chapter3: Things that shouldn't happen
1235 Words
The next morning, Miracle woke up feeling much better.
Sunlight streamed through the curtains, chasing away the fear she had felt the previous night. The shadow she thought she had seen beside her bed now seemed ridiculous.
A dream.
Nothing more.
At least, that was what she told herself.
With a yawn, she climbed out of bed and made her way to the bathroom.
She reached for her toothbrush.
Her hand touched empty air.
Miracle frowned.
The blue toothbrush she always kept beside the sink was gone.
She checked the counter.
Nothing.
She looked inside the medicine cabinet.
Nothing.
A small crease appeared between her brows.
"Where did I put it?"
She searched the bathroom again.
Then the bedroom.
Then the kitchen.
Nothing.
The toothbrush had vanished.
By then she was already running late for work.
With an irritated sigh, she opened a drawer and pulled out a spare toothbrush she had bought months earlier.
The missing toothbrush remained on her mind the entire day.
It wasn't the toothbrush itself that bothered her.
It was the fact that she couldn't remember moving it.
---
When she returned home that evening, she searched again.
Behind the couch.
Under the bed.
Inside kitchen drawers.
Even inside the refrigerator.
Nothing.
Eventually she gave up.
Maybe she had accidentally thrown it away.
Maybe she was more tired than she realized.
The explanation didn't satisfy her.
But it was the only one she had.
---
The following morning, she stood in front of the bathroom mirror brushing her teeth with the spare toothbrush.
Everything felt normal.
Until her hand slipped.
The toothbrush fell from her fingers.
It bounced once against the sink before rolling beneath the cabinet.
"Seriously?"
Miracle sighed and knelt down.
The space beneath the cabinet was dark.
She reached underneath.
Then froze.
Something was lying in the shadows.
A toothbrush.
Not the one she had just dropped.
Another one.
Her breath caught.
Slowly, she pulled it out.
It was her missing toothbrush.
The same one she had spent two days searching for.
Miracle stared at it.
Her heart began to pound.
She knew she hadn't placed it there.
She had checked beneath the cabinet.
Twice.
Maybe three times.
There was no way she could have missed it.
Yet there it was.
Waiting.
As though it had appeared out of nowhere.
A cold shiver crawled down her spine.
"No."
She shook her head.
"There has to be an explanation."
But even as she said the words, she didn't believe them.
---
The strange incidents continued.
Three days later, her keys disappeared.
Miracle clearly remembered placing them in the ceramic bowl beside the front door.
She always left them there.
Always.
The next morning, the bowl was empty.
At first she wasn't worried.
Then ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
Soon she was tearing the house apart.
She searched the couch cushions.
The kitchen drawers.
Her handbag.
Even the laundry basket.
Nothing.
By the time she finally found the keys sitting neatly on her bedroom dresser, she was angry.
Not relieved.
Angry.
Because she had already checked the dresser.
Twice.
---
After that, things began disappearing regularly.
A hairbrush.
A pair of socks.
A notebook.
One afternoon her television remote vanished.
She searched for two days.
When she finally found it, it was sitting inside the refrigerator beside a bottle of water.
Miracle stood there staring at it.
The refrigerator door hung open.
Cold air spilled into the kitchen.
The remote sat quietly on the shelf.
Exactly where she knew she had not left it.
A nervous laugh escaped her lips.
"This isn't funny."
The empty house offered no response.
---
Soon, the missing objects became the least of her worries.
The doors started moving.
One evening she closed her bedroom door before taking a shower.
When she returned, it stood wide open.
She frowned.
Perhaps she hadn't closed it properly.
The following night, she made sure.
She shut the door firmly.
Tested it twice.
Then went to the kitchen.
Ten minutes later, she returned.
The door was open again.
Miracle stared at it.
A strange feeling settled in her stomach.
The kind of feeling people got when they realized something wasn't right.
---
The kitchen cabinets began doing the same thing.
She would close them before bed.
Every single one.
Then wake up the next morning to find them hanging open.
As though someone had spent the night searching through her belongings.
The first few times, she convinced herself she had forgotten.
After the fifth time, even she stopped believing that excuse.
---
Then came the lights.
At first it was only an occasional flicker.
A quick flash.
Nothing unusual.
Old houses had electrical problems all the time.
But the flickering grew worse.
Sometimes the lights blinked rapidly whenever she entered a room.
Other times they dimmed until the room was almost completely dark.
Then suddenly returned to normal.
One evening, as she stood washing dishes, the kitchen light flickered violently overhead.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then stopped.
Miracle slowly looked up.
A chill ran through her body.
For a brief moment, she had the ridiculous feeling that the house was watching her.
She quickly shook the thought away.
---
Days passed.
The strange incidents continued.
And with each passing day, Miracle became less certain of her own sanity.
She began second-guessing everything.
Had she really left her keys by the door?
Had she actually closed the cabinet?
Had she imagined the toothbrush?
The uncertainty bothered her more than the events themselves.
Because if she couldn't trust her own memory, what could she trust?
---
Eventually, she reached a conclusion.
Someone was entering her house.
It was the only explanation that made sense.
A prankster.
A thief.
Someone with a spare key.
Anything was more reasonable than the alternatives.
The next morning, she called the police.
---
Two officers arrived later that afternoon.
Miracle explained everything.
The missing items.
The moving objects.
The doors.
The lights.
The officers listened politely.
Though she noticed the skeptical looks they exchanged.
Still, they searched the entire house.
Every room.
Every closet.
Every cabinet.
Even beneath the beds.
Nearly an hour passed.
Finally, one of the officers approached her.
"Ma'am, we didn't find anyone."
Miracle frowned.
"What about signs of a break-in?"
The officer shook his head.
"No damaged locks."
"No forced entry."
"No evidence that anyone has been entering your home."
"That's impossible."
"We understand you're worried."
The officer's tone remained gentle.
"But there's nothing here."
Nothing here.
The words echoed in her mind.
Because she knew something was here.
She just couldn't prove it.
---
After the police left, silence returned to the house.
Heavy silence.
Uncomfortable silence.
Miracle stood alone in her living room.
The late evening sun cast long shadows across the floor.
For the first time since moving in, the house no longer felt like home.
It felt unfamiliar.
Wrong.
As though she were sharing it with someone she couldn't see.
Slowly, she looked around the room.
Nothing moved.
Nothing made a sound.
Yet the feeling remained.
The feeling that she wasn't alone.
That somewhere inside the house, unseen eyes were watching her.
Waiting.
Patiently.
For something.
A floorboard creaked upstairs.
Miracle's heart nearly stopped.
She stared toward the staircase.
The house fell silent once more.
And deep down, she realized something terrifying.
The police might not have found anything.
But whatever was happening...
It wasn't over.
- Writer
