This is the late 80s/early 90s, I was around 6-7 years old.
I am at home with my sister who is 14-15 at the time. We grew up in a small Texas town, everyone knows everybody. We are home alone this particular night, and my folks let my sister babysit me frequently. We always got along due to our age gap.
Anyway, it is about 8pm in the winter (deserts get pretty damn cold) so it is dark and we are in the common room since that is where the TV was. Watching 60-Minutes or 48-hours or Hard Copy or some shit (those 1 hour news pieces on CBS that chronicle large crimes in depth; trafficking, murders, kidnappings and the like. Basically a gritty Lifetime special). This one was a typical story, guy next door that was quiet went on a rampage in his next door neighbor’s house mutilating them and kidnapping their young daughter.
Well, the thing about our house common room is the door leading to the back yard was a large glass door on a wall of floor to ceiling windows. Nothing but blackness beyond it unless you have the back light on (we did not). The front door is on the other side of the room with a small entry-way. This is a solid door, so you cannot see what is beyond it, with a glass storm door on the outside of it.
About 45 minutes into the show, they are talking about the ongoing manhunt for this crazy guy and BAMBAMBAM, front door bangs like crazy. We jump the fuck up and scream like banshees. Dead silence now. The only lights on in the house are the kitchen down the hall from the common room we were in and the light from the TV. We start thinking something on the porch (we had some planters and a rocking chair out there) had simply blown against the door. This was west Texas, crazy strong winds out that way. Well, a minute or two of silence and us holding each other post adrenaline overdose passes. Just when we are about to declare everything is safe we hear the storm door on the outside of our front door close. Fuck. Someone had to have opened that door to be able to bang on the front door like that. Shitshitshit. We are both frozen in the middle of the room on the floor where we had been watching TV. My sister crawls over to the TV and turns it off. It was an old TV, so you had to turn that metal dial to switch it off, which it does with a mildly loud THUNK.
Now it is just us in a room dimly lit by the kitchen light down the hall. I do not remember how much time passed with my frozen and my sister still crouched by the now off TV, but we kept making eye contact then looking at the front door. I remember this part vividly, I am on my knees sitting on my feet and I turn around to look at the back wall of windows and glass door. We hear and I see the back door knob turn, it was locked on the knob but not deadbolted. It rattles slightly as if someone is gently trying the handle. Neither of us make a sound, just held breath. Then BAMBAMBAMBAM loud as all hell someone is trying to force the door open just jerking it back and forth. The whole wall of windows is vibrating violently and I can see with each jerk of the door how my slight reflection gets fuzzy then clear then fuzzy.
My sister flips her shit and screams bloody murder. I am still frozen on the floor. She gets up and basically drags me into her bedroom, slams the door, throws her mattress and anything she can in front of her door. Thankfully she had remembered the phone (one of those ungodly heavy beige plastic long metal antenna portable phones). We still had to direct dial the sheriff there and in her panic didn’t remember the number. She just hit redial on the phone. It was one of her friends and she tells them in broken gasps that someone is trying to get into our house and needs to get there right fucking now (The profanity sticks out here more than anything else, who knows, young brain). I am curled up on the floor and cannot stop shaking. We don’t hear anything else until we see the headlights of my sister’s friend and her parents driving up to the house.
We never did find out who was at the door or why, there were no signs of anything happening but a couple of scuff-marks on the bottom of the back door that we could not remember if they were there beforehand or not. Nothing like that has happened to me or her since, but for damn sure we never forget to lock a door after that.image –Kevin Dooley
Producer’s note: this story is excerpted from Reddit user hobbsit‘s account of what happened.