Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Backyard Hole Digger

In the summer of 2007 I was twenty-four. I’d recently earned my degree, in early childhood education, and found my first real job. No teacher will admit to this, but we get paid pretty well, at least that is what I thought in the summer of 2007. Having only ever worked service sector jobs, you know cashiering at a grocery store, doing clerical work over the summer, that kind of stuff, I was finally making real money. With my new income came the overwhelming desire to move out of my mom’s house. It’s not that I didn’t love my mom, rather that I yearned the freedom that I believed came with owning your own house.

I’d been working as a special education teacher for around six months and I’d saved enough money for a down payment on a house. I’d been searching for the perfect place for months. My must haves included a fireplace, a big master bedroom, and more than anything else a large yard with a view. I did a lot of research deciding how much I could spend, and sadly found that all that money that I thought I was making really wasn’t that much. It looked like I would have to make a few compromises on my dream house.

Too good to be true was how I first viewed it. The house had everything I was looking for. It had two bedrooms, a fireplace, over two acres of land and, best of all, it was in my price range. I was weary when making an appointment to view the house, because of the price. It was almost fifteen thousand dollars less than equivalent houses I’d looked at. The advert said the asking price was reduced, and I was worried something dramatic would be wrong with the house. I brought my older brother who works as a contractor, and all around knowledgeable guy. We toured the house, the realtor making everything seems amazing, and my brother examined all sorts of things, most of which I didn’t really understand, but I took him at his word when he said it was in good overall shape. I was beyond excited. My first house.

Paperwork done, money spent, it was move in time. I had a moving party at which I bribed my friends and family with pizza and beer to help me move all my stuff in to my new house. Not having any furniture yet, we used boxes for seats and tables. It was a magical moment in my life.

My third day at my new house, and all was going great. The roof hadn’t collapsed, the bathroom hadn’t flooded, and all was right with the world. Work was still great, and I remember finding myself sitting in my very own living room just smiling for no real reason. Then my neighbors stopped by.

My new house had a lot of land, but my neighbors had even more. My nearest neighbor’s house isn’t even visible from mine, and at the time I loved that fact. That Saturday afternoon, my neighbor Mike and his pre-teen daughter Katie came over to welcome me. I was in bathroom, door open and why not I lived alone, when I heard a man’s voice. “Hello?” Leaving the bathroom and walking to the kitchen, I peeked my head around the corner of the room, and looked out toward my front door. There were Mike and Katie, the first time I’d met them. They introduced themselves and we exchanged pleasantries. They seemed nice enough and had brought me cookies. I welcomed them in, asking them to take a seat (on the remaining unpacked moving boxes). As we talked I noticed something was a bit off about them. Mike in particular seemed to be looking at me with a particular interest. He also asked a lot of personal questions about my job, my family, and my interests. Finally, I had to ask why the twenty questions. He sheepishly apologized explaining that the last owners of the house had been busted for manufacturing crystal meth.

That explained so much, the price reduction, Mike’s twenty questions, and the mysterious iron door that led to the basement. While touring the house, of course, I noticed the door, and though I thought it unusual, I didn’t worry about it. The house was so perfect, what was one strange metal door.

Day four and I’m home. I make dinner, watch a little local, no cable, television on my new, and temporary, futon. Night falls, and I head to bed. The one downfall of the house was that it didn’t have central air conditioning. This Sunday night was an especially hot night, and I had my windows open. I awoke from the heat around two in the morning. I was still adjusting to the new creaks and groans of my new house, but the sound I heard wasn’t anything I had heard the house make before, and it seemed to be coming from my back yard. I lay in bed listening and I heard this steady sound. I got out of bed and looked out my bedroom window, the one overlooking the back yard where the noise seemed to originate. By the dull moonlight I could barely make out a man in my yard, and it slowly dawned on me that he was shoveling. He was digging a hole.

I use my cell phone as my alarm clock, so it was on hand, and I dialed 911. Before this event if someone had asked me how I would react to such a situation I would have guessed that I’d freeze petrified, but I surprised myself. As the emergency number rang I walked to my front door and checked that it was locked, then I moved toward my back door. I walked through the kitchen toward my small covered back porch/mudroom and then listened to keys turn the lock, and then watched as the handle turned. I was connected to dispatch almost simultaneously as the back door opened, and man entered my house. I screamed, and ran immediately to my bedroom, locking the door almost before I had shut it. Hard knocks resounded on the frail wooden door. Standing, looking at the door, I remembered I had 911 on the telephone. I gave the dispatcher my address, explained what I knew of the situation and then, against dispatch’s advice I hung up the phone.

I hadn’t yet bought a frame for my bed, so I was just sleeping on a mattress laid on the floor. I didn’t have a dresser yet, or any other furniture aside from a small bookcase. As the man outside my bedroom kicked the door, I moved the tiny bookcase against the door, and then for good measure I leaned my mattress against the door, also, fully realizing neither would stop the intruder.

I looked out my window at the man still digging, now more frantically in my back yard. I watched as he bent down and removed something, couldn’t quite tell what in the oppressive darkness of the night, and stepped back in fright as he ran toward my house. I called my mom, not sure what I was going to say. As the phone rang I heard the shovel man stomp his way into my house, and then the two men exchanged words, which I heard. “Got it,” says one, “Who is in there?” Then guy two, “Some girl.” At this point I yelled that I called the cops. Man one, “Leave it.” Silence, and then two sets of footsteps leave out the back door, and I watched them run across my backyard away from the house. My mom never answered the phone, but I did accidentally leave a message on her answering machine. On the message you can hear two men softly talking and then me saying that I called the cops. My mom saved the message to give to the police. It is a haunting reminder of a terrifying occurrence.

The police arrived just a few minutes after the men ran from my house. I saw the lights, and came out of my room. The cops figured that the drug manufactures that owned the house before me had buried some cash in the back yard, and the their family, or friends had come to retrieve it. The cops scolded me for not changing the locks on the doors as soon as I bought the house. They explained that it was something everyone should do, but especially people who purchase a house previously employed by drug dealers. I in turn scolded my realtor for not telling me that the house was previously a meth lab.

The police never found the people in my back yard, and I’m sad to say that the experience caused me to move back with my mom where I lived another year until I had recovered the courage to look for a new house. I now live in a condo, sharing a wall with a nice family, in a brightly lit neighborhood. I don’t have my fireplace, or my big yard, but I do have piece of mind. One day I think I will return to a house with land, but it’ll be a while.

Night Terror

They began when I was maybe 5 or 6; around kindergarten. I am now 28 and still have these "night terrors" at least once a month. Most people who have night terrors will tell you they can't remember details of what frightened them. Most of them just awake with an immense feeling of terror. I, too, awake with an immense feeling of terror. However, I can tell you the details about what has terrified me.
When I was younger, I would awake screaming for my mom or my grandma. I would be in a cold sweat, heart beating out of my chest, tears streaming down my face. My mom or grandma would race in my room and flip on the light. As my eyes adjusted to the light, the images of what frightened me so much would start to fade away. But in my mind, I could recall every detail of what had exceedingly terrified me. I would ask whoever was in the room with me, "don't you see them...DONT YOU SEE THEM"? The "them" were the mice or snakes, but more often then not, bugs and spiders all over my bed; all over me. My skin is crawling now just remembering. It would take a while for me to doze back to sleep. My mom or grandma would sit next to me and stroke my hair, repeating to me, "its OK to fall back asleep now. they're all gone". Invariably, the next morning, I would awake to find bites and scratches on my arms and legs. Everyone was convinced I did it to myself in my sleep or during my frantic wakening. I knew it was more then that. I never knew when the next night terror would be. So, I just had to learn not to think about them, or the effects of, until another night terror would decide to grace me with its presence.
It was a while before the man in the hat showed up. I was much older by this time; maybe 16 or 18. I know I was in high school. It was as if all of the night terrors before him were in preparation because once he showed up, the snakes and mice and bugs never came back. The man in the hat I would see was a shadowy figure. I could make out the curve of his cowboy hat and the shape of his body. The way in which I would awake was much different with him then with my previous experiences. I still felt an immense amount of terror, my heart still felt like it was beating out of my chest, I was still in a cold sweat. But, when I would first wake up, I would feel like there was a brick on my chest; something holding me down. And when I managed to sit up, I didn't scream for anyone. I couldn't scream for anyone. I just sat there and stared; and he stared back, but not in a way that made me want to scream. Eventually I would fall back asleep on my own.
Now I am married. My husband tells me that he will wake up to find me sitting straight up in the bed, rocking myself back and forth, with my eyes wide open. He tells me that I ask him if he sees the man in the hat, but he says he never does. He tells me that I insist the man in the hat is standing only feet away staring directly at us. It takes him a while to get me to lay back down. He says he has to stroke my hair and whisper to me to get me to lay back down, just like my mom and grandma had to do when I was little. Now, none of what my husband tells me, I remember. I don't recall anything that he says I do. But, those same nights that he says he wakes up and sees me like that are the same nights I know I see the man in the hat standing in my bedroom doorway, or in front of our bedroom window. I wake up in the morning and the man in the hat is the first thing I think about. I don't know what he wants, he never talks, he never moves; he just stares. I really hope he doesn't come around tonight. I probably jinxed myself.

_Sara H.

Monday, November 29, 2010

Alone at the Cones

This happened probably in the late 1990’s. I used to go out to this place and park my jeep about 1.5 miles SE of the cones. It was a little stand of mesquite trees with a cattle tank and feeding area and an almost purpose built parking space for my old jeep. I would pull in among the mesquite trees and toss a camo tarp and camo net over my jeep and you could walk past my jeep and never see it. I was (am) totally paranoid about leaving my vehicle out there- I always wondered whether it would be there when I got back.
For this trip, I had planned a fairly strenuous 18 mile round trip from where I had parked my jeep going NW to Aden Crater. I had spent enormous amounts of my time while in college driving around out here and I had mapped out where all the old jeep trails and cattle trails and cattle tanks and wells were located. (I was a biology/ecology field worker as a student and I had extensive experience with GPS mapping and orienteering.) So, I had a number of waypoints along the way where I knew I could filter water.
I don’t remember exactly what time of year this was but I don’t think it was very hot out but it was the usually bright and clear blue skies. I made my way out and it is fairly rough volcanic terrain. I made it about ¾ of the way to Aden Crater and I was stopped to take a short break -I needed to go over a barbed wire fence so I had my pack off. So, I was just standing there, letting the sweat cool on my back where my backpack covered and I was looking around. Again, there was absolutely no reason to freak out but I did.
As a solo backpacker, I have had this experience many times before and it usually passes quickly- that feeling of being in the middle of nowhere and just getting freaked out. The area has deer and tons of coyotes (the 4 legged kind) and rabbits and lizards but no predators that would have given me that sense of being watched. While this was within 20 miles of the border, back then I had never seen any illegals or druggies or even many border patrol agents. The main roads were fairly well traveled and many people would go out there but I have never actually seen another person while I was hiking away from the roads. I was in the middle of the lava fields and there were not even any cattle trails within a square kilometer.
So, I stood and was quiet and tried to figure out what was wrong. I heard the usual train going by on the tracks a couple of miles north. I could hear the vague sounds of a helicopter down south near the border. But there wasn’t anything else. I looked toward Aden Crater and it was probably less than 2 miles away. What to do? Press on and hope the feeling would go away? I looked back the way I came and I could see the Gardner Cones. That was my safe place- I had spent many, many nights there before. After a few minutes I said the heck with it and shrugged into my pack. I took a quick bearing on the Cones, even though they were prominent enough to clearly see my way, but it always made me feel better to concentrate on my compass work. So, I headed back. I thought I was nuts to turn around and go back and do more miles than I planned on that day but I felt very comforted to be heading back to “my” place.
It was a long slog back there. I had passed the cones within a couple of hundred meters on the first time out and now I was tired and leaning hard on my trekking poles as I went up the side of the cones and into the middle area. I was tired but I felt good. It was a very sheltered area and I always felt safe in between the 3 cones. I made camp and had my dinner and settled down for the night. I did my customary sitting on top of the one cone to watch the sunset and then went and settled into my sleeping bag. I had picked up the custom of listening to my shortwave radio at night when I camped (from reading the book Bravo Two Zero) and I probably read a paperback book for a bit as well before falling asleep.
Back then I wasn’t too terrible concerned about my safety when camping. I had my Glock 23 that I carried in my pack and I set that out next to my sleeping bag. I had the general rule to always camp away from major terrain features- roads, hills, water tanks, etc… but the cones were my exception because it was my area where I had first camped alone and I had been coming here for years at this point. I was in my trusty Kelty Vortex 2 and I feel asleep. The only problem that night was the sound of the helicopter getting progressively closer and I thought that it was going to keep me up that night.
After sleeping for an undetermined amount of time I was woken up suddenly. I am always a light sleeper while camping and now I was awake and wondering what woke me up. I grabbed the Glock and I was laying there in my sleeping bag, tucked into a fetal position when the night turned bright white and there was an overwhelming amount of noise. Dirt was flying around in the tent, the fly and the inner tent were violently shaking, and the noise and hurricane like winds were buffeting me. I had my eyes clenched shut against the flying dirt and debris and a death grip on the gun and I thought “you have got to be kidding me!!”
The sound of the US Customs Blackhawk and the blinding light of the Nightsun searchlight became even worse as I wondered how far down on top of me the helo would come. I didn’t think that they could land in the area in between the cones but they got damn close. I froze and thought that if I moved with the gun in my hand I would be dead. I don’t know if they said anything over the speakers because the sound and downdraft were overpowering. Then it stopped as they gained altitude and left.
I looked at my watch and it was something like 2 or 3 AM. I was wide awake and shaking and in disbelief. I thought “to hell with this!” and started breaking camp as quickly as I could. I set my compass bearing by my GPS and started bushwhacking in the darkness, afraid to put on my headlamp. I managed to do my best ever night compass navigation and managed to hit my Jeep right on without an offset and started the long drive home. I still have the tent and the poles have a bend in them from the force of the Blackhawk’s downdraft. At least I can say that the Kelty can stand up to near hurricane winds! And I was never bored camping.

S.W. Raider


It took place a while back when I was attending Northwestern University. I was driving out to see my girlfriend who lived about 2 or 3 hours away from Chicago. Well, I was basically driving in the middle of no where, on a very long and straight road, when my car crapped out on me. I tried to start it a few times but I essentially knew nothing about engines or how to fix one. So I called AAA to send a tow truck. I was only able to give them the road I was on and the most recent crossroad I had passed, since there was literally nothing but corn fields and telephone lines around me.

Well, only about 5 minutes after I called AAA, I saw an old pickup truck driving towards me coming from the direction that I was headed. After it finally passed me, the driver stopped and pulled off to the side of the road. The reason this movie reminded me of this incident was because there were 3 people in the truck. The driver, a woman and another male passenger. After like a minute of sitting there, the driver came out of his truck and starting walking towards my car. One thing that really struck me as odd was that the two passengers in the pickup truck just sat there, facing forward so I couldn't see their faces, throughout the ENTIRE time. They never once turned their heads or moved an inch.

So the driver, a rather big guy (around 6 foot 4 I'd say) walked up to my car and started knocking on my window, asking if I needed help. I told him I was fine but he kept knocking. I said to him that a tow truck was on its way right now. Then he started to grab the door handle to open the door, but thankfully I had locked it when I saw him coming. Something just didn't feel right. I was like, "what are you doing man? I said I'm fine." Then, all of a sudden, he stopped pulling at the door handle, and paused for a second. He looked both directions down the road and it seemed like he was hesitating about something. Then he muttered one word.. and that was what scared me the most... at barely a whisper, he muttered under his breath, "lucky..." I could hardly make out what he said at the time. Then he stared at me for like a good 15 seconds, went back to his truck, and drove off. But instead of driving down the road, in the direction he was headed, he drove back the way they CAME. The road was a good 1-2 miles long. I never understood why he would drive that far down the road to my car, if he wasn't intending to pass by.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Thanksgiving, Growth, Comments

Hi everyone. First, We'd like to wish you all happy holidays, if you're in the U.S. and if you're not... happy regular days.

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Alone at Night Staff.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Mormon with a Baseball Bat

Most of my shocking stories, though, are from the time I worked as a home health/hospice aide in Salt Lake City, of all places. I was given a sizable chunk of the downtown area which included The University of Utah and the South Campus of Salt Lake Community College. Being from Vegas, I was well, shocked to learn that there was quite a bit of crazy in Salt Lake City, which supposedly is a very safe place to live!
One of my patients lived on a small side street and one day I came to her home at 8 am for my visit as usual. Well, 15 minutes into my visit, after I had gotten my patient up and sitting on the couch, and had begun to tidy up her room, a bright red convertible drives down the street and stops right in front of my car. The driver gets out, and proceeds to try to open the door on my locked Saturn. When he couldn't get into my car, the guy, who is obviously on something, decides to walk up and down the street, opening trash cans, and attempting to open doors and windows. This patient suffered from very advanced Alzheimer's and had no clue what was going on. I closed and locked all her windows, and locked the door--she protested my locking her front door. Then I made sure all the windows and doors were closed and locked and after that I remembered that she had a baseball bat in the laundry room, went and got it, and waited for the man to show up on her doorstep, with the baseball bat in one hand and my cell phone with SLCPD on speed dial in the other hand. So the guy goes to my patent's next door neighbor's house, finds the door locked, tries the window, finds it locked, walks down the front walkway, and leaves the neighbor's property. Then he heads to my patent's front gate. Then he looks up and sees me and the patient both standing there staring at him, me brandishing a baseball bat and holding a cell phone to my ear. He gives off a look of "oh crap, I've been caught" and runs off, gets into his convertible, and drives off.

Hotel Hell

Oh man, these stories are making me so glad that I live in Chicago, and police FLY whenever a call is put in!
I have one to add... pre-story, I just want to say that I have ALWAYS been a tweak in hotels. Doors must be locked, chained, bolted, windows CLOSED, bathroom light on, I run down hallways when I'm alone, and I still can never get a full night's sleep.
Me and the BF were staying at a hotel in KY for a family reunion (my family). Most of the rest of my family were staying at relatives houses. This hotel was crowded, and a bunch of guys were in the lobby when I went to the vending machines around 10pm-ish by myself... BF stayed in the room, so it must have looked like I was alone. I didn't really think anything about it, but later on, around 1AM, I wake up to the door banging and a guy yelling in the hallway... I was still half asleep so it took me a second to realize he wasn't banging ON the door, but instead the door was OPEN already and he was slamming it against the security bolt on the inside of the door. I woke up the BF and hid under the covers while he went to the door, told the guy off and slammed the door shut and relocked it. I give him credit that he never undid the dead bolt thing, just looked at him and yelled through the crack in the door. He said that he looked drunk.
THIS is the kicker... I called the front desk to let them know, and the guy behind the desk had GIVEN the guy a key because he said that he lost the key to "his" room... and the guy never went back to the front desk to ask for a different room key. Creepy! And I didn't get a look, so I didn't know if it was one of the guys that had been in the lobby or not. (And yes, the desk guy got an earful from me...)
- Corine

Chicago Citizen Chases Creeper Cops Congratulate (alliteration at it's finest)

When I lived in Chicago, I lived in a coach house...the house behind the big house, which was essentially a converted garage. It was a nicer area around Lincoln Park, and about 100 ft. off a major intersection where there were stores and lots of people. However, in order to get in to my place, I had to walk down an alley, and go through a gate with a motion detector. I was always nervous going in and out of the alley at night, and when I had to do this I would often run from my place, through the alley to the busy street as FAST as possible. As busy as the intersection was the alley was usually empty-scary.
I am tall and thin, and at that time attracted a fair amount of unwanted attention. I'm guessing I was being watched, and my comings and goings were noticed.

One night at around 10pm or so, I heard the gate open and the light detector went on. I assumed this was the owner on his way to the big house through the back entrance, but I'm super cautious and looked out the window to the alley. As I was doing this I heard a loud knock on my door. I could see a car waiting in

the alley...a low 70's Nova type, and this was the later nineties....a very old, beat up car.
I went to the door, and of course didn't open it. I asked..."Yes, can I help you?" A man answered: "I got lost...could you help me with directions? I told him I didn't drive and was terrible at directions. At this point I was so afraid my head was swimming, and I can't remember exactly what he said next, but it was something like "could I come in for a minute and have you show me where we are on my map."
I asked him why he had come into an alley, opened a gate, climbed up my coach house stairs and knocked on a strangers door, when just outside the alley there were tons of open businesses. He ignored this, and asked to come in again. I said that I was calling the police, and did so....I called 911.
He runs down the stairs and gets out of there in his Nova, where his male friend was waiting, as fast as possible....screeching tires and all.
The police @ 911 told me that I did the right thing, but if he came back, I should mention that I have gun(I don't really have one). A really cute officer was on the scene very quickly and calmed my nerves.
NEVER open the door! Ask what they want through a locked door, and even if you feel it's legit, offer to call assistance for the person, or direct them to a gas station...etc.


Shortly after my divorce, I was living in an empty house that was for sale - my friends allowed me to stay there for a few months while finding a new house. It was pretty empty, not a lot of furniture. I didn't spend a lot of time there, basically just slept and showered there.
So, 2 a.m. one night/morning there were headlights shining into my room and a really loud, aggressive knock at the door (a little background - very small town, everyone knows everyone, in the rainforest of WA state). I was totally freaked. I froze.

The person at the door started yelling my name. Scary! Finally, he said "It's XXX, please answer me if you're in there!" It was the local sheriff's deputy!! I ran to the door and opened for him and he pushed past me and said, "Who's here?" I told him nobody but me, i was sleeping. He said, "Somebody is using your phone and calling 911."  I flipped. I was crying and I stood outside in the freezing rain. He checked out the whole house and every closet/bedroom/bathroom (it was a huge farm house and I didn't even use the upstairs).
Finally between him, dispatch, and the phone company, they figured out that the massive rain had interrupted my phone wires and made it call 911. I dunno, but I didn't sleep there for a week after that! I stayed with friends!

Friday, November 5, 2010

Striptease for Creeper

One day I came home from a short shift at work one morning to an empty house and I walked in to find that the doors on the balcony at the back of our house were wide open and the latch was broken off, like an idiot, I didn't think anything of it because it was a hot day and I thought someone might have wanted to let the warm air in. I wanted my mum to wash my work clothes and I was going to swim at my friends place later so I stripped naked in the hallway (hey, no one was home) and chucked all of my clothes in the hamper, I put on my swimsuit and my clothes, but not before striking a number of poses in my bikini in the hallway mirror *blushes*.

I then went downstairs to do some homework in the living room for a few hours, and for some reason I had this sense of being watched so I closed all of the curtains downstairs. And then, like two hours later I went to go upstairs again and I saw that the front door was wide open. I knew it had not been open before, but I still did not realize what was going on until I went upstairs and saw that all of my jewellery was gone, ditto my mum's and sister's along with my ipod and some other stuff. I called the cops and they explained that the burglar had climbed onto the balcony via a this frame thing for vines to grow on the wall, forced the door, and had headed upstairs, planning on taking the biggest stuff (laptops, xbox etc.) which was downstairs last and getting the jewellery and smaller stuff first.

They found that in my parents walk in wardrobe at the back a bunch of clothes had been pulled down and forced across and a crowbar and a bunch of empty individual jewellery boxes had been dumped: they said that when I came home the burglar had heard and hidden in there until he had the opportunity to sneak out. Here's the kicker: when the bedroom door is open (it was) the hallway where I stripped is fully visible from inside the wardrobe. I performed a private striptease for the hiding burglar!! I did not tell the cops that though


2 years ago when I was home alone around 10-ish PM(How convenient) I was in my room upstairs on the phone to my friend when I heard the front door closing. Assuming it was my Sister I walked over and leaned over the banister calling her name and some guy dressed in the scream black gown with the mask was standing in the hallway, he looked up at me and proceeded to make his way up the staircase.
Now if asked what you would do in such a situation you'd be like, I'd grab my baseball bat and beat the *beep* outta them, or i'll run and call the cops etc. But no, like a pussy I stood in shock and only when he was like a 1/4 of the way up the stairs I screamed and yelled running into my room and shutting the lights hoping that would confuse him..
All the while my friend was still on the phone (And he was a witness later, although he didn't see anything)
My friend knew where I lived and I told him to call the cops to my address in case the phone cut off or something stupid.. and I proceeded to call them too. During this time I heard the door open/close again (This was all within seconds of getting into my room and shutting the lights).
I considered opening the window and yelling out, but it was like 10 PM, and that would only indicate where I was in the house. Anyway, while dialling for the cops I heard the door open/close again, I pulled back a small corner of my curtain and saw nothing, assuming he had made a run for it hearing me yell.
After calling the police I called my parents to tell them what happened. I was instructed to go downstairs and insure the door was in fact closed and to lock it.
I decided if I was to go downstairs I'd run and do it fast unlike the silly people in horror films who walk down so slowly and wait for something to happen - It made more sense to me. As I ran down it turned out that the guy didn't actually leave, he had just shut the door making me believe he did and was in my living room "attempting" to steal things.
After seeing me he began running towards the stairs again but he was far into the living room. I yelled and screamed as I ran back into my room and opened the window and yelled like crazy. This time he actually did leave the house and I saw him running out of my front door as I was looking out of my window.

The police arrived, so did my parents. They took down the details and contacted my friend. They concluded NO forced entry and that the door had not been properly closed by my sister when she left the house earlier. They also concluded he was just a normal thief and didn't have violent intentions
I.E. Flam