The Stranger Lived in Our Walls / Chapter 2: The House That Watches
The Stranger Lived in Our Walls

The Stranger Lived in Our Walls

Author: Lori Joseph

Chapter 2: The House That Watches

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The next morning, James headed to base, the boys to school. Campbell, alone, made herself a strong cup of Kona coffee, the house silent except for the distant caw of a myna bird and the soft hum of the ceiling fan. The quiet felt both peaceful and eerie.

Not content to just be a housewife, Campbell set up her phone at the vanity—YouTube tutorials queued up, makeup brushes fanned out. She tried to focus on contouring, but the back of her neck prickled, as if someone watched from the hallway.

Then came the noise: "creak... clunk." Like a door opening, then closing. The sound snapped her upright, mascara wand trembling in her hand. Alone, she felt a chill race down her spine.

Her stomach flipped. She grabbed a baseball bat, knuckles white, and tiptoed downstairs. The sticky warmth of the Hawaiian morning pressed in. She flinched at every shadow, her hand slick on the bat handle.

She searched room by room: the guest bedroom, the cluttered study, the laundry room where her reflection flickered in the steel washer. The kitchen felt foreign, the fridge humming louder than usual. Even the pantry got a nervous check—she half expected to see eyes peering from behind the Horizon chocolate milk carton.

No one. She locked every door, double-checking deadbolts and sliding glass doors. Upstairs, she searched again—still nothing. Back at her vanity, she stared at her reflection: shirt soaked, face pale, eyes too wide. Was she losing it? Or was everyone else just refusing to see the truth?

One thing was certain: the sound was a door. But which one? She couldn’t say. She found herself wishing she’d paid more attention during the home inspection.

Could someone have slipped out quietly, just missing her? The thought made her skin crawl. She imagined eyes hidden in a closet, breath held, waiting for her to leave.

The more she thought, the more her fear grew. She called James, begging him to come home.

James returned, irritation barely masked. He set his duffel on the counter, boots still on. "Campbell, you can’t call me off base unless it’s a real emergency. You know that."

"There’s a stranger in the house—isn’t that an emergency?" she snapped, voice cracking.

James rubbed his forehead, forcing a hollow laugh. "We’ve checked everywhere. It’s impossible."

She clenched her fists, frustration burning behind her eyes. "Fine. But if something happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you."

He muttered, "Maybe it was just the wind."

She stared at the locked doors, wondering if locks could really keep out what she feared. In the end, they agreed to install a surveillance system—though in Honolulu, delivery and installation would take at least two weeks.

They joked about it over dinner—leftover pizza and salad, the boys bickering over the last slice—but the laughter was strained. At night, the fridge’s soft hum and a neighbor’s dog barking made Campbell jump. She noticed food vanishing—chocolate milk always gone early, a leftover poke bowl missing. She watched the boys, wondering if she was overstepping with her suspicions, worrying about her role in this new family.

James tried to reassure her, voice tired: "Just get some sleep. Stop overthinking." He squeezed her shoulder, but his own eyes were shadowed with worry.

She crawled into bed beside him, eyes open, counting slow breaths. That night, her wish for proof came true—another bizarre event unfolded...

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