A couple of years ago, something happened that I need to share. I’m on a bit of a bender right now, so bear with me if my writing isn’t great. I may have indulged in a few too many legal edibles. Anyway, the story I’m about to tell you is completely true.
During the Christmas holidays a few years back, I was visiting my grandma with my daughter, who was six at the time. My grandma is truly a saint, which makes it hard for me to recount this story because of its unsettling elements. Still, I believe it deserves to be told, especially since no one knows me or my grandma.
One ordinary evening, we settled down in the guest room while my grandma chose to sleep in her favorite chair. We were sound asleep when suddenly the security alarm blared. I jumped up, adrenaline pumping, convinced it could be an intruder.
To give you some context, my grandma is a light sleeper. Anytime I move in the guest bedroom at night, she stirs and checks on me, usually offering snacks from her garden—her food is the best. However, despite the alarm’s piercing noise, neither my daughter nor my grandma stirred. I found it baffling; usually a whisper would wake them.
I headed for the alarm system and contacted the security company. The bright light flooding in from the porch made it difficult to see, especially with the old crank windows. I tried to explain the situation, unsure if it was a false alarm or an actual breach, but the operator dismissed me, labeled it a false alarm, and abruptly hung up.
I probably shouldn’t have, but I rearmed the alarm, only for it to blare again—back at the same window. Confused and anxious, I peered out but couldn’t see anything due to the brightness. The attempted break-in had happened at the very window next to where we were sleeping. In my panic, I realized my family hadn’t woken up, which was incredibly unsettling.
The security assistant cut me off once more, insisting it was a false alarm and hanging up mid-sentence again. To make matters weirder, the living room and garage door bulbs were flickering uncontrollably.
I rearmed the system again, sure it wouldn’t have triggered without a genuine threat. Yet still, no one came to check on me, no worried looks. My grandma was completely out, unlike I’d ever seen her—mouth open, where she typically breathes through her nose. I checked her vitals, ensuring she was okay, but something felt very off.
Then the alarm went off a third time, and I felt a growing sense of dread. My intuition nagged at me, suggesting that something strange was happening. I was inexplicably drawn to the flickering lights, which only heightened my anxiety.
As time passed, I found myself unable to move away from the porch. I took a piece of paper and wrote, “What do you want?” and slipped it out of the window onto a bush as an offering of some sort, though nothing took it.
My behavior grew increasingly weird, but I’ve had enough experiences to not want to sound crazy. The police came the next day, and the security team checked the system as well, though my memory of that timeline is a bit foggy.
To cut to the happy ending: I woke up the next morning to the delightful smell of eggs and bacon cooking in the kitchen. My grandma and daughter were both fine, and everything returned to normal.
I wanted to share this story because it still weighs on me, and I feel like discussing it might help. I know I have some lingering issues from that night, but I’m tough enough to handle them. There’s a reason I feel compelled to share this with strangers, and if you’re skeptical, that’s understandable.
Interestingly, the responding officer was someone I knew from my bar days. We had a good rapport, and I could
Thank you for sharing this incredibly intense and personal experience. It sounds like that night was filled with a lot of fear and confusion, and it must have been really unsettling to see your grandma and daughter unresponsive, especially with the alarms going off. It’s understandable that you’d be left with some lingering feelings after such a chaotic event.
I’m glad to hear that everything turned out okay in the end, and that you found comfort in the familiar smell of breakfast the next morning. It definitely speaks to the strength of your bond with your family, and the fact that you were there to protect them during a scary situation is commendable.
It’s also important to talk about these experiences, even the strange and scary ones. It helps process what happened and can be a way to relieve some of that lingering anxiety. You’re not alone in feeling this way, and sharing your story helps others understand that they’re not alone in their own experiences, either.
Take care of yourself, and I hope you find some peace from this event as time goes on. If you ever feel overwhelmed by it, talking to someone, whether a friend or a professional, can help too.