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The original was posted on /r/truescarystories by /u/idkcoool on 2025-06-29 15:09:13+00:00.

I don’t know what this was. I was 12 years old, and to this day, I still think about it. I’ve never really told the full version publicly, but it’s stuck in my head like it just happened last night.

My bedroom was the smallest in the house — a box room, basically. If you walked in, the window was directly opposite the door, and my bed was tucked into the far right corner. The wall beside me had no window — just solid, plain plaster.

One night around 1AM, I woke up and glanced toward that wall. And that’s when I saw it.

A shadow window.

Let me explain — there was no actual window on that wall, but I could see one. Like the outline of a window projected in total shadow. And within that silhouette, I saw a shadow boy dart across and disappear behind what looked like a shadow shed.

I was frozen.

It wasn’t sleep paralysis — I could move. I just… didn’t.

Eventually I ducked under the blanket the way a kid does when they want to disappear. Not a full cover — just enough to hide my face. I remember my knuckles sticking out, holding the blanket tight to my eyes.

Then I heard it.

Whistling.

Right near my hand.

And worse — I felt it.

Like someone was whistling directly onto my knuckles. I could feel the breath. Warm and real.

I stayed frozen for what felt like 10 seconds. Then panic hit me like lightning. I threw the blanket, kicked at the air, bolted out of bed, and ran screaming to my parents’ room.

I was banging on their door, yelling “Please open! Please open!” Same with my sister’s room. All the doors were locked. I was crying, full-on shaking. When they finally opened up, I could barely get the words out — “Someone was in my room… whistling on my hand…”

No one had an explanation.

⸻

A week later — it got worse.

It was around 2AM again. I had left my window open slightly for air, and I woke up to the most chaotic, unnatural mix of sounds.

I heard a car crash. A horn blaring. Someone screaming. Then — laughter.

But not just a normal laugh. It kept going. And going. On a loop, like something broken. I thought I was dreaming, but I wasn’t.

I got up and went to my sister’s room. I asked, “Can you hear this?” and she looked at me pale and said, “Yes. I can hear everything.”

It didn’t stop until around 5AM.

Just when the sun started to rise, the laughter faded. But then we both heard a baby crying — in our garden.

Loud. Sharp. Like a real baby. But there was no one there.

We looked out the window, trying to find the source. We even whispered down at the garden like idiots: “Baby, don’t cry… it’s okay… don’t cry…”

But the crying just got louder. And louder. And louder.

I don’t know what came over me, but I went outside.

It was still dark. Cold. Winter morning. I stepped into the garden slowly, and that’s when I heard it —

Footsteps. Fast. Running.

Through the little shared walkway behind the garden — the kind that separates everyone’s fences.

I didn’t wait.

I slammed the garden door shut and ran back inside.

⸻

I’ve never had a full explanation for what happened in that week. No one else talks about it anymore. But I know what I saw. I know what I felt on my hand. Feel free to tell me what u think it could have been?