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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/PleasantNightLongDay on 2024-11-10 01:32:06+00:00.

A lot has happened since I asked ya’ll for help. It’s been a week since the crazy lady knocked at my door, urging me to leave, and I’ve taken the advice you gave me.

The morning after her visit, I went over to my new local electronics store and bought myself a doorbell camera.  On my way out, I stopped by the security booth at the entrance of my complex and chatted with the guard.  He was a middle aged, unshaven, reeking, fat man - the embodiment of the consequences of overdrinking.   I explained what had happened, giving him a condensed version of what you read.

“Crazy lady? I haven’t seen no crazy lady,” he murmured without lifting his gaze from his phone. He watched his YouTube video as if his life depended on it.

“Hey man,” I said, trying to sound as understanding and amicable as possible. “This is a pretty serious situation.  Besides freaking me out, is this not a ‘safety’ issue? Take the ‘crazy’ out of the equation. Isn’t it concerning that someone is knocking at my door in the middle of the night and threatening me?” 

“If there was a crazy lady, I would have seen her…” His voice droned monotonously. 

I know a hopeless cause when I see one - he was set on dedicating his attention to YouTube. 

“Alright, thank you for your time. Can you do me a favor?”

He grunted, neither a yes or no.

“I’m sure you’re not here 24 hours a day. Can you share this with whoever else works this booth? I know you probably think it’s nothing, but it would make me feel a lot better.

He muttered the most unenthusiastic “sure” I have ever heard.

I drove off and bought the doorbell camera.  I set the alert level to max sensitivity, but yielded much help.  Besides flying birds, cars, or the occasional neighbor walking by, my camera’s motion sensor remained dormant.  No crazy lady in sight.

Next, I took your advice and went to my local police department yesterday. But my conversation was just as fruitful as the one with the guard.

“Do you know her name?” the officer asked.

“No.”

“Do you know anyone who might know her?

“No. I just moved here a few days ago.”

“Can you describe her besides as slim and crazy looking?” He smirked when saying the word “crazy” as if I were the crazy one.

“Not really”

“So there isn’t much we can do, now is there?” he said with a smug smile.  “So if this crazy lady appears again, you give us a call at that moment.”

I didn’t have the energy.  I thanked him for his time and left. 

Driving into my complex, I stopped by the Community Center, where our individual mail boxes are located.  I stood in the mail room, filtering the mail still being delivered to the previous tenant, when someone tapped my shoulder.

“You the new guy at 217?” he asked, referring to my apartment number.  He was a thin African American man in his 30’s.  He wore khakis, a dressy shirt tucked in, and black-rimmed  glasses.  He oozed positivity and friendliness - the anti security guard. 

“I am.  Why do you ask?”  

He shook my hand enthusiastically, big smile across his face.

“My name is Michael - Mike - , I’m new here, too.”  

He chatted for a few minutes with great ease. He explained he was an attorney at a firm whose name I can’t remember.  He had also just moved here and had made a few friends around the complex.  I guess he’s more sociable than me.

“You’re famous, you know?” He eyed me, testing the waters to see if I were open to joke about this  topic

That piqued my interest.

“Really? Why is that?” I asked, trying to sound calm and cool.

“Well, you know…” he smirked. “You’re the new guy in 217.”  he stared at me as if saying, come on, you know!

His phone began to ring, and he began pawing at his pockets, trying to find it.

“I don’t know…What do you mean?”

“Oh come on! You have to know!” He said.  “Everyone knows!” He located his phone and began examining it with a squint 

“Who’s everyone…wait no, who cares…What does everyone know? I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” My heart rate elevated noticeably.

His eyes peered above his glasses reading his phone.  

“You know,” he said, reverting to his attorney’s slow monotone autopilot  voice, still staring at his iPhone. “The apartment complex is legally obligated to disclose if such activity occurred in your apartment before you signed your lease.  If you did not receive verbal and written notice of it, they could be liable to a….Sorry bud, gotta take this. Work, ya know?” He flashed his smile; the attorney was gone, the friendly neighbor was back.  “I can’t be the new guy who doesn’t answer his boss, regardless of the time.”

“No no - hang on!” I said louder than I should have.

But it was too late.  He lifted his finger at me, holding the phone to his ear with his other hand, indicating a hang on. I stood there waiting for his call to finish.

“Ah shit! I mean…sorry… Yes, let me get you that info…give me a few minutes.” he blurted to his phone. His cheeks flushed upon having cursed at his new boss.

He tilted his phone a bit away from his mouth, still at his ear.  

“Hey man, it was nice meeting you, gotta run.” he said, flashing his smile.

“No Mike, hold on!” I said to his back.  But it was futile, he was out talking rapidly to his iPhone. 

I locked up my mailbox and ran out trying to catch him, but only saw his talking head through the driver’s seat window as he drove off in his Mercedes.  I got in my car and drove around frantically searching for that car.  He must have a unit with a garage, because it was nowhere in sight.  

That night - which was last night - at 2:30am, my doorbell camera’s motion sensor went off.  I was in bed reading, when my phone received the notification. At that moment, Chance jumped our of bed and ran to the front door, huffing and puffing. I ignored him and opened my camera app as quickly as possible.  Chance began to let out wild barks, pawing at the door.  

My camera feed was a black screen.  

I refreshed it, but the black screen persisted. I refreshed it and refreshed it. I closed the app and restarted my phone.  Still, the black screen taunted me. 

Chance fury intensified.  Something was angering him on the other side of the door.

Staring at the black screen live video feed, I raised the volume and realized I was receiving an audio feed. Chance’s barks emitted from my phone on a 3 second delay, echoing his real life anger.

It finally clicked for me.

I couldn’t believe it, but I had to verify.  

My camera saves the last 30 seconds before the motion sensor is triggered.  I clicked the notification I had received a few minutes early.  My heart sank.

Chance came trotting back into my room triumphantly, as if his duty as the guardian of the house was fulfilled - danger had been averted.  

I stared at the saved video feed that triggered my camera’s recording.  The video began with an image of the front of my apartment. Everything was calm, unmoving, and motionless.  Suddenly, a hand from the corner of the feed emerged, blocking the camera’s view, leaving it entirely black.  The video ended.

WIthout thinking, I rushed to the front door, swung it open, not caring of the noise I was causing at that late hour, and looked at my doorbell camera.  

A black strip of electrical tape had been placed on the camera lens. I shut the door to began removing it, and my heart sank even lower. 

At the corner of my eyes, I noticed 3 dark lines marking my door.  They formed an arrow pointing downward.  I touched the lines, and whatever was used to mark was still wet.  Once again, I wondered if this was blood; I rushed to wash and disinfect my hand.

And now, here I am, once again coming to you for help.

I’m afraid of calling the cops at this hour, and once again, being dismissed as crazy. It’s the weekend, and my apartment complex administration doesn’t work weekends. You bet I will be there as soon as they open on Monday.  

I truly don’t know what to do.  More and more, I’m beginning to think that this is something serious.  I’m becoming convinced that the concept of an elaborate prank isn’t feasible.