This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/ConnectionFit4696 on 2024-09-06 18:45:22+00:00.


I will never forget that name and the nightmare it brought me. When I finally turned eighteen, my parents bought me a tiny home near the college I would be attending. I was more than grateful for that; it meant a lot to me to have my own place.

I liked the privacy that came with it, the alone time I had there that I didn’t have back when I was living with my parents and three younger siblings. However, I did have a creepy neighbor, Mr. Smith. He was an older guy, kind of scraggly and worn down. He lived right beside me, and our yards were only divided by a chain-link fence.

He would go outside and just stand in his yard, staring at my house, or walk up and down the sidewalk from his house to the end of mine and back to his. He never walked the full length of the sidewalk. He stood weirdly too, tall and skinny with a hunched back, and he always kept both hands in his pockets.

About six months into my stay and settling into my place, I noticed Mr. Smith had stopped walking the sidewalk, and I hadn’t seen him outside in a few days. I shrugged it off and was actually kind of glad that I didn’t have to deal with his weird behavior. I was sure it would pick back up, though.

Two more months went by, and still, I had seen nothing of Mr. Smith. Now, he may be a weird man, but he was elderly, so I thought maybe he had a heart attack or a stroke. I didn’t know if he lived alone or not, so I called the police for a wellness check.

The police checked his house out. They said he wasn’t there, and there were no signs of foul play. They said he probably just moved and didn’t say anything to anyone. I thought it was weird, but I didn’t think much of it. I was glad that the creepy old man was gone.

A few weeks later, I was putting groceries away. When I finished, I went to take a shower. While I was showering, I heard some kind of commotion coming from the kitchen, so I made it quick and headed out there. I looked around and noticed my whole loaf of bread was gone. It had completely vanished. Weird stuff like this would happen all the time.

My toothbrush went missing, toothpaste went missing. My hairbrush, my sweater, my lighters, my blankets, a pillow, more food, and even my damn toaster—like, come on. It was almost comical until it wasn’t. I began to hear heavy breathing, seemingly coming from my walls.

Whispers at night or slight chuckles. I could have sworn sometimes a very bright light would flash in my room and then suddenly stop. I could hear what sounded like footsteps, cabinet doors opening and closing. I got so freaked out I called over one of my guy friends from college to stay a few nights with me.

“So, you believe your house is haunted?” he asked with skepticism and sarcasm. I sighed and truthfully replied, “Yes. You’ll see after a little while.” He stayed for three nights, but nothing ever happened. He joked at me and left.

As soon as he left, though, the strange occurrences began. Night after night, I would hear rummaging, walking, whispering, and laughing. The flashes of light continued until I finally got tired of it. I decided to investigate myself.

I stayed up late and waited for the noises to happen. This time, I followed the whispers and footsteps. I went down the hall, through the kitchen, and into the guest bathroom. That’s when I found where the noise was coming from: my vents.

I slowly stood on the toilet and peered into my vent. At first, I didn’t see anything; it was too dark. I was about to look away when I noticed something. Eyes opened up—bright blue eyes. I screamed and backed away immediately. I ran out of my house and called the police.

When the police arrived, two officers came to talk to me while two more went inside to investigate. As the officers were talking to me, I watched as the other officers came charging out of my house with Mr. Smith in handcuffs. I passed out after that.

I woke up in the hospital. I was fine, just passed out from the blood rush and shock. The horror and disgust overwhelmed me. Had he been watching me this whole time? A little while later, the same two officers I had spoken to before came into my room.

They told me that the person in my house was indeed a 58-year-old man named Emery Smith. They had searched the vents and found pictures of me and signs of someone living there. My stomach turned as I heard this. I felt as if I was going to pass out again.

When I got out of the hospital, I moved back in with my parents. I’m 22 now, and I don’t think I’ll ever move out again.