Lights out!

Dear Mr. Hitchins,

I hope this letter finds you well. I'm writing to you out of a mix of desperation and hope, as strange events have been unfolding in my apartment, and I'm at a loss on how to handle them.

I live with my mother, and our routine is simple. She spends her days in the living and dining areas, often with the TV playing in the background while she scrolls through social media or cooks. I'm usually in my room, working late into the night, sometimes indulging in online shopping—a guilty pleasure, I admit.

Recently, I bought motion sensor lights to light our way to the bathroom at night. They were supposed to be purely functional, but I found myself quite excited about them. They worked perfectly at first, casting a soft glow at our feet as we walked by.

But then, things took a strange turn. One night, while my mother was asleep, the light at the foot of my bed turned on by itself. No bugs, no rats (we've never had them), nothing to trigger it. I watched, heart pounding, as one by one, the lights led a path towards my mother's room, as if something—or someone—was moving through our home.

I woke my mother in a panic. She tried to calm me, suggesting it was just a nightmare, but the fear was real. She stayed in my room the next night for peace of mind, but it happened again. The lights flicked on in sequence, the chill in the air deepening with each one.

I removed the lights the next day, thinking it would stop whatever was happening. It didn't. The cold persists, and some nights it's so intense it feels as if the chill is watching me, feeding off my fear. My mother, bless her, sleeps soundly, unaffected by the cold that keeps me awake.

I've started to sleep during the day, the only time I feel somewhat at ease. But every night, as the darkness settles, that chilling sensation returns. I stumbled upon your website during one of my desperate searches for an explanation, a solution—anything.

Please, Mr. Hitchins, I need your help. I don't know what to do, and I'm scared of what might happen if this continues. I feel it around me even now, possibly reading over my shoulder, mocking my fear.

I am looking forward to any advice or help you can offer. Please respond at your earliest convenience.

Warm regards,

Ronak Chatterjee