A few years ago, I moved to a new apartment. The house was very quiet, and the neighbors were all very friendly. However, not long after moving in, I started hearing some strange sounds. Especially late at night, I could always hear faint footsteps coming from the direction of the bookshelf, as if someone was walking slowly on the carpet.
At first, I thought it was the upstairs neighbor or sounds coming from outside, but those footsteps were always very clear, even with some rhythm, as if they were coming towards me. One night, I woke up and saw some books on the bookshelf mysteriously falling to the ground. As I got up to pick them up, I noticed the bookshelf was slightly shaking, as if someone had just touched it.
I didn't pay much attention to the situation until one day when I decided to organize the bookshelf. I accidentally found a very old diary tucked in a compartment at the bottom of the bookshelf. Curiously, I opened it and realized it was left by the previous tenant. The diary contained many records describing insomnia, revealing his anxiety and unease between the lines. The last page read: "I can't stand those footsteps anymore."
Later, I moved the bookshelf away and placed the diary by the window for ventilation, trying not to think about the experience of that night. Strangely, since discovering that diary, the footsteps have never appeared again.
At first, I thought it was the upstairs neighbor or sounds coming from outside, but those footsteps were always very clear, even with some rhythm, as if they were coming towards me. One night, I woke up and saw some books on the bookshelf mysteriously falling to the ground. As I got up to pick them up, I noticed the bookshelf was slightly shaking, as if someone had just touched it.
I didn't pay much attention to the situation until one day when I decided to organize the bookshelf. I accidentally found a very old diary tucked in a compartment at the bottom of the bookshelf. Curiously, I opened it and realized it was left by the previous tenant. The diary contained many records describing insomnia, revealing his anxiety and unease between the lines. The last page read: "I can't stand those footsteps anymore."
Later, I moved the bookshelf away and placed the diary by the window for ventilation, trying not to think about the experience of that night. Strangely, since discovering that diary, the footsteps have never appeared again.
Translated
10
1