My parents bought a house when I was 10 years old after living in an apartment since I was born. I was so excited, it was right near the school, my friends all lived within a relatively close range, and summer had just started. It was perfect. We moved our things in over the course of about two weeks before we finally moved in.
After ordering pizza and playing games to celebrate our first night in the new house, it was time for bed. Being 10 years old, I had severely underestimated how creeped out I would be with living in a whole new environment. When I first laid down, I could have worn I saw the slihouette of a man outside my window, but upon closer inspection there was nothing. Nonetheless, I fell asleep rather quickly. I was awoken at around 2am by a loud thud that came from under my room. Of course this scared me so much I couldn’t even go get my parents to alert them. I sat in my bed as I listened to a scratching noise that seemed to be coming from the floor itself and the sound of things being moved around.
I eventually rationalized that it was my father down there organizing some things, and just reasoned away the fact that it was so late. The noises went on for about another hour before abruptly stopping around 6am. I went back to sleep until about 7:30. The following morning over breakfast I asked what my parents were doing downstairs in the middle of the night. They looked at each other and said they had no idea what I was talking about. I let it go and figured I must have been dreaming. Even so, my dad checked the basement and didn’t find anything strange, which helped put me at ease.
My dad left for work, and I stayed at home for the day with my mom. Together we went in the basement and organized some of the many boxes we had thrown down there during the move. Everything went fine, and we eventually left to go out to lunch. My dad got home from work and we ate dinner, all watched some TV together, and eventually went to bed. At about 11pm, I heard the sound of things moving around down there, then scratching again; this time it was even louder than the night before. I turned and put my face to the wall, trying to fall asleep over the noise.
After about 10 minutes the scratching stopped, and what sounded like random fumbling could be heard, and it sounded like it was coming from inside my room. I was absolutely terrified. I suddenly felt a pair of hands grab me on my upper shoulder and my thigh, and squeeze tight, as if trying to get a grip to pull me away. Just then, my father burst in my room asking what the hell I was doing in there that was causing so much noise. I felt the vice-like grips release from my arm and leg, and I tried turning around. For literally a split-second, I saw two features: bright green eyes and a big smile. It disappeared from my sight, and I heard things move below me. My father yelled louder than I’d ever heard him be before and grabbed me out of my bed. He basically tossed me in their room with my mother and closed the door behind him.
I remember not knowing what was going on. I just remember being more scared than I’d ever thought possible. Eventually the police came and asked me more questions than I’d ever been asked before.
Apparently, someone had gained access to our basement through a window with a broken lock. He had spent the prior two nights cutting and sawing through the floor of my room next to my bed, and once he had made his way through, attempted to grab me from my bed, where he would presumably take me to the basement and out through the open basement window. The first night, my parents must have simply been in too deep of a sleep to have heard the cutting. The second night, my dad was still awake reading when it all began. He got fed up with the noise and was coming into my room to yell at me for not being in bed, but instead saw the back of the top half of a man with dirty, ratty hair in a tattered tuxedo with his hands on me.
As soon as my dad stepped foot in the room, the man let go of me and dropped back into the basement, never to be seen again. The next day, we packed up our belongings and moved across town. My parents decided that after such a traumatizing event, there was no way we were staying in that house anymore, and I don’t blame them. I often wonder if they caught the man who tried to take me. I wonder if he was ever successful.
I wonder who he was and what he would have done to me if he was successful that time.