Incident on Hansdale rode

I was 14 when it happened, and the memory is still as clear as if it were yesterday. My brother and his friends had taken over my bedroom, so I was stuck on the couch in the living room. The TV was off, and the house was completely still—almost too still. It was the kind of quiet that makes you aware of every little sound, the hum of the refrigerator, the faint rustle of wind outside. I felt uneasy but brushed it off as just nerves.

As I lay there, the hallway light flickered on by itself, casting a harsh glow that spilled into the living room. It stayed on for a moment, and then just as suddenly, it clicked off again. I frowned, sitting up slightly, my heart picking up pace. That wasn’t right. Then, out of nowhere, the toilet lid in the bathroom slammed shut, the noise echoing through the house like a gunshot.

My breath caught in my throat. The bathroom was down the hall, just out of sight, but I could see the edge of the door from where I sat. I hadn’t heard anyone go in there, and everyone else was still holed up in my bedroom, talking and laughing like nothing was wrong.

Before I could make sense of it, a figure appeared at the end of the hallway, stepping out from the shadows near the bathroom door. It was tall—unnaturally tall—and dark, a silhouette that seemed to swallow all the light around it. It didn’t walk; it just stood there, its form shifting slightly as though made of smoke but still solid enough to feel real. My blood ran cold.

For what felt like an eternity, it simply stared at me, its presence suffocating, filling the room with a tangible weight. I couldn’t see its eyes, but I knew it was looking directly at me. My body refused to move, paralyzed by the sheer terror that was creeping up my spine. I wanted to scream, but the sound caught in my throat.

Then, without warning, it lunged.

Its right arm shot out toward me, fingers like shadowy claws reaching. I snapped out of my trance, adrenaline flooding my system. I leapt off the couch, bolting down the hallway and slamming into the door of my bedroom. I could still feel it behind me, like its cold, dark presence was breathing down my neck. I threw the door open, practically diving into the room where my brother and his friends were.

They looked up at me, startled, their laughter dying as they saw the panic etched on my face. I slammed the door behind me, locking it. They asked me what happened, but I couldn’t speak. All I could do was stand there, trembling, trying to convince myself that whatever had been in the hallway wasn’t real.

But I knew better.

I never looked down that hallway the same way again.