I moved into a new neighborhood, hoping to find new friends and the comfort of suburban life. However, no one was happy to see me. Citizens avoided me, and neighbors peeked at me behind their fences. One day, I discovered something that sent shivers down my spine. Could this be the real reason for their hostility?
I had just moved into a new house, rented through an agency, in a small suburb. It was a quaint little place with neat lawns and friendly-looking homes.
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I had hoped for a peaceful and friendly life, imagining neighbors stopping by to say hello and welcoming me to the community. But that didn’t happen.
From the first day, I noticed the cold shoulders. People didn’t greet me or even make eye contact. It was as if I was invisible. I tried not to let it bother me, but it was hard not to feel lonely.
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One sunny afternoon, I was watering the flowers in my front yard when I saw a little girl riding her bike down the street. She must have been around seven years old, with pigtails bouncing as she pedaled.
Suddenly, she lost control and fell off her bike right in front of my house.
“Oh no!” I exclaimed, rushing over to help her. “Are you okay, sweetie?”
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Before I could reach her, a woman—her mother, I assumed—came running over, yelling, “Get away from her!”
Startled, I stopped in my tracks. The mother grabbed the girl, her eyes wide with panic, and hugged her tightly.
“Are you hurt, Jenny? Did she touch you?” she asked frantically, looking at me like I was some kind of threat.
“I just wanted to help,” I said softly, feeling a lump in my throat.
The mother didn’t respond. She picked up her daughter and hurried away, leaving the bike behind.
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I stood there, confused and hurt. I noticed one of the neighbors, Jules, walking her dog near my house. She had seen the whole thing.
Jules was a peculiar woman. She always wore long skirts, and her eyes were painted with blue eyeshadow, her lips bright with pink lipstick. She was staring at me with an expression I couldn’t read.
“Good afternoon, Jules,” I called out, trying to sound cheerful.
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She didn’t reply. Instead, she clutched the leash of her small dog and quickly crossed to the other side of the road, muttering to herself.
“Why is everyone so unfriendly?” I whispered to myself. “Is it something I did?”
Back inside my house, I sat by the window, looking out at the empty street.
“Maybe they think I’m weird or something,” I murmured, trying to make sense of it all. “But they don’t even know me.”
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I picked up my journal and started writing.
“Day three in the new house. The neighbors are still avoiding me. Why are they treating me like this? I just want to fit in.”
Humming to myself, I closed the journal and looked around my empty living room. The house felt big and lonely.
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I walked on tiptoes to the kitchen, a habit of mine when I was nervous. I made myself a cup of tea and sat back down by the window, watching for any signs of friendliness.
“Maybe tomorrow will be different,” I said aloud, trying to stay hopeful.
But deep down, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was very wrong.
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***
Feeling lonely and unwanted, I decided to change the situation. I couldn’t just sit around hoping things would get better on their own. So, I decided to throw a party.
“Maybe they just need a chance to get to know me,” I thought.
I spent the whole day preparing. I cooked up a storm—salads, sandwiches, cookies, you name it. I even decorated the yard with fairy lights and colorful paper lanterns, hoping to create a warm and inviting atmosphere.
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As evening fell, I set up a table in the yard, arranging all the dishes neatly. I put on my favorite pink dress and tied a scarf around my wrist, humming a little tune to keep my spirits up.
“This will be great,” I told myself, trying to stay positive.
The clock struck six, the time I had mentioned in the invitations I had slipped into each neighbor’s mailbox.
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I waited, excitement and nerves battling inside me. But as the minutes ticked by, my excitement turned into anxiety.
An hour passed. Then another. The food lay untouched, the lanterns swayed gently in the evening breeze, and my heart sank. No one came. Not a single person.
Feeling despairing and close to tears, I began clearing the dishes.
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“What did I do wrong?” I whispered to myself.
Just as I was about to take the last tray inside, I heard a voice.
“Hey, need some help?”
I turned around to see Jacob standing at the gate, his usual charming smile on his face. He was dressed in tight jeans and a white T-shirt that showed off his muscles.
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I tried to smile back, though it felt forced. “Hi, Jacob. I was starting to think no one would come.”
He walked over, taking the tray from my hands.
“I’m sorry about that. There’s something you need to know.”
We sat down at the table, and Jacob looked into my eyes.
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“You see, the house you moved into has a bit of a reputation. The last woman who lived here had nothing but bad luck. Strange things kept happening, and then one day, she just disappeared. No one knows what happened to her.”
I felt a chill run down my spine. “That’s why everyone is avoiding me? Because of some old rumors?”
Jacob nodded. “People here are superstitious. Jules, especially is. She’s convinced there’s something wrong with this place. But I don’t believe in any of that. I’d be happy to have dinner with you.”
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I smiled, feeling a bit of relief. “Thank you, Jacob. I appreciate it.”
During the dinner, Jacob asked about my life, and I told him about my move and my hopes for a fresh start. He listened intently, offering kind words and compliments.
Before leaving, Jacob leaned in and whispered, “Just be careful around Mrs. Jules. She can be a bit off due to her superstitions.”
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I nodded, grateful for the company and the warning. There was more to this neighborhood than I had realized, and I was determined to uncover the truth.
***
The next day, after dinner with Jacob, I couldn’t shake off the unsettling feeling his words had left me with.
“I need to find out what’s happening,” I said to myself as I tiptoed around the house, my mind racing with thoughts.
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I decided to explore the attic. Maybe something there will give me answers.
I climbed up the creaky stairs. The attic was dusty and filled with old furniture, boxes, and cobwebs. As I rummaged through the clutter, I spotted an old, leather-bound diary.
Sitting down on a dusty trunk, I opened the diary. It belonged to the previous resident, and as I read, a chill ran down my spine.
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The woman had written about strange things happening around the house as soon as she moved in.
“Just like what’s happening to me,” I whispered, feeling connection to the previous tenant. “This can’t be a coincidence.”
Determined to find out more, I started paying closer attention to my surroundings. I also noticed strange occurrences.
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Every night, I heard eerie noises that seemed to echo through the neighborhood.
And every morning, the flowers in my garden were cut down. Moreover, a black cat appeared at my doorstep daily.
I eventually decided to keep the cat.
“At least you’re friendly,” I said, scratching behind its ears. I named him Snowball, despite his jet-black fur.
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Snowball quickly became my companion, and his presence brought me some comfort.
Jules, however, was always watching. She only left her house to walk her dog, but it seemed like she was also spying on the neighborhood, especially on me.
I often caught her peering out from behind her fence, her eyes following my every move.
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“Why is she always watching me?” I wondered aloud. “What does she think I’m going to do?”
That day, I decided enough was enough. I needed to know what was really happening. I dressed in dark clothes and tiptoed to the neighbor’s yard, hiding behind their fence. I waited, my heart pounding in my chest.
***
That night was dark and silent, with only the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.
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“What am I even doing here?” I whispered to myself.
Suddenly, a shadow darted through my garden. My breath caught in my throat as I watched it move swiftly, almost too fast to follow.
Gathering my courage, I emerged from my hiding place and started to climb over the fence, hoping to catch whoever it was.
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Just as I swung my leg over, someone started screaming hysterically.
“Who’s there? Get away!”
It was Jules. She had seen me.
She turned on all the lights in her yard, flooding the darkness with harsh brightness. Neighbors began to gather, drawn by the commotion.
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Jules was muttering something about me trying to harm her, her voice trembling with fear.
“What’s going on?”
I heard someone shout as people from nearby streets came running with flashlights, and some even with rakes, ready to protect themselves.
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Everyone looked at me in shock and suspicion.
“She’s the one causing all the trouble!” Jules cried out, pointing at me with a shaky hand. “She’s trying to harm us all!”
I felt a wave of humiliation and frustration wash over me.
“Wait, please!” I called out, trying to make them understand. “Someone has been setting this all up. It’s not what it looks like!”
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One of the neighbors stepped forward, a stern look on his face.
“You need to leave,” he said firmly. “We can’t have this kind of disturbance here.”
“No, please listen!” I pleaded. “I can prove it. Someone is behind all of this, and it’s not me.”
I pointed to the paint in my yard and said, “I spilled paint under my fence earlier. The person who climbed into my yard will have paint on them. That’s how we’ll find out who’s behind this.”
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The neighbors looked skeptical but began inspecting each other’s clothing. Jules started muttering again, accusing me of lying and trying to deceive them.
I felt tears sting my eyes as the humiliation deepened. Just then, I noticed Jacob arriving, the last one to show up.
Someone shone a flashlight on him, and I gasped. His boots were covered in paint.
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“Jacob?” a neighbor exclaimed. “What’s going on?”
Jacob’s face turned pale as everyone started demanding explanations.
He shook his head and protested, “This is ridiculous! I have nothing to do with this. It’s just a coincidence.”
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The crowd wasn’t convinced. They started murmuring among themselves, and the tension grew. Finally, one of the neighbors, a burly man holding a rake, stepped forward.
“Enough of this nonsense, Jacob,” he said firmly. “Answer like a man or get out of here.”
Jacob’s eyes darted around, realizing he was cornered. He sighed heavily, the fight draining out of him.
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“Alright, alright,” he muttered. “It was me. I spread the rumors about the house and its residents to lower the price. I wanted to buy it cheaply.”
The crowd gasped in shock and disbelief. The truth was finally out. The neighbors, realizing the mistake they had made, turned to me.
“We’re sorry,” one of them said. “We didn’t know.”
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Another neighbor stepped forward and added, “We should have listened to you from the start.”
“Thank you,” I said, my voice shaking. “I just wanted to be part of this community.”
From that day on, everything changed. The neighbors began to support me. I made new friends and started to enjoy living in my house.
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Jacob, on the other hand, became a recluse. The shame of his actions isolated him, and he eventually sold his house and moved away.
As I looked around at my now-welcoming neighborhood, I felt a sense of belonging and peace.
“Appearances can be deceptive,” I whispered to myself. “Things aren’t always as they seem.”
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Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
If you enjoyed this story, read this one: I wanted to surprise my son by visiting his restaurant. I wore a simple, neat dress and ordered a modest cup of tea. Suddenly, an arrogant woman asked me to move, humiliating me by pointing out my attire as unsuitable for such a place. Feeling humiliated, I went home.
What Are Witches’ Stairs? A Simple Explanation of This Strange Home Design
Witches’ stairs are a strange but interesting design feature that became popular on TikTok a couple of years ago. Even though they have an unusual history, their name doesn’t really have to do with superstition. Instead, these stairs are a clever design choice. When made and installed correctly, they can be both useful and nice to look at!
Witches’ Stairs aren’t what they Appear.
While the stories about witches’ stairs might sound more interesting, they actually have a very practical purpose. They are really useful in homes with little space, like attics, lofts, and tiny houses. Witches’ stairs are designed to save space while still allowing you to go from one floor to another. Architects often call them “alternate tread stairs.”
How Witches’ Stairs Function
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Witches’ stairs are designed to save space in two ways. First, each step is only half as wide as regular steps, and the steps are staggered. This makes the staircase narrower than a traditional one. These smaller stairs can also be used for extra storage, like for books or displaying items. According to Scott Schuttner, who wrote “Basic Stairbuilding,” the distance between the steps on one side of an alternating-tread stair is twice the height of the rise, which gives you more space on the steps and makes them safer.
Besides being practical, witches’ stairs meet building codes and safety standards in the U.S. A standard staircase is usually 3 feet wide, while a residential witches’ staircase is typically between 27 and 30 inches wide.
Real Origins
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In 1985, a businessman named J.M. Lapeyre created a metal version of witches’ stairs. He thought these stairs could be a safe alternative to ladders in commercial and warehouse settings, especially in tight spaces where ladders might not be safe. This design is also used on commercial ships and oil rigs, and it can be called ship stairs or ship ladders, in addition to witches’ stairs and alternate tread stairs.
Misconception
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When videos of witches’ stairs first appeared on TikTok in 2021, they were linked to an urban legend. According to this legend, these staircases were built in 17th-century Massachusetts to keep witches away during the Salem witch trials because “witches can’t climb up them.” This idea has been proven false, but another rumor suggests that Thomas Jefferson came up with the design. Because of this, witches’ stairs are sometimes called Jeffersonian or Jefferson stairs. However, an original version of the design was also mentioned in a book called “Monckton’s One Plane Method Of Hand Railing and Stair Building,” published in 1888.
Debunking the Myth
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The exact origins of witches’ stairs are a bit unclear, but one thing is clear: there’s no historical evidence that they were designed to keep witches away. Historian Robin Briggs has studied many historical sources and found no mention of stairs that could disable witches. Interestingly, some people with these unique staircases also buried “witch bottles” or included dead cats in their homes for protection against witchcraft, but Briggs calls this idea “pure disinformation.” He notes that the closest belief was that putting a broom over the door would trap a witch inside.
While it’s fun to think about myths and legends, it’s also interesting to know the real history of witches’ stairs. Regardless, they offer a unique and decorative alternative to regular staircases, adding a fun and quirky touch to home design.
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