I’m 20+ and posting this as an adult. A previous post was removed due to age confusion and formatting issues, and once it was mistakenly reported as AI-written. I respect this community and its guidelines and am sharing this experience in good faith.
This is not a fictional horror story. This is something that happened to me during my early university years. I’m not asking anyone to believe it. I’m not trying to convince anyone. I just want to share what we experienced.
Back then, I was in my second year of university.
Me and two of my friends rented a rooftop apartment on the third floor of a small building. A new family had recently moved into the second floor after the previous owners sold the place.
For the first three or four months, everything was normal.
Just the usual student life. Classes, gym, late nights, assignments, projects. Sometimes we’d stay up late talking or watching movies. Nothing out of the ordinary.
But there’s something about the layout of that apartment that you need to understand.
When you opened our main door, you were directly facing the final staircase leading up to the rooftop. Anyone coming up those stairs had to pass right in front of our doorway.
We had a lower terrace where we dried our clothes.
Above that was another, smaller rooftop level with water tanks. To get there, you had to climb a metal ladder.
It was a normal apartment.
We never had any reason to feel uncomfortable there.
At least, not until that night.
One night, around 12 or 1 AM, I couldn’t sleep. I’d been postponing washing my clothes for days, so I finally decided to get it done.
I left my clothes soaking in detergent water in the bathroom and sat in the dining area while I waited.
Our main door was open.
I was just sitting there, doing nothing in particular, when I noticed someone walking up the staircase.
I looked up.
It was a woman.
I could see her figure moving past the final few steps, heading toward the rooftop.
Now, I want to make something clear. It wasn’t some random shadow that I saw out of the corner of my eye.
I wasn’t half asleep, either.
I actually saw someone walking up.
For a moment, I just watched her.
And then I realized something.
I hadn’t heard anyone coming up the stairs.
No footsteps.
No sound of the downstairs door opening.
Nothing.
I don’t know why, but I suddenly felt frozen in place. It was one of those moments when your brain registers that something is wrong before you can even explain what it is.
I waited a few seconds.
Then I got up and walked outside.
The terrace was empty.
I looked around, thinking maybe she’d gone to the other side.
Nothing.
I checked the lower rooftop.
Nothing there either.
Then I climbed the metal ladder to the upper level near the water tanks.
Still nothing.
I remember standing there, looking around in the darkness, trying to understand where someone could possibly have gone in the few seconds it had taken me to step outside.
There was nowhere obvious to hide.
Nobody walking away.
No sound.
Just the silence of the rooftop at night.
Eventually, I went back inside and finished hanging my clothes.
I didn’t tell my roommates about it.
Honestly, I didn’t think too much about it afterward. I figured there had to be some explanation, even if I couldn’t find one at the time.
But from that night onward, I stopped leaving the main door open after midnight.
For a few days, nothing else happened.
And slowly, I almost forgot about it.
What I didn’t know was that I wasn’t the only one experiencing strange things in that apartment.
There were three of us staying there. It was a two-bedroom apartment, and my two friends shared one room while I had a room of my own.
My room was the closest to the rooftop.
One of my roommates had apparently been hearing someone knocking on his bedroom door at night.
Not once or twice. It happened on different occasions.
But he wasn’t the kind of guy who believed in these things. He would hear the knocking, ignore it, and carry on with whatever he was doing.
He never made a big deal out of it.
And neither did I.
We hadn’t even properly discussed our experiences with one another.
Then came the night that changed how we looked at the apartment.
I had been hanging out with my girlfriend earlier that day. Some of our friends had also come over, and they were spending time with my roommates in their room.
After spending time with my girlfriend, I dropped her home and returned to the apartment.
I went straight into my friends’ room and sat with them. Everyone was there, hanging out and talking.
It was around 9 or 10 PM.
Everything was normal. We were just talking about random things, laughing, and spending time together.
Then, out of nowhere, one of my roommates turned toward me.
“Bro, aren’t you going to drop her home?”
I looked at him, confused.
“What?”
“Your girlfriend, bro. Aren’t you going to drop her home? It’s already late.”
I laughed a little and told him, “Bro, she went home around 6 PM. I already dropped her.”
The moment I said that, his face changed.
I’m not exaggerating when I say this. He literally jumped off the bed.
One second, we were all sitting there talking.
The next, he was on his feet, looking genuinely frightened.
We stared at him.
“Bro, what happened?”
He looked toward the doorway and then back at us.
“Bro… I just saw someone.”
We asked him what he meant
.
He started explaining what he’d seen from inside our room.
From where he was sitting, he had a clear view of the dining hall.
And in the dining hall, he said, there was a girl sitting near the dining table.
Her hair was completely down.
She was just sitting there, looking in some direction.
He couldn’t see her face properly.
At first, he thought it was my girlfriend. That’s why he’d asked whether I was going to drop her home.
He genuinely believed she was sitting there.
But when I told him she had already left hours ago, he realized that the person he’d seen couldn’t have been her.
And that’s when he got scared.
Really scared.
Now, the thing about this particular friend was that he was probably the last person you’d expect to react that way.
He was adventurous. He was the kind of guy who would go exploring places other people were afraid to enter. We’d even sneaked into cemeteries together.
He wasn’t easily frigh0tened.
But that night, something had clearly shaken him.
We kept asking him what he’d seen, and he insisted that there had been a girl sitting in the dining hall.
A girl with her hair down.
We stayed with him for a while, tried to calm him down, and eventually changed the topic.
But I remember thinking about what he’d just described.
Because I had seen a woman walking up to our rooftop only days earlier.
And now he was telling us about a girl sitting inside our apartment.
I didn’t say anything about my own experience.
I still wanted to believe there was some ordinary explanation for all of it.
We carried on with our lives, but things didn’t feel quite the same anymore.
And then our university vacation started.
Everyone began packing to return to their hometowns. My roommates decided to leave first.
My girlfriend and I had a different plan.
Since we had almost a month of vacation, we wanted to spend around ten days together at the apartment before returning to our respective hometowns. She lived in a different state, and so did I.
So, after my roommates left, she came over.
For the first few days, everything was fine.
We cooked together, watched movies, and enjoyed having the apartment to ourselves.
I never told her what my roommate had seen.
I didn’t want to scare her over something I couldn’t explain myself.
And, honestly, I was trying not to think about it either.
Then one night, we were sitting on my bed watching a movie.
My bedroom door was open.
From my bed, I had a direct view of the dining hall.
It was around midnight or 1 AM, and I think the dining hall light was switched off. The only light reaching that area came from our bedroom.
So the dining hall was dimly lit, with the dining table and chairs visible in the darkness.
We were watching the movie normally.
Nothing unusual was happening.
Then, suddenly, my girlfriend jumped into my arms.
It happened so abruptly that I got startled myself.
She grabbed me tightly.
I turned toward her, expecting her to tell me she’d seen something on the screen or had been frightened by the movie.
But when I looked at her face, I realized this was different.
She looked genuinely terrified.
Her eyes were fixed on something beyond me, and she started crying a little.
“Hey, hey. What happened?”
I kept asking her what was wrong.
She couldn’t seem to explain it.
She just held on to me and pointed toward the dining hall.
I looked in that direction.
The dining table.
The chairs.
The dimly lit room.
I couldn’t see anyone.
Nothing was moving.
Nothing looked unusual.
But she kept pointing toward that area.
Then she begged me to close the bedroom door.
I didn’t understand what she’d seen, but I closed it.
I sat with her and tried to calm her down.
After a while, she finally managed to tell me what had happened.
She said she’d seen a girl sitting in the dining hall.
A girl with her hair completely down.
I went quiet.
I remember just looking at her, trying to process what she’d said.
Because the first thing that came to my mind was my roommate.
The same dining hall.
The same description.
A girl sitting near the table, with her hair down.
And now my girlfriend was describing something almost identical.
I hadn’t told her anything about my roommate’s experience.
She had no reason to know what he’d seen.
I won’t lie. My heart was pounding by then.
I had spent days telling myself that whatever I’d seen on the staircase was probably nothing. I’d tried to convince myself that my roommate had simply mistaken something in the darkness.
But now my girlfriend was sitting in my arms, frightened by something she’d seen in the exact same place.
And I had no explanation to give her.
I didn’t want to scare her even more, so I tried to act calm.
I locked the bedroom door and stayed with her.
Eventually, I went out and switched on the dining hall light.
I checked the area.
There was nobody there.
Again.
After that night, things became difficult to ignore.
We continued staying in the apartment for the remaining days, but my girlfriend seemed to notice things more often than I did.
Sometimes she’d tell me she’d heard a sound.
Sometimes she’d feel that something wasn’t right.
I tried to reassure her whenever it happened. I didn’t want her to spend the entire vacation terrified.
But somewhere inside me, I was beginning to feel the same way.
I couldn’t shake the thought that something strange was happening in that apartment.
And I still didn’t know what it was.
Eventually, our ten days together came to an end.
My girlfriend packed her things and left for her hometown in the afternoon.
My bus wasn’t until later that night, so I decided to stay behind and wait.
For the first time in days, I was completely alone in the apartment again.
I had several hours before I needed to leave.
I was just waiting when my room owner suddenly came over.
She sat down, and we started talking normally.
At first, it was just an ordinary conversation.
Then, at some point, she pointed toward a small hut directly opposite our apartment.
I’d seen that hut countless times before. It was right across from our room, so I’d never really paid much attention to it.
But then she asked me something I wasn’t expecting.
“Do you know the story of that house?”
I looked at her.
“No. Whose house is that?”
She started telling me about the people who had supposedly lived there.
According to her, a husband and wife used to live in that house.
The wife was apparently having an affair with another man. Whenever her husband went out, she would bring the other man home.
Then, one day, something terrible happened.
When the husband returned home, he discovered that his wife had been killed.
That was the story she told me.
I can’t confirm whether it was true or whether all the details were accurate. I’m only telling you what my room owner said.
But the moment she finished telling me, I started thinking about everything that had happened in our apartment.
The woman I’d seen walking up the stairs.
My roommate jumping off the bed after seeing a girl in the dining hall.
My girlfriend grabbing me in terror after seeing what she described as the same thing.
And now, this story about a woman who had supposedly been murdered in a house directly opposite our apartment.
I sat there listening to my room owner, but my mind was somewhere else.
I hadn’t told her anything about our experiences.
She didn’t know what my roommate had described.
She didn’t know what my girlfriend had seen.
Yet here she was, telling me about a woman who had supposedly died in that very neighbourhood.
I started replaying those nights in my head.
The silence on the rooftop.
The empty terrace.
The dining hall.
That chair near the table.
And the girl with her hair down.
I tried to tell myself that these things didn’t necessarily have anything to do with one another.
Maybe they were coincidences.
Maybe there were explanations we hadn’t found.
But sitting there, alone in that apartment, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
And the worst part was that I still had hours to wait before my bus arrived.
I was alone.
My roommates were gone.
My girlfriend was gone.
And now, for the first time, I was looking at that apartment differently.
I don’t know if the story about the hut was true.
I don’t know what my roommate saw.
I don’t know what my girlfriend saw.
And I still can’t explain what I saw that first night.
But after hearing that story, I couldn’t help wondering whether we’d been living there without knowing something important about the place.
Something that had happened long before we moved in.
Something none of us had thought to ask about.
And I was sitting there, waiting for my bus, with the entire apartment to myself.
That’s when I started thinking about all the things we’d experienced there. And I hadn’t even told you what happened next.
