“Here we are!”

 The car shuddered to a stop, letting out a groan. The two front seat doors flew open and a young, ecstatic couple jumped out. The girl laughed and ran up the steps with her husband on her heels. After a few minutes of fiddling with the keys, the man pushed the door open and they both gasped. 

“Oh wow… it’s beautiful!” They took in the authentic old fashioned, intricate furniture and dark green patterned wallpaper of the Victorian era house. The dark brown stairs in front of them, the curtains on the windows, the giant chandelier dangling from the ceiling - it was all perfect. A million different colors jumped out at them, and they were in awe that this was really their new house. Suddenly breaking them out of their trance, a crash sounded from upstairs. 

Jumping, the woman said “John? What was that?”

“I don’t know…” John muttered. They started hesitantly walking towards the noise, but when they checked the upstairs rooms, there was nothing amiss. After looking around the room for a few minutes, John said “I guess it was nothing. Probably just the house settling.”

 The wife reluctantly nodded her head and the two walked around, exploring the house. 

“Wow, this house really is so beautiful. I wonder why it was so cheap.”

“I don’t know, but it's a good thing we found it. I thought we would never be able to afford such a nice house.” John replied. 

A few hours later…

Upstairs, Christie stood by the dresser in the bedroom with an open suitcase on the floor next to her. The bedroom was big, with huge windows decorated with floral print curtains, over - the - top wallpaper, and a bed with a huge canopy. She had spent the last hour and a half wiping down all of the furniture, trying to clean off the dust that had accumulated over the years. There was surprisingly very little dust, almost like someone had been keeping it clean this whole time. But supposedly, no one had cleaned for the past 50 years.

“Christie! Come down for dinner!” John shouted from the kitchen. It had white walls with  dark red wood cabinets and a small wooden island in the middle of the room. A minute later, Christie. came running downstairs.

“Ooh, pasta! And it looks like there’ll be enough leftovers for tomorrow too.”

“How do the rooms look upstairs?”

As she took a seat, Christie said “They’re actually in great condition. I didn’t see any rats or cobwebs, and nothing seems broken, I think.”

“Oh, nice. I’m so excited for tomorrow! We’ll get to explore the new town, and go to one of those restaurants we saw.” 

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot about that! I was thinking we could go to that Italian restaurant?”

“Ok, sounds good! I’m done eating, I’m gonna go take a shower.”

 John got up and scraped the leftover food off his plate into the trash, and walked upstairs to the bathroom. Christie pushed her chair out from under the table and stood up. She grabbed a glass container and put the rest of the pasta into the fridge for later.

In the middle of the night, Christie woke up drenched in sweat. The room was still, only the sound of John’s steady breathing besides her. So then why did she feel so on edge? Her heart was racing, her stomach churning, and she was burning up under her pajama shirt. She rolled over to check her alarm clock. 3:33 am. Trying to relax, Christie closed her eyes and tried to forget about her growing feeling of unease.

The sun was shining through the window, the sounds of birds singing floating through the air. It was the perfect day in his new house. The smell of pancakes wafted through the air from downstairs. Stretching and yawning, John sat up and walked downstairs. 

“Hey, babe! Good morning.”

“Hi, sweetie, I made pancakes!”

They took their seats at the table and started eating.

“Did you hear anything weird last night?” Christie asked nonchalantly.

“No, why?”

“Oh, nothing. I just woke up last night with a weird feeling.”

“Probably just because we’re in a new house. Sometimes it takes a while to get used to a new place.”

“Yeah, that’s probably just it. You’re right.” Christie tried to get herself to believe the words coming out her mouth, but she knew they weren’t true. She never had trouble getting used to a new house, and besides, that feeling couldn’t have just been because of a new setting.

…

Later that day, the front door burst open, and a smiling Christie and John walked in. They had just gotten back from a fun day out in the nearby shopping center. They walked upstairs to change into more comfortable clothes and shower. Half an hour later, they came back downstairs and took their seats on the couch in front of the TV.

“You know, we ate dinner a while ago now. I’m kinda hungry. I’ll go get some of the pasta from last night.” Christie said. 

John sat down on the couch, while Christie walked into the kitchen. With bleary eyes, she opened the fridge and started looking for the pasta. Frowning, she rummaged through the fridge again. There wasn’t that much food in the fridge, because they had just moved in; it’s not like the container could’ve been hiding somewhere. But she could’ve sworn that she had put the pasta in the fridge last night.

“Hey, John? Did you do something with the pasta?”

“No, why?”

“It’s not here. I remember putting it in the fridge last night, but now it’s not here!” John entered the kitchen and stood next to Christie, both of them now frowning and confused.

“Ummm… It’s really not here. That’s so weird.” John muttered.

“I’m creeped out… this house is giving me a bad feeling.”

“Hey…don’t say that. Maybe you accidentally threw it out last night, or maybe one of us did something with it and forgot.”

“John, I know I put it in the fridge!”

“Let’s stop talking about this. Let’s just go and watch a movie.” Christie sighed and followed John back to the living room.

…

Later that night, Christie woke up again with the same sick feeling in her stomach. She rolled over and checked the alarm clock again. 3:33 am again. A wave of fear washed over her - this really didn’t feel right. She gagged, and, feeling vomit creeping up her throat, ran to the bathroom. Once she had gotten the vomit out of her system, she sat kneeling on the bathroom floor and leaning over the toilet, waiting a few minutes to recover. 

What was that sound? She yanked her head up, suddenly alert.

“John? Is that you?” She heard soft footsteps. She hesitantly got up and wiped her mouth. Slowly twisting the door open, she peered out into the hall. 

“John?” She said again in a timid voice.

No reply. There was nobody there. It must’ve just been her imagination - that’s all it was.

Looking around the corner one more time, she quickly walked back to the bedroom and got into bed again. She only hoped she didn’t wake up again tomorrow night.

The next morning, John had already left by the time Christie woke up. It was his first day at his new job. Christie made breakfast for herself, and then went upstairs to take a shower. She had bought a new shirt yesterday, and was excited to wear it. She folded it neatly and placed it on the sink in the bathroom. Humming, she turned on the water and hopped in the shower. She washed her hair with shampoo and conditioner, and scrubbed her body down with a soapy washcloth. Once she was done in the shower, she wrung out her dripping wet hair and dried down herself with a towel. She reached for her shirt on the sink counter, only to realize it wasn’t there. 

Her heart skipped a beat. She was certain she had put the shirt down on the counter. She remembered picking out a shirt, seeing it hanging up in her closet, and deciding to wear it. She remembered folding it and putting it next to the sink. So why was it not there?

With shaking hands, she grabbed her phone and pressed the “call” button next to John's name. The phone wrang a few times and then:

“Hi, this is John. Sorry I missed your call-”

“John! Answer your phone! I think somebody is in our house! I put my shirt on the table and now it's not here… I’m really scared. Please call me back soon.”

In the bedroom, Christie retraced her steps, but there was nowhere else she could’ve put the shirt - it had disappeared. She rubbed her forehead, and gave up. Maybe it would turn up eventually. It felt like the walls were closing in on her. She didn’t like being pent up inside all day. She decided to get some fresh air and walked into the backyard, where she sat on her phone for the rest of the day, waiting for John to get back. 

Later, at 5 pm, Christie heard John calling her name, but his voice sounded panicked and worried. 

“I’m in the backyard!” Christie yelled. 

John opened the backyard door and said, “Christie? Why was the front door open?”

“What? It wasn’t.”

“No, it definitely was. It was wide open!”

“But that’s impossible. I didn’t even go into the front yard today.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes! I'm pretty sure I can remember what I did today!” She replied sarcastically.

“I heard your voicemail. I tried calling you back, but you didn’t answer. You seem to be really forgetful lately - have you been getting enough sleep?”

Caught off guard, Christie said “What? Are you serious? That’s all you think this is? That I’m not getting enough sleep? I’m not crazy! I don’t know what’s happening, like with the pasta and my shirt disappearing, the door open, those footsteps I heard last night and waking up every night at 3:33-”

“Hold on, what do you mean footsteps?”

“Last night I woke up at 3:33, like I did the first night we were here, with a really sick feeling in my stomach. I also vomited. But when I was in the bathroom, I heard footsteps walk past, but nobody was there when I went to check.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I just didn’t get a chance yet.” 

“I’m worried about you. You’ve been acting so weird ever since we moved to this house.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why, but this house just doesn’t feel right to me.” John walked over to give Christie a hug.

“Hey, it’s okay. Whatever’s going on, I’m sure it’s only temporary.” Christie wasn’t done talking about the open front door, but it was clear John had moved on. But she did realize how he never actually said that he believed her.

…

With a gasp, Christie woke up drenched in sweat in the middle of the night. But then out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow dart out of the room. Suddenly paralyzed with fear, her mind raced through the possibilities. Was this house really haunted? Were they being robbed? Was that person watching her while she slept?

She tried to shake John awake, but he was too deep asleep. So instead, she walked out into the hallway, her breath coming in uneven bursts. She crept along the hallway, trying to find where the mysterious shadow had gone, when she heard something. 

It was footsteps again, but this time, they were coming from the floor above her. Except she was on the second floor, and there was no third floor - or so she thought.

When she entered the guest bedroom, she saw a secret attic door dangling from the ceiling. Whimpering, she walked under the door and peered up into the darkness.

There was a pair of eyes staring back at her.

A disheveled man stared at her from the attic with a terrifying grin on his face, and before she could let out a scream for help, he jumped down and covered her mouth with his hand and dragged her back into the attic, where she was never seen again.