Common Sense in Trouble

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I read what people write and decided to share my story. I wouldn’t call myself a skeptic, as I’ve heard quite a few strange stories in my life, but I’d never experienced anything like this myself. So I believed them—but never fully realized it.

So, this happened about a month and a half ago. It was a Friday evening (probably the best day in the world), and I got home from work around seven p.m. I live with my wife, but a couple of days before the events I’m about to describe, we had a little quarrel, and she went to her parents’ place to take a break from domestic life. I wasn’t particularly upset about it; on the way, I grabbed some beer, snacks, and borrowed a console with a couple of games from a friend—basically, I stocked up and prepared to relax.

I should note that almost immediately upon getting home, I felt a strange unease. I don’t know what could have objectively caused it; everything seemed fine. Maybe it was a premonition, or maybe Mother Nature was just playing tricks—who knows. But that’s not the main point. Besides, the apathy didn’t last long. After spending some time on humor websites and having a little alcohol, I felt fine again. By then, it was already past ten p.m.

I turned on the console, inserted the first game I found—a crazy racing game—and fell into a childhood-like trance. I don’t know how much time passed, but I was distracted by a sound from the next room. It sounded like a moderately loud *bang*. We have a cat and a kitten, so I assumed they had knocked something over. I went to check—and to scold them a bit so they wouldn’t cause trouble. But in the room, I found neither fallen objects nor animals. The cat was sleeping on the kitchen fridge, as usual, and the kitten was napping on the back of the armchair where I had just been sitting.

Realizing the animals weren’t responsible, I started inspecting the room again: I checked the outlets and switches for short circuits—everything was fine. Then the window—it was closed, the glass intact, and there was no sign of a bird or stone hitting it. I should mention we live on the ninth (top) floor, so it’s hard for anything to be thrown from the ground, and neighbors on the ledge above wouldn’t drop anything either. Honestly, it sounded like the bang came from *inside* the room, not outside.

I scratched my head, shrugged it off, and went back to pretending to be a drunk Schumacher. But less than ten minutes later, I heard another sound from the next room—this time more like a *creak-rustle*. I don’t even know how to describe it, like the sound when furniture is moved briefly across the floor—lasting no more than a second.

At this point, alarm bells went off in my head. I probably froze for a minute, listening—but it was silent. I didn’t really want to check. Gathering courage, I almost ran to turn on the light and started inspecting the scene. Everything was in place on the floor—there couldn’t be hallucinations from the beer! I even checked the closet—nothing unusual.

I didn’t turn the light off again and returned to the now-cold armchair. I lost interest in the game, gave up the beer, and generally felt uneasy being alone at home. It was already past three a.m., and I had run out of cigarettes. Since the area was quiet, I decided to take a walk to the nearest shop and get some fresh air. After all, it was May, and the nights were no longer cold.

My route went through backyards and a narrow alley between residential buildings and a kindergarten—not too dark, but given recent events, I admit I was nervous. I reached the shop without incident, though I jumped a few times at particularly crunchy branches (I’m not a coward, just impressionable). But the trouble started on the way back.

First, a stray dog jumped out from under a fence about three meters away, howling wildly. I don’t know what scared it, but I swear I was more frightened than the dog. Then some cats screeched in the bushes. After this “shock therapy,” my nervous tension returned doubled. But the worst awaited me near my own nine-story building. The area was more open and better lit, and I even began to relax. Then I glanced at my apartment windows…

At that moment, I felt my heart lift in fear—my windows were dark, even though I hadn’t planned to turn off the lights, and it seemed like something was moving in the darkness. On the ninth floor at night, with the lights off, you can barely see anything. My heart skipped a few beats.

Some apartments in the building still had lights on, so a blackout didn’t make sense. I sat by the entrance and smoked. After a while, I started feeling cold, but I absolutely didn’t want to go inside. I’m not a coward, but I’m not the type to go alone into darkness shouting, “Hello, is anybody here?”

Then I realized I had left my phone in my jacket pocket. Twenty minutes later, my friend Lyokha showed up at the entrance (luckily it was the weekend; otherwise, I might have wandered in the direction of three infamous letters). I quickly told him what happened. He laughed, but wanted to help. He brought a flashlight from his car, and I armed myself with my phone’s torch, and we started climbing the stairs, slightly sweaty and out of breath.

Stopping at the door, we listened. I thought I heard a rustle or whisper behind the door, but Lyokha heard nothing and said my nerves were acting up.

Entering the apartment, I first clicked the hallway light switch—no light. Something crunched underfoot—shards of a lightbulb. Later, we found that all bulbs were broken, even those that had been off. In the room that had been making noises all evening, some items were scattered, and there was a strange half-meter circular burn mark on the wall. Even Lyokha got nervous; we grabbed the remaining beer and went downstairs. That’s how we sat in the yard, talking about various unexplained phenomena until dawn.

In conclusion, the electricians found nothing wrong with the wiring. I found the cats hiding behind the kitchen cabinets two days later—alive, but shaken. I patched the wall and cleaned up the mess. I didn’t scare my wife, so only Lyokha and I know about this, and now you do too. I still don’t understand what really happened—natural processes or some otherworldly interference. Almost a month and a half has passed, and nothing like it has happened since. But I try not to spend the night at home alone anymore.

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