Someone Outside Another Story

It was last year. Middle of October. I was staying out at my aunt’s place for a bit after she passed. Big old farmhouse out in Washington state, middle of nowhere, all woods and winding gravel roads. No Wi-Fi. No cell signal unless you were halfway up the hill. Perfect place to clear your head, or lose it entirely.

I’d gone up there to help sort out her belongings, maybe list the place to sell. Place had been in our family for three generations, but it hadn’t been lived in full-time for years.

Anyway. It was a stormy night. I remember that specifically because the power had gone out around 8 PM, and I was using candles and a little battery lantern to see around. I was sitting in the kitchen, reading one of her old cookbooks out of boredom, when I heard what I thought was gravel crunching.

Now, the driveway’s long. Real long. You’d hear a car coming from half a mile away. But this? It was slow. Uneven. Like someone walking... but dragging something behind them.

I figured maybe it was an animal. A deer or something. So I grabbed the lantern and stepped out onto the porch.

And that’s when I saw him.

Standing just beyond the fence at the edge of the yard. Barefoot. Soaking wet. Wearing a white shirt clinging to his frame, pants too short like they weren’t his. His arms hung too low. Like his shoulders were dislocated or something. And he was just staring.

Not at the house. At me.

Now, listen—I grew up in the city. Homeless folks, addicts, mentally ill—I’ve seen my share of rough situations. I’ve helped where I could. But this? This didn’t feel like that. This didn’t feel like a man in trouble. This felt like something pretending to be a man.

I called out—“Hey, you okay? You lost?”

No answer. Just that same stare.

I got this tight feeling in my chest. Like I was being pulled toward him but also screaming inside to go back inside and lock the doors.

Then he started walking.

Not quickly. Not threateningly, even. Just slowly, like he had all the time in the world. One foot. Then the next. And still... dragging something.

I stepped back into the house and slammed the door. Locked the deadbolt. Peered through the side window.

He was at the gate now. Still staring. Still soaked. And that’s when I realized—

He wasn’t blinking.

Not once.

Ten minutes passed. Maybe more. He didn’t move. I sat on the floor with my back to the door, holding a fireplace poker like it would make a difference. The storm outside picked up, wind howling, rain beating the windows. I thought, Maybe the storm brought him in. Maybe he’s just confused. Maybe he’ll leave.

Then the knocking started.

Except it wasn’t at the front door.

It was at the window.

Three sharp taps. Not urgent. Just... firm.

I didn’t want to look. I really didn’t. But I turned my head just enough to see the window above the sink. And there he was.

Face pressed against the glass.

Smiling.

No—grinning. Ear to ear, way too wide, like he’d split open just to do it. And his eyes were... empty. Like marbles. Glossy. No light in them.

And his hand—his fingernails—were all chipped and black. Like he’d been clawing at something hard. Something alive.

I ran upstairs. Locked myself in the guest room. Barricaded the door with the dresser. I didn’t sleep. Just sat with my back against the wall, holding my phone, praying for even one bar of signal.

Somewhere around 3 AM, everything went quiet. Storm stopped. No more knocking. No footsteps.

At dawn, I checked every window. He was gone.

But there were muddy footprints—bare feet—around the entire house. Circling it. Over and over. Like he’d walked around all night, just waiting for something.

That was the last night I stayed in that house. I left that morning with what I could carry and never went back. Ended up selling it to a developer who bulldozed the whole thing. Good riddance.

I don’t know what that thing was. I don’t care if it was a ghost or a demon or something that crawled in from the woods wearing a dead man’s skin.

But sometimes, when it rains... and the power goes out... and the house gets real quiet...

I think I hear it again.

That dragging sound.

And three slow knocks.