I wrote about a different creepy thing last year that happened in this same house, but I can’t find that post anymore (Thanks, Kinja!). Anyway, here’s another one that happened about a year before that other one.

I got a promotion at work and moved my family from Texas back to my home state. My wife’s aunt and uncle lived next door to a house they wanted us to rent because it had been empty for more than three years, but they knew the owner. We worked out a lease agreement and moved in. Nice little house in a nice enough middle-class neighborhood, and living next to relatives was great because they offered to watch our kids regularly. At the time we had twin not-quite-one-year-olds. They slept in separate cribs in a room down the hallway from our bedroom and they were really good at sleeping through the night.

A couple of months after we moved in we started hearing sounds like footsteps down the hall. The hallway was carpeted, but it sounded like floorboards creaking underfoot. The house wasn’t very old, maybe 25 years? I chalked it up to the house settling, but it happened almost every night for two weeks. Then one night one of our boys woke up screaming in the middle of the night. My wife and I ran into their room and my wife screamed. Both of our boys had somehow been neatly tucked under their fitted crib sheets, like someone had made the bed over the top of them. My wife ripped off the sheet, picked up the crying baby, and started comforting him. I walked over to the other crib and saw that the other baby was lying completely still under the sheet. I ripped the sheet off him and picked him up. He woke up from a dead sleep and looked at me bleary-eyed. As I was holding him and staring at his face trying to figure out if he was ok, suddenly he smiled. But not at me. He was looking over my shoulder at the ceiling.

My wife and I took the babies to bed with us that night. Nothing like that ever happened again.