Finances forced me to return home to my parents; until he knew where we would eventually be stationed. They were renting a small home on a nice little street which happened to have a finished third floor. My new bedroom.
The wooden stairs went straight to the top. There was a room to the left, currently used for storage, and my room to the right.
Frequently I would hear my name called, but no one was ever present. Once, I hear someone holler out, "watch out!", again I was alone.
But the scariest part was the feeling I got every time I walked down the stairs. I felt a presence of an old man behind me, close enough that it made the hairs on my neck crawl. Several times I would have sworn he wanted to push me down the stairs and felt a pressure upon my back. I learned to hold on to the railing to deter finding myself at the bottom of the stairs in a heap.
Someone told me later an elderly person had in fact fallen to his death on that staircase, but that remains a rumor.
Other than that, life was rather normal for me and soon we were able once again to have our own place.
Of course, it also came with unexpected company, but that is for next Friday!
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