The Tapping in the Night
I’m writing this because I still can’t shake what happened to me one night. My name’s Emily Carter, and I live in Bell Buckle, Tennessee. My bedroom has a glass sliding door that leads to my backyard. Normally, I close the curtains at night, but since no one lives behind me and my dog Milo goes in and out all the time, I often forget. The backyard is quiet, surrounded by woods, so I never think much of it.
One night, I woke to a faint tapping on the glass. I was half asleep and unsure if I was dreaming or awake. After a few moments, I forced my eyes open and glanced toward the door. Nothing. I told myself it was probably just the wind and drifted back to sleep.
Milo Senses Something Strange
Not long after, the tapping returned—tap, tap, tap. This time, I could have sworn it was someone fiddling with the handle. My heart pounded as I debated whether to look. Slowly, I crept toward the glass. The backyard was dark, the trees looming like silent sentinels.
I switched on the backlight, hoping to catch something, anything. But the yard was empty. I closed the curtain and checked the security cameras. They only record when there’s motion, and normally they catch Milo running around or the occasional raccoon. Tonight, there was nothing. Hours passed with no sign of anyone. Relieved, I got back into bed, trying to convince myself it was just my imagination.
The Shadow by the Glass Door
Then it happened again. Tap, tap, tap. This time, I was fully awake. I mustered the courage to pull back the curtain—and froze. A dark figure stood outside my door. No face. No features. Just a shadow shaped like a man.
Milo bolted from the bed, barking furiously and slamming against the glass. I grabbed my phone to call 911, my hands trembling so much I barely tapped the screen. When I looked back, the figure was gone. Just vanished.
No Evidence, Only Fear
The police arrived and searched the yard, the woods, and even the security footage again. Nothing. No footprints, no signs of anyone. They suggested it might have been a shadow or a dream, but I know what I saw. That dark figure was there, watching me, waiting.
Still Watching: Life After That Night
Since then, I never leave the curtain open at night. I can’t sleep in that room anymore, and Milo and I now stick to the couch. Even walking past that glass door fills me with unease. I can still feel it—like it’s waiting, just beyond the glass, ready to come back.
If you live somewhere quiet and alone, take this as a warning: sometimes the things you hear outside are more than just the wind.
