Well, I'm very late.

But I have this neighbour, who was always very fond of me. He's introverted, and probably has some kind of issues that I don't know the details of. Never meeting my eyes when we talk, for one. Years ago, I noticed that he seemed to be researching me online. Specifically, he'd talk about books or movies I might have mentioned on a forum I used to frequent, or comment on other things I'd chatted about. Uneasy, I started avoiding him.

One night, the doorbell rang at 4AM. I flinched awake and figured I'd imagined the sound and went back to sleep. A few days went by, and it happened again. This time I went up and peered out of the peephole on the door but could only see darkness beyond, not even the stairs or the doorway. I figured it was dark as it was mid-autumn, and went back to sleep. The third time it happened - the same thing, it was just dark on the other side of the door.

I was up late one night and feeling on edge (which I increasingly did these days) I peeked out the hole, I'm not even sure why - shocked to realise that I could see the hallway beyond, the stairs, and the front door quite clearly even at this time of night. So why had it been so dark the previous times I looked?

When the doorbell rang again, a few nights later, my heart was hammering like mad, and I very stealthily tiptoed through my flat. I didn't go to the door, this time, but to the window where I hugged the wall next to it, and stood to peek out at the street outside. I waited, and waited. About half an hour later, my neighbour came sneaking out of the doorway. He went to stand in the road, staring up at my window for what felt like a long time while my heart was trying to slam its way through my ribs. I then saw him walk off, but not back to his flat on the other side of the block. Rather he was circling around the building.

I darted to my bedroom window and hid in the shadows next to the curtains. From there, I could see him walk by later and slow to a stop, his head turned to my window.

I never called the police or anything. He hadn't done anything. I always felt he was probably autistic and I didn't want to make his situation worse - but I had a few horrid months that year. Every now and then my doorbell would ring at 4AM and I would freak the fuck out. It made me nervous just to know he was standing there, probably covering the peephole with his hand. Eventually, I was getting so worked up about it that my father went to have a talk with the guy. Nothing drastic, just a chat. It happened only once more after that but I've been left with some kind of phobia, and I frequently wake up at about 4AM, from imagining the doorbell ringing.

I hear it quite clearly in my sleep but no matter how fast I move to the door, he's not there. It's just in my head, now. It feels like he's haunting me somehow though he's not even dead. The more stressed out I get, the more frequently the ghost-bell rings, and I don't know how to make it stop.