One night last week, after I’d returned from my trip but my husband hadn’t, he called to let me know he’d received a call from a neighbor two houses away who’d heard a window being broken in the house behind him, then saw a person in the backyards who’d apparently attempted to get into the other house. That person had next gotten into that now-calling neighbor’s yard, then over the fence of the house between ours. But no one knew where he was now.
In our backyard?
Where had the person gone?
And I did have to open a door into the side yard before I went to bed, to let the dogs out. I turned on the light and looked outside before allowing my pups to go into their dog run. I even held a knife—not that I figured I’d use it. But if someone was there, I’d hopefully scare them off.
Fortunately, I didn’t see anyone. And my pups remained just fine. Oh, and me, too.
When my husband returned home he scanned the footage from our security cameras and didn’t see anyone, either.
And what was this? It sounded like something I’d write, but not reality. I hoped. Maybe I will use it in a story someday. But it was rather unnerving.
Since then, I’ve talked to people about it but still have no idea who it was or where they went, although we had a gate left ajar that could be a result of that person—or, our just leaving a gate ajar. Same thing regarding a door into a shed.
I certainly hope whoever it was got scared enough not to try it again.