Storytime!
(I still feel acute dread when I talk about this one. Make your statement, face your fears, and all that!)
This occurred on Halloween when I was in middle school...
At 13, I had already been skipping the 'trick or treating' part of the holiday for many years, while all of my friends were still very much committed. SO, I got in the habit of staying behind at the house of whoever was hosting the Halloween party with a few of the adults, while my classmates went door to door.
This Halloween happened to be the first one where I was old enough to be trusted with a responsibility, and to be left in the house with only one other person (the older brother of one of my closest friends, who became a friend as well over the course of this night).
We were tasked with passing out candy, and occupying the door for however many hours it took for everyone to get back (the neighborhood was very large).
For almost an hour, our job went incredibly smoothly. I got a chance to speak with my friend's brother one on one, and he had started to get comfortable with me, the kids were very sweet and I loved seeing their costumes.
-Then, at about the hour mark, a small child in glasses approached the door with his mother close behind him. I smiled and held out the bowl for him, but he looked right past me to the stairwell we were seated at the bottom of.
He slowly raised his hand and pointed over my shoulder, "Can I try your stairs?"
I was surprised and a bit unnerved by the wording (it was an odd request, and something about "try" suggested that the stairs might do something other than sit perfectly still while you walk up and down them,)
-but I gave a little laugh and said "Oh, they're not my stairs, we're just watching the house for the owner. So no, I'm sorry."
The kid looked confused, eyes still focused behind me, then smiled and pointed again, "But he's trying them..."
Ice shot through my back and, instantaneously, my companion and I glanced at each other. We shared a silent understanding that neither of us were going to turn around.
I tried my best to seem calm, even though I felt nauseous, and asked "Who? Sorry, we're the only ones here."
The kid looked confused again, and insisted "Him."
This was the moment that his mother decided to step in. She moved her arms to usher her child away and said "There's no one on the stairs. Let's go..."
And I hated that she sounded nervous. -Not entertained, or even apologetic, but something akin to frightened.
I heard the little boy say "Yes there is. He's right there," while taking one last look behind him as they headed back to the sidewalk.
Myself and my friend's brother were very quiet and very still for several seconds after they had left.
Finally, he turned to me and said "I didn't like that."
I agreed.
Neither of us looked at the stairwell for the remainder of our time alone in the house.
