The Light Goes On, The Light Goes Off

I grew up in a small farm town called Burglengenfeld a few miles outside of Nuremberg Germany. We lived in an old house, that first was a school, then a barn and then the last owners turned it into a house.

My mother said that when they first bought the house they discovered really old school desks and chalk boards and kids clothes etc. in the storage hall in the attic. The house consisted of four levels, the basement, main floor, the middle and the attic. My room was on the middle floor until I was a bit older. I always wanted the attic room because I thought it was cool and also because my parents were always fighting at night and I didn't want to hear it.

Once my parents let me take the attic it had to be cleaned up a bit first. It wasn't too dirty because the prior owners used it as a bedroom before. I spent most of my time in the attic, as I was a hermit and didn't like to socialize.

A few nights after I moved in, I felt someone was watching me. Sometimes I'd be doing something with my back faced away from my bedroom doorway and all of a sudden I'd get the feeling as if someone just walked in and was walking around my room or even towards me. After the first month or so that I had been staying in the attic, the scariest things happened to me that, to this day, when I talk about them or even think about them, they send a chill up my spine.

The first account, it was late at night and I had gotten out of bed because I wanted to play with my toys. I knew my parents would be asleep so they couldn't catch me out of bed. I had only been playing for maybe a few minutes when I heard some footsteps coming up the stairs. My heart stopped and I raced back to my bed, leaving the light on and just covering myself completely under my blanket. I thought it was my mom at first but it sounded like heavy boots so then I thought it was my father.

The way my room was set up, my bed was right next to the doorway of the attic stairs. There was no door, it was just open. The footsteps came up the stairs and I heard them plain as day take the last step into my room. But then they stopped, I didn't hear them anymore. In fact I didn't hear anything. If it was my father he would've whipped my behind right then and there. The other bone chilling thing was that my blanket was knitted, so there were tiny holes I could see through if I focused right. I looked through them, I didn't see anyone or anything. I just remember being so confused.

Still contemplating if it was my father, I somehow made myself believe that it was in fact him and that he had somehow left quietly and that was his idea to scare me. I lay in bed trying to make sense of it all. About to take the blanket off of my sweaty head to breathe some fresh air, and then it happened. My bedroom light started flipping on and off. I literally was staring at the light switch, which was right next to my bedroom doorway, watching it flip up and down without a hand of flesh to do so. Through the holes in my blanket, there was no one there. My father was not standing at the top of the stairs, nor was my mother.

That night, I stayed under my blanket, quiet and still, sweating, heart pounding in my chest, my bedroom light blinking on and off non stop. I remember sweat trickling down my face and going into my eye and burning my eye...but yet, I was frozen. I woke up the next morning. I had fallen asleep to my light switching on and off all night. My hair was stuck to my head from all the sweat. I was certain at that point that it was NOT my parents. However, I knew that if I told them about it, then I'd also have to explain why I was out of bed in the first place. So I kept my mouth shut.