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As a child, my grandmother, Julie, would always tell me spooky stories. Most were obviously fake, but there is one that she still insists is true, even to this day, as do the others involved...

As a new mother of twins, Julie lived in her sister's basement in Queens, New York. She was still out of work taking care of her newborn daughters, and would often spend her days in her makeshift apartment until someone (with the ability to speak) came home from work. One day, as she was putting the twins down for a nap, she heard the front door open. "Someone must be home," she thought, but the door never closed. Puzzled, she climbed the creaky steps, careful not to wake her daughters. As she reached the top floor, she not only found the door closed tight, but locked and deadbolted from the inside. "Hello?" she called out, but there was no answer. She remained alone with the twins until her sister came home, hours later.

The next day, around the same time, the door opened again, and this time she heard it close loudly. "Someone definitely must be home this time," she thought, and called her sister's name up the stairs. No answer. A little unsettled, she climbed the steps once more, only to find the door locked and the house empty.

This continued for days. Every day, around the same time, Julie would hear the door open and close, and as the days progressed, footsteps became audible. Day after day they would get closer to the basement, and eventually made it down the stairs into her makeshift apartment, but every day she would look and the house would be empty. She became more and more frightened as the days went by. Her sister, of course, did not believe her.

After a week or so of this, she and her sister were with a few friends at the house. Julie brought up the incidents, stating that every day, around this time in fact, she would hear the door open, and footsteps down the stairs to the basement. "Maybe it will happen today," she said, a little hopeful. She wanted to prove to her sister that something was happening. After a few moments of silence, there was a crash, and what sounded like someone frantically running from up the basement stairs and up to the second floor of the house. The startled women went running to see what had happened, but Julie's sister made it into the hallway first, and screamed. They found her at the base of the stairs, trembling as she looked up them. "S-Someone's in my room..." she said, horrified.

The police were called, but nothing was found. All doors were still locked, all windows closed, they couldn't even figure out what caused the crash. From there, the noises stopped, but growing up in the basement, the twins would sometimes smile and wave at invisible visitors, always around the same time of day.