An Uninvited Guest

I'll tell you a story that's not particularly scary, but it's true, something that actually happened to me.

In the summer of 2008, I was sitting at home alone. It was well past midnight, and my parents were at their dacha. The local administration, as usual, had skimped on lighting, and my residential area was completely unlit—except for the moonlight. But I live in Yakutsk, where we have white nights, so it's not particularly dark at night in the summer, and in June and July, it's as bright as day. But it was August, and the street at night looked a little scary without the lighting.

So, I was sitting at the computer watching a movie when I suddenly heard loud footsteps in the entryway, like someone very heavy slowly climbing the stairs. I paused the movie and went quiet. For some reason, I immediately felt scared—no thoughts like, "Oh, no problem, the drunk neighbor coming home again," came to mind.  All I heard was the pounding of my heart and those heavy footsteps.

But I really felt unwell when those footsteps stopped outside my door. All sorts of horror stories and campfire tales about "uninvited guests" came flooding back to my mind. The owner of the heavy steps started knocking on my door, in the same manner as he walked—heavily, slowly, and with equal frequency. Holding my breath, I prayed for him to go away. Soon he stopped knocking, and I heard footsteps gradually moving away from my door and down the stairs.

My heart sank. After waiting another minute, I crept to the window to make sure he was gone. But there he was—standing near the porch, looking straight at me. Straight into my eyes. I didn't look at him, so I won't write here "it was something terrible, blah-blah-blah"—no.  But a quick glance was enough to tell he was perfectly ordinary-looking—long jacket, dark pants, boots—half the city was like him. Nevertheless, the moment I met his gaze, I was terrified out of my wits. There was something about him that still makes me afraid to look outside at night. I know it sounds clichéd, but after such incidents, it really does take away all desire to peer into the darkness...

And the next morning, I left for my parents' dacha.