The Night Visitor in Our Home

My sister and I are sure our apartment has a presence. Our grandmother, who lives with us, notices nothing out of the ordinary.

Last week, my sister was in bed when she heard a soft rustling, like a silk dress moving across the floor. She kept her eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. A deep chill settled over the room, and she felt the lightest touch, as if someone was carefully straightening her blanket. When the rustling sound faded, she opened her eyes. The room was completely empty.

Two nights later, it happened again. The same rustling approached. The air grew cold once more. This time, her pillow was gently fluffed. She waited, then quickly looked toward the door. Nothing was there.

We often notice the rocking chair in the living room moving by itself and small trinkets being neatly rearranged. We don’t believe this presence means any harm. It seems caring, like a guardian, making small adjustments while we sleep.