Part Three: Strange Things at the House

I couldn’t understand why music kept playing. I got up to listen, and it went quiet. I lay back down, and it started again. The old ceiling fan was turning, so I decided to count to one hundred to help myself fall asleep. I dozed off, but soon I heard noises.

I opened the door to listen. The owner was walking downstairs in the part of the house we had rented for two days. It was around 1 a.m.—very late. He stayed there for a little while before the house went quiet again. I tried to sleep, but my dreams were full of worry. By sunrise, I managed to rest a bit.

When I woke up, I felt uneasy. The same music was playing again—like an old record player, and it was opera. We got dressed and went downstairs. No one was there, just the music.

We turned the corner and saw the fireplace lit and a beautifully set breakfast table. My friend told me the door was locked—the only key was the old one we had. I brushed it off and told her to keep the baby close.

My friend started eating, but my mind kept thinking something was wrong. Then, the man appeared with his wife. I jumped. She introduced herself, and honestly, she looked exactly how I imagined the owner’s wife would—kind of witchy and mysterious.

The man avoided looking at me and poured me coffee. My thoughts ran wild:

What if the coffee is poisoned? What if they want the baby? What if we can’t leave?

The house was far from other homes, cell service was bad, and all the nearby houses looked abandoned. I felt my fear grow until I called my husband. He calmed me down and told me to enjoy the trip. I had shared my location and the house address with him before the trip, which helped me feel safer.

After breakfast, we went to a pumpkin patch. The baby played with other kids while we enjoyed apple cider and the crisp air. We stopped at a couple of thrift stores before heading back.

At the house, the owners were gone, and we felt some relief. We napped for a while. Later, we went outside to walk in the yard. I saw a silhouette in the window—it disappeared quickly. I told my friend, and she watched the window too. They were watching us. It felt like no matter where we turned, someone was following our every move.

The next morning, we got up early to drive to downtown Chicago. The weirdest part happened at 3 a.m., while loading the car. The lady stood by the staircase with a basket of water and fruit. It was kind of sweet—but also strange at that hour.

We thanked them and left. When I looked in the basket, I saw a note and a business card. The photo was of a younger version of the man. It gave me chills. I didn’t touch the water.

When we got to downtown Chicago, a marathon was starting. I watched the busy streets close off to traffic—it was surreal. We went to see the Silver Bean, which was still under construction, but impressive.

After that, we drove straight home. I crashed the moment I walked in the door. I had a few nights of nightmares, but in the end, everything turned out fine. Still, I can’t forget that house—it felt like it was alive, watching us the whole time.