Alicia Piasecki

Just one year ago, I was on the computer at 11pm while sitting at a desk beside a window. Mind you, I live in a ground floor apartment, so it looked something like this, but with the older slat style blinds facing upwards, and no lights on:

I had my headphones in, listening to music when I hear some sort of unrecognizable background noise.

I take off one headphone, then the other. The noise is then clearly coming from the window; almost a scratching noise.

I was scared shitless at this point. The noise began growing louder. I finally grew the balls to get up and walk over to the window. I had to move the slat in order to see what was making the noise.

I move the slat ever so slowly, and I see a man face-to-face in the window.

I was HORRIFIED. A burglar? Serial killer? Stalker?

To make it worse, he looked so angry that I had noticed him.

“Oh hell fucking no. fuck fuck fuck…”

I quickly flip the blind back and stand frozen in my room for 5 minutes. By this time, the noise came back. I quickly turned on the lights in my room and flip the blinds over again to see the man running away.

I then take the time to plan out what I’m going to do next, when all of a sudden I hear knocking on my neighbour’s door, followed by a scream.


I take a bag and jacket and run into the hallway and out of the side door and go to my friend’s place for the night.

I came back the next morning to find out that the man in the window had knocked on my neighbour’s door (probably thinking it was mine), punches my neighbour, and runs into his kitchen to grab a knife. Luckily, his friends were over at the time and they tackled the man and held him captive until police could arrive. Had it been me, a teenage girl who is home alone, I don’t think the story would have ended so happily.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget how lucky I am.

Pedro Aniceto

I was about 14 years old. My mother asked me to run an errand for her. “Just go across the street, check your aunt, cause she told me she isn’t feeling well…”.

I went there, checked on her, and got back warning my mother that she wasn’t looking well.

“Get back there and escort her here, will you?”

So I did. Helped her getting her stuff, and walked her to our place just across the street. Slowly she walked along with me, until we reached our building entrance.

She sat down for a few minutes before climbing the stairway. She grabbed my shoulder–I still feel her hand on my shoulder–and in a very firm manner told me, “I am climbing this stairway for the last time. I am certain. I am feeling it.”

We climbed the stairway, very slowly. I helped her sit down on the couch. She smiled and told my mother, “I’m leaving.”

She dropped dead at that moment.

via Quora