In all honesty, I hated staying home alone. I admit, I was paranoid, and I still am. I always played it off like I was brave and strong, but that was only on the outside. Sure, my windows could lock just as well as my doors, my lights could be on in every room... but I just never felt safe. I know that doesn't make sense. I know that just as well, but I couldn't convince myself of that.

I always felt like something was watching me. I never had my back to an open space as much as I could. I'd turn around, reassure myself nothing was there, but it would still be the same feeling when I turned back around. That's the one terrifying flaw of human anatomy; not being able to see what's behind you at any given moment, and trust me, it was really terrifying.

Now, I believed in the paranormal, and I'd had many encounters and I was comfortable with most. Some entities were there to comfort me, and I take no shame in saying that I spent almost a month of my life talking to an entity named Charlie at night, just to get to sleep. Charlie was a good man who had taken his life. He was just as mentally damaged as I was, and when I moved out of that house, I was sad to see him go. Never got to say good-bye.

Going back to the staying-home part of my rant, I encountered my first negative paranormal phenomena when I was about 12 and home alone. At that time, I was just getting used to being home alone, but you could bet I was super confident in proving to my parents that I was a strong young woman ready for anything. I regret that.

My grandfather was in the military during the war era, and because of this he had some pretty nifty stuff lying around. He had passed away, but he left all the gadgets and stuff to me when I was growing up. These gadgets included short-wave radios that he had used to intercept and decipher enemy, as well as ally, messages. He saved the lives of many by figuring out some group would strike said area at said time, and he did this all through listening to the dips and scatter of radio waves.

The first time I turned on the short-wave radio was magical. The sound was so... ethereal. It was the sound of the stuff we couldn't see. That technology allowed us to communicate and listen... silently. I had sat there, at Grandpa's old desk, for hours, just twisting dials and listening for something.

"8 3 2 3 5 5 1."

Grandpa had said that most of the things I would hear would just be tuning channels for stations, just-for-fun transmissions between fans of short-wave, or military channels that were still in operation. He said not to worry about it too much, but he did say to report any foreign languages that were being spoken by a live person. He was still a bit paranoid after the war.

Those numbers... just numbers, I thought. Maybe they were some hobbyist's codes or maybe it was just some random garble that had slipped between channels. But then I realized that was my phone number. Coincidence. Definitely in no connection to me. I was a 12 year old girl; why would any short-wave station be contacting me?

"25 15 21."

Numbers. Just numbers... wait. They had to mean something. Quickly working out the alphabet on my hands, I deciphered that as 'you'. This was getting weird.


Whoa! That was loud. It was almost like a burst of static. I still kept firm to the coincidence theory, but I jotted down 'you' and 'will' for... good measure. I sat there, listening like an idiot, for another hour. What came next was just staticy dips and waves and you know... radio. I listened carefully for peaks and... words!


That questioning tone made me believe that the radio had just picked up some other broadcast. I've seen it happen before with certain paranormal investigating tools that scan for words that peak in radio broadcast. Maybe it was a fluke... or not.


The radio stopped working. The knobs didn't turn anymore. Sure, it was half a decade old. Maybe it had just... died. You will be okay... That was in my mind as I nervously climbed the stairs to my bedroom. I left all the lights on.

I slipped into my bed and it just didn't feel right. I don't know what didn't feel right, but something was wrong. I felt the sheets lift up. A breeze; maybe my window was open a tad. Yeah, that was it. I felt warmth creeping towards my arm. At this point, I was paralyzed. I didn't know if it was sleep paralysis or some random thing, but I didn't want to move anyway.


The radio was louder than ever. I ran back downstairs and into the office. It was off. The knobs were still stuck and tuned to the same channel.

I was going crazy. I had to be. I walked into the bathroom to splash some water on my face and relax.

Across my chest, inscribed in deep red scratches, were the words I had feared the most for the last hour.