シャドーイング練習: 4 True Unsettling Home Alone Horror Stories Animated - 動画で英語スピーキングを学ぶ

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It was late September when I moved into the cabin.

When the aspens turned gold, and the air smelled like pine resin in cold earth, I finally found some respite.

After 15 years amid constant noise in the city, the sirens, the hum of traffic, or neighbors, it was silence that I craved.

This cabin was exactly what I needed.

Twelve miles from civilization with no visible neighbors, and the quiet of the sky and forest that could settle into your bones with the amount of peace it produced.

My first few weeks went exactly as I had dreamed.

I fell asleep to the wind nestling through the trees and woke to birdsong, lively chirping in the background.

I also learned to identify all the sounds I heard around me, whether it was the rustle of a deer moving through the underbrush, the screech of a red -tailed hawk,

or the crack of branches settling in the cold.

I sat on the porch with my tea one night just listening to absolutely nothing.

Beautiful to say the least.

Then, the first disturbance.

I came across it on a Thursday mid -October.

It was around 2am when I woke up to the scraping sound.

Something near the back of the cabin.

It wasn't loud, just persistent.

Something dragging against the exterior wall.

I lay there listening, trying to place it and figure out who it was.

But after a few minutes of making the noise, it stopped.

I reasoned it must have been a raccoon or some other animal, maybe a branch swinging in the wind.

I went back to sleep unharmed.

But then it was there again two nights later.

The same exact time, the same exact location.

But this occurrence lasted longer.

This occurrence may have been five minutes, and then it stopped abruptly.

I got up, checking the back door, just to find it was locked shining a flashlight through the window.

But there was nothing except my own reflection in the darkness beyond.

I walked the perimeter in the morning.

Nothing.

No marks.

No fallen branches.

No tracks near the wall at all.

It was the third week in October by the time it started happening every few nights.

It always happened between 1 and 3 a .m., keeping me from a good night's sleep.

Sometimes it was scraping, other times it was a soft thud against the side of the house, and still other times footsteps,

or what sounded like footsteps at least, circling from the back of the house to the side.

I just waited there, hoping that it was nothing, that it was just my mind playing tricks on me.

I listened, I checked, and always nothing.

It had to be animals, I told myself, bears even although I had seen no claw marks or scat,

possibly deer bumping into things or branches I couldn't identify in daylight.

The woods were full of sounds and maybe I just didn't understand some of them yet.

This had to be normal right?

Just had to be adjusting.

But then the sounds started to change.

They started moving closer and closer to the windows.

There was one night in particular when I heard something directly outside my bedroom with a slow, methodical dragging sounding like fabric against glass.

I turned on every light as soon as I could and looked out the window.

There was nothing, just my pale face staring back at me in the black forest beyond.

I even checked the motion sensor light on the porch and it hadn't been triggered.

The sleeping got worse.

I told I told myself during the day that I was just being ridiculous, letting isolation get the best of me.

But it was at night time, lying in the dark, that I heard it.

Footsteps on gravel, a soft creak on the porch step, or a pause at the front door, waiting.

Then one night in early November, I heard it breathing.

It wasn't animal breathing, nor the heavy panting of a dog or the snuffling of wildlife outside.

No, this was measured, controlled, like a human.

It came from just outside my bedroom window, patient, rhythmic, even.

I didn't move because I didn't want to believe that my life was somehow in danger.

And after what felt like an hour, it stopped.

Just as it had appeared, so it ceased to exist.

That's when I found it, the next morning.

A cigarette butt in the gravel just beneath that window.

It was relatively fresh.

I tried to rationalize it.

Maybe it had been there the whole time.

Maybe it was there when I moved in, or from a previous tenant.

But I knew I had raked that area myself about three weeks ago.

And that butt wasn't weathered either.

It had been there recently.

The doors, the windows, the crawlspace entrance.

Everything was locked and secure but small things felt out of place.

There was the chair on the porch I didn't remember moving.

nor the muddy footprints in the back step, which weren't quite my size.

The woodpile looked disturbed, with pieces restacked slightly differently from where I left them.

Time to call the sheriff's office.

The deputy who came out was polite yet skeptical about what I had shared with him over the phone.

He decided to walk the property and check the doors, telling me to get better locks and maybe a security camera.

I've gotta say, you're pretty isolated out here, he mentioned.

It's probably just someone passing through.

Hikers are some homeless folks looking for a warm spot.

He almost made it sound reasonable to me, as if it were comforting.

Fine.

That night I wedged a chair under the front door handle.

And then I wedged another one under the back door, keeping the lights on because I couldn't sleep.

I stayed up what felt like forever.

Then at 2 .47am, I heard the front door handle turn.

It was slow, deliberate even, testing the weight as the chair held its place.

The handle released.

Then I heard the footsteps move around on the side of the house.

They went to the back where the handle turned there too.

Slow and just as careful, the chair scraped against the floor, but it held its place.

I grabbed my keys and phone and stood in the center of the living room, shaking, knowing I was at the mercy of whatever was out there.

The footsteps then moved around to the bedroom window, and I stopped.

Everything went silent, and I waited.

Five minutes, then ten.

I heard it then.

A soft scraping sound that was different than before.

It was metal on metal.

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It was deliberate.

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It was methodical.

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It was the crawlspace door.

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I had checked it before and locked it, but the sound of slow, patient work continued.

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Someone was trying to get underneath the house.

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I didn't wait to see if they would succeed.

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I instantly ran to the front door, shoving the chair aside and getting to my car.

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The motion light flicked on as I exited the cabin, illuminating nothing but empty yard and trees.

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I drove with my headlights off until I reached the main road.

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Then I called 911.

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The sheriff came out with three deputies, searching everything.

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The house, the crawlspace, the surrounding woods, and found that the crawlspace lock had been jimmied but not broken.

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They also found more cigarette butts and footprints that weren't mine.

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They didn't find anyone, however.

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I stayed in town that night and then the next, and on the third day, I decided to go back with a deputy to collect my things.

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While I was packing, I noticed something I had missed before.

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It was a small gap in the back wall of the bedroom closet, barely visible behind my hanging clothes.

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It looked deliberate, as if someone had pried the boards apart just enough to create a space.

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A space a person could fit in if they were patient enough, if they didn't mind, waiting.

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The instant I saw that was the moment I left everything behind except for essentials I already recovered.

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The instant I saw that, that was three months ago.

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I now live in town where there are neighbors, traffic, and light pollution.

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I get better sleep here for the most part.

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However, sometimes, when it's quiet, late at night, I wonder how long that cabin had been someone else's before I moved in.

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How many nights I slept while someone stood in my closet, just waiting, breathing in the dark.

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I wonder if they're still there, waiting in the cabin for someone else.

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Around the time I turned 13, my parents gradually began trusting me with independence.

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One of the first freedoms I was granted was being home alone.

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They always picked me up and dropped me off from school, and if neither of them were home, they hired a babysitter, so I was never alone before.

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One night my parents went on a date without leaving me with a babysitter for the first time ever.

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I was excited as I felt it was long overdue.

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My friends talked about being home alone all the time which made me realize I kind of had helicopter parents.

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Honestly the first hour was disappointing.

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Everything was the exact same only there was nobody in it but me.

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Despite Despite the lack of authority figures around, I still didn't feel like I could break any rules without getting in trouble.

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I thought about doing so earlier, but at the moment of truth, I was too scared.

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Looking back, I think I was self -enforcing on my parents' expectations, like I literally couldn't comprehend the ramifications of being alone,

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but I didn't understand any of that at the time.

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All I felt was this eerie unease.

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I was at home.

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yet somehow in unfamiliar territory.

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Then, I started to doubt if I was even alone.

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As I was standing aimlessly in the living room, I saw a blip of movement at the front door, the same crossing of a shadow that comes right before someone enters or knocks,

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except it was followed by silence.

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On reflex, I went to my tiptoes, like I had nearly been caught sneaking around past bedtime.

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I crept up to the door and looked out the side window.

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I saw the front porch empty just like the rest of the house, save for the cluster of moths bouncing around the porch light.

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To get comfortable I went upstairs to my room.

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I wanted to close my door but even though I knew I could, I didn't.

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I usually wasn't allowed to and I still wasn't ready to go breaking the rules.

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Of course I didn't think it would make a difference since I was home alone.

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Feeling nervous and needing to do something with my hands, I sat at my desk and opened my journal.

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I turned to a blank page, wrote the date at the top, then tried to collect my thoughts about being home alone for the first time.

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I was too anxious to write for what must have been several minutes, but any concentration I might have had was quickly shattered.

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Downstairs, I heard the crack of a door opening.

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I wasn't sure which door it was, though tiny change in air pressure I felt meant it led outside.

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I rushed to my window to see if my parents had come home early, but the driveway was empty.

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Still, I waited for them to call me downstairs, to ask me how my time went.

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I stood in front of my door, still impatient, listening for their voices.

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Instead, after another minute or two, I heard my mother's bathtub faucet spring open.

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It was very distant, but that distinct sloshing roar was unmistakable.

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Mother loved her baths, but she certainly wasn't home.

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So then who the hell was in her tub?

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In a moment of panic, I suddenly felt like I would be trapped in my room, so I quietly made my way down the stairs.

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The sound of the faucet dissipated as I descended, until it was gone as I hit the ground floor.

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Part of me decided that I needed to be ready to leave the house in case something happened, so I made my way back to the front door.

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On my way there, I passed by my parents' room.

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The master bathroom with my mother's fancy tub was in there.

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Yet unlike I thought, the faucet hadn't been closed.

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It was just.. dripping.

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I was close enough to hear it, obedient enough to know I'd get in trouble if I didn't close it, but fully aware that the punishment for leaving the house would be worse.

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The decision was paralyzing.

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either the known danger of night or the unknown specter lurking in the darkness of that unlit bathroom.

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The thought of going in terrified me but I was too scared to run.

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Finally I simply turned around and went back up to my room.

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I didn't care if I got blamed for letting the faucet trip

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or even if my parents caught me with my door closed.

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I had to save myself the only way I could think.

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For the first time, I closed and locked my door, then sat up against it.

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I buried myself in my confusion and fear.

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I hid, waiting for it to be over.

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Two bitterly slow hours later, I heard my parents driving in.

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I stood up, wiped the dry tears off my face, opened my door, and put on the act.

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I went downstairs to meet them, planning to act innocent if they asked about the bathtub, But when they asked me a completely different question, I nearly broke down.

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My mother asked me if her older brother had ever come by to check on me.

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They asked him to make sure I was okay since it was my first time home alone.

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Though they weren't sure if he would make it.

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Suddenly, everything clicked.

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Who else had access to the house?

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And who else knew I was alone in it but him?

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My own uncle.

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It must have been him.

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At the time, I stammered but managed to lie and said that nobody had come.

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I didn't fully understand what had gone down, but I was worried I'd never see an ounce of freedom again if I started making accusations,

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or if I even admitted that someone else had been in the house.

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Years later, I still don't know 100 % if it was truly my uncle, but I've never trusted him since.

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I believe he had a sinister idea on his way to check on me.

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He tried to lure me into a dark space where I wouldn't be able to see him, so he could get away with something he probably always wanted to do.

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A few weeks ago, I picked up a house sitting gig.

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It paid well, so I figured the owners had a lot of valuables that I had didn't want to get stolen.

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But when I was staying in their house, I discovered something that is still giving me nightmares nearly a month later.

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The rules were few.

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I could do as I pleased, as long as I kept the place clean and didn't have guests.

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I didn't have to worry about taking care of the garden, but the only place I wasn't allowed to go to was the shed in the backyard yard.

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All told, I was supposed to be there for a week.

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It took me a couple of nights to get comfortable sleeping there, but by day three, I was mostly settled in.

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However, just as I got comfortable, I started to feel unwelcome.

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I hadn't broken any rules, yet for some reason, I felt like I was being watched somehow.

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I spent several paranoid hours looking for a hidden camera, but I couldn't find any.

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That evening, I picked up a random book and sat on the back porch, thinking a bit of reading and some fresh air would help.

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In all honesty, the backyard was beautiful.

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The owners clearly took pride in it.

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Even the shed didn't look like an afterthought.

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It was made in the same style as the rest of the house, with a shingled roof, a well -sealed door, and a window on one side.

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Still, it was just a shed, and I barely cared about its existence or what was inside it that I wasn't allowed to see.

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Not at first, anyway.

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While I was stuck trying to get through the first few pages of the book I picked up, I noticed a flash in my peripheral vision.

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If I wasn't mistaken, the light inside the shed flicked on.

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By the time my eyes focused, it was off again.

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That, or it had always been off.

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I really couldn't tell.

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After staring at it for a bit and not seeing any changes, I figured I was mistaken.

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Probably just another light in someone else's backyard, flickering through some trees, or maybe I just completely imagined it.

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Either way, I decided reading wasn't my jam, so I went back inside and opened a bottle of wine.

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That seemed to help my mind stop running on overdrive, and after watching TV for a couple hours, I went up to the guest room and slept.

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The next morning, I woke up with a minor headache and the return of the same nagging anxiety from before.

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I'd already checked everywhere I could think of for something weird in the house, so the only place left to look was the shed.

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Of course, I wasn't supposed to enter it, but I was never explicitly told I couldn't peek through the window.

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I got dressed and I went out and stuck my face up against the glass, trying to cut my hands around my eyes for a better view, but it was truly pitch black in there.

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Disappointed, I gave up and got ready for work.

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Even though I was getting paid to house sit, I figured I could pick up a few shifts for even more cash, maybe even shake my nerves about the place.

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That night, I got back to the house and immediately took a shower.

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I wasn't thrilled that there was a window over the tub, but I figured nobody was looking through it.

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I did start to think I should risk getting in trouble and invite a friend over to keep me company, so I went back downstairs to the living room.

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I had my phone out, thinking of who to call.

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Just then, as I was standing near the entrance to the backyard, I noticed a light I could have sworn I'd never seen before, except maybe once.

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It was the light inside the shed, shining through the window.

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I wasn't sure if it had just turned on, or if I hadn't noticed, but one thing was painfully clear.

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There was a person inside.

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Their silhouette was in full view, motionless and backlit, but I knew they were looking at me.

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There was nothing else to look at, and I was barely dressed.

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I knew I had to get the hell out immediately.

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I ran to both the doors and made sure they were locked.

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Then I rushed upstairs and threw all my belongings into a bag.

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I didn't double check or clean anything.

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I just ran downstairs and out of the house, right into my car parked in the driveway.

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As I drove away, I called the owners of the house, telling them there was someone in the shed.

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They kept telling me I must be mistaken, but I told them exactly what I saw.

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Then they went quiet it.

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And I realized they must be hiding something.

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I asked them if they knew, and after forcing it out of them, they admitted it.

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The whole time I was meant to be alone in their house, they neglected to tell me about their son who lived in the shed.

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They said it was air conditioned and furnished, but he just had a lot of problems with...

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Well, I don't know, because that's when I hung up.

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I didn't want to hear about what kind of freak I had been neighbors with for the past four days.

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How much he might have seen of me, or worst of all, if he had a way to get inside the house.

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Now that I'm thinking about it, it feels very intentional.

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If someone was living there already, why hire a house sitter?

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I don't think it's a coincidence they hired a woman either.

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In some sick way, it feels like they wanted us to meet.

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To what end?

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I don't care to consider.

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Afterwards, the owners kept calling and texting me, apologizing for the misunderstanding and begging me to come back.

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When I ignored them, they sent me the money for the days I spent there, and then asked me to not call the police.

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I hate to admit no crime was committed, but while I'm not going to put their name and address on blast for fear of getting sued,

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I'm sure as hell going to tell everyone about this.

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Back when I still lived with my parents, I had an encounter that changed the way I think.

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I used to not be a paranoid or anxious person when it came to safety, until this one night.

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My parents had a two -car garage that was attached to the house via the back door.

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We went in and out that door quite frequently, and since it was protected by the garage doors, which only opened to one of our clickers, we kept it unlocked.

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On top of that, we had a security system that chimed whenever a door or window opened or closed,

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though we only armed it when we were going away and leaving the house unoccupied.

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Otherwise, it just felt like a nuisance.

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I would come to change my mind about that.

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One night, I was home with my parents, and while cooking dinner, my dad accidentally tripped the kitchen breaker.

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Apparently, he was running the microwave, the air fryer, and the blender at the same time, overloading the circuit they were all connected to.

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No big deal, they just sent me to reset the breaker.

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The panel was close by in the garage, so I didn't mind.

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But when I opened the back door and stepped inside the garage, I stopped in my tracks.

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Something wasn't quite right.

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Something tiny and almost insignificant.

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It took me a moment to figure it out.

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The lights were already on.

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Usually, when I went into the garage, it would be completely dark for a moment.

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Then the lights would turn on.

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The main light in the garage is motion activated, so it only comes on when it detects movement.

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I was pretty sure that nobody had been in or out of the garage for at least an hour, more than long enough for the light to turn itself off.

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Of course, it was the tiniest thing, easily chalked up to be the lights being old or glitching or any number of reasons.

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More important to me at the time was resetting the breaker, so I went over to the panel, found the flip switch and then reset it before going back into the house.

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I didn't lock the door or set the alarm behind me.

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I didn't feel a reason to and I never did for the rest of the night.

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The next day was a Saturday.

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I was home from school but my parents were both busy running errands all day.

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After the little trouble cooking dinner the previous night, they decided to eat out that evening.

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Though I asked them to just bring me something as I kind of hated third wheeling my parents.

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So, I was alone pretty much all day and into the night.

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I enjoyed the quiet hours playing video games in my room.

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Then, around 9pm, I heard the alarm system chime.

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I figured it was my parents coming home from dinner, so I expected to hear them talking any second.

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But there was only silence.

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Feeling hungry, impatient, and a little confused, I paused my game and listened more intently.

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Still nothing.

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Nobody calling me to come eat.

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I was home alone, and yet the door had opened somewhere.

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At least, that's what I was being told.

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Suddenly, an unnerving idea popped into my head, forced me to get up,

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carefully checking every window and door to make sure they were locked and untampered with.

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Then it hit me.

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The back door was always unlocked.

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I rushed over to it, hoping I wasn't walking into a trap, trying to convince myself I was freaking out over nothing.

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When I reached the back door, I hesitated, second -guessing myself.

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Eventually, I got the nerve to walk up to it.

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I put my fingers on the deadbolt, knowing my parents would be annoyed when they walked into a door

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that was always supposed to be open without a second thought, but feeling certain I had to do what we never did, lock the back door.

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The second I threw the bolt, I felt a rush of relief.

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The mere sound of it was satisfying.

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I stepped back, thinking there was a chance I had been too late.

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But then something very different happened Without warning, the door shook The handle twisted as the door yanked back into the bolt

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Someone was on the other side And they were trying to pull it open

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I freaked out and ran off to barricade myself in my room and call the police

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I didn't know if that person was going to try

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and break in and get me or what But I wasn't taking any chances Yet, before I finished dialing I heard another sound.

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The garage door opened.

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With my senses heightened from the adrenaline, I could hear the hum through the walls.

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And when I looked out my window and saw headlights, I knew my parents were coming home.

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Fearing they were in danger, I ran back to the garage.

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I was afraid they were going to get out of the car and get attacked.

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But when I barged in, they were walking up to the door like nothing was wrong.

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I told them what was going on and they seemed worried for a minute, but after we looked around and closed the garage door They concluded everything was fine.

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I Asked that they had seen anyone running out when they came in But they just shrugged

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Afterwards my mind was reeling I'm still 100 % certain to this day that someone was in the garage

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But I know nothing else about who they were what they wanted or how long they were in there

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At least a day, right?

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They had to have snuck in behind a car at some point, but they could have opened the garage door from the inside and left anytime they wanted.

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I think they weren't aware of the security system when they tried entering the house, and maybe that's why they backed off.

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Then got freaked out when I locked the door, feeling like they'd been caught in a trap.

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All I know is that despite everyone saying I'm overthinking all of this, something terrible could have happened that night,

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and I'm going to make sure I never get that close again.

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シャドーイング練習: 4 True Unsettling Home Alone Horror Stories Animated - 動画で英語スピーキングを学ぶ

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