I never thought I’d be the kind of person posting on NoSleep, but here I am. I need to get this off my chest, and maybe someone out there has dealt with something similar. God, I hope not, but I’m desperate for answers.
First, let me introduce myself. I’m Jake, a 19-year-old college student living with my parents in a small town just outside of Portland, Oregon. We’ve got a cozy two-story house on a quiet street, surrounded by towering pine trees.
It’s usually peaceful here, but for the past week, our nights have been anything but. My mom, Sarah, is a high school English teacher. She’s always been the rational one in the family, with a no-nonsense attitude that usually keeps us grounded.
Dad, on the other hand, is Mike, a former Marine turned construction foreman. He’s got that tough-guy exterior, but I’ve always known he’s a softie at heart, especially when it comes to me and Mom. It all started last Tuesday.
I was up late studying for a biology exam, my eyes burning from staring at my textbook for hours. I glanced at my phone – 4:30 AM. “Shit,” I muttered, realizing I’d have to be up for class in just a few hours.
That’s when I heard it – the distinct sound of our doorbell. Who the hell would be ringing our doorbell at this hour? I crept downstairs, my heart pounding.
Our chihuahua, Scooby, was already at the door, growling softly. I peeked through the peephole and felt my blood run cold. There, illuminated by our porch light, stood an old woman.
She was thin, almost skeletal, with wispy white hair that seemed to float around her head like a halo. Her skin was pale and wrinkled, hanging loosely on her face. But it was her eyes that really freaked me out – they were completely black, like two empty voids staring straight at me.
“Jake? What’s going on?” Mom’s voice made me jump. She’d come downstairs, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
“There’s… there’s an old woman outside,” I stammered. Mom frowned and gently nudged me aside to look for herself. Her sharp intake of breath told me she saw her too.
Dad appeared moments later, his Marine training evident in his alert stance despite being woken up. “Should we… should we open the door?” I asked hesitantly. Mom shook her head.
“No, absolutely not. We don’t know who she is or what she wants at this hour.” Her teacher instincts kicked in immediately. “We need to document this,” she said, grabbing a notebook to jot down every detail.
Dad, meanwhile, went into full protection mode, checking every window and door lock twice. “I’m calling the police,” he said, his voice gruff with concern. While Mom dialed, I kept watch through the peephole.
The old woman remained motionless, her arms hanging limply at her sides. It was like she was a statue, except for those eyes. They seemed to follow my every movement, even though I knew she couldn’t see me.
The police arrived about 15 minutes later. As soon as their car pulled up, the old woman turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of our street. The officers took our statement, but there wasn’t much they could do.
No laws had been broken, and the woman was gone. They promised to keep an eye out during their patrols and left. We all went back to bed, but I couldn’t sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that old woman’s face, those black, empty eyes. The next night, I made sure to be in bed early. But at exactly 4:31 AM, I woke up to Scooby’s frantic barking.
My stomach dropped as I realized what it must mean. Sure enough, there she was again. This time, she was a few steps closer to our front door.
We called the police again, but by the time they arrived, she was gone. This pattern repeated for the next five nights. Each time, the old woman appeared at exactly 4:31 AM.
And each time, she was a little bit closer to our house. As the nightly visits continued, I watched my parents struggling to cope. Mom threw herself into research, spending hours online looking for similar cases or local legends.
“There has to be a logical explanation,” she’d mutter, surrounded by stacks of printouts. Dad, true to form, focused on fortifying the house. He installed new locks, motion-sensor lights, and even talked about getting a security system.
I could hear them arguing in hushed tones late at night. Mom wanted to go to the media, thinking publicity might help. “Someone out there must know something,” she insisted.
But Dad was dead set against it. “You want us to be the crazy family on the evening news?” he’d retort. The tension between them was palpable, and it scared me almost as much as the old woman.
Last night was the worst so far. She was right at the bottom of our porch steps, her face turned up towards my bedroom window. I swear, even though it was dark and she was far away, I could see a faint smile on her lips.
I don’t know what to do. The police have stopped responding to our calls – they think we’re pulling some kind of prank. My parents are at their wits’ end, torn between their fear and their need to protect me.
Part of me hopes this is all just some weird, prolonged dream. That I’ll wake up and everything will be normal again. But deep down, I know that’s not the case.
If anyone has experienced anything like this, please, please let me know. I don’t know how much longer we can take this nightly visitor. I’ll update if anything changes.
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