It was March of 1987 and I was in foster care in Madison County, North Carolina. My foster sister and I had a habit of walking the five miles around the dirt road that circled up and around her house and lead to the main highway.
On this particular day, it was sunny and warm enough to be comfortable. We were laughing and talking like we always did. But I kept getting the feeling that were not only being watched, but followed. I could see a big black shape off in the woods to the left across a small field. I tried to tell myself that it was probably a bear and we should keep moving.
We made our usual turn at the top of the hill to go left and finish our circuit to the main road. We passed a place where I had been before, cutting trees for firewood with my dad. There was an old house there that had slid off its foundation and was sitting at an angle on the side of the hill in a small valley.
I mentioned it to my foster sister and she wanted to see it, so we went. All the while, I still had the feeling of being followed, only closer this time.
We reached the house and went inside, laughing at the fun house effect. I heard the sound of footsteps outside and froze. By this time, she heard it to and we both stood absolutely still.
Then we saw this large black shape dart past the window. I got a good look at it and realized that this was no bear. We inched close to the door as quietly as possible, counted to three, and ran for our lives.
We could feel it following us, so instead of taking the long way home, we crawled through a fence and ran down the pasture until we reached the bottom of the hill, which ended about 100 yards from her driveway. We ran all the way to her house and could still feel it watching us. It was like we were in a glass house and it could see and feel exactly where we were.
We were much more careful about where we walked and never went back to the "floating house" ever again.