The House Along the River

In my second year of seminary, an older classmate sat next to me during our lunch break and had a request.

“My husband and I are going on vacation during January break and we need someone to watch our house, dog, and cats. Would you be willing to do this? We can pay you for your time.”

As a young, single guy who lived in a tiny apartment with a roommate, I was happy to housesit for them. I loved animals and it was an opportunity to live in a new part of town for two weeks, make a little money, and have a whole house to myself.

I arrived on the day they were leaving to a turn-of-the-century, three-story mini-mansion along the Mississippi River in St. Paul, MN. The place was nicely kept, with a huge living room, big picture windows, and a renovated kitchen. I was going to love living here for two weeks!

My classmate introduced me to their black lab, Homer, and their two cats, who spent most of their time laying on the radiators. She also showed me a door in their kitchen that led to their basement. They left it open slightly so the cats could get to their food bowl (and Homer could not). They had recently renovated the basement into an apartment where two grad students were living at the time. She told me I would hear them coming and going from time to time and that I shouldn’t be afraid to say hello.

After they left I acclimated myself to the house. Though it was very well kept, it maintained that “creepy house vibe” that lots of older houses have. There was an attic with a very narrow staircase that led up to a poorly lit bedroom with old dolls and toys. The stairs were wooden and creaked when I (or the dog) walked on them. And with any old house in Minnesota in the winter, it was cold almost all the time, no matter how high I set the thermostat.

My first night there, I slept in the guest room on the second floor. But the bed was hard, the room was freezing and the dog whined from downstairs because he refused to sleep upstairs. So I decided on my second night to sleep on the couch in the living room where I could be close to the dog and a little bit warmer and more comfortable. I slept great the next few nights and had no problems.

On my second to last night I got into bed like normal on the couch with my feet facing the wall and my head toward the dining room and front door. With their two large picture windows in the living room, the room was aglow with soft light at night because of the reflection of the streetlight off the snowy front lawn. With the lights out I could easily make out the shapes of objects in the room, but not in much detail.
Around 10 pm, after a long day of studying for my January term class, I fell asleep.

I awoke in a drowsy state to a loud buzzing sound that I didn’t recognize. I had no idea what time it was and, in a state of just waking up, was a little unsure as to where I was. It was still night, as the soft light from the street lamp made it’s way into the room, giving me just enough light to see where I was.

The loud buzzing sound happened again.

Trying to find my bearings, I grabbed on to the coffee table and turned my body around on the couch. I turned toward the dining room and the front door and looked up. Standing at the front door, in the light of the streetlamp, was the figure of a man wearing a hoodie, staring directly at me. His hand was on the doorknob but he wasn’t moving. Because the light was behind him, I could make out nothing else other than his figure, and that he was facing me, about five feet away.

My heart froze. What was probably only three seconds of him looking at me seemed like minutes. I couldn’t move from the couch.

By this point, the dog was barking like crazy. Without speaking, the figure shut the door and walked into the kitchen, totally un-phased by the fact that I was sitting on the couch. The dog ran to me, still barking and whining.

I sat on the couch, next to the dog, with my heart beating again.
After a few seconds to calm down, I realized it was one of the men who lived in the basement answering the front door. Whether it was a late night pizza delivery that should’ve gone to the back door, or a friend dropping something off, I’ll never know. I saw both men over the next two days and neither of them mentioned it, though, so maybe it was a ghost all along? Not matter who or what it was, it was by far the most terrifying thing to ever happen to me.

Even though I can explain it away, the sight of a man, staring down at me, the outline of his body illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlight bouncing off the January snow, will never leave my mind or my nightmares.