When Ghostly Eyes Are Watching You

      Have you ever had the feeling you're being watched...and there's no one there?  How about when you think there are eyes on you...and there is someone...or something...spying?  I've gone through this before; one of the first times I experienced a presence besides myself being in the home where I was living.  It's an eerie thing to know you're alone, but you're not.

      When I was younger; in my late teens; I rented an apartment in what was formerly a Knights of Columbus Hall.  A new one had been built in town with one of the members buying the former home and converting it into living quarters.  Being one of the first tennants, I got to view a few of the apartments before I selected the one I wanted to reside in.  As it was, the final unit I looked at was the one I liked the best.  It took up half of the basement and its selling point for me was that it still had a small, oak bar in what would be my livingroom.  All of the fixtures had been stripped away but a tiny double sink was left intact under the bar...and the hot and cold water still ran into it.  Of course, I bought a little stock to make it somewhat authentic and it made for a great conversation piece when company stopped by.

      At first, I didn't notice anything; there was nothing that gave me an uncomfortable feeling.  A few weeks after moving in, usually later at night, I started getting a funny feeling at times.  I couldn't quite figure it out, but it felt like there was someone in the apartment with me.  I'd look around when that uneasiness took over; behind the bar, in a couple of the closets, around the edge of the couch.  Nothing was ever found, but I just couldn't shake that feeling.  One thing I did notice was a back corner of the livingroom, near where a thick, wooden door opened into what was a storage area, would appear to be somewhat chilled.  At first, I just chalked it up to the fact I was below ground level, so it was cooler in my place.  It was just that one section of the room, though...always colder than the rest of the apartment.  Maybe it was a draft from a crack in the door.  Holding a lit candle up to see where the breeze was coming from so I could block the crack, the flame never flickered.  Odd, but I guess that wasn't it, either.

      The door leading to the storage area was always locked.  I had tried to open it several times.  Once day, when the landlord was around, I asked about what was behind that door.  He said it was just a couple of small rooms that weren't large enough to make into an apartment, so he kept some of his tools and equipment in them.  He wanted to know if I'd like to take a look and he unlocked the door.  Just like in a monster movie, it creaked as it swung open.  It was almost like walking back in time with the thick beams on the celing; the same type of wood creating the door frames.  I had noticed what appeared to be some type of writing carved into one of the beams.  It looked like several initials had been scraped out.  They were old looking; not something that had been placed there in the recent past.  He explained the house, before it had been turned into the K of C, had been a single family dwelling from back in the early 1800's. He had heard it was once a part of the underground railroad when slaves were seeking their freedom traveling from the south through New York on their way to Canada.  It was a very interesting bit of history just wondering what it was like for those people...and who some of them had been.

      We closed the door and he locked it up again as he had access from outside the building and I thought nothing more of it.  That was, until I started hearing noises I hadn't heard before.  They were coming from behind that door.  It wasn't a constant thing.  Occassionally, I'd hear tapping, like someone impatiently moving the toes of their foot up and down on a floor.  Once in awhile, there were a couple of knocks; not against the door that lead to my apartment, but a door leading to one of the subterrainian rooms.  Though I was never able to capture the sound on tape, I swear, at times, I'd almost hear a faint whispering behind the door, too.  I had even put a small cassette recorder down, but nothing ever showed up. 

      Most of the time, I felt pretty secure if there was anything there, whatever it was, stayed behind that thick door.  There were a few times, though, it was almost as if something was in my part of the building.  I might be reading a newspaper and got a feeling someone was standing behind me reading over my shoulder.  I could walk through the room and it was if a pair of eyes would follow me as I passed through.  I'd awaken from a sound sleep in the middle of the night feeling there was someone staring down at me as I lay there in bed.  Despite those feelings, I never heard any strange sounds from inside my apartment.  They'd always come from behind that door.  The tappings and knocks could have been mice, but I've never heard rodents whisper in a human-like voice before.

      Even when I wasn't inside, I'd feel like I was being watched.  I could be out in the yard sitting enjoying the sunshine when I'd have that sensation...and there was only one window it could be coming from...the one behind me...that was in my apartment.  I lived by myself and there was no one inside.  I'd still have to turn and look.  No one was standing there.  A couple times, it looked as if the curtain had moved a bit as I spun around in an attempt to see who was there.  The window was closed and there was no wind to even flow through a crack to make the material flutter.  I though I saw a light, shadowy figure to the side of the window but wrote it off as nothing more than the curtain, though the color was somewhat different.

      I only lived there a year, but the strange occurances continued on and off throughout my stay...the noises, the feeling of being watched, someone at the window.  I don't know if what I found out before I left subconsciously prodded my decision along.  Several people had passed away while in the house.  The rooms behind the door in my apartment had originally been used as servant's quarters.  A young woman who had been nanny died in her sleep one night.  There was no sign of foul play and her death was marked down as natural causes.  The original family also lost two small children while they lived there; both toddlers, not babies.  The head of the household of the second family that moved in met his untimely death in the house, as well.  He had tripped and fallen down the back stairs that lead to the servant's rooms; snapping his neck when he hit bottom.  Supposedly, he had been having an affair with the young lady who cooked for the family while his wife was with child.  I never found out any more history about the possibility of the home being a railroad stop, though I did learn the property was on the outer rim of a circle of oak trees the natives of the land used for sacred ceremonies before the white man settled there. 

      Being one of my first "meetings" with the unexplained, that house has always made me feel a little weird, though none of it bothers me any more.  Still, to this day, I don't even like going past the place; not that it's located somewhere I'd go by on a regular basis anyway.  Just in passing, though, it was as if the buidling had eyes and they were looking right at me.  The few times I have taken that route, I look at the side window that was part of my former apartment.  I don't know if I'm seeking anything specific or just glancing out of curiosity, but I get that strange feeling.  Hey!  Over there!  Is that just the curtain...or is there something behind it watching me?
 

(What is it that you see behind that window???)