This happened October 9, 2003 in Alpine, California. I live somewhere between the suburbs and farmland -- you know, the place where your nearest neighbor is a two-minute drive away. One night, my parents were out for the weekend, so I decided to order pizza and stay home alone.
At about 10:30 at night, I heard a slow pounding on the house's wooden door. It was very faint and I am not exactly sure how I even heard it. Naturally, being stupid and young, I opened the door without checking to see who it was. When I saw who it was, my skin practically leapt of my body; however, I was not sure why.
The person at the door was not strange looking; if I had seen him during the day I probably would have overlooked him. He was wearing a black pinstripe suit and sunglasses and had pale skin with high cheekbones; possibly of eastern descent. He told me he had just been in a car crash and needed to use my telephone to contact the authorities. Normally, I would have admitted him instantly, but there was something wrong about him. The way he said it was not in any way distressed, yet it was also not said in shock. It was just so calm.
I told him that if he wanted I would call the police for him. He paused for a moment, then looked backward at the darkness behind him. As he did that, I caught a look at his eyes beneath his sunglasses. They were enormous with red veins popping out of them, and it seemed like they could explode at any moment. I got a feeling of complete and utter panic and I could feel despair weighing down on me.
I assured him that I would call the cops for him if he just stayed on the front porch. I shut the door and went to the phone. As I dialed nine and one, I looked through the peephole to see the stranger, but he was no longer there.