Violin Hill

After moving into a new house, I often walked the surrounding area with my dog. A large fenced hill stood nearby, and an abandoned farmhouse was farther along the road. The hill was not open to the public, but I sometimes wondered about it.

One morning I woke to the sound of a violin. It was distant and haunting, and I assumed someone had moved into the empty house opposite mine. When I looked outside, the house was still vacant and the music had stopped.

The violin returned repeatedly over the following days. Eventually I rushed outside while it was playing and saw a very tall figure on the hill. The figure played while slowly spinning in a strange, waltz like motion. I looked away briefly to collect the morning paper. When I looked back, the music had stopped and the figure was standing still, apparently watching me.

After that, I noticed unfamiliar footprints near the surrounding properties, tools lying around where no workers were present, and calls that ended as soon as I answered. I stopped walking toward the abandoned farmhouse. I also began hearing footsteps near my bedroom window, although I never saw anyone.

One night I heard the violin again, this time coming from the empty house opposite mine. A faint candlelike light flickered in one of its windows. I watched for several minutes but saw no movement. The music stopped, the light went out, and I moved away from the window.

The worst incident happened while I was playing a game at my desk. The desk stood beside a small window close to the fence around my property. I usually kept the room dark. After getting a drink from the kitchen, I returned toward the desk and noticed two faint lights just above the fence line.

They were not lights. They were eyes.

Someone was standing directly outside the window, staring at me without blinking or moving. I fell to the floor and hid against the wall. Then the violin began playing directly outside the window. It was much louder than before, with missed notes and screeching strings. The music grew faster and more frantic.

My dog, Jeb, was in the backyard. He gave one deep bark. The violin stopped immediately. I remained frozen until Jeb barked again. Then I heard the figure outside the window begin walking toward the yard.

I crawled to the back door. Jeb stood there staring into the darkness. I opened the door and tried to pull him inside, but he refused to move. We remained on the patio while the footsteps continued nearby. They did not sound like an ordinary walk. They moved slowly in a circle, keeping a steady rhythm, as if whoever made them were dancing while drifting away from the house.

When the footsteps finally faded, Jeb licked his lips, looked at me, and walked back inside. The violin player never returned to the hill or to my window. I still do not know who was watching the house, or whether the violin was meant to draw me outside.