Before I start the story, let me describe my house. All the bedrooms are on the second floor, clustered around a single hall in a way that makes getting any kind of breeze flowing through the house impossible. Also, because of many fights between me and my brother, Chris, the floor outside our rooms creaks incredibly loudly and time someone steps on it. Sorry if this is a bit unorganized. I’m pretty terrible at structuring or explaining things.
Recently, I found a very old diary of mine at the bottom of a storage container. In it I found some interesting entries about a series of events I had almost forgotten about. Given the terrible grammar and organization of my diary, I haven’t written out the entries and instead compiled them into a timeline of the five years I was haunted by “The Creakers”.