“Yes, the weather today was an average of 92 degrees, with a low of 63 degrees. Weather next week will be slightly lower temperatures and mostly cloudy skies.”

The Amazon Echo’s robotic intonation is drowned out by startled swearing and alarming sounds of a person falling off a chair.

This scene is a frequent occurrence in my house, where the paranormal meets the paranoid.

Recently my dad bought an Amazon Echo, a voice-activated device that can control lighting, report news and play music. The old-school expression about children — they don’t speak (or play) unless spoken to — rings true of our Echo.

However, during a night of studying, the lights in the hallway started dimming; at first, I thought it was an old lightbulb. But then, I saw that Echo had been activated and I immediately suspected paranormal events at play — perhaps some evil spirits roaming around in my house.

This happened a second time, a third time, a fourth time — every time there would be either a sudden booming voice or .

My paranoid self likened the events at my house to the plot of the horror video game “Five Nights at Freddy’s.” In the game, a security guard is forced to single-handedly man a decrepit entertainment venue much like Chuck E. Cheese’s, where giant possessed animal costumes with insatiable thirsts for blood eerily roam the halls. In short, my paranoia of having the game become a part of my reality caused many sleepless nights.

Along with our Amazon Echo, my family also has a creepy statue placed in a dark corner of the study. When I was a child, my parents purchased the pale white, miniature sculpture of a waitress dressed in a glittering silver gown. I named her Betty, and her blond locks, ruby red lips and poised pose were the picture of perfection.

But one thing unsettled me — her eyes. Much like the Mona Lisa, the statue’s eyes seem to follow the viewer, and coupled with pale blue irises, Betty was one creepy house decoration.

One night, in the midst of total silence, I heard a creak— it wasn’t very noticeable, but just loud enough to cause suspicion. Slowly looking around, I happened to glance at the study room.

There stood Betty with her pale eyes and unnerving stare. She seemed to be staring intently in my direction, and her blood red lips were much creepier than usual.

All of a sudden, I heard a startling crash and nearly jumped out of my chair. A quick glance at the kitchen confirmed my worst fears — another paranormal event had occurred.

A knife was on the floor, after apparently falling down from the counter. If it had been a spoon, I would have passed it off as nothing important. But, it was a knife — the exact type of murder weapon I would envision Betty using.

At that point, I accepted the fact that I would either never live to see daylight again, or my tired eyes were playing tricks on me. In that moment of despair, I forced myself to succumb to the arms of sleep, awaiting my death or another exhausting day at school.