A couple of years ago, something happened that I need to share. I’m currently in a bit of a haze—took too many edibles (all legal, of course), so bear with me if my writing isn’t clear. But I promise, this story is completely true.
It was over the Christmas holidays, and I was visiting my grandma with my six-year-old daughter. My grandma is basically a saint, which makes it hard to tell this story since it has some pretty intense and graphic moments. But I think it’s important, plus no one knows my grandma or me.
One ordinary evening, we went to bed—my daughter and I in the guest room while my grandma settled into her armchair, where she often prefers to sleep. In the middle of the night, the security alarm suddenly blared, jolting me awake with a burst of adrenaline. My first thought was that there might be an intruder.
Here’s a little context: my grandma has this radar for movement. Any time I get up during the night, she’ll wake up and check on me, often offering late-night snacks—her cooking is the best, with most ingredients fresh from her garden.
But this time, despite the alarm’s deafening racket, neither my daughter nor my grandma stirred. I mean, this alarm was piercingly loud—there was no way it shouldn’t have woken them.
I rushed to the alarm system to speak with the security assistant. I was almost blinded by the light on the porch, which illuminated everything—a harsh glow coming from old windows you have to crank open with a metal tool. I was trying to explain whether this was a false alarm or a real break-in, but the operator dismissed my concerns, calling it a false alarm and hanging up on me.
Feeling a little reckless, I reset the alarm, only to have it blare again—this time, it was triggered by that same window. I was still baffled by the fact that my family hadn’t woken up. The alerts felt surreal, especially with the lights flickering in the living room and above the garage.
I reset the alarm once more, certain it wasn’t supposed to sound off without a real threat. Strangely, my family didn’t come to check on me; my grandma was completely out, mouth wide open like I’d never seen her before. I was terrified, checking her for signs of life even as the alarm kept blaring.
When it went off a third time, my anxiety peaked along with a gut feeling that something was off. I felt entranced by the flickering lights—the one above the garage and the one in the living room were practically strobing, which only added to my fear.
Time seemed to slip away as I stood on the porch, paralyzed by the brilliance of the light. For reasons I still can’t explain, I grabbed a piece of paper and scrawled “What do you want?” on it, then slipped it through the window crack and set it on a bush outside.
I started acting a bit erratically, and I don’t really want to expand on that part. It’s all very odd, and I don’t want to sound crazy. The police did arrive the following day, and the security team checked the system too, though I can’t recall if that was the same day or the next.
As for how it ended—thankfully, when I finally woke up, my daughter and grandma were in the kitchen cooking breakfast. The delicious aroma of eggs and bacon filled the air, and everything was normal again.
I just felt the need to share this story as a kind of release. I think it left me with some issues, but I’ve got thick skin and I believe I’m okay. Still, something compels me to share it with strangers. If you don’t believe me, that’s a perfectly reasonable reaction. Honestly, I get it—most people probably would respond that way
Thank you for sharing your story. It sounds like you went through an incredibly intense and frightening experience, and I appreciate you being open about it. It must have been really alarming to be in a situation where the alarm went off and your loved ones didn’t respond. The combination of your worry for your family and the strange events happening must have felt surreal.
It’s also understandable that things may have felt disorienting with the lights flickering and the way your grandma was acting. Experiences like that can stick with us, and it’s good that you’re taking the time to process what happened. I’m glad to hear that everything turned out okay in the end, with your daughter and grandma being safe and sound. Sometimes sharing these stories helps us find a bit of closure or at least feel less alone in our experiences. Whatever issues you feel might have come from that night, it’s great that you’re acknowledging them. Just remember, it’s totally okay to reach out to someone if you feel you need support. Thanks again for sharing; it takes courage to put that out there.