When I was a young adult, 18-19 years old or so, I was living with my parents. On summer weekends, they went to their lake cottage, while I stayed home alone. I was working a retail job at the time. By "alone", I mean that I usually had friends over on Friday and Saturday nights, as would most kids that age. We drank, played pool, listened to music, and much more.
The house was in a rural, mostly forested area. The driveway was half a mile long, with the house backing up to a river. One side of the property was bordered by a large, shallow lake, and the other side of the property was bordered by more wetlands, all of which drained into the river. So, the house essentially sat on an "island", accessible only by the driveway, or of course, by boat.
On the night in question, I had to work, arriving home about 9:30 PM. My good friends, Ronnie and Heather (a couple, now married), were coming over for an evening of beer, music, and pool. As I drove down the gravel township road that led to our driveway, I came to the mailboxes in front of a neighbor's (still 3/4 of a mile from the house), and found Ronnie and Heather sitting in their car, waiting for me. This was unusual- normally they would have proceeded to the house. I stopped to ask them what they were doing, and when they spoke, I could tell that they were quite shaken. Heather was nearly in tears. They said that they had already gone up to the house. They saw that my car wasn't there, but that the lights were on in the pool room, which was on the main level, and was where we partied. So, they went to the door. The lights were on in the pool room, and the music was blasting. But when they knocked on the door, the lights and music turned off. Instantly. Ronnie and Heather, now scared ****less, immediately got in the care, and drove up to the mailboxes to wait for me.
After they told me what happened, I sort of scoffed at their story. But what's important to note about Ronnie and Heather is that they weren't pranksters, or story tellers. Quite frankly, they were neither imaginative enough nor particularly bright enough, to pull off a gag like this. Nor were they actors, but they were clearly frightened, and did not want to go back to the house. I, on the other hand, was oozing with teenage bravery, and convinced them to come back to the house with me. When we arrived, the lights and music were off, and we had an uneventful evening playing pool, listening to music, and drinking beer.
So, was someone at our house? No, of course not. Nothing was stolen or disturbed, and the only way out would have been the driveway, where we would have seen them leave. Were Ronnie and Heather pranking me? Possibly, but they just weren't they type. They weren't at all mischievous, and neither could tell the simplest of fibs with a straight face.
I never did figure out what happened that night, but it may be (or may not be) interesting to note that I had an uncle who died in that room some years previously.
That feeling is a precious commodity in these over-civilized times.
A few times I've heard wolves howliing in the mountains. That's a sound you never forget.
