I grew up in an old house in Willow Creek

March 2, 2025

by Shana

2 min read

Story Premise 2 min read (374 words)

"I know I’m not the only one who’s been through something like this. Maybe if I tell my story, someone else will understand. I grew up in an old house in Willow Creek, a small town where nothing much happened. The house always had a strange feeling, like you were never really alone, even when […]"

I know I’m not the only one who’s been through something like this. Maybe if I tell my story, someone else will understand.

I grew up in an old house in Willow Creek, a small town where nothing much happened. The house always had a strange feeling, like you were never really alone, even when no one else was there. My mom, a strong believer, always told me, “If you ever feel something bad, just pray, and it’ll go away.”

I was fifteen when the worst of it happened. It was the middle of the night, and I had woken up for no reason. The room was quiet, the kind of quiet that makes your skin crawl. I stared into the darkness, listening. Nothing.

I closed my eyes for a second. And then—it started.

A cold, heavy feeling spread from my feet up to my chest. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. I was awake, but it felt like something was pressing down on me, holding me still. My heart pounded.

I wanted to scream, but no sound came out.

Then, I remembered what my mom always said. I started praying in my head, over and over. As soon as I did, the weight lifted, and I could move again. My body tingled like I had just escaped something terrible.

That wasn’t the only time.

One summer morning, around 11 a.m., I was home alone. My mom was at work. I had just woken up when I saw them—two boys standing in my doorway. One looked about sixteen, the other maybe ten. They just stood there, staring at me.

My breath caught in my throat. My brain told me it wasn’t real, but my body knew it was.

I blinked.

They were gone.

I jumped out of bed, ran through the house, checked the doors and windows. Everything was locked, just like I left it.

Later, my sister told me that in the same room where I had been sleeping, she once felt her blankets being yanked off her in the middle of the night.

I don’t know who they were. Or what they wanted. But I know one thing.

That house was never empty.

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