Milk and cookies

I decided to share a story—not exactly scary, but rather strange and incomprehensible. I live in a three-room apartment. Lately, I've been noticing strange creaking and rustling sounds in the house, but no matter how hard I tried to find the source, I couldn't. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that it was a brownie. After reading online that in such cases, you should leave a saucer of milk and cookies on the kitchen counter overnight, I left the food on the counter. There were no rustling sounds that night, but the next day (the milk and cookies were still there), I woke up to the usual commotion in the kitchen. I decided to check what was going on. I turned on the kitchen light and was stunned: the milk was gone, and so were the cookies. I turned on the lights in all the rooms and stayed up until morning.

A few days later, while recovering, I finally decided to see who or what was eating all this—curiosity got the better of me. So imagine this: a thirty-year-old man sits down in the pantry at night, waiting for a "guest." The moonlight illuminated the kitchen, and from my "position," a glass of milk and a plate of cookies were clearly visible.

I'd been sitting there for two hours, thinking about getting out, when I heard someone moving around in the kitchen. I peered closer and froze in fear: something the size of a child was standing at the table, eating! I couldn't make out any details—in the moonlight, it looked like a dark silhouette. I flinched in fear, and the pantry door slammed against the frame. The nighttime visitor turned sharply in my direction, and then I couldn't take it anymore—I bolted out of the pantry and, like a cowardly teenager, ran into my room and pulled the blanket over my head, staying under it until dawn. And in the morning, when I walked into the kitchen, I saw a half-eaten cookie—tiny teeth marks still visible.

 To this day, I sometimes leave food on the table overnight, but, alas, nothing happens.