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I’m scared of the mailbox – Part 1

It always has something strange happend at the mailbox

the-haunted-bar-afraid-of-mailbox

I’m scared of the mailbox ….

It’s been 2 weeks since I moved to a new condo. I’m finally ready to share my traumatic experience I had in my previous condo. Let me tell you this in advance, this story does not have any conclusion or “clear ending” so to speak. This is my real life experience. But I will assure you it’s scary. At least, it scared the life out of me.

 

My last condo had a mail slot in the front door.  The slot had a metal flap on the outside which would make a loud noise every time it’s opened. On the other side of the door, there was a small basket attached to keep the mail in, and a rubber blind covering the slot from the inside so that no one could peek through the slot.

 

I don’t know how long it had been going on before I noticed it.

 

At past 3AM, I would hear the metal flap opening.

 

I would hear it open, but not close.

 

And after a long silence when I almost forgot about it, I would hear it close.

This person makes no footsteps sound, either. Normally, I would always hear it when someone is approaching my door; the newspaper delivery guy, the mailman, or the neighbors passing by my door.

Since the corridor is made of thin metal plate, it was sort of impossible to walk without making loud footsteps noise. But this one, no sound.

I had occasionally told my friends about it, just like a fun, mysterious topic to talk about and scare them.

But until that day, I had never taken it seriously. I was assured that I was safe. Whoever doing that wouldn’t be able to see inside the door anyway, thanks to the blind over the slot.

My condo was pretty old and it didn’t come with an individual monitoring system, so I had installed one myself. The monitor would automatically turn on when someone presses the doorbell, or whenever I press the “on” button on the monitor by myself.

Since I was too afraid to check directly at the door when the mystery person appears, I thought of checking through the monitor next time he/she comes. It was a mistake.

This person often appears at an irregular timing, normally when I’d forgotten about it.

 

That day, I was watching YouTube when I heard the sound of the metal flap opening.

It’s here..!

I quietly walked to the monitor screen on the wall of my living room and pressed “on”. Part of me  was expecting to see nothing on it.  The peephole camera only catches the view of a certain height. If the person is lowering themselves at the door to peek through the mail slot, the camera wouldn’t be able to catch the sight of them.

But it was there.

Fingers were there, to be precise.

I only saw fingers, coming from below the screen, scratching the camera. The person was crouching at the door and stretching up their arm to the peephole to scratch the camera.

What is this person doing? What’s going on?

Whatever this person thinks he/she is doing, this isn’t a normal behavior at all.. I started having goosebumps.

From where I was standing, I quickly looked at the front door and the balcony and checked all the doors were locked. I faced the monitor again. The hand was still there, now caressing the monitor softly. I kept looking at the monitor, then looking away. I was too scared to keep looking at it. I was wishing this person would eventually get tired and go away. But every time I looked back at the monitor, the hand was still there.

Then I made the mistake.

I was pressing the “on” button the whole time when this was happening. My monitor would turn off automatically after a minute if I don’t keep pressing the “on” button. And when the monitor closes, it would make a rather loud “beep sound”. I was so nervous that I wasn’t aware that my finger had slipped off the “on” button.

Beep.

The monitor closed.

Moment after the beep sound, my doorbell started going off hysterically.

Ding-dong, ding-dong,ding-dong,ding-dong,ding-dong,ding-dong,ding-dong,ding-dong,ding-dong,ding-dong,ding-dong,ding-dong,ding-dong,ding-dong,….

The monitor automatically went back on. Again I didn’t see any person, just fingers.

OK. As I’m writing it and reading it myself, I’m afraid this may not sound so scary. But at that time, I was so scared.  My knees went soft and I fell down on the floor.

Then I saw a whole hand on the monitor, knocking on the camera.

I don’t know how long it lasted. I was reaching the limit of my fear. I had to do something. I slowly walked out of my living room into the hallway. Between me and the entrance door, there was a bathroom. I hid myself inside the bathroom and stuck my head out to the entrance. Then I yelled:

I’m calling the cops

A voice answered. “What?…why?

 

It was a woman’s voice, a thin, high-pitched voice answering to me in an innocent tone. Maybe I watched too many horror films. But female voice sounded much more creepy in this situation.

I yelled again.

I’m serious! I’m calling the cops!

…you are?

 

Then everything went silent.

I was confused. What now? Is she gone?

 

Next moment, I heard the mail slot open, then close.

My body froze. She is not gone. She just opened the slot again…

This was my first time dealing with somebody so obviously crazy.

Even though this person was female, and I’m a guy by the way, I wasn’t sure if it was wise for me to be brave and face her in person.

When I calmed down, I walked to the monitor and switched it on.

There was nothing on the screen.

I couldn’t sleep that night.

Next morning….

I was on my way out when I noticed something poking out of the mail basket. It was hair. Lots of long hair. There was so much of it that it looked like a whole head of someone.

I didn’t know what to do with it and I was late for work. I decided to deal with it when I got home.

Towards the end of my work, knowing there would be hair in the mailbox when I get home, I started hesitating to go straight home. I ended up going out for drinks with my colleague. As

time went by, I started to worry about seeing the woman at the door when I get home. Though she had never showed up 2 days in a row in the past, I didn’t feel safe. I decided to stay at my colleagues place that night.

I slept well that night at my colleague’s place, feeling safe. But it was only until the next morning when I woke up to his scream. I knew deep down by instinct that it had to do with me, or, with “her”. I found my colleague standing at his mailbox with a pile of newspaper in his hand. There were hair in his mailbox. This time, it was short hair.

She had followed me.

The more I thought about it, the more agitated I became. I had no idea I was being followed. How much does she know about me?  How do I protect myself in public when I don’t even know what she looks like?

We tossed the newspaper and hair in the garbage and headed to work. I kept turning back my head to see if I could catch anyone following me. But I didn’t see anyone.

After work, I had no choice but to go home. I hadn’t changed my clothes in 3 days. I begged my colleague to come with me, but he refused. He said he didn’t want to be involved with a freak.

I was so afraid of going alone, I did something I never thought I’d do. I called my parents and asked them to stay on the phone until I arrived home. A bit embarrassing for an adult guy, but well, at least they’d know if something happened to me at the scene.

When I got to my condo, there was no one standing around my entrance. I went inside and checked everywhere: under the bed, bathrooms, closet, behind curtains, balcony… I double checked all the windows and doors had been locked. Everything seemed OK. I spent the night watching TV. Thankfully she did not show up that night.

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Continue on I’m scared of the mailbox – Part 2

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