This is the original reddit thread where I wrote the story; this is a slightly edited-for-grammar version.
I was around 16 when this happened, so 12 or so years ago. I’d just gotten my license and had come back to my mother’s house to work on a paper because her computer was faster than my father’s. It was getting a bit late, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so I wasn’t nervous one way or the other. I took a break from the paper and headed to the main bathroom, which was at the back of the house. The wall parallel to the door faced the back yard.
It has a small window in it, and just as I was about to turn on the lights, I heard a noise. Not especially close, or loud, but it was coming from somewhere in the back yard, closer to the house than the small patch of dense trees that acted as kind of a buffer between the street my house was on and the one that runs parallel to it
. I went to the window and looked out, at first seeing nothing, but then a shape ran across the yard, which I didn’t think too much of at first because I lived in a pretty typical suburban area and my house borders two streets. It wouldn’t be uncommon for kids to cut through my unfenced backyard to get to the other street. But even though I rationalized what it could be in my head, I was still a bit uneasy. I was home alone, and neither parent would be home soon (both parents worked 2nd shift in aerospace companies), which left me a little bit paranoid.
I went back to the living room, which had a huge bay window facing the front yard and a glass door to the back yard. For a few minutes, I heard nothing else, so I started to relax. But then, I heard soft noises coming from near the back door. Like someone stepping really quietly, trying not to make a sound.
Cue the adrenaline. I called my dad and told him as softly as I could what was going on. Part of me felt like I was overreacting, but the other part just knew something was off. He had someone else call the police and stayed on the line with me as I got my keys and made my way to the opposite side of the house, where the driveway and my car was. He didn’t want me leaving the house, really, but there was no way I was staying, so the plan was to get to him, then drive back together to meet the police. I can’t describe how badly I wanted to get out of that house. The worst thing that I could do, it seemed to me, was wait inside until the police got there or whomever was outside decided to come in.
When I went to get into my car, my whole body was focused on just unlocking and starting it, then tearing the hell out of my driveway. Thankfully, no horror movie cliches kept the engine from turning.
My dad’s company was a short drive away, and when I got to him and we went back to the house, we were met by the police…who had found the house lit up. Every light in every room on. Every door, even to the attic and the basement, open. But nothing was taken or touched, which to me is the scary part; the fact that whoever it was wanted to fuck with my head, or my mother’s, since it was her house. It just scared me, and I never slept well in my mother’s house after that. I was more than a bit relieved when she moved.