Sorry for the long story but I hope you all find it a good read :)
I also made a image for EPVP for Halloween
I hope you guy enjoy the story and the Image!
[Only registered and activated users can see links. Click Here To Register...]
I had just moved into a new apartment, my first place on my own. It was a small studio in an older building, but I loved the idea of having my own space, my own routine. The place had quirks—creaky floors, thin walls, that sort of thing. But it felt cozy, like my own little haven. The first week went by smoothly, but then I started noticing odd things. At first, it was just small stuff—a cabinet door open that I swore I’d closed, my keys turning up in places I didn’t remember leaving them. I brushed it off as me just being forgetful; moving had been stressful, after all. But then things got weirder. One night, I came home late from work, and as I unlocked my door, I felt a strange sense that something was… off. The air felt stale, almost like someone had been in there for a while. My gut told me to leave, but I ignored it. I turned on the light and everything looked normal, so I went about my evening, though I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had been there. A few nights later, I woke up in the middle of the night to a strange noise, like someone moving around. It was faint but enough to wake me. I froze, holding my breath, listening. The sound was coming from the closet. My heart was pounding, but I convinced myself it was just my imagination. I checked the closet, looked under the bed, and when I didn’t find anything, I went back to sleep… eventually. But the noises continued. Each night, they got a little louder, a little more distinct. I started double-checking my locks, even wedging a chair against the door. I knew it sounded paranoid, but I was getting seriously creeped out. I was sure I was alone, yet every night, I felt watched. One evening, I came home late and found my front door slightly ajar. I’d locked it that morning, I was certain of it. My heart raced as I stepped inside. Nothing looked out of place, but I felt that same chill, like someone had been there. I decided to set up my PC cam to record while I slept, just to put my mind at ease. The next morning, I hesitated to watch the footage, but I forced myself to. For the first few hours, everything was normal—me tossing and turning, the usual sounds of the old building creaking. Then, around 3 a.m., I saw it. My closet door slowly creaked open, inch by inch. A figure stepped out—tall, thin, moving in the shadows. My heart felt like it stopped as I watched him step out, stand at the foot of my bed, and stare down at me. He stayed there for almost an hour, barely moving, just watching me sleep. Finally, he slipped back into the closet, closing the door as quietly as he had opened it. I didn’t go back to that apartment. I called the police, and they found evidence that someone had been living in the attic, sneaking down through a small crawl space that connected to my closet. To this day, I can’t shake the thought of how many nights he was there, watching me sleep without me ever knowing.