This event took place in about June, 2005 in Brisbane, Australia. My family and I had just moved into a new house: a huge derelict rental property that hadn't been remodeled since the second world war. I always got the creepiest vibe from the place. You constantly felt like you were being watched when traversing its many hallways.

When I would do silly girly teenagery stuff like dance to music alone in my bedroom, I got the most peculiar feeling that someone was watching me and judging -- a feeling I had never felt alone before.


It made the hair rise on the back of my neck.

I wasn't the only one to feel it. My sisters and mother regularly commented on the house's strange vibe and, independent of me imparting any of this to her, my best friend said when we left the property, "Oh, thank god. That place was creepy. I always felt like I was being watched there."

Nothing remarkable ever came of this strange sensation but for one incident. One night I was reading some Shakespeare aloud to myself. I was specifically reading my favourite sonnet, My Mistress's Eyes. I was speaking out loud as it's easier to pick up a poem's cadence that way. My cat was snoozing in my lap.

As I was reading, the peculiar "watched" feeling stole over me. Then, as it rose to such a pitch, I looked up and, I swear to all heavenly entities, there was a white orb hanging over my shoulder, reading the poem along with me.

I would have thought that I was hallucinating had my cat not looked straight at the orb too, hissed vehemently, and tore from the room, her tail fluffed up from fright.

I run out with her and into my mum's room, blubbering incoherently.

If I was daydreaming or tired that night, then why did my cat sight the thing and get upset? I've always thought cats have an extra perception of the unknown. I now sleep with my cat every night.

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