In the mid-90s, my mom and I lived alone in a two bedroom apartment (I was in 3rd grade at the time). For starters the closet in my room was weird, it had sliding doors and an elevated bottom (2-3 feet higher than the floor). Being the messy kid I was the doors were always open and shit was everywhere.

So one night, I randomly woke up, I couldn't explain why, but something just felt really off. I sat up in my bed and started looking around my room. Sitting in my closet was my mom. She just sat there perfectly still in her nightclothes, straight-backed with her hands on her knees, and she was staring right at me. I called to her a few times, but she never moved and never acknowledged that I had even spoken to her. After a while I gave up and just laid back down to go to sleep (it was my mom I didn't feel threatened or anything).

So the next morning over breakfast as I was digging into whatever sugar filled awesome I was having, I asked mom why she was sitting in my closet last night. Mom looked at me like I had lost my damned mind and asked me why would she sit in my closet and that she hadn't left her room all night. My mom isn't much for fibbing or playing pranks so I believed her and it freaked me the hell out.

I never left those damned closet doors open again.