My hand reached for the golden knob and was quickly gripped by a strong, invisible force. I dropped the wine glass, shattering it into a million pieces.

Air flew past my face, but being outside . . . What could it be but the wind that has no schedule?

I continued to swing on my hammock outside of my new home with a deep, red wine rested delicately in one hand. The sound of crickets drowned the silence until I heard heavy footsteps on the other side of the back porch.

The crickets silenced as if they were uneasy, and that silent ringing began to pain my ears. I struggled to keep my dry eyes pinned at the corner where I heard the footsteps. Yet, nobody was there. No shadow, no wind, no sound. Just me and my heart in my mouth.

I didn't want to move. However, retreating to the inside of our homes always reaps some form of comfort. So, I decided to slowly stand while sorting my wits, and started towards the door.

My hand reached for the golden knob and was quickly gripped by a strong, invisible force. I dropped the wine glass, shattering it into a million pieces. The red wine oozed like blood upon the cream colored wood of the porch. As soon as I began to fight for the release of this grip, I fell onto my back. The mystery force had let go of my arm without a struggle.

I began to wonder if, whomever it was, they were trying to play some sort of trick on me since they weren't able to get any treats. After all, it is the spookiest month of them all.

I sat there, afraid to move, but was determined to make it inside. I grabbed a shard of glass, reluctantly telling myself that it would protect me from an invisible being, and I stood up. I jumped over the wine, made a big thud into the door, and slammed it shut. You could feel the walls vibrate from the bang, and I locked the top lock with full force. I began to feel a sense of safety again, but only for a moment.

A slow, steady wind began again. This time though, it was on the back of my head. It was as if someone, or something, was breathing out of their nose with force for a long while. I froze, contemplating if I should just dodge back outside. No, I decided and slowly turned around to face the wind.

A tall, slim, black figure floated there. No face, no smell, no characteristics. Just black. It's an interesting concept to look at something black, because it absorbs all light. I gazed at the figure thinking about that, and thinking about what in the world it was doing here.

After a few seconds, the wind stopped. Silence filled the room again. Aching, paining, stinging silence. My heart started racing more, and I began to imagine what terrifying thing would happen next. I decided to try to move around it, but any sliver of movement I made it shifted to wherever I was. It was blocking me from moving forward at all.

I reached out towards the figure, and it immediately dissipated while also giving me a sharp burn. Not a burn strong enough to blister, but one that alarms you and convinces you to never touch it again. I began to run towards to front door. I grabbed my car keys. The only thing on my mind now was getting out of this house.

As soon as I reached the front door and touched the cold, autumn handle, a strong grip caught me again. Except this time the force was on both of my arms on my biceps. I was lifted up off the ground, and was floating towards the back door again. The warmth of the creature began to burn my arms, stinging and blistering the flesh from the prolonged contact. I screamed and kicked my legs, knocking over a few items in the house, and I was unable to release myself from it's grip this time.

What seemed like hours only took moments for us to reach the back door. The figure plopped me down, and I fell upon the floor with a hard thud, landing on my back again. I held my arms and released some tears in pain.

The figure floated there again with no movement or noise. I gazed back at it, wondering who would win the staring game, or if it was gazing back at me underneath all of its darkness. Finally, I decided to stand and ultimately regretted it.

Deeply, unevenly, harshly, and achingly, the figure said, "You don't belong here!"

The door blew open the opposite way, ripping it off of the hinges. Strong, thick air began flying out of the house. A deep, low, consistent scream echoed throughout the house until the wind picked up enough speed to blast me out of the home. I flew off the porch onto the grass outside. Then the wind stopped immediately, and the crickets began chirping again.

Luckily, I still had my car keys wrapped around my finger, and as I stood up things began to seem normal again. Instead of walking through the home, I decided to go around the side, through the gate. I got into my car. The burn on my arms was cooling, so I felt no need to make a trip to a doctor.

However, I decided it was time to look for a new home, and that I had no idea how to explain the broken door to the new, future buyers.

Follow Darian on Twitter @dariangshark