scary story!!!!!!!

About twenty years ago I used to rent a house in an older part of Pasadena up against the San Gabriel Mountains. I was living by myself at the time, and was working as a part-time prep cook in some restaurant while I was trying to get onto the Sheriffs Department. The job didn’t pay much, but the neighborhood I lived in had a reputation, so the rent was relatively cheap. Soon after I moved in, some neighbors had told me that house across the street from mine was rumored to be ‘haunted’. They said the last people who lived there left abruptly after only living there about six months and had experienced noises and selective loss of electricity. It was a large dark brown house, that was situated back from the road a bit on a slope, so it looked down upon the houses on my side of the street. The house didn’t match the styles of the other houses, being similar to a style you’d find back east like Connecticut, which indicated to me that it was probably the first house on the street. Other than that, the house seemed normal. I had even talked to the man who had lived there, and he told me that he hadn’t noticed anything unusual since he and his family had lived there.
Well one night, I was awoken by a flurry of panicked, heavy knocks, on my front door. After I got to my senses, I went to the door out looked the window and saw that it was the kid, about eleven or twelve, who lived in that house across the street from me. I opened the door and asked him what was going on. He told me that his parents were out, and he was home alone, and said some weird things had been happening all night. The kid was in a panic, trembling, and could hardly even articulate a sentence. From what I got out of him though, the phone was ringing off the hook and when he would answer, it would be to a dial tone. Ane He said he finally ran over to my house as soon as he heard some heavy footsteps upstairs, followed by a slamming door.
I went to my fridge, got him a can of Dr. Pepper, then got my shotgun that I kept in my closet and a flashlight, and told him to follow me.
As I approached the house, I and could see through the open front door—the kid had presumably left open in a panic—that all the lights were off, but the front room was illuminated by an eerie blue hue from the TV. When I got inside, with my shotgun in firing position, I hit the light switch, but nothing came on. Then I looked back at the kid, who was standing a few steps back from the front door on the porch, and said that the lights had stopped working. I turned my head back to the house, strengthening my grip on the gun, and did a quick panoramic assessment of the house then told the kid to hand me the flashlight.
Maybe I was just psyched out by the fear, but that house was eerie. There was nothing good about it. The air was cold and heavy, as if someone was staring, unblinkingly at you from about two inches away from your face at all times. Still to this day I get shivers when I think about the house. I first scanned the bottom story, checking as through as I could, but found nothing. Then as I was going up the stairs, I saw four rooms, each of them had their doors wide open, revealing only precarious darkness, except the second closest to me, where in between the door and the floor you could see a bluish light from a TV. I yelled down to the kid, asking if he had been watching TV in that room. He said no. I then went downstairs through the front door and closed it. Then the kid and I shared, for a split second, an expression of sheer terror. We then both turned around and started walking back to my place where we watched Tv until his parents got home
Now I live in Tucson, having moved out here shortly after I found out that I didn’t make the sheriffs department. I don’t know whatever happened to that kid or his family, because they had left about two weeks after that night, and I followed, leaving two weeks after they did.