9. I heard boots down the hall and a light switch flicking
“When I was 10 my family and I moved into an old Victorian house. It wasn’t too weird overall, but the first day I was alone in there I had quite a memorable experience.
My dog and I were left home alone while my sister went with our parents on an outing somewhere. My dog was a hald-shepherd half-godonlyknows with a temper problem and what would’ve been balls of steel if he weren’t neutered. He was my best buddy.
We were still unpacking so I went downstairs to the basement to move a few things, and Dog came with me. That didn’t strike me as weird, I figured he wanted to explore too, but he stuck right by me the whole time. While we were down there I heard footsteps and voices from above and thought my family had come back–except the voices weren’t theirs, and there was music and laughter, though we hadn’t hooked up the entertainment center yet. I thought it might have been neighbors, but Dog was standing at the basement stairs and I knew he’d heard something too. But it stopped, he relaxed, and we went upstairs.
On the ground floor everything was still dark and my parents were still gone, and there weren’t any neighbors around. But I didn’t think much of it.
I went up to the floor I shared with my sister, which was fairly squared away at this point. The hallway light was on, and so was the lamp in our playroom. I went to the playroom and curled up on my armchair, under the lamp, and Dog went with me.
He jumped up and sat with me while I read, but at some point randomy growled and jumped off the chair and lay down in front of the doorway, facing the hall. I heard footsteps come up the stairs, quiet but heavy, like faraway boots, and under the light fixture they stopped. Something I couldn’t see rested on the one creaky board and rocked it back and forth for a few seconds before turning the hallway light off and on. It wasn’t flickers; I could hear the clicks of the switch.
Dog sat up, growling slightly. I couldn’t see anything in the hallway but there was suddenly a deep chuckle, and the sound of bootsteps hurring down the hall.
Dog flew into a fury and he raged and snarled and snapped and made noises I’d never heard come from any animal. I was scared and tried to go to him but he barked at me and turned his attention back to the door. This continued for a little longer and suddenly stopped.
Dog dropped back to a guarding pose, and then drooped and came over to my chair. He curled up with me and we stayed there until my family came back. He didn’t leave me for the rest of the day. But after that day he never went back to that floor, and no dog since has ever willing gone into the basement.” — GlitterFire
10. The blinds moved all on their own
“I was watching my girlfriend’s house while her and the family went on vacation. I was unemployed and hurting for money. They have two dogs – a big german shepherd and a fat black lab – and her mom paid me to watch them, along with various other gifts and food for the week.
I lug my desktop over there with the intent to game with my friends over the week, stay up for all hours and general be a giant piece of shit for the week and really relax.
In the living room, the rest of the house is behind you. Not my favorite thing.
After relaxing with video games and a big screen TV for a day, the german shepherd starts staring at the bathroom. This dog is VERY protective and loves me. She’s sitting at the foot of the bathroom door, staring directly at the window.
They built a covered deck to the house. The bathroom window originally looked over the yard, but is now just a window to the deck. Kind of creepy in the dark, but I always lowered the blinds.
I see her staring at the window, blinds up, and she’s whimpering. I walk toward the window to close the blinds. Maybe she saw a squirrel or a bat and went into protect mode? As I get closer to the window, she charges around me and stands between me and the window. I try reach for the draw string, the dog jumps up and on me to push me back. Even when she’s up on me, I try to grab for the draw string and she uses her snout to try to push my hand away. I finally close the blinds, and sit back down. The german shepherd remains at the foot of the bathroom door, staring.
And that’s when I hear it. The blinds draw themselves up. Very slooooooowly. At this point the dog is baring its teeth, hair standing on end. I freeze and felt like I couldn’t move. From fear.
I finally get the nerve to stand up and peek inside the bathroom. The blinds are up.
I take one step in to the bathroom, to go lower them again, and they lower. Again, terrifyingly slow. The draw string going up as the blinds go down, but not swaying or dangling. Taut.
I take a step back again. I can’t describe what I felt. It was this terror. Like I had just seen something I can’t rationalize or write off. It’s here, in front of my face, happening. I’m staring. Just in shock. The dog is losing its mind and starts whimpering, but still won’t let me walk forward and stands between me and this damn window.
It starts slowly lowering itself, then raising itself. It seemed like forever. Finally, the blinds just dropped, real quick like, and then nothing.
I didn’t sleep that night, and couldn’t leave the dogs, so I just shut that door, moved a heavy cabinet in front of it, and turned on some funny movies for the rest of the night to try to wash my brain.
I’m sure there’s a million explanations for what happened. But that dog doesn’t spook for ANYTHING (even if german shepherds are notoriously skiddish and paranoid) and in that moment it was just… surreal.” — beareolas