The nightmare is finally over for one New Jersey family, but you know what they say: When one door closes, another cracks open just wide enough for an anonymous menace to peer inside and record your every move. That's right, the aggrieved residents of the Watcher House have finally offloaded their curséd property—at a loss, but still. The creepy colonial and its faceless stalker are someone else's problem now.

Bloomberg reports that 657 Boulevard in Westfield, New Jersey, sold on July 1st for $959,360. Originally, Derek and Maria Broaddus had asked $1.4 million for their 1905 Dutch colonial dream home and its simulated haunting, but considering the house's widely publicized and very creepy history, expectations must be adjusted.

If you have not been keeping close tabs on the Watcher House, and/or can't wait for the Netflix retelling of the story, a brief recap: The Broadduses purchased the home in 2014, but before they even had a chance to unpack, began receiving unsettling letters from a person claiming that their family had been "watching" the address for generations. "It is now my time," this latest Watcher wrote. "Do you know the history of the house? Do you know what lies within the walls of 657 Boulevard? Why are you here? I will find out."

Although the Broadduses hadn't moved in yet, the Watcher had nonetheless made a number of personal observances about the family: That they drove a particular minivan; that they had three children, whom the author of the letter ominously referred to as "young bloods." The couple put off moving day, but the notes just kept on coming. Would you want to move your kids into a house after receiving the following missive from one of your neighbors?

Have you found all of the secrets it holds yet? Will the young blood play in the basement? Or are they too afraid to go down there alone. I would [be] very afraid if I were them. It is far away from the rest of the house. If you were upstairs you would never hear them scream.

Will they sleep in the attic? Or will you all sleep on the second floor? Who has the bedrooms facing the street? I'll know as soon as you move in. It will help me to know who is in which bedroom. Then I can plan better.

No, that would probably dampen your enthusiasm for the place; it would almost certainly make you wildly suspicious of your new community, and indeed, tensions between the Broadduses and their fellow Westfield residents ratcheted ever upward as the new homeowners tried to figure out who was sending the threatening letters. Long story short, the Broadduses say the town turned against them, refusing to let them tear down the house and sell the plot after the family became embroiled in a legal dispute with the previous owners. And so the Broadduses wound up with a prohibitively creepy property on their hands, and the family wound up renting it for years while they looked for a buyer.

And what of the Watcher? If their claims were true, there's no reason to expect they ever stopped watching, nor wondering if whatever hellish treasure they sealed inside 657 Boulevard's walls had yet been uncovered. The Watcher will, presumably, keep right on watching—and so will we.