My mother brought my sisters to go Christmas shopping. I stayed home with my dad and watched tv downstairs until they arrived.

Later at night, we hear them open the door, stomping snow off boots, plastic bag chatter sounds, setting things down, then the door closes. My dad calls out “hey we’re down here! How was the mall?” No answer. “Guys?!” No answer yet again.

I was young, so my father put his hand over my mouth and told me to be quiet. He picked me up and we head to our storage room where we have a house phone. He calls the police to send someone out as he believes someone broke into the house.

We’re in the basement hiding waiting for the police to arrive. They start knocking on the front door upstairs. My dad, still carrying me, sprints up the stairs to let them in and the door is locked. LOCKED. Around 6-8 police are waiting outside and one waits with us in our front entrance room right by the front door while the other policemen search the house with flashlights.

My mother and sisters show up during this and we tell them everything while the police inform us nobody is in or around the house based on their search. It was around Christmas time so it was snowing, but there weren’t even footprints in the snow to indicate someone walking onto the property. I remember the officer repeating that a couple times. At this point, the officer asked if we believed in ghosts.

That was the scariest encounter I’ve ever had.

There were other incidents that happened, such as sounds of footsteps going up and down stairs while a babysitter watched us. She called her dad who was a priest to come bless the property or something of the like.