This usually happens when I'm alone. At night. Everyone's asleep. I like to stay up late, because 1) I have insomnia and it's just hard to sleep, and 2) I like to have alone time to do what I want without a little monster (I love him to death though) calling "mommy" every five seconds and driving me up the wall. I'm a stay-at-home mom, I'm with him every second of the day, nighttime is my time. Even if it does get creepy.

At night, usually when I'm sitting in the living room with a notebook or book, around the background noise of the television, I'll hear the whispering. When it first started I didn't think anything of it. I thought, you know, maybe mice in the walls or something? It occurred every night after that first time (about two years ago is when I started noticing it) for I dunno how long. After a while, maybe a month or two I didn't really notice it again. I think I got so used to that little "scratching" noise I kind of tuned it out.

But then I decided to go visit my mom with my son. She's about a five-six hour drive away, so coming back home right after the visit was out of the option. I hate that long drive as is, I don't ever take it twice in one day. Ahead of times I made plans to spend the week at her house.

I shouldn't have gone so long. When I came back, I'd been so used to the solitude. I even had thought at one point of my visit that there wasn't any mice in the walls. When I returned home, that first night, I heard them all over again. It was louder though, especially when I went into my bedroom. Nighttime is the worst for these whispers, these "scratchings". When I'm laying there staring up at the ceiling, I can hear them the loudest from my closet.

A while ago, I asked my husband if there was mice in the house. He said we'd cleaned the mice all out a long time ago, when they first appeared. Better to get rid of the beginning then let it escalate. I knew he'd done a mice sweep when we'd moved in and disposed of what there was, but I hadn't known we'd gotten rid of them all at the time. Still, I questioned the possibility that it was mice, returning through some unseen holes in our house. I wanted myself to be convinced of this so badly.

So I endured the constant whisperings at night, I still do. I just plug in my music and drown them out. I can never make out the words anyways, it's like they're speaking some foreign language I can't understand. But it's also why I had myself convinced it was mice.

A couple of months ago changed my mind though. Very much. I was up at night, as usual, around 12am, almost 1. I was sitting in the living room, writing and occasionally watching whatever mindless show I had on at that time (probably Fresh Prince of Bel-air as that's usually all I've got around that time) and not really paying any attention to anything else.

Two of five dogs were in my parent-in-laws' room, their door shut. Two more of the five dogs were shoved on the couch with me (one's a German shepherd, so it gets crowded easily with him, the other a miniature poodle) and another sitting right above my head on the couch (he's a chi-Pom, small and able to fit). One cat of the three was, again, in my parent-in-laws' room, locked up. One of the other two was locked in my bedroom, where my husband and son slept fast asleep, the door locked shut. (I get nervous about my son getting up after he's gone to bed.) The third cat was in her usual spot, under the bathroom sink. None of the animals were in the kitchen, which is right off the living room. Not a single animal nor human being.

My son has his own shelf for his juices, catty-corner of the fridge to be reached easily for him. His juices are always pushed towards the back and against the wall so they don't fall off when he's jumping around and playing during the day, so I knew that they couldn't have just fallen. They had to be pushed. It was a packet of those twist top koolaid juices. It was the last one of his row, shoved against the back of the shelf and out of way of falling down. I'd done it myself, so I knew it was back there. In the silence, where I was the only one that moved, my pen and eyes, the pack of juice came tumbling down from the shelf, crashing to the ground. It made me jump, but after I had gone to pick it up, I just shrugged it off and thought maybe I hadn't pushed it to the back of the shelf as far as I'd thought I'd had.

The next morning, my husband asked me why I had been in the juice. When I told him I hadn't, he accused me again because the juices were supposed to be on the back part of the shelf where they'd been left the day before. I had nothing to say, I didn't want to sound crazier then I already did from my writing.

A few nights later, I was cleaning up the living room a bit earlier then usual to get ready for bed. I was tired and wanted to go to bed, but I had to pick up my son's toys first. As I was doing so, I heard someone call me. "Mommy," it said. Loud, clear, but a bit distant as if they were behind a door, in a room. Naturally, I thought it was my son. So I stopped what I was doing and returned to my room to see what he needed. He talks in his sleep, so when I found him sound asleep, I instantly blew it off as him talking to me in his sleep, as he does quite frequently. I went back to cleaning up the mess in the living room and again, I heard it. "Mommy", but it sounded more distant, as if growing away from me. Motherly instincts pushed me back to the room, even though I just figured it was him again, to make sure my son was alright. Again, nothing. It was quiet, minus my husband and son both snoring up a storm.

Normally when my son talks in his sleep it goes on for a while until turning into a ten minute nonsense babbling. Silence really wasn't a good sign.

I returned for a third time to clean up the mess. I was actually grumpy by this point, because I just wanted to go to bed. So then the voice spoke again and I got annoyed. Until I realized that it wasn't saying the same thing as before.

It wasn't "mommy" this time around. It was greeting me, "hello". One simple greeting and when I went to the bedroom, I heard those scratches again, those whispers coming from the closet.

I haven't heard the voice since, but the whispers still happen. Not every night anymore, but just randomly. Mostly when I try to go to bed early and end up laying and tossing in bed to try to sleep. They haven't called me again and my son has never said "hello" in his sleep, so I know it wasn't him.

The whispers are the worst after I come back from my mom's, all over again.

Even for being a horror addict myself, I still really just want to move from this house.