The Unsettling Old Armchair

When my cousin and his roommate rented the old house, it came with very little. The previous owners had left behind only one large piece of furniture: a worn velvet armchair. It was a strange chair, and they soon learned it was not entirely normal.

If you sat in it and let your arm rest on the side, you would feel a gentle, persistent push, as if someone was nudging you. But when you looked, no one was there. Any cup or plate placed on its wide arm would slide off and onto the floor, no matter how carefully it was set down.

At night, soft rustling sounds would come from directly beneath the seat. Sometimes, a low, mournful sigh would echo through the room, making everyone jump. My cousin’s roommate, Lara, had to sleep on a mattress in the same room. She woke one night to the feeling of being watched. Peering into the darkness, she saw two faint, glowing points of light under the chair, looking right back at her.