The Hallway Dweller

My mother is a very weak person, both physically and psychologically. Because of this, she often spends time in hospitals for rehabilitation. I was left home alone from a young age, and, as usual, I didn't experience any fears associated with the dark or loneliness. It's just that our apartment, they said, was haunted—the previous owner died under strange circumstances, and there's a cemetery nearby. However, this hadn't manifested itself in any way before, although maybe I just don't remember.

The events I want to describe took place last winter. My mother was hospitalized again, and I lived alone. I don't remember exactly, whether from the first days or a little later, but my nights became quite restless.

When I first heard knocking in the hallway, I tried with all my might to convince myself it was some night owl on the stairs or in the neighboring apartment. And then I distinctly heard this "someone" running down the hallway in my apartment, and it seemed like they were on all fours. You can't imagine how scared I was, even though I'm not a coward.

Then, night after night, it happened again—I lay there, barely alive with fear, only falling asleep when I was completely exhausted, and for some reason, I didn't say anything to anyone. Meanwhile, the "hallway dweller" gradually grew bolder: I could hear things falling in the hallway, someone rubbing against the door, and he began to scurry around so much that it seemed like a race was taking place in my hallway at night.

After a week and a half, I gradually began to get used to it: I began to feel that even if someone was there, they wouldn't touch me. And then it stopped. Just as suddenly, and without warning. A year passed, but nothing like that happened again.