I remember it was the summer of 1983. I was seven years old and sharing a room with my nine year brother on the second story of our shabby little house in Roseburg, Oregon. I awoke suddenly sometime around 2a.m. to the sound of a scream. Unsure of whether or not I had dreamed this, I opened my eyes and struggled to regain my senses... slowly realizing that I was hearing another sound. A soft banging. It was not a scary sound, and did not make me immediately afraid. At first I thought it was my mother making juice, banging the wooden spoon against the sides of the plastic pitcher as she stirred it. I realized however, that it had not only been going on too long to be anyone making juice, but that it was the middle of the night, and no one would be doing that right then. So I listened more closely, anxious to i.d. the sound and ease the fear that was beginning to grow within me. It was a soft thumping sound, but close enough for me to hear. I rolled over quietl! y and looked at the bedroom door. It stood sligthly ajar, with hallway light pouring softly into the entrance to our room. Suddenly my eyes began to well with tears as I realized that the sound was coming from behind the door, as it swung smoothly back and forth, about 5 or 6 inches. Each time it swung back, not quite closing, I would hear it again... THUMP. For a moment I was paralyzed, not only from the fear of the sound and the mysteriously swinging door, but from a dark shadow falling onto the entryway of the room, clearly defining the silhouette of a person standing behind it. I analyzed the situation quickly, it had to be our older sister trying to scare us. What else could it be? I mustered all my courage and called quietly to my brother on the other side of the room. He was already awake and was experiencing the same anxiety. I told him I thought it was Amber, our sister, and that he should go catch her in the act. Needless to say, he was a little apprehensiv! e, but after a little coersion, he agreed. He called out, 'Amber, we know you're there, and you're not going to scare us- so knock it off!' After a moment, the door still swinging and thumping, the shadow unwavering, my brother stood up and stomped bravely over to the entry, grabbed the knob, and swung it open. Suddenly, the light went out, and the room fell silent. I nearly wet the bed as I wimpered and quickly pulled the sheets over my head. In a flash, Chris was under the blankets with me and we were locked in eachother's shuddering arms. After some rationalizing, we agreed it had to be Amber. Somehow she had rigged the entire sequence and we were gonna find out how... in the morning. The next day we could think of nothing else, but Amber was nowhere to be found. Finally we asked my mother where she was. She told us Amber had spent the night at a friend's house. She'd been gone all night. For months after that we shared a bed. Years later, my brothers and siste! rs would relay creepy experiences that occurred in that house. A few years ago I heard it was abandonded and in disrepair. Eventually it was torn down. I guess the owners lost money on it 'cause they couldn't rent it out... the renters complained about weird noises and happenings around the house. Not to mention the many stories about peculiar lights and sounds coming from the empty house at night. Chances are it was just kids. But hell, I wouldn't be crazy enough to find out.
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