The Man Who Stood Outside My Window for Three Nights

It was the third night in a row I couldn’t sleep. My small apartment was usually peaceful, but lately, something about the stillness of the nights had begun to feel… wrong.

The first time I noticed him was purely by accident. I’d been scrolling on my phone in bed when I heard it — a soft tap on my window. I live on the ground floor, but my window faces the backyard, where only a few people ever walk by. My heart thumped in my chest, but I told myself it was probably a branch or the wind.

I drew the curtain back just a few centimeters. That’s when I saw him.

A man.

Tall, wearing a black hoodie with the hood pulled low over his face. He was standing perfectly still, no movement except the slow rise and fall of his chest. Even from that distance, I could tell he was looking straight at me.

My first instinct was to jump back and lock the window, which I did immediately. Then I grabbed my phone, ready to call the police — but when I looked again… he was gone. No sound of footsteps, no rustle of leaves. Just empty darkness.

That night, I barely slept. I convinced myself it was probably a drunk neighbor or some prankster who’d wandered into the yard by mistake.

The second night, I tried to forget about it. I put on a movie, closed the curtains early, and told myself everything was fine. But at exactly 1:47 AM, I heard the tap again.

This time, it was louder.

I froze. My breathing slowed. My skin prickled with goosebumps. Against every instinct screaming at me not to, I looked through a tiny slit in the curtain.

He was there again.

Same hoodie. Same stillness. Same direction of his gaze — straight at me.

But there was something different this time. His head was tilted slightly to the side, as if he was curious… or studying me. My stomach dropped. I slammed the curtain shut and called the police. They told me they’d send a patrol car, but when they arrived, he was gone.

I remember the officer’s words clearly: “Could’ve been a shadow, ma’am. Happens more often than you’d think.”

But I knew shadows didn’t wear hoodies. Shadows didn’t stand in the same spot two nights in a row.

By the third night, I was beyond tired. My nerves were frayed, my hands shook at the smallest sound. I kept all the lights on, thinking maybe the brightness would scare him off. I even kept a kitchen knife by my bed — ridiculous, I know, but it made me feel slightly safer.

Then, right on schedule… tap.

I didn’t want to look. My whole body screamed not to. But something inside me needed to know if he was still there.

I inched toward the window, barely pulling the curtain aside.

My blood ran cold.

He wasn’t just looking at me anymore.

He was smiling.

A wide, unnatural smile that stretched too far. His teeth gleamed in the dim light, and his head twitched slightly, like he was trying not to laugh.

My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I backed away slowly, grabbed my phone, and dialed the police with trembling hands.

Before the call could connect, there was a sudden noise — not a tap this time, but a slow dragging sound along the glass, like fingernails scraping. Then… silence.

I didn’t look again. I sat in the corner of my bedroom, clutching the knife, waiting for the police to arrive.

When they did, they searched the backyard and found… footprints. Large, muddy ones, leading right up to my window. They circled my apartment. Then they disappeared into the woods behind the building.

The officer told me to “be cautious” and “keep my windows locked.” That was it.

It’s been weeks since then. I moved my bed to the opposite wall and never open the curtains at night. But sometimes, when the world is quiet and the air feels heavy, I swear I can still feel him… watching.

And every night, I wonder if he’s counting down to the next time he’ll tap.