You’re Not Home Alone—You Just Think You Are

This story will make you check your closets. Your vents. Maybe even behind your mirror.
Because what if the real horror isn’t ghosts or demons—
What if it’s someone who’s been with you… this whole time?

It Started With a Sandwich
It sounds dumb, I know. But the first weird thing I noticed wasn’t some scary sound. It was a sandwich.

I made a turkey sandwich one night, left it in the fridge, and went to bed.

Next morning? It was gone. Wrapper still there. No mess. Just… gone.

I live alone.

I thought maybe I was tired. Maybe I ate it and forgot.

But then it happened again.

And again.

The Creeping Feeling
Soon, little things started feeling off.

The bathroom mirror fogged up when I hadn’t showered.

Lights turned on that I swear I left off.

The closet door was open—even though I never use it.

I started to feel like someone was watching me. Not like ghosts or spirits—but like a person.

Like I was being studied.

The Hidden Camera
To prove I wasn’t losing it, I bought a small camera and hid it in the living room. Just to see.

I set it to record overnight.

Next morning, I watched the footage.

At 2:47 a.m., a figure slowly crawled out of the top air vent in the corner of the ceiling.

Yes. Crawled.

A woman. Pale. Thin. Wearing a hoodie.

She dropped silently to the floor. Stretched. Then walked into my kitchen and made a sandwich.

She sat in the dark and ate. Watching the hallway.

Then she crawled back up… and disappeared into the vent.

The Police Didn’t Believe Me
I called the cops.

They checked. Found nothing.

“No signs of forced entry,” they said.

When I showed them the video… the footage was corrupted. Black screen after 2:46 a.m.

They said I was “under stress.”

But that night, I found something in my bedroom vent:

A sock. Not mine.

And a note written in smudged pencil:

“Thanks for the food. Sorry I made noise. You snore.”

She Was Still There
I moved out the next day. I didn’t pack. I didn’t clean. I just left.

Weeks later, I read a local news article:

“Tenant Discovers Woman Living in Ceiling Cavity for Months”

Same building.

Same floor.

They found her bones inside the walls—clutching a camera.

The New Apartment
I found a new place. A newer building. Modern. Bright.
No crawl spaces. No vents big enough for a raccoon, let alone a person.

It was in a different city.

I paid six months in advance. That’s how badly I wanted to forget.

At first, it worked. No knocks. No whispers. No cold spots or foggy mirrors.

Just… silence.

The Static Came First
On my third night, the TV turned itself on at 2:47 a.m.

It played static. Just snow and fuzz.

The volume slowly went up by itself.

When I got up to turn it off, I saw something flash on the screen—just for a split second.

A face.

Her face.

Eyes wide. Mouth open. Crawling toward the camera.

Gone.

She Found Me
The next morning, I found a note on my kitchen counter.

I hadn’t left one.

It was written on the back of a cereal box I had just opened.

“Nice place.”

No One Believed Me—Again
I showed the note to the building manager. He said only I had access to my apartment.

I asked for security camera footage from the hallway.

He pulled it up.

At exactly 2:46 a.m., the hallway lights flickered. The cameras cut out for exactly one minute.

When they came back, my door was closed.

But something was scratched into the wood:

“Let me in.”

He said I did it myself.

I moved a chair under the doorknob that night.

It didn’t help.

She Likes Mirrors Now
I started covering the mirrors.

I knew from the old apartment—she likes watching.

One night, I forgot the bathroom mirror.

At 2:47 a.m., the lights flickered. I heard a thud from inside the wall.

I rushed to the bathroom.

On the mirror, written in toothpaste, were the words:

“I’m not in the vents anymore.”

Below it, something was pressed against the glass.

A handprint. Small. Wet. Inside the mirror.