It had been two years since I last experienced the terrifying presence in my house. I thought the spirit was gone for good. But one rainy night, as I sat alone in my living room, the familiar smell of burnt incense filled the air—except I hadn’t lit any.
The lights flickered, and a cold wind rushed through the closed windows. My dog began growling at the corner of the room, his eyes fixed on the empty space. Then, I heard it—a slow, deliberate knock on my bedroom door.
My heart pounded. I had locked that door months ago, hoping to seal away the place where the spirit had once appeared.The knocks grew louder, followed by a faint whisper, “I’m back…” My phone slipped from my hand as I saw the doorknob turning on its own. The door creaked open, revealing a shadowy figure with hollow eyes.
I screamed and ran outside into the rain, refusing to go back in until sunrise.
The next day, I found deep scratch marks on the bedroom walls—fresh ones. I realized the truth: the spirit had never left. It was only waiting… for the right night t
o return.
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