A soft noise from upstairs

February 24, 2025

by Diana

2 min read

Story Premise 2 min read (396 words)

"When I was 15, I babysat a lot for families in my neighborhood. One couple, Mr. and Mrs. Harris, lived just a few houses down. They had three foster kids, and we were close enough that I called them Aunt and Uncle, even though we weren’t really related. It was an ordinary afternoon. I had […]"

When I was 15, I babysat a lot for families in my neighborhood. One couple, Mr. and Mrs. Harris, lived just a few houses down. They had three foster kids, and we were close enough that I called them Aunt and Uncle, even though we weren’t really related.

It was an ordinary afternoon. I had just come home from school when my mom got a panicked call from Mr. Harris. She ran out the door immediately. An ambulance was already on the way. Mrs. Harris wasn’t breathing. That night, we found out she had passed away suddenly from a stroke. It was a shock to everyone.

I kept babysitting for Mr. Harris after that to help with the kids. It felt strange without Mrs. Harris in the house.

One night, about two weeks later, I was babysitting again. I had just put the kids to bed and was watching TV. The house felt too quiet, too empty. I never liked being alone in the dark, but that night, the feeling was worse.

Then, I heard something. A soft noise from upstairs.

The baby’s room was at the end of the hall. I heard a quiet whimper, like a little cry. Thinking the baby had woken up, I went upstairs. I turned right at the hallway and stepped into the room. I didn’t turn the light on, but the hallway light cast a faint glow inside.

That’s when I saw her.

Mrs. Harris.

She stood by the crib, looking down at the baby. She wasn’t solid—her body looked hazy, like smoke in the air. A pale, glowing white.

Then she turned.

She looked right at me.

I wanted to move, to scream, to run—but I couldn’t.

After a long moment, she turned away and floated through the closet door. I gasped, then forced myself to step forward. With all the courage I had, I yanked open the closet door.

Nothing.

She was gone.

Heart pounding, I ran downstairs, grabbed the phone, and called my mom. She came over right away and stayed with me for the rest of the night.

I believe Mrs. Harris wasn’t ready to leave. She had loved those kids, and even in death, she came back to check on them.

But that night? That night terrified me in a way I’ll never forget.

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