They tried to warn me. The way my friend’s girlfriend hissed “shut the fuck up!” when her roommate mentioned the slamming cabinets. But rent was cheap, the neighborhood was perfect, and I’d never believed in ghosts. Big mistake. For 12 months, we played housemates with something else. Cabinets slammed on their own. Shadows walked hallways. My Labrador—a chill, goofy boy—growled at dark corners like his life depended on it. Once, he pinned me to the bed, barking at the closet while moonlight poured in. The grand finale? Coming home to my roommate’s door creeping open on its own, then watching the patio curtain bulge toward me—inches from my arm—with no draft, no intruder, no explanation. We never moved. Just learned to coexist. TL;DR: Either the world’s most dedicated poltergeist hated tidy living rooms, or I accidentally signed a lease with the underworld. (Still miss that neighborhood, though.) #HauntedAF #RoommateFromHell #ParanormalStories