“Ghosts. First apartment. Ugh, sounds so cliche. That’s what p*sses me off most about it.
I was on the second story of a converted house; there was an attic apartment above me that was unoccupied. The landlord’s apartment was the entire downstairs floor.
I frequently heard thumping up there but always assumed it was typical “old house” creaks.
One day, I was sleeping in my bed. It was facing the doorway into another room. I saw what I thought were window curtains flowing in the breeze of an open window, but then I remembered that A: that window isn’t open, and B: it doesn’t have curtains. Then a woman’s floating figure in a nightgown starts floating across that other room towards my doorway. I was frozen in place in fear. Then she does the typical “fly at you with a scary look on her face” thing, and I freaked out and woke up. Inspected the place and saw it was empty. I chalked it up to sleep paralysis and ignored it.
Cue a couple of months later – I moved my bed in the room. It was now next to the heating duct which connected all three floors – old school style cast iron vent cover was on the wall about knee height. Probably 12″ by 12″. I start to hear my name being called out in the night. I thought it was someone out front at first. I even went out the front door once at 3 am to let the person in the house (thought it was the new guy at work looking for a place to crash), but there was nobody there. This continued for several nights until I realized it was coming from the vent, and it was definitely someone whispering my name.
As things progressed, I started hearing bumping around upstairs. I investigated that apartment several times, and it was wholly unoccupied with no means of getting in (fire code violation, yay) except through the communal hallway (which oddly enough had a door to my bedroom – old converted houses are weird sometimes). One night, I had my partner sleeping over, and she heard the whispering too. We investigated upstairs together and saw nothing. Come down to my room again, and now I’m p*ssed and freaked out. The bumping resumes upstairs, so clearly someone walking around. I grabbed a knife in case it was a hobo or a “friend” f*cking with me or something. I sat on my bedroom floor for the rest of the night listening to someone walk around upstairs. My partner heard it too and was freaked right out with me.
I’m not sh*tting you, I heard the footsteps go across the ceiling towards the stairs. They came down the f*cking stairs to the door that led to the upstairs apartment – which again, was in the communal hallway and was right outside my f*cking bedroom door. I never heard the apartment door open/close, but I heard the footsteps continue all the way down the stairs and then down the hallway towards the stairs that led out front. I’m f*cking p*ssed and full of early 20’s rage and adrenaline that someone dared to f*ck with me (as immature, angry post-teens won’t do), so I opened the door all p*ssed and ready to stab a f*cker and… there was nobody there.
Me and my girl investigated thoroughly and found nobody. The footsteps upstairs stopped. The whispering stopped. Never heard anything or saw anything again.
I moved out a few months later. That place f*cked me up man…”
