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The kids and I had just gotten settled into the bottom half of a lovely Victorian home that a family friend, Javin, was renting out. He said the upstairs was empty and needed work, but possibly in a few months he could renovate it and let us use the entire house. I was smitten with the sweeping windows and original architecture. The intricate molding made its around the doorways and window panes in each room. I spent my afternoons comparing shades of coral and turquoise paint to give the home an authentic feel.

It was the first night of the third week in the new house and I lay on my mattress, exhausted from rearranging furniture and designing my gardens. The pale, blue light coming in through the window made me feel peaceful and sleepy. Right before I drifted off, I heard the faint sound of running water coming from the ceiling. In my hazy state, I assumed that one of the kids must have used the bathroom next door to my bedroom. A few hours later, I was awakened by scurrying noises coming from upstairs. I sat up and honed in to see if I could determine what could be making that noise. It was too loud to have come from a mouse or other small critter, and it was too fast to be a person. Could someone have left a dog up there? I looked at the clock, which clearly stated it was three thirteen in the morning, much too early to call Javin.

I decided to get up and check on the kids. They were sound asleep and snoring. Coffee sounded good, so I headed for the kitchen. On the way through the dining room, I heard the distinct sound of heavy furniture being moved across the floor. It was coming from overhead. I stopped in my tracks and listened. It was silent for a long time. Someone was up there! I quickly went to check the doors, to make sure they were locked and called Javin despite the hour.

"The plumbing in that house is old and there's probably mice upstairs." Javin explained. His words did nothing to convince me that there wasn't a person upstairs.
"And the other noise, like moving furniture?" I asked.
"You said you were tired. It could have been anything, the house settling, the pipes" Javin yawned.
"There isn't even a dome on the electric box that goes to the upstairs. It's been empty for years. I'll come by in a few hours, if it'll make you feel better." Javin said.

Upon inspection, we discovered that the great grandson of the original house owner had been living, on an off, for fifteen years upstairs. The neighbors on the right said they had seen him climb through the windows in the middle of the night on many occasions. They said he wasn't dangerous or anything, just a hermit. The upstairs hadn't had electricity in at least ten years, according to the neighbors. One of the neighbors said that he loved cats and kept bringing strays upstairs with him. The police had never been able to catch him either coming, going or inside the house. He was very sneaky and quiet in his determination to stay in that house.

Needless to say, I moved out.

Learn more about this author, Stacia Elizabeth Whitbeck.
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