what time it was, but in the middle of the night, I woke up to an odd sound. I thought it was a noise the house was making, but I wanted to see what it was and if it was something I needed to let the landlord know about. I got up and walked over to the room door; as I got closer, though, I realized it was coming from somewhere down the hallway. I opened the door, and it stopped almost instantly. The hallway was pitch black,

so I flicked on the light, but nothing was there. I slowly walked down and peered into the living room. It looked the same as it had earlier, but I turned on the lights and looked around just to be sure. On the floor, there were a lot of footprints scattered between the boxes that were lying around. I knew it was likely from the movers, and with no other signs of anything, I went back to the bedroom. It took a while for me to fall asleep again because I kept thinking about how the sound stopped as soon

as I opened the door. I tried to come up with any possible way this could be the house making noises, but nothing came to mind. When I drifted back asleep, it felt like I only stayed asleep for a minute before I was woken up by a sudden thump followed by footsteps running down the hallway. My eyes shot open, and I looked over at my bedroom door. The door was wide open, and on the ground were clear footprints coming right up to my bed. I got up and hurried to see who was there, but by then

they were long gone; all that was left were scuffed prints from them running away. I got my phone and called the police, locking myself in the bathroom until they arrived. When they did, they oddly found no signs of a break-in aside from the footprints. I convinced myself that they must have gained access during the week before I arrived at the house, but something still didn't sit right with me. After unpacking and checking each box, nothing seemed to be missing. It obviously makes me wonder what they were even doing in the house, but the biggest mystery

is: why did they walk up to my bed, and what was that thump sound that I heard just before they ran away? The landlord was eager to allow me to break the contract and move out, so long as I didn't say anything about the break-in publicly. At the time, it sounded like he just didn't want anyone to be scared away from the house, so that he wouldn't miss out on his rental income, but now I'm not so sure. This happened a couple of years back when I was 26. My single mother had just passed away,

and being the only child, her house was left for me to either sell or move into. I was living in a really nasty apartment because I couldn't afford much back then, and after much deliberation, I decided to move into the house. It was already paid off, so I was saving a considerable amount of money by moving in. My goal was to hopefully save up for a few years and get back on my feet, then sell it and buy the house that I wanted. Once my lease was up at the apartment, I moved across town to

the house. It was part of a community of farmland owners, but in recent years, most of that land had stopped being used for farming and was left as just empty fields. That's what happened with my mom's land as well; it was pretty much just an old barn-style home in the middle of a huge field, with only a small overgrown path leading to it. In the first week living there, I spent most of my time cleaning and getting all of my stuff where I wanted it. During one of these nights while I was cleaning, I heard

a car coming toward the house. I looked out the window and saw an old pickup truck driving down the overgrown path. It was very strange, being that the only reason for them driving here would be if they were coming to the house, but just as they approached the end of the path, they slowed to a stop. I could make out a male figure in the driver's seat but couldn't make out any specifics. They stayed there for a moment with their headlights shining over the field before they did a three-point turn and drove away. I thought

they probably just typed in the wrong address or something, but it was kind of creepy to see someone coming all the way out here so late at night. A few days went by, and by then I'd finished getting the house cleaned. Up and organized, it was a Sunday night, and I was staying up late, watching TV and eating a home-cooked meal when a familiar sound came up in the distance: a car driving toward the house. I looked out the window again and saw that same pickup truck coming down the path, this time with all its

headlights off. Knowing it couldn't possibly be an accident, this time I was more worried. I quickly looked at my phone and saw it was nearly 1:00 a.m. So why would anyone be coming here? The truck came all the way to the front of the house and parked. Then a man got out and started walking up to the porch. I waited anxiously, but after a minute, there was no doorbell or knocking. I cautiously went up to the front door and looked out the peephole. A man was standing right on the porch, looking directly at the door.

I was terrified, as he looked like he was contemplating something. Then he turned around and went back to his truck, getting in and hurrying away. I was really creeped out, so I called the police and reported it, but there was nothing else to be done. I went to bed that night with a really bad feeling about everything. Apparently, I was right because I woke up to what I thought was the sound of a knock at the door. It was just a single knock. I got up right away and looked out the window, but the truck

that I thought I'd see wasn't anywhere outside the house. I quietly left my bedroom to try and go downstairs and see who it was, but just as I reached the top of the steps, I could see that the front door was slightly open. I froze, and moments later, I heard footsteps walking through the hallway below me. I quickly hid in the spare bedroom that was next to me and dialed 911 as the footsteps grew louder and started coming up the stairs. They went straight into the main bedroom, and I could hear them moving stuff around

like they were looking for something. I was too scared to speak to the officer on the phone, worried the intruder would hear me, so I just sat there silently. They spent a few minutes going through the bedroom before leaving and going back downstairs, and finally exiting the house. I started talking to the officer as I ran up to the back window to see if I could identify them before they got away. It was dark, but I could see that it was the same man who had been on my porch earlier. He was walking in the

backyard toward the field of tall grass, eventually disappearing into it. Police came by and tried to find any evidence to help with the case, but my description of the man was about all there was that was helpful. I don't know what that man wanted, but he seemed to be looking for something specific. It makes me think maybe he knew of something my mother had, and after hearing of her passing, he wanted to steal it. But once I realized he had to have known I was home and probably in the bedroom, it terrified me to think

about how he still went in and looked around. What was he planning to do to me if I was still in there? I ended up selling the house a month later because I was too scared of him coming back. Even now, I still check every few months to see if there were any reports of recent break-ins at that address, but it's been quiet ever since that night.