It happened not too long ago

This isn’t my own story, but it was told to me by someone I trust. It happened not too long ago, on a quiet autumn evening.

My friend’s Aunt Linda lived in an old house on the edge of town, the kind with creaky floors and a long hallway that always seemed darker than it should be. Years ago, when her son, Jake, was still in high school, something happened that she never could explain.

Jake had a habit, a routine he never changed. Every night, he’d take a quick shower, throw on his old gray hoodie, and head straight to his room. He always left the bathroom light on, though, and his mom would have to turn it off after him.

One night, just like always, she saw him walk out of the bathroom, towel-drying his hair, and disappear into his bedroom. She sighed and went to switch off the light. But the moment she flipped the switch, a voice echoed from the shower, sharp and urgent— “Mom?”

Her breath caught. She turned the light back on and stepped inside. And there, standing under the running water, was Jake. His hoodie was nowhere in sight. His hair was still soaked.

“Why’d you turn off the light?” he asked, looking confused.

Linda’s heart pounded as she slowly backed out of the bathroom. She turned toward his room—the door was wide open. Inside, the bed was empty. There was no sign of the Jake she had seen just moments ago.

She never told him what she saw.

Years later, when she mentioned it to her sister, her sister only shrugged. “Maybe it was just your mind playing tricks,” she said. “Like déjà vu.”

But Linda wasn’t convinced. She had seen something.

And sometimes, late at night, when the house is still, she swears she can hear footsteps in the hall—just before Jake even gets home.