I spent last night editing and retouching photos of models Hilda wanted me to work on and send them in as soon as possible since the office will be closed for the Holidays. Rosamunde kept me company. She was reading one of her boring and cliché romantic novels while some of my favorite music played on my record player and wood cracked in the chimney. This relaxing moment was immediately disrupted by multiple knocks on my apartment door. I looked at my sister and we both exchanged a surprised and suspicious look. It was 2 A.M.
I stayed seated while she went to see who it was. She looked through the peephole and said there was no one. We didn’t make much of it, and she came back and sat down on the couch. Then we heard a louder knock, almost a bang. I got up and rushed to the door, but even within a couple of seconds I still didn’t manage to make it in time to see who was behind my door. However, I did see someone’s shadow disappear on the left side of the corridor and heard feet shuffling so I unlocked the security chain and reached for the doorknob to try and see who was outside, but Rosamunde immediately asked me not to open the door and dragged me back inside the living room. She became extremely nervous and I, frustrated and curious to who that stranger was. Within half a minute, we heard someone trying to break in by aggressively turning the knob. Luckily for us, the door was still locked so there was no way the person could’ve entered the apartment. Rosamunde’s heavy breathing escalated at this point I could very clearly hear it, and she started to freak out. She turned off the lights in the living room and demanded I shut down the music. I did so, and at this point, the stranger was back to calmly knocking on the door. I slowly walked towards it as she watched. Once again, he was gone as soon as I took a peak inside the peephole. I rushed to the telephone and called the concierge with no response. Rosamunde suggested we call the police, but I preferred to wait before making such a drastic move.
The idea that we had just experienced a paranormal event crossed my mind. The building I live in was built back in the 1950s, and I’m pretty sure someone had tragically died in it at some point. The only way to be sure was to go down to the front desk in the morning and ask the concierge to show us the security camera footage to conclude whether or not an intruder was indeed trying to break into my apartment.
As I paced around my living room for a couple of minutes and wrapped up all of my work, I heard a very short but heart-stopping scream come from my bedroom. I rushed inside and found my sister standing next to my bedroom window with her back against the wall.
“There’s someone out there”, she said.
I slowly walked towards my window and looked down, and there he was; a tall man wearing a black hat and long black overcoat. He was walking outside the building as if he was leaving. I was totally caught by surprise when he unexpectedly turned and looked up at my window; that immediately sent chills down my spine and I stepped away as soon as he did so. When no more noise came from outside, I crept over the window again assuming it was safe for me to take another look, but I was wrong. He was still standing there, head right up and fixated on my bedroom window. Although I couldn’t properly see his face, I could feel some sort of malice in it. Seconds later, he slowly turned and walked away.
The next day, as me and Rosamunde headed out for breakfast, we stopped by the front desk to see whether or not the concierge had seen someone come inside the building. He said he didn’t so we asked if we could see the surveillance footage. The man who we’ve mistaken for a woman got in through the backdoor leading to the parking garage. There was no actual physical break-in. She knew the combination which made us question whether or not she lived in the building. That theory was thrown out of the window when we closely watched her behavior as she looked and walked around, which proved she was entering the premises for the first time. We couldn’t identify her because of her hat. We called he police and asked them to investigate but there was nothing they could do about it because there were no fingerprints and no damage was done. The identity of the teasing, creepy woman was to remain, but I knew that in case she decides to strike again, I’ll be ready for her.
Felix Eberstark 