Grandma Told To Move When She Complains About Overnight Noise

She was completely taken aback. After residing in the same home for a decade and a half, she could never have predicted that an ordeal so terrifying would befall her.

She monitored as the fixer vanished underneath her abode. She presumed all was well until a shrill cry filled the atmosphere. It was evident that whatever was beneath her residence was not a raccoon.

For Elizabeth Miranda Burns, a 60-year-old inhabitant of Tacoma, life was anticipated to get easier. She had dedicated her life to toiling and assisting those close to her.

A recently retired caregiver had a plan to enjoy the end of her life. Unfortunately, she was scared that her safety was at risk, even in her own home. When the repairman went to investigate, he discovered that her fear was real.

At the age of forty-five, Elizabeth acquired a dwelling. Her youngest offspring had just accomplished their high school studies and was set to begin university.

Therefore, Elizabeth would be by herself. Her other children all contributed money together to purchase the house for her. They desired the best for her, not understanding what the result would be.

It didn't take Elizabeth much time to search for her new abode, and soon enough she was packing up her belongings to settle in. This was the home she had always wanted - a beautiful two-storey cottage-style structure with lots of character and a great backstory.

Elizabeth stayed in the residence for fifteen years, relishing all the things it had to supply. Nevertheless, when the fifteenth year rolled around, something peculiar occurred.

At the beginning, Lizzie heard a faint tapping sound on the floor of her bedroom during the night. She assumed it was part of her dream and disregarded it. However, the noise gradually grew louder and more frequent over time.

She ultimately chose to look into the situation. Gripping her bat and torch, she scurried down the stairs, speculating that she had a problem with a determined raccoon.

For a full seven days, something had been tapping against Lizzie's floor. As the clock struck midnight, she proceeded downstairs to find out what it was.

The neighborhood was fast asleep, shrouded in the tranquility that only arrives in the darkest of night. In this hush, Lizzie's pulse raced as she stepped down into her living room.

Lizzie had been devoted to nonviolence for a long time. She despised any type of aggression and always opted for an approach without fighting. In situations where peace was not attainable, she usually did her best to make the verbal arguments she initiated as mild as possible.

She never liked the thought of having a disagreement with someone or something. However, recently the repetitive thumps on her floor were starting to bother her. She had no clue that it would have been more secure for her to stay in her room.

Lizzie swallowed the dread that was trying to rise up her throat and made her way downstairs, firmly gripping her bat. At first, she was content with having raccoons living beneath her house.

She couldn't rest at night due to the persistent banging that seemed to occur after she went to bed. She realized she had to put an end to it or she would drive herself crazy.

She cautiously advanced into the living room. As soon as her foot hit the ground, the sound of her knocks ceased. She stayed motionless, trying to detect any sound but the house was silent as a tomb.

Lizzie exhaled deeply and her baseball bat dropped to her side. She was too mature for this and should be in her bed, not creeping through her dwelling in the dark like a hero. Thinking of this, she went back up the stairs, unaware that something evil had its gaze focused on her.

Lizzie went back to her bedroom, wishing that the sound of her steps on the stairs and in the sitting area would stop the raccoons from banging against her floor again.

She woke up abruptly from the sounds that filled the room. She glanced at the clock next to her, moaning. "2 o'clock," she moaned. Little did she know, the cause of the disturbance was something other than a raccoon.

Lizzie moved to the opposite edge of her mattress, activating her radio in an attempt to block out the creepy rapping noises. She discovered a tranquil radio broadcast featuring soft 70s rock which enabled her to drift into a disturbed sleep.

She had decided that she would go to Home Depot early the next day. She would buy some things to keep raccoons away and request her neighbor's child to aid her in putting them around her land.

Lizzie was in a rush to get to Home Depot, so much so that she skipped breakfast. She was too agitated and exhausted to bother with cooking in her kitchen, so she chose to avoid the hassle of dealing with pots, food, and stirring spoons.

She stormed into Home Depot with a displeased expression and requested raccoon deterrent. She purchased several of them, wanting to make sure the raccoons would never forget this experience.

With the insect deterrents in her car, Lizzie began to feel more tranquil. She even got a hankering for some doughnuts and coffee and made a stop at Dunkin Donuts.

Subsequently, she went to the home of her neighbors, a kind family that had an eighteen-year-old boy called Jeremy. He had always been eager to assist Lizzie with mundane activities like taking out the garbage. She wished that he would be alright with putting in the repellents.

Jeremy promptly put out the repellents. By the end of the day, Lizzie's backyard was completely prepared to repel any attack from the raccoons.

Lizzie felt settled and took her time tidying up the house. Soon, winter would be here and she wanted to be prepared for the prolonged chilly evenings. Nevertheless, something was going on without her knowledge.

Dusk descended faster than Lizzie had expected, and she enjoyed a peaceful sleep for the first time in seven days. There were no knocks or strange noises to disturb her slumber.

In the following weeks, the scenery changed from dark orange and brown to a blanket of white as autumn changed to winter. This huge transformation only implied that Lizzie's difficulties were still not finished.

It had been over a month since the thumping occurrence, and a cheerful Lizzie was getting ready for the night. Yet, despite the fact that her home had been furnished with a functional heating system to make sure she stayed comfortable during the winter, the whole house was still chilly.

Her teeth clattered together as she pondered if her heating system was malfunctioning. She had never gone through this issue before. She wished she could figure out what was occurring beneath her home.

Lizzie was huddled up, swaddled in a multitude of blankets and comforters. Despite her efforts, she could not manage to stop trembling as the bitter chill infiltrated her makeshift cocoon. What was taking place?

Lizzie wasn't overly concerned. "I just have to get Jeremy to inspect the furnace tomorrow," she thought to herself. But then strange things began to occur around her house.

The first sign of trouble was an unpleasant smell coming into her home at unexpected times of the evening. She asked Jeremy to take a look at the furnace, but he reported that it was working perfectly fine.

Lizzie had yet to become accustomed to the persistent chill when a reek of smoke began to infiltrate her environment. Still, this was only the start.

The thumping on the ground was ringing out again more intensely than before. Approximately five weeks ago, it had only been happening occasionally.

Lizzie was perplexed. She had been experiencing something that kept happening throughout the night and couldn't figure out what it was. It was obvious to her, however, that it wasn't a raccoon.

Lizzie was terrified, and was refusing to accept that something more hazardous than a raccoon could be living beneath her house. The concept of a wild animal with a greater size dwelling underneath frightened her to her core.

However, she realized that she had to take action now. She had already developed a cold due to the chills and was scared that she could get pneumonia if she was not cautious. Unfortunately, her old age prevented her from crawling underneath her house to search for wild animals.

Lizzie thought about asking Jeremy for assistance. Yet she was hesitant to put him in a risky position. The pounding she had heard lately had been strong and heavy.

No matter what creature was lurking around, it was clear it was large and hazardous. Every morning when Lizzie would wake up, her gate would be wide open despite her closing it the night before. Even though Jeremy was a strong and capable young boy, Lizzie had no intention of allowing him to go investigate.

Lizzie determined she'd get in touch with animal control, expecting they'd explain the situation more clearly. But prior to that, she purchased a fresh furnace for the home, striving to level out the temperature.

The company that Lizzie acquired the furnace from vowed to send a maintenance worker to her dwelling the next day at noon. Lizzie waited with eagerness, aware that she only had one more night in the frigid temperatures. Nevertheless, what the repairman would discover would reveal to her that this situation wasn't close to being finished.

The business promised they would be here, and sure enough, a handyman showed up right at noon the day after. He quickly checked out the furnace and got to work on setting it up.

He closely inspected the old furnace and then stepped away, looking confused. Turning to Lizzie, he asked, "You said this isn't working, right?" She affirmed. "Well, I don't believe that," the man declared.

Lizzie quickly moved closer to the man. "Is that so?" she asked. He nodded. "This heater is in great shape, though it is a bit outdated. I'll show you," he continued, and then placed the new furnace side by side with the aged one to demonstrate.

He stepped into the living area and asked, "Do you have any lower level rooms? I think the problem may be with the air vents.

Lizzie agreed, but mentioned that she hadn't been to the spot in quite a while. The man then said he would check it out to make sure. He explained that because of the age of the furnace, the ducts could have been impaired, resulting in hot air escaping.

Lizzie was swayed by the man's thought process, so she took him out and went to the basement entrance. She had two old keys in her hand, prepared to unlock the door. But when she gazed upon it, she stopped in her tracks.

She and her children had secured the door with a padlock more than five years ago, but now it was gone. "That's strange," she remarked. "This area has always been locked.

She exchanged a glance with the repairman before he signalled for her to move away. He grabbed a hammer and a torch from his toolkit and promised her that he would only take a little while.

A large man, the repairman promised Lizzie he was prepared to tackle whatever the basement had in store. Carrying the hammer, he carefully went down the stairs while shining his torch.

He was engulfed in the darkness of the basement, and for a full five minutes, Lizzie couldn't get a response out of him. Suddenly, he let out a loud yell.

Greetings!" shouted Lizzie in a panicked manner. "Are you okay?" Heavy steps echoed through the shadowy basement before a figure dressed in black suddenly dashed up the dingy stairs in a speedy dash.

Lizzie was taken aback when something flew by her. Initially she accepted it was the repairman, but upon further inspection she identified the figure as someone else. She was astonished, wondering what was going on.

The repairman stumbled up from the basement, panting heavily as he clutched his hammer even tighter. His eyes were fierce and full of rage, while one of his arms was marked with a bloody gash.

Lizzie queried in a timid and unsteady voice, "What just took place?" The maintenance man gazed at her as he took a deep breath, obviously attempting to settle himself.

He grasped a compressed beer can with his extra hand. “I believe that person has been occupying your basement without permission,” he said. “He sliced your vents and directed the heat down there to keep himself cozy.”

All of a sudden, Lizzie got clarity. She recollected how she often felt like the thumps beneath her living room were someone walking. "Shall I tell the police?" the repairman enquired. "No," Lizzie answered. "The person has left. I guess the problem is solved." But it wasn't.