There’s a certain kind of quiet that only happens in an old Lubbock apartment after midnight. It’s especially off-putting when you haven’t lived there more than a couple of weeks. Lots of creepy noises you just aren’t used to, ya know? The hum of the fridge, the wind hitting the windows just right, the occasional “what was that?” sound that makes you sit straight up in bed. I’ve learned to ignore most of them.
But this noise was different.
Something in the Bathroom
It started as a soft scratching from my bathroom. Not a drip or a rattle — a slow, deliberate scrape. I got up, turned on the light… nothing. Just the cabinet door under the sink, hanging slightly open like it had been disturbed.
“Had I left it that way?” I thought to myself, as I shut it, shrugged it off, and went back to bed.
The Disappearing Act
Over the next few nights, I started to notice items were going missing. A hair tie here. A couple of cotton swaps there. Once, an entire breakfast taco disappeared off the counter — foil and all. I blamed exhaustion, or maybe that my cruddy old apartment had mice. But then I started finding things: bottle caps, crumbs, and what looked like a chewed-up chip stuffed under my bathmat…