The Figures in the Old House

When I was ten, my family moved into my great-aunt’s house after she passed away. From the first night, I felt uneasy in my bedroom, as if unseen eyes were always on me.

One evening, I woke up needing a drink and saw a tall, greenish shape near the door. It had a rough, earthy texture, like carved stone. My father later mentioned he once saw a tall, grey form in the hallway, also looking like it was made of stone.

Another time, my mother was reading in the living room while my father napped upstairs. He came down later and asked why she had been standing silently by his chair. She insisted she had never left the living room. My father, a practical man, just shrugged and said he must have been dreaming.

Sometimes, when I was alone in the kitchen, I would hear muffled conversations that didn’t sound like my parents’ voices. Once, it was so clear and close it made me jump and spill my glass of water.