Submitted by Reginald S.
It had been a brutal day at work, and all I wanted was to come home, kick back, and enjoy a quiet evening. My roommates were on the night shift, so I figured I had the house to myself—just me, a frozen pizza, and a cold beer. At least, that’s what I thought.
The moment I walked in, something felt… off. The TV was on, blaring away in the living room. I stood there for a second, trying to remember if I’d left it on that morning, but no—it wasn’t me. Annoyed, I chalked it up to one of my roommates being careless. I muttered something about how they’d end up bankrupting us with the electric bill, then headed to the kitchen to grab a beer.
That’s when I saw it—the stove burner was still on. At that point, I was fuming. Leaving a burner on wasn’t just careless; it was dangerous. I was already rehearsing the rant I’d give them when they got home. But as I turned off the burner and started cooking my pizza, the frustration faded. Maybe they were in a rush. Maybe they’d just forgotten. It didn’t matter—I was tired and ready to relax.
I sank into the couch with my pizza and let the background noise of the TV drown out my thoughts. At some point, I must have dozed off, because the next thing I remember was a loud thump coming from the balcony. Half-asleep, I figured it was probably a stray cat or a raccoon rummaging around the lawn chairs we stored out there. I ignored it and dragged myself to bed.
But I couldn’t stay asleep. About an hour later, another thump woke me up. This time, it wasn’t just annoying—it felt deliberate, like someone—or something—was trying to get my attention. Frustrated, I grabbed the nearest thing I could find—a broom—and stormed toward the balcony. I was ready to chase off whatever was making the noise.
When I stepped outside, the air felt heavier than usual, like the night was holding its breath. The balcony was empty—no animals, no sign of anything that could’ve caused the noise. I leaned over the railing, scanning the area below.
That’s when I saw her.
At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. But no—there she was, standing just below my balcony. A woman. She was staring up at me, completely still, her face partially obscured by a strange fog. Her eyes… they weren’t normal. They were blank, empty, like they were looking through me instead of at me.
My heart was pounding so hard I thought I might pass out, but somehow, I managed to whisper, “Hello?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t even flinch. After what felt like forever, she slowly turned around and walked toward the trees at the edge of the yard. There was no sound—not even the crunch of leaves or the snap of a branch. Just silence. And then she was gone.
I stood there for what felt like hours, trying to make sense of what I’d just seen. Eventually, I locked the door and sat on the couch, staring at the TV I’d left on earlier. I couldn’t bring myself to turn it off.
It’s been months now, and I haven’t seen her again. But I can’t shake the feeling that she was inside the house before I got home—turning on the TV, leaving the burner on. Almost like she wanted me to know she was there.
I still don’t know who—or what—she was. A ghost? A figment of my imagination? All I know is that night left me with a memory I’ll never forget—and a lingering sense that she might one day come back.
