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I used to get home from work at about 2 am. The dark street that my home is on used to make me nervous at night. Not really afraid, just....nervous. But now I'm afraid. There are no street lights on the street and everybody is usually in bed at that time of night so there are no lights emanating from other houses. The house is bound by a creek with a row of trees on one side and an old empty house on the other.
Getting out of my truck and walking up to the door, I always got this feeling of being watched and of somebody being behind me. That's what made me nervous. I didn't get that feeling anywhere else at night. Just in front of my house. I would go to the door with my keys still in my hand and the feeling of being watched would intensify until I got into the house and turned on a light. I would often take a look behind me before entering the house just to assure myself that there really wasn't anybody there.
That feeling of nervousness has changed now to one of outright fear. Now I know that there is somebody there. Or.......some thing.
I got home one night at my usual time and as I pulled up to the house the form of a man sprinted across the road just out of reach from my headlights. I could only make out the shadowy sillohuette. I stopped the truck in the road and waited for a minute, the feeling of being watched was very strong. Then I hesitantly parked the truck and got out and scanned the surrounding landscape not wanting to believe it, but knowing deep down inside that my intuition had been correct all along. I took one more look around and then headed for the door with my keys.
I was really scared now with my back to the street and I was having trouble getting the key in the door my hands were shaking so badly. The feeling of being watched was so intense that I feared that somebody had managed to creep up behind me while I wasn't looking. Then it happened. A voice right next to my ear, seemingly, whispered, "Tobin." I whirled around throwing my fist in a back hand that would have knocked out Mike Tyson if it had hit him. It connected with nothing but the frame of the storm door and it banged back on it's hinges. I looked wildly around and caught just a glimpse of the same sillohuette making the cover of the old barn. I managed to get control of myself and made my way into the house.
I turned on nearly every light in the house and made sure all of the doors were locked. But I had the horrible feeling that whatever it was that I'd just experienced was not bound by these things in the same way a normal man is. Questions were racing through my mind. What should I do? Should I call the cops? What was that thing? How did it know my name? Was it all just my imagination? Sleep did not come until daybreak.
I had a gun. A .22 caliber pistol that was an heirloom. It was just a pea shooter, but it still shot straight and I figured it would do the job if needed. The next night as I returned from work and turned onto my street I had it at the ready. There was no sign of the being as I pulled into the driveway and got out of my truck. I stood gun in one hand, keys in the other and took a look around. No sign. I went to the door and the feeling of being watched returned to an over-whelming degree. I slowly turned as if I were on auto-pilot. I didn't feel like I was in control of myself. And there in the middle of the street it stood.
"Tobin," it said. Even though the creature was 40 feet away it sounded like it was right beside me.
"I've got a gun!" I yelled out and I rose the pistol in the direction of the creature. I still could not make out any of the features in the darkness, only the shape. It had the figure of an average man, but there was something unhuman about it.
"Tobin.......need help," was the reply. And it started walking towards me.
"Stay back or I'll shoot!" I said as it closed the distance.
It stopped after it got half way between us and said in it's ghostly whispery voice,"Need help....can't breath." It then turned and sprinted to the old barn. There was no sound as it went. Stunned, I turned and went into the house.
As I lay in bed with the lights on, I had an idea of what I might be dealing with and decided to inquire about the empty house the next day from an old man that had lived on the street for most of his adult life. The old guy had an orchard and a large garden and this time of year he set up a fruit and vegetable stand and sold his harvest to whoever would stop by.
The next day he was out there as usual and I stopped in to buy some apples and to pick the old man's brain. I started by telling him of my curiosity of the old empty house.
"Oh, yeah. The Gallaghers were the last ones to live there, they still own the place, I think, never could sell it after what happened to Johnny."
"What happened?"
"Johnny was their boy. He had some sort of mental illness. Strung himself up in that old barn. He was only in his twenties. Surprised you haven't heard about that, but I guess that was a while before you moved here."
"Well I don't get out much and I work odd hours so I haven't really got a chance to do a lot of talking with the neighbors. Let me ask you something....do you believe in ghosts?
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