My name is Sidney White. I’m writing this because my therapist thinks it will help. I’m honestly willing to try anything to get a little peace of mind at this point.

For some background, this incident began in April of my junior year of high school when I was sixteen. I’m about average height with blue eyes and long brown hair. My mom and I live alone in an old nineteenth century Victorian style home that has been passed down in our family for generations.

Some day I’m set to inherit the house, though I’m not so sure I want it anymore. The house is complete with three stories, a basement, and a sizable front and back yard. There’s a chest-high iron fence surrounding the property. My room is on the second floor. It has a white marble balcony with two elegant glass doors leading out to it.

Ever since I was little I had always adored the house. The ancient black and white photographs of my ancestors, outdated furniture, and relics gathered by family members throughout the years all instilled me with a longing sense of nostalgia.

As a child I would often just sit in the living room for hours daydreaming of what it would have been like to live decades or even centuries ago. I would let my imagination run wild with fantasies from times long since passed until eventually Mom would drag me from my stupor and urge me to play with the other children in the area.

That was my only qualm with my home. Due to its old and slightly dilapidated state, I found it very difficult to keep friends. The other kids constantly whispered amongst themselves and rumors that the house was haunted spread like wildfire on a dry summer day.

The creaking of floorboards and whistling of the AC unit through the empty corridors were sounds that I had grown accustomed to after residing there my entire life. To the other children though, this was hard proof that there were ghosts roaming the halls, waiting to claim their next victims.

The same routine would play out every time I brought a new friend over. After a little coaxing they’d come inside, stay for all of two minutes, then make up some half-hearted excuse to high-tail it back home. My humble abode repelled more children than Monster House. Due to this, I didn’t have many friends growing up, and the trend continued well into my high school years.

So you can imagine my excitement when Alex from my third period English class announced that he was throwing a party while his parents were out of town and that the whole class was invited. I was ecstatic. I’d never even hung out with boys, let alone gone to a party.

The days leading up to the event were filled with anxious anticipation. I was obsessing over the thought that I might meet a cute boy and have my first taste of alcohol all in one glorious night. When the date finally arrived, I was a bundle of nerves. I had spent hours curling my hair and perfecting my makeup, convinced that at some point my knight in shining armor would glide in and sweep me off my feet.

I had made arrangements to ride to the party with Stephanie, a somewhat nerdy girl who didn’t have many friends of her own. I knew she only offered to take me so she wouldn’t have to show up to the party by herself, but I didn’t mind. Honestly, I didn’t want to arrive alone either.

After what felt like hours, Stephanie’s blue Honda civic inched into our driveway. I sauntered toward the vehicle, radiating confidence.

“Have fun Sidney!” Mom yelled after me as her gaze followed me down the drive from her spot in the doorway.

“And try not to drink too much,” she mused with a wink.

A smirk had spread across her face and I couldn’t help but chuckle. I always thought my mom was gorgeous, a trait that she unfortunately did not pass down. I was reminded of that fact all too often, as it was a popular topic amongst school bullies.

“It’s not that kind of party Mom,” I lied as I rolled my eyes dramatically.

“Whatever you say,” she shrugged, flashing me a toothy grin.

Mom’s long blond hair fluttered in the breeze as she waved goodbye. Her deep green eyes shimmered with pride, hoping in vain that I’d formed some semblance of a friendship.

The party was a major let down. I won’t bore you with too many details, but only about ten people showed up, including us. I didn’t realize how gross beer would taste, but I somehow managed to choke down a couple Budweisers. After being hit on by nearly every guy at the “party,” I begged Stephanie to take me home. She was having more fun than I was, but after some pestering she begrudgingly caved.

The ride back to my house was marred by a tense uncomfortable silence. As Stephanie hurriedly peeled away, I stumbled up the driveway and fished in my pocket for my house key. I’d gotten a little more tipsy than I’d realized and my already lackluster cognitive skills eluded me. I eventually located my keys.

I jabbed at the keyhole and after a couple sloppy attempts, the lock clicked open. I crept up the stairs as silently as I could in my inebriated state, putting forth my best effort not to wake Mom. Once I made it upstairs, I ran through my nightly bedtime routine and retreated to my room. I plopped into bed and tried to drift off to sleep, the immense disappointment of the night still fresh in my mind.

After a few minutes of restlessly tossing and turning, I picked up on a noise at my balcony doors. I perceived what sounded like a faint tapping on the glass. Tap… Tap… Tap. I drowsily glanced over at my alarm clock. Midnight. I ignored it and rolled onto my side, facing the wall. Probably just a tree branch.

But then the tapping escalated to three knocks in rapid succession. TAP. TAP. TAP. I shot up in bed as a pang of fear coursed through me. I whipped my head to the balcony, fully expecting to lock eyes with some horrid creature, and- nothing. It must have been the alcohol messing with my head. A little shaken up, I laid back down and somehow fell into a fitful slumber.

The following morning I awoke to the tantalizing aroma of eggs and bacon wafting upstairs from the kitchen. I stumbled out of bed and groggily traced the scent downstairs where Mom was cooking breakfast.

“Good morning sleepyhead,” she giggled.

“Good morning,” I croaked, trying and failing to rub the sleep out of my eyes.

“Did you have fun last night?” Mom asked as she placed a mouth watering concoction of eggs, bacon, and toast before me.

“Yeah I guess,” I wearily replied, shoveling food into my mouth.

I wasn’t feeling great from the night before and a hot meal was just what the doctor ordered.

“Meet any cute guys?” Mom prodded as a smile plastered itself across her face.

“Oh yeah, some real Leonardo DiCaprios,” I sarcastically remarked, mouth nearly overflowing with egg.

“By the way, Mom, you didn’t hear knocking on any of the windows last night, did you?” I inquired nonchalantly.

“No, when did you hear that?” she asked quizzically, concern washing over her countenance.

“Nevermind. It was probably just a tree branch,” I blubbered between chews, attempting to ease Mom’s tension.

“Okay, just please let me know if you hear it again,” she requested sternly, seemingly relieved by my statement.

The remainder of the day was mostly uneventful. After breakfast, I wasted the day away watching Netflix. I finished off my evening by knocking out some homework. It was Saturday, but getting my work out of the way early provided me with a sense of productivity. After putting my books away and brushing my teeth, I hopped into bed.

I’m usually off in dreamland no later than ten-thirty and that night was no different. I laid down and shut my eyes, but I was having an uncharacteristically tough time falling asleep. I was overthinking, stressing myself out over an upcoming chemistry exam that I felt wildly unprepared for. I was finally starting to nod off when I heard it.

That same rhythmic tapping on the balcony doors. Tap… Tap…Tap. I lazily turned to the clock. Midnight. Before I could divert my attention to the noise, it started again, but this time it was much louder. TAP. TAP. TAP.

Again, I bolted upright and fixed my gaze on the balcony. My heart pounded against my ribcage and I thought it would leap from my chest at any given moment. I could’ve sworn that for a split second I glimpsed a shadow ducking out of view into the darkness. I was more than a little creeped out at this point.

I shined my phone flashlight at the doors and, discovering an absence of creepy shadow people, I laid back down and breathed deeply in an attempt to regulate my racing heart. I again wrote it off as a tree branch or my mind playing tricks on me and eventually I managed to doze off.

The tapping continued every night going forward. Right at midnight I’d be ripped from a peaceful slumber to a commotion at my balcony that wouldn’t cease until I’d inevitably turn to face it. And every time nothing was there.

After a couple weeks it was beginning to take a toll on me. I was sleep deprived. My grades began to slip. People noticed. Concerned teachers pulled me aside and asked if everything was okay at home. Classmates were telling me I looked like a ghost. Mom repeatedly questioned me on it, but I just told her I was stressed about exams. I desperately needed to put a stop to that incessant tapping.

One night I’d had enough. As usual, at midnight I was yanked out of my restful state. I’d made up my mind. This time I was going to ignore it. It started off light. Tap… Tap… Tap. Then it grew louder and increased in frequency. TAP. TAP. TAP. I was determined not to look.

I kept my eyes firmly shut, even when the tapping turned to pounding. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. I was beginning to worry that whatever or whoever it was would crack the glass. Irritated, I relented and my eyes wandered to the double doors. What I saw chilled me to my very core.

There was a man standing on my balcony. Dirty tattered clothing hung off his emaciated frame like rags. He was deathly thin, reminiscent of a skeleton the way his skin stretched tightly over bone. Stringy greasy black hair fell past his shoulders. The wide smile that blossomed across his face revealed black gums and yellow rotting teeth. His manic expression never faltered. But worst of all were his eyes. Those black pinpoint pupils connected to mine and I could sense something behind them even through the glass.

Hunger. A deep animalistic drive that I can only describe as predatory. Then he spoke.

“Ohhh Sidney, I can see you,” he sang in a sickly sweet tone.

“Please let me in. I just want to play,” he called, giddy with excitement.

My heart dropped into my stomach. Something sinister lurked just beneath the surface of those words. He licked his lips, his disgusting gray tongue worming its way over the rim of his mouth. I tried to avert my gaze, but I was rooted in fear.

Sweat pooled on my brow and my hands shook uncontrollably. My breathing became rapid and shallow. A million thoughts raced through my brain in unison. Who was this man? How did he get onto my second floor balcony? And how the HELL did he know my name?

I was broken from my trance by forceful hammering against the doors. The man’s smile was gone, having devolved into an expression of pure hatred.

“LET ME IN YOU FUCKING BITCH! LET. ME. IN. LET. ME. IN!”

With each repetition his fists smashed against the glass, rattling the doors in their frame. Then out of nowhere, he paused. His eyes eagerly lit up and his twisted smile returned, stretching so far that I thought the corners of his mouth might tear.

“It’s okay, Sidney. If you won’t let me in then I’ll do it myself…because I found where they hid the key.”

He could barely contain his elation as he produced an ancient rusted key from an indistinguishable pocket in his ragged clothes. My head spun and my vision blurred. This couldn’t be happening. He slipped the key into the door and it unlocked with a nauseating click.

At last, my body regained mobility and I went into full panic mode. I leapt out of bed and bolted down the hall to Mom’s room, the man’s deranged cackling reverberating off the walls behind me. His thunderous footsteps were closing the distance. I burst through the door and slammed it shut, waking Mom in the process.

“Sid, it’s the middle of the night, what’s going on?” she groaned lazily.

I locked the door and sputtered a nearly incoherent string of words.

“MOM. MAN. INSIDE. POLICE,” I choked out before I broke down, tears streaming down my face.

The hallway had grown eerily silent as I sobbed hysterically. Mom stared at me for a second, bewildered, but she did call the cops. They took a statement from me and combed through the house. Of course, by then the man was long gone and there wasn’t much they could do. The balcony doors were even shut and locked when they arrived, so there was no evidence that the man had been on the property at all.

They urged us not to hesitate to call back if he returned and reassured us that they’d send a cruiser down our street intermittently for the next few nights. I slept in Mom’s room for a week after that. I questioned her about a hidden spare key, but she swore up and down that our two house keys were the only ones in existence.

We installed cameras and a home security system, but even then I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in that room again. I moved all my things down the hall into an unoccupied room, away from the balcony. Suddenly every resonance terrified me. Noises that I had previously attributed to the age of the house didn’t sound like normal creaks and whistles anymore. I started going to therapy.

After a few weeks the therapist, my classmates, and even Mom had begun to convince me that I had imagined the whole ordeal. I almost believed them. Almost.

My therapist told me that I would never be able to fully heal until I stepped out onto that balcony. So about a month after the incident, I finally built up enough courage to walk out there. I rested my hands on the smooth white marble and peered out over the neighborhood. Spring was among us and the flowers were in full bloom.

I soaked it all in as the wind blew my hair and dragonflies zipped past my face. I watched a robin feeding its babies in the tall oak tree in our front yard. Bushy-tailed squirrels bounced along searching for acorns. It was picturesque. I felt completely at peace standing there just observing nature. All the stress I’d built up from that night immediately washed away.

Until I glanced down. Because as I lifted my hands off the stone railing, a strand of long black hair clung to my fingers.