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(Fark)   It's almost time kids. It's Fark's annual "Scary Story Thread" a day early due to the weekend. Don't miss it. Don't forget to wear your mask.The clock is ticking, it's almost time. Silver Shamrock   (fark.com) divider line 568
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3954 clicks; posted to Main » on 30 Oct 2009 at 2:23 PM (4 years ago)   |  Favorite    |   share:  Share on Twitter share via Email Share on Facebook   more»



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2009-10-30 06:36:47 PM
TheAndyChrist: The summer of 1988 I had graduated from high school and went with my buddy and his dad to drive down to his dad's house in Tampico, Mexico. We got to Matamoros just over the border from Brownsville, Texas and the car broke down. We spent about 3 days there waiting for it to be fixed - going to the market, buying switchblades and fireworks and eating $1.25 carne asada 3 times a day. The rest of the trip was uneventful - car fixed, spent 2 weeks in Tampico and took a bus back to Chicago.

It was later that year that they found remains of several blue-eyed college Americans (like me) in the Matamoros area that a local drug lord had killed over the summer in a Satanic sacrifice to protect his drug business.

So, not pants-crappingly terrifying, but still a little creepy to know that that could have been me hacked up in a ditch.


Very creepy. I remember when those bodies were found. We had a satellite t.v. with a descrambler and saw some of the unedited newsfeeds that showed the bodies being recovered. The whole thing was surreal, like a real life horror movie. Here's the link to the leader's Wiki page: Adolfo Constanzo
 
2009-10-30 06:38:32 PM
That Darned Commie: About 5 months ago, my grandmother had passed away. She had lived about 300 miles from where I lived, and was to go into a nursing home the following week.

Anyways, the morning of her death I woke up at around 6:00 for some reason and felt a sudden feeling of sadness and started to slightly cry. Then I saw a shadow about 5'3' move behind the door of my closet. I walked over to the closet and there was nothing in there when I checked. So I get ready and goto work and come back about 7 hours later.

Upon my arrival, my dad told me that my grandma had been found dead in her bed at 6:15.


This gave me a chill. I've done the same thing... sorta. My grandma also passed away this year in March. She had been sick with cancer and for the last year or so I had been going to her house every Friday to visit with her and my grandpa. On Wednesday of the week that she died, I was going out to my car for a break from work. As I was starting to open my car door I stopped and I was overcome with the idea that my grandma was not going to be here that coming Friday. I frowned and told myself I was just being a weirdo and went about my day, though it was in the back of my mind for a while. Thursday, my dad called me to tell me her health was declining and she was slipping in and out of consciousness. She slipped into a diabetic coma on Friday morning and never woke up.
 
2009-10-30 06:42:39 PM
cdn3.knowyourmeme.com
 
2009-10-30 06:48:55 PM
There was a rash of "activity" going on in my house at one point. (i attribute it to that phenomenon wherein teenagers make things happen. what's it called?) Anyways during this year or so long period there were a few things that happened to me that totally freaked me out.

First: My brother (the teenager, i was 12 or so) had a late job and he often came home late at night, around 2am or so. Every night he'd wake me up so we could play video games and smoke and drink and do all the bads things i wasn't suppose to. Anyways, one night, I woke up around 2ish, anticipating his arrival home, to a pitch black house. it seemed darker than normal. I heard some stirring in his room (which is across the stairwell from mine) but no lights on. After a minute, I hear his bedroom door swing open, a few footsteps on the landing (all in complete darkness, and mind you my brother isnt polite enough to walk into the house without turning on all the lights and stomping around) and watch in horror as my bedroom door creaks all the way open followed by two or three more footsteps towards the foot end of my bed. nothing was there. I layed frozen in place, wide awake for another hour until I heard my brother's car come up the driveway....

Second: On several occasions I had been woken up by a very distinct tap on my forhead, like some on plucking me or hitting my with a finger right between the eyes, other nights i'd feel the end of my bed depress as if someone where sitting there

Third: every friday my mom would run "to town" to do errands and have lunch with my dad. she always left the house about 8am. it was summer so i was out of school and sleeping in. i opened my eyes about 10 or so in the morning and was laying in bed when i heard my moms voice distinctly yell for me, "Jason, get out of bed." thinking something was up i jumped out of bed and ran down stairs, the house was empty, the cars were gone and on the table was a note from my mom saying something along the lines of "Jay, Went to Town, be home this afternoon. Love, mom" (i have a long straight view of my driveway, 200yds or so. i wouldve seen the car leaving from my bedroom window...)

fourth: one of the nights hanging out with my bro i ran down to the kitchen to get a drink (yes, i was high, but the shiat wasnt so good it made you hallucinate) and everything was normal. I get back up stairs and get the typical older brother harassment for not getting him a drink. So i set my glass down, walk back downstairs into the kitchen and every single cabinet door was open, every drawer pulled out, the ceiling fan on, the door to the back room open and the faucet was on. I freaked, called my brother down, and as he walks up beside me we sat and watched everything close itself, the fan stop and the water stopped.

/other things too, i'd hear mom calling from outside when she was in the living room, dad heard me and my brother calling his name when we werent home.
//wierd stuff
///just saying...
 
2009-10-30 06:57:01 PM
The scariest story I ever heard was about the supposed "adults" who still believed in ghosts and the paranormal.
 
2009-10-30 06:58:20 PM
frostbitten: Jster422: Just saw 'Paranormal Activity' last night, and had the entire evening to reflect on just how much my house looks like the one in the film...

So, no kicks...yadda yadda.

After I watched it I spent a lot of time staring at the attic door directly over my bed.


Yikes -

Apologies if this is boring, but it freaked me out while at the same time I found it completely hysterical - Spoiler alerts for the movie, if anyone cares -

So last night I saw 'Paranormal Activity' with some friends, and I'm pretty easily creeped out, so I left the theater pretty spooked.

Got home and noticed that my wife had parked in the driveway (usually my spot, but not uncommon.) No big deal, I parked on the street - which is only significant in that I came in the front door instead of the garage.

As I'm walking up to the door, I notice that the blinds on the windows to the living room are all wide open, but that there are no lights on inside. This is odd, since I know my wife is home - but okay, no biggie.

I open the door, and before I even get inside notice that there are no lights on at all. As I step inside, our neighbor's kids decide to come running down their stairs. We share that wall - which basically means that while there's a ton of thumping coming down where my stairs are, there's nobody there. Not an uncommon event, but given the events in the movie...kind've creeped me out.

So I'm inside the door, saying 'Hello?' to let my wife know I'm home...no response. No lights on upstairs, and it's only like 8:30 at this point.

So I turn on the light, and head up the stairs...slowly.

I see that she's not in the bathroom, not in the office, and then I see that she's already in bed - way up against the far wall, facing away from me.

Okay, fine - she dozed off. No prob. I don't want her to panic though when she hears me downstairs, so I sit on the bed to try to gently wake her up.

As I'm reaching my hand towards her, she Heaves up in the bed with a huge gasp - just like the woman in the movie had. My farking heart stops in my chest, and it's a full couple of seconds before I can get any words out.

Finally, I'm like 'Sorry, it's just me - go back to sleep' - which she seems to do. I turn away to change into some sweats - at which point my eyes catch the attic entrance at the top of the closet. It's not open or anything...but I'm just sort've forced to stare at it for a few minutes.fark, now I'm all creeped out again. Yeesh. That movie got me good.
 
2009-10-30 06:58:40 PM
The Spirit World...

A Merciful and Completely True Story for Fathers

I live on the coast of Maine. My first daughter was conceived under the very spires of St. Dominic's Catholic Church on State St. in Portland, now closed and abandoned. My wife had a long and hard labor, but we were blessed with a healthy baby girl, now 10 years old. As we settled into the night on that first night, with my first child... my wife said she was hungry. The hospitals cafeteria had little to offer, so I dutifully went out into the darkness that night to find something for her to eat. I traveled around the town, until I found a Chinese restaurant, neon lights bragging. I ordered what array I could afford, and left with a large bag soaked with grease and reeking of that familiar smell to the single.
I returned to the hospital and served up what was offered from strange faces from nowhere I have ever been, or will ever understand.
When the meal was done... there was but one thing left in the soaked bag... Fortune Cookies. Gripped by the thought, I chose one out of the lot... and with a compulsion I have never before experienced in my life, raised it over my newborn daughter's head. I broke the cookie in her face, whispering the prayers I know, the hopes she had inspired, the future she might behold.... Praying... praying to learn something of her destiny... What met my eyes on that cheap paper still haunts me today...
"All the answers you need, are right there in front of you."
"Lucky Numbers...13, 15, 20, 23, 26, 40."
 
2009-10-30 07:01:37 PM
For what it's worth;

I was about 8 years old. I was an only child living in a household with two much older parents. I was adopted at an early age. Not a lot of love or concern for "yours truly" but there was never any abuse. The relationship was just...cold.

One night I was in bed. I had not yet fallen asleep. (I used to sleep on my stomach). Suddenly something happened...Suddenly something slapped/smacked/punched me on my ass. I felt it. I heard it. It stung and I know it happened.

My door was closed. My parents were sleeping way down the hall. There was something in my room and it just hit me.

I remember being afraid. I'm talking about the new taste of pure "fear" that only an 8 year old boy could taste for the first time. I remember wanting to turn around to see what was there in my room, but I was too afraid.

I remember staying awake until I saw the dawn...I never looked at it.

I never told my parents because it would have been dismissed flat out. The next day I went to school and never said anything to anyone. It never came back.

My son sleeps in that same room every night. I hope it never comes to visit him because he, at 8 years old, is much stronger than I was.
 
2009-10-30 07:04:12 PM
Lobster_of_Hate: One night I was in bed. I had not yet fallen asleep. (I used to sleep on my stomach). Suddenly something happened...Suddenly something slapped/smacked/punched me on my ass. I felt it. I heard it. It stung and I know it happened.

That was the Night Man, sneaky and mean.
 
2009-10-30 07:04:48 PM
My college roommate decided to paint a mural on the inside surface of our dorm room windows. He used a special paint that was supposed to look like translucent stained glass when it dried. It had an intense airplane-glue smell.

It was winter so it was too cold to open the windows. That night, I fell asleep in an enclosed room reeking with chemical fumes from about 20 square feet of drying paint. It was like being forced to huff involuntarily.

Several hours later I woke up to see the shape of a woman standing beside my bed, fully dressed. She was right next to the bed, within touching distance. She didn't say anything. She didn't move.

My adrenaline level pegged the meter but I didn't move either. It was the only time in my life that I literally felt cold with fear.

As I started to wake up more, my eyes got adjusted and I could see her better. Then I saw that her face was missing. She was basically a skeleton wearing a dress.

Not being a superstitious guy, I thought to myself, "This is a dream or a hallucination caused by paint fumes." My adrenaline level was still pegged but I could appreciate that it couldn't be real. So I closed my eyes and just tried to relax and wake up all the way.

In a couple of minutes, I knew in my mind that I was fully awake and fully alert. So I opened my eyes again.

She was still there. She was 100% three-dimensional. I could see the bones of her skull, the fabric of the dress, everything. There was nothing dream-like about it. She was not transparent.

My guess is that the fumes stimulated something in my brain to cause me to perceive her as a completely real presence. I knew it couldn't be real but that didn't make any difference. I was fully awake and fully focused on her, and my brain said she was "there."

It faded eventually. Interesting night though.
 
2009-10-30 07:06:10 PM
Okay, I might as well tell of the two times I freaked out growing up in my parents' house.

The first was when I was seven, and it was winter. I had fallen asleep in my bed as normal, and I was having this very realistic dream where I had to go downstairs and get something for my mom from the storage shelves. But once I got down into the basement, which isn't finished and only has a cement floor, where our storage and washer/dryer was, a girl about my age came up to me and said "Sweetheart, you need to go back upstairs; it's too cold for you down here and you'll catch cold."

I woke up, and I was standing in front of the washer; I had slept walked out of bed, opened my bedroom door, went down the hallway, turned the corner, opened the door to the basement, went down the stairs, turned another corner, opened the door to the washer/dryer room and had been standing in my bare feet on the cold concrete.

The girl in my dream? The great-grandmother I had been named after, but never met. She died before I could meet her, but a few years after that sleepwalking episode, my mom had found a child portrait of my great-grandma in my grandma's house with a bunch of old framed pictures in storage and brought it back home with her, and I recognized the girl as the one in my sleep-walking dream.

The second creepy thing dealt with the stairs to the basement themselves. My parents decided to do a second honeymoon sort of thing, so I was in charge of the house (I was living at home and commuting to college at the time, so I was 20 at this time). Everything was fine, except I was lonely because our family cat had died in October, and since it was only January, we hadn't acquired another pet (mom was still in mourning because he'd been the family pet for 16 years).

Three days after my parents left for their vacation, it's 1 AM and I'm getting ready for bed. I hear creaking on the basement stairs, the exact kind of sound that would be made if our cat went down the stairs. I go and check it out, because I don't get spooked very easily, and of course nothing is there. I go to bed and go to sleep. I wake up around 4 AM to go to the bathroom. As I'm swinging my legs out of bed so I can stand up, I hear the basement stairs creak again; this time it sounds like my dad is walking up the stairs; I even hear the basement door handle jiggle like he's gotten to the top and is opening the door.

I turned on every light I could and went to go investigate. Nothing is there. I even went downstairs, turned on all the lights, and searched everywhere in the basement. Nothing. I am now freaking out, because I have lived in this house since I was 4 farking years old, and I know what the house sounds like when it's settling, and I know the difference between the stairs creaking because it's a part of the house settling and them creaking because somebody is on them.

So I did what every rational 20 year old does when she's scared: I kept all the lights on in the house, and then went back to bed, locking my bedroom door. That is how I slept for the rest of the time my parents were gone. I told my parents about it when they came home, and neither of them believed me.

Well, Dad believes me now, because three years after that, when Mom and I went on a trip to visit relatives and Dad was alone in the house for two weeks, he heard the stairs too. To him, it sounded like somebody deliberately walking up the stairs, then walking back down, several times a night.
 
2009-10-30 07:13:15 PM
A few things..

- When I was a kid I had a lamp in my bedroom that was made to look like a big bunch of plastic balloons with a little guy at the base holding them and a night light. I vividly recall waking up one night, looking over, and seeing him turn and wave at me. I was freaked and hid under the covers.

- We had a promotional jack-in-the-box for one of the Child's Play movies. It had a bad locking mechanism and would go off by itself without anyone touching it. It ended up in the dumpster after it exploded in the middle of the night and my brothers and I nearly shat our beds.

- The first time I stayed over at my now wife's house when we were first dating I needed a glass of water in the middle of the night. As I approached her bedroom door someone jumped at me through the doorway out of the next room. I yelled involuntarily and almost punched the mirror on the back of the door that was actually closed. Luckily she still married me.

- A couple years ago I was hiking on a relatively remote ridge in Olympic National Park with some friends. It was extremely quiet and we were the only people on the trail. No one else was in the parking lot and it was an out and back trail of about 10 miles with no connecting trails. After hiking in a few miles we heard a blood curdling child's scream. This was really freaky since there was very little animal life and the only noise was the light wind. We were justifiably alarmed but really didn't know what to do other than keep an eye out for dead bodies as we continued on. We hiked another 1/4 mile or so and came across a family of marmots. Marmots love screaming I guess.

Easily scared? Yeah probably :-(
 
2009-10-30 07:15:24 PM
cool stories bros
 
2009-10-30 07:24:09 PM
grizzlyjohnson: I caught this actual video of a rocking chair moving on its own:

Rocking chair moving

If you look closely at the end I think you can see the ghost moving away from the chair. See what you think.


Fark you, man, I got taken in by that. D:

Although I should have known.
 
2009-10-30 07:25:29 PM
Alright darn it...I hope no one recognizes me. So, I read the account about 'Fishy' and I have to post. I knew him too, or his cousin or something. Deadly serious. From the time I was old enough to remember to the time we moved from our first house (that I lived in), 'Fishy' (though I didn't name him) hung around. In my room mostly and only at night time and he would sit or stand on the end of my bed for hours....all night most of the time. He never made noise except when he touched me and he only ever touched my feet. When he didn't it wasn't so much an audible noise as it was a harmonic that sort of went through me and made my ears buzz. And he's not yellow, he's orange. I was never afraid of him (I have no idea why...I sure as heck should have been) but I promise you it was as real as you or I. There was no purpose to him. He just sort of hung around for a few years and then went away. It wasn't nightly or anything...just every now and then, kind of like he was bored. I am 36 now and I can remember quite vividly the way my feet would feel when he would touch them, like a low amperage electric charge was passing through them...almost a relaxing feeling as they would tingle a bit. Occasionally it would tickle, but usually just tingle. Dude...that's odd as a cod but I promise you it's the truth (as I perceived it at the time). I was about 4 1/2 when we moved, so quite young.
 
2009-10-30 07:26:02 PM
This story was related to me by both of my parents. My mother was pregnant with me and they had both recently relocated to NYC after my father separated from the military. Since my mother had never been to NYC, she stayed with my grandparents while my father scouted for apartments. After days and probably weeks of hunting for the ideal place, he finds it. Good number of bedrooms, the rent was right, nice area, everything.
He gets my mother and brings her to the apartment to check it out. They go to the sixth floor, the landlord opens the door, and my mom jumps back and turns to leave as soon as the doors open. When my father asked her what was wrong, she said that all she saw was a wall of flame and that there was no WAY she was living there. My father tried to talk her into it, but it wasn't working. A week later, he drove by the apartment on his way to his brother's house. The apartment was completely burned out.
 
2009-10-30 07:28:21 PM
Oops..."When he didn't it" should be "When he did, it". Stupid spell check.
 
2009-10-30 07:34:18 PM
I was half asleep half awake laying in bed, and I was having these strange dreams where a sheep like animal was standing next to my bed staring into my face. Although its face was all mutilated and gross looking. I couldn't move, either, as this thing was looking at me. I remember drifting in and out of sleep with the sheep thing next to my bed. When I finally woke up fully, I got up to use the bathroom and found my cat cowering in the bathtub as if it was terrified of something. This was a small apartment so there weren't many places for it to go. It's never been that spooked before or after that night. I just shrugged it off and went back to bed. Thinking back, it was kind of odd.
 
2009-10-30 07:41:49 PM
I was 18 (young and poor), and had just gotten off work later than usual. I took the bus downtown, and got off to wait for my next connecting bus. As I waited, two really creepy guys came and sat by me. I was certain I was going to get raped. As I sat there, they kept trying to talk to me, and I was polite, but didn't engage them. Until one of them said "Did you notice that guy circling the block looking at you? Man, something is up with him. Be careful. There he is again. Look!"

And then I saw him.

The two guys got on their bus. Thankfully by then, more people were at the bus stop. Next thing I knew, the guy that had been circling in the car was sitting right next to me. I can't even describe the adrenalin/fear rush I had at that moment. He kept asking me if I needed a ride. "She's getting a ride with me, you should, too." He pointed at some girl frantically running up and down seeing if any one of the many buses that had pulled up could take her close enough home and away from this guy.

My bus finally came. I remember feeling relieved and safe. My bus dropped me off at the deserted shopping center three blocks from my house.

That farking guy was there! He had FOLLOWED my bus! He was yelling at me "I thought you didn't need a ride, biatch!"

I bolted. For my life. He chased me with his car. I was running faster than I had ever run, illuminated by his headlights. I was certain I would die, run down by this terrifying man. I rounded a corner, and thank GOD, there were the cops sitting in their car. The man saw them, too, and peeled out. I had flagged them down and was then safely in their car when they gave chase. Didn't catch him.

I have no idea what would have happened to me had two strangers (who I thought were the danger) not alerted me, and then, had the police had not been sitting there. Scariest effing moment of my life.
 
2009-10-30 07:45:06 PM
HAMMERTOE: Our office building is haunted. No special day of the year; no particular scary manifestations, but it is haunted nonetheless. I work in the Empire Building in Augusta, GA. It used to be the Empire Furniture building. Four stories, roughly 125 years old. It has an old spiral stairwell which goes up 3 stories, and an elevator, which goes to all four. My office is on the third floor.

I know that building. I also remember my dad and grandfather talking about a ghost there. My dad's family ran a couple of businesses in Downtown Augusta back in 50s,60s, and 70s. Lots of non-ghost memories there.

I thought you were going to talk about the cursed pillar or maybe Barry Benson's ghost around his statue. Back in the day we tried to draw out Benson's ghost with no success. Augusta's finest showed up and we had some explaining to do. We were let go after I told them I was a descendant of Benson...which is true. One of the historic groups got wind of it and wanted to know about it.
 
2009-10-30 07:59:16 PM
I only have two experiences. Now, I don't believe in ghosts or the supernatural. I do think the world would be a lot more interesting if such things existed, but I don't believe that they do.

Both happened on a horse farm that I essentially ran by myself from ages 16 to 21. My mom worked in town and slept there four nights a week, my dad drove truck and was usually gone for a month at a time. So there I was, a teen girl alone on a few thousand acres with nothing for company but about forty horses, two dogs and two cats. (I know, I know, giggity).

One night as I was about 16, I was in bed trying to sleep and I heard footsteps in the hall. They started from my parent's empty room and moved slowly down the hall to my bedroom door. Then the footsteps just stopped and there was total silence. My dogs hadn't barked, so no one could have come into the house from the outside. Both dogs always slept outside the door or under the house. My parents were miles away. No one else lived around the farm for miles. And it didn't sound like something on the roof or under the house. I'd lived there for a long time and knew every creak in that hallway.

That was probably the most terrified I've ever been. Just lying there alone in the dark, waiting for my bedroom door to open or the footsteps to move on. Nothing happened and I eventually fell asleep as I was far too scared to go back into the living room that night. I wish I could say I dreamed it, but I was wide awake. I can't explain it, but I was always careful about locking my bedroom door after that.

Another incident happened at that farm. About fifteen feet away from my little cottage was the original plantation house that had stood on that land for nearly 200 years. It was a creepy house during the day, but at night it made me nervous. Who knows how many people had died in that house/ how many slaves had died on the land. There were lots of rooms no one ever went into, as they were falling apart. The useful downstairs was a modified tack room but as for the rest of the house someone could have easily lived there and we'd never have known. (Actually more than once I found mini campsites up in the woods surrounding the farm near the old slave quarters).

Well one night I was closing up that house with the landlady and her son and we both heard the sound of the front double doors to the house slamming. We were in the back of the house, in the dark, and we'd just finished closing and locking those doors. It wasn't windy and there was no way those doors could have unlocked themselves. Both stories are pretty lame, but were terrifying at the time.

tl;dr unexplained footsteps coming down the hall to my bedroom door and a door slamming that couldn't have slammed.
 
MBK [TotalFark]
2009-10-30 08:06:52 PM
Being a kid, I was scared shiatless of my basement.

It was dark, it was creepy, and there were cobwebs and other stuff that will terrify a kid.

But the scariest thing?

We had this weird...clown painting. I wish I had a picture of it, because it was just so...awful. Think Cubism + Clown + Terrible colors + Creepy eyes. They looked like thin crosses.

The painting CAME with the house when my parents bought it in 1984. So we had no idea where it came from. And no one moved it from its original location: On a wall to your left when you enter the basement. So, being a kid, you would enter the basement, you would look around and you would see this...clown painting looking at you. And it had a weird illusion effect, so when you would move, the eyes seemed to follow you.

I HATED the thing. But we never got rid of it. It seemed to be part of the house.

When my parents moved, I was in charge of cleaning out the basement for stuff. I was 18 at the time, and past the scared of the basement phase, but I STILL hated that painting (It doesn't help that my brother made me watch It when I was a kid). I took everything we needed and left the painting.

I was in college at the time, so I was never home. When I would come home, I was put in the guest room/sun room/whatever the hell it was called. It was Christmas Eve, and everyone was at our house and I was pretty tired. So I went to bed.

The next morning, I woke up...and in the corner of my eye, I saw a face.

The Clown was back. I screamed like a little girl. I ran from the room, in my boxers, to the shocked faces of my family looking at me.

I still haven't recovered :(
 
2009-10-30 08:08:07 PM
I'm late to the party, but I had to share my story.
About five years ago, I was a producer at a television station in Mobile, AL. For Halloween that year, I decided my videographer and I would spend a good part of the night at Sturdivant Hall in Selma and tell the story of how it came to be haunted. We were hoping (at least I was) to maybe catch something on film. For most of the night, nothing happened, except a genuine feeling of uneasiness, like someone or many someones really did not want us there.
A few hours later, I was in one part of the upstairs, while my photographer was filming in the complete opposite part of the mansion.
Suddenly, this fifty-plus year old man screamed.
I came running with my camera recording everything. When I entered the room, he was visibly shaken. I asked him what had happened to make him scream like that and he replied (quoted verbatim from the actual show tape I have a copy of) "I was filmin' in the kids room, when I heard this whisperin from behind me. It kept gettin' louder and louder and I couldn't make out what you were saying and I thought you were playin' a prank on me, tryin' to scare me, and I could hear it in my ear, right next to me...I turned around and no one was there."
I told him I was a good thirty yards down the hall and my camera was recording the entire time to prove it.
Long story short, he slept in the live truck that night. He refused to come back inside, even to grab the rest of our equipment.
I still remember the look on his face, the way that place felt, like it was wrong to be inside, and I'll never forget it.
 
2009-10-30 08:09:16 PM
Is this the "you'll shiat bricks" thread? Because I just crapped out a cotton mill.
 
2009-10-30 08:10:46 PM
When my sister told me this story last week, it made me tear up.

My brother-in-law's dad had had a stroke a good while back , and had been in bad shape for a long time. He was finally moved to hospice care several weeks ago. He passed away last Wednesday. Just a day prior to his passing, my sister's mother-in-law had a dream. Al was standing at the end their street, wearing his brown suit. She walked down the street toward him, and he turned around. He said to her plainly (he had long since lost his ability to speak due to the stroke), "Rosie, I think it's time for me to go."

As someone not inclined to believe in afterlife-y things, I thought it was a sweet and lovely way that her mind preapred her for the inevitable, and maybe hastened the healing of her grief. Others may interpret it differently.
 
2009-10-30 08:11:36 PM
When our kids were little we lived in 100 year old house in Covington, Kentucky. This house had once been divided into a duplex but was now a single family dwelling with a staircase that branched off into two directions. The staircase was quite ornate and the focal point of the entryway to the house.
Along with a creepy attic and a downright spooky basement, the house had many other weird features that I won't describe. I was a young mom with 3 pre-school aged kids and my husband traveled overnight a good bit, so I had to work hard to keep my imagination from getting the best of me.
Our dog, upon occasion for no apparent reason, would freak out and start barking frantically at random objects on the wall. She'd be fine with them most of the time but suddenly she'd growl and bark for many minutes before leaving the room in fear. It didn't help my over-active imagination in the least.
During the 3 years that we lived there, I had this recurring dream about once a week. In the dream I would be walking down the staircase, sometimes alone, sometimes carrying the baby, and I would look up to see a woman with long hair dressed in a white flowing gown floating right at my eye level next to the staircase. We would stare at one another and I would be too frightened to scream or talk. Eventually I would wake up and every time I KNEW that if I opened my eyes I would see her next to my bed. I was always too afraid to open my eyes.
We moved across the country and I've always thought about that dream and that spooky house when people told ghost stories. But I never shared it. Then one night I was driving my 13 year old son home from a track meet and we started telling spooky stories. I started to tell him about my dream on the stairs and he interrupted me and described the rest of MY dream for me. We both had the chills when he said, "Mom, I had that dream all the time when we lived in that house too." He had been four years old at the time.
I've never been back to that area and probably never will, but I've always wondered if other residents of that house saw that woman in their dreams. If I ever get a chance to spend the night there again, I will open my eyes.

My husband insists that I point out that I am in fact MRS. Sanctimonious, as he would never have such a dream, much less tell anybody about it.
 
2009-10-30 08:15:34 PM
I just downloaded this game, The Path...It's creeping me out.

http://thepath-game.com/ (new window)
 
2009-10-30 08:16:04 PM
Not a scary story. No horror here. Just a piece of my life.

My wife and I used to collect old appliances. We had only been married a few years, and we had just moved into a great old house. The kitchen just cried out for interesting crap. Old radios, clocks, TV's. My eggbeater was my grandmother's, dating back to the 40's. We had a great old waffle maker, all chrome and black lacquer; looked like a space ship. There was a great old art deco toaster with these beautiful arches etched into the face, and a ruby-red faceted crystal that would glow when the heat coils were on. And we had the coffee pot.

Now this wasn't just any coffee pot. This was a vintage Faberware Art Deco coffee pot, dating back to the late 30's or early 40's. The damn thing had so many parts and springs and clips and cups and plates and some jury-rigged parts, that I had no idea how to make it work. My wife, however, managed to make coffee every morning with this thing. Good coffee, too.

In March of 1984, she finally succumbed to cancer. She had been battling with it for almost 5 years, and she finally lost. I was about as despondent as a man can be. This woman was my life, my future, my.....sigh. F*ck it, I'm just being a pussy again.

Anyway, about a week or so after the funeral, I have this dream. In the dream, there she is, just as beautiful as ever, with the most amazing scent that no one before or since has ever duplicated. We sat in the kitchen and talked and talked, drinking coffee and sharing; we talked about everything and anything under the sun. I felt a peace, a peace like I've never felt, before or since... till the sun finally started to come up....

There I was, in my bed, alone. I woke with that instant start you sometimes get. No gradual drift into reality, just bang, awake. And, as sometimes would happen, I didn't yet remember she was gone. I smelled her scent, so clear and strong, it made me smile...till reality once again sank in. I was alone. Can't really describe that feeling with any sort of accuracy. It's kind of like getting punched really, really hard in the gut, without the actual pain from the punch itself, just this residual ache, this dull, rolling ache.

I stumbled on down the stairs, and into the kitchen. And there, on the kitchen table, were two coffee mugs, mine and hers, little wisps of steam still rising off them. The silly little silver gerber baby spoon that she had had since childhood sat next to her mug. She was the only one who ever used that spoon; she said it measured out the perfect amount of sugar. There, on the counter, was the coffee pot. The one I put away, because looking at it made me hurt. The pot I can't work. With half a pot of coffee still in it.
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I've never shared this story before. Not exactly the kind of thing you'd tell your friends and family. A public, semi-anonymous place like fark, just seems about right. I know fark would have given her a giggle or two. Anyway, it's late in the thread, and few, if any will read it. I guess I just needed to see it written out. Take from it what you will.
 
2009-10-30 08:24:09 PM

This happened last Christmas Eve. It'll make sense at the end.

Last December, my mom spent a month in the hospital while recovering from ulcer surgery. Apparently it was pretty bad and because of her age (70), she had to remain under their care until they deemed she was fit to go home.

Anyway, she was hoping to be released before Christmas because her only concern was making tamales for everybody. But as Christmas crept closer she realized that she'd still be in the hospital until the New Year.

Up until this point I was doing okay with her in the hospital, but then I got a dose of reality: the tubes and wires hanging all over her, hearing her moan in pain as assistants helped her sit up, and thinking she would never get better or be released. It finally got the best of me and I began to cry not only because she was still in a considerable amount of pain, but that this would be the first year that I would spend Christmas without either parent.

After some consolation, I told Mom that I had to go to the cemetery to visit Dad. She told me to skip the visit; that I shouldn't subject myself to any further aggravation or sadness for the day. I told her I would go straight home.

Ten minutes later I was standing at my father's grave. I looked down at Dad's marker and began to speak.

"Chistmas is gonna suck this year, Dad. You're gone, Mom's in the hospital...neither one of you is going to be with us this time."

The rain began to fall a bit harder and I was getting pissed off, but not necessarily about the weather. "This farking sucks, Dad." I said my goodbyes and left.

Before I left home I was reminded by my wife to stop by Walgreens to see if they had a toy my son was looking for. They did, so I grabbed it, got in line and paid for it.

Then as I was getting into my car, I noticed something sitting on the ground in the parking lot. I looked at it, thought to myself, "Hey, I bet the kid would dig this," picked it up and started up the car.

And here's the obligatory "And that's when it hit me." Here is what I found:

moreno91.files.wordpress.com

Why did this trip me out? Here's what Dad's marker reads:

RAUL MORENO
SGT. U.S. ARMY
KOREA

DEC 24, 1933 - MAY 18, 1976


That Christmas Eve would have been Dad's 75th birthday.

Once I returned home, I showed my wife what I had found and was literally in hysterics as to why this happened. Whether it was some odd coincidence or a message from beyond it anybody's guess but let me tell you: it freaked me out to no end, and the patch now sits on the mantle right next to the US flag that draped Dad's coffin.

I miss you, Dad. Now stop tripping me out like that.

/still have strong connection with him
 
2009-10-30 08:28:37 PM
headstone: Not a scary story. No horror here. Just a piece of my life.

Wow. I didn't think this thread would make me get something in my eye.
 
2009-10-30 08:33:10 PM
I'm a skeptic, but I do have an unexplained tale.

Years ago I rented a "slave quarter" apartment in the French Quarter of New Orleans that had a few notable prior occupants. Vincent Price had lived there for a time, and Natalie Wood lived in the apartment while filming "This Property is Condemned" in 1965. I found out much later that she had attempted suicide while living there, but I don't know if it occurred inside my apartment or not.

Now frankly, there were lots of odd noises around the place. I could attribute plenty to drunken street noise or the old knob-and-tube wiring, creaky old wooden floors and a long wall of drafty french doors. My bedroom was on the second floor with a long gallery across the width of the building overlooking a private courtyard. The sound of someone coming up the old iron staircase and walking that gallery is very distinct. Heavy steps make the railing vibrate and rattle the french doors - there's simply no mistaking the arrival of a visitor with any of the other usual sounds.

Shortly after I moved in, I began having a very regular "visitor" in the night. I would hear a man's heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. This was no hallucination - my dog heard it too and would watch the gallery with her fur on end, growling. We'd wait for a knock at the door that never came, and on inspection, there was never anyone outside.

Over the course of a few weeks, the visitor's steps seemed to grow bolder. At first, they stopped at the top of the stairs. I never heard a descent and they never came forward. Just up to the top, and nothing. Then they began walking the gallery. First partway, then later they would come all the way to the door at the far end nearest my bed. Each step rattled the doors (there were 5 sets of french doors in all, with the next-to-last set being the actual entrance. The rest were always locked from the inside).

By the time I moved (I only lasted 2 months there), he would come up the steps with a rapid and deliberate stride, then pace the gallery up and down. My dog would growl and tremble. If I stood to investigate or called out, the noise would drop to silence. Afterward, it might start again in less than an hour, or many hours later in the night, or maybe not until the next day. The unpredictability had me living on edge and I slept fitfully every night I spent there.

I've tried to consider every explanation. Wind? Ha! Not in the New Orleans summer. Wiring? Doubtful - there were no wire connections on the gallery or stairs. Rats? Possibly - but I'd rather believe in ghosts than a rat that could make that much racket and rattle my doors.

Whatever it was is irrelevant though. I moved as quickly as I could even though the apartment was ridiculously cheap for the location (maybe that should have been a clue). I am not prone to being freaked out, but I was dreading any further action from my visitor. It had gone far enough already...what could happen next when the steps stopped at my door? A sinister knock? A slowly turning knob?

Screw that. I didn't stick around to find out.
 
2009-10-30 08:34:01 PM
headstone: Not a scary story. No horror here. Just a piece of my life.

That is awesome. Very cool story!
 
2009-10-30 08:37:09 PM
headstone: Not a scary story. No horror here. Just a piece of my life.

I feel ya. My wife and I still get a whiff of her late grandfather's cologne here in his house (where we live).
 
2009-10-30 08:37:37 PM
Attended college at Ga. Southern Univ. in Statesboro,Ga. It was February, freezing cold, and VERY windy (remember that for later).

Me and friends went out in the country to see the Harvell? family burial plot, on an old farm. They told me that it was a family massacred one night, early 1900s? or so, and never caught the killer. (not sure of story, been a long time).

The graves are in the middle of a field, roped off.

We went over the ropes and stood on the graves and started talking. A minute later we realized something. Even though the trees nearby were blowing like crazy, we felt no wind at ALL. And not only that, but we were no longer cold at ALL. That is when we said something about it, and realized that there was this massive heat coming up from the graves.

We freaked and jumped over the ropes to leave. Second we got past the ropes, tons of wind and freezing cold.

Creepy.
 
2009-10-30 08:41:43 PM
ArchAngel:

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand we're not sleeping tonight. Not without putting belts on over the boys' pj's anyway.
 
2009-10-30 08:43:19 PM
My best, and only, ghost story. It's not much:

Long before I was born, my great-grandfather shot himself in the car in his garage. For some reason that I've never understood, my grandfather and his wife moved into the now empty house, and lived there when I was a kid. The house contained a hallway that led from the kitchen to a door to the backyard - off the hallway was a screen door that lead into said garage.

When I was twelve and my brother was six and we were staying with my grandparents, I was hanging out in the kitchen when he came in from outside (which meant walking past the garage). He came up and tugged on my shirt, and said,

"Why is there a sad man in the garage?"

I went to look, and there was no one there. He seemed really confused, absolutely certain that there had been someone there, but he could only describe him as sad.

10 years later, my mother told us about our great grandfather. Needless to say, we both freaked the fark out.
 
2009-10-30 08:46:13 PM
Since I have no scary stories, I'll go for amusing.

I used to be in the Army; and like many Army folks, I was a sucker for a good prank. One year whilst stationed overseas on Halloween, I was out on a field problem. This means we drove our trucks up to the top of a hill, parked beside a water tower, and set up our vans and covered them in camouflage.

This particular year I decided being outside and overseas was no reason to kill the spirit; it was time to go a little nuts and decorate. When it got dark I made a bunch of simple hanging ghosts out of tissue, broke open some chem-lights and doused the ghosts so they'd glow, and strung them up to dangle over my van on the underside of my camouflage netting. It looked, quite frankly, awesome. Unfortunately camo has a lot of little holes and the glow was quite visible to my NCO; he came over with a couple of the guys, they admired the decorations, then my NCO told me they were a violation of the rules and said I had to take them down. We were all disappointed but hey, it's the Army.

This is where it gets fun.

Another NCO, a (very) big laconic fellow who was never surprised by anything, was away from site taking a shower. To take a shower you had to walk down a long hill and on your way back up to our van you had to walk past the water tower. Someone (I think it was the NCO who made us take down the ghosts) decided, hey, let's recycle a little. No point in wasting all that lovely glow-juice, is there? So we came up with the idea to use one of my glowing ghosts and a whole hell of a lot of dark green 550 cord to rig a joke. To be honest, it was such a jury-rigged simplistic set-up I didn't think it was going to work. I thought the lines would get tangled or the ghost (which was a bit more cute than creepy) wouldn't scare them.

To my amazement - it went perfectly. The poor fellow who was out showering was walking back up the hill, innocently minding his own business and trying not to trip over anything in the dark, when from out of nowhere a glowing green thing the size of a coke bottle came swooping and dancing out of the darkness right in front of him and shot off into the night heading for our van! He yelled, jumped, dropped his towel and stood there in complete amazement while we (maturely) fell all over ourselves laughing. Of course when he got up to us we had to show him the rig; he was an incredibly good sport about it, considering. It was nothing more complicated than a dark laundry-line with a ghost hanging from a loop; I hauled on the tether attached to the loop, the ghost came whipping out from hiding behind the water tower.

Aaaand that's the only true ghost story I know. :)
 
2009-10-30 08:49:20 PM
I've had only two unexplained experiences terrifying enough to share.

The first happened to me and another friend of mine while we were attending the 135th anniversary reenactment of Antietam in September 1997. Three friends and myself left the reenactment to tour the battlefield in the early evening but stayed until after dark. We parked the van near the Miller cornfield, scene of horrible fighting, and walked over to another area called the West Woods where confederates launched a counter attack on the Federal right flank. My buddy Dave and I were just standing there while our two friends were bumbling around in the distance. I remember opening my mouth to say something to Dave when I noticed that every insect and tree frog noise suddenly stopped. The second my brain processed this I could sense this roaring sound coming closer from all sides; really deep guttural yelling and white noise, almost like a jet engine. I started to sweat immediately and felt an incredibly cold wind pass by me on my left side. It was so cold that it felt like it went through me. The second I felt it, I had a very confusing and unexplainable rush of emotions. The way I put this part to people is that I felt that everything I had ever done in my entire life, every spoken word, every action, was ended abruptly and there was simply nothing to replace it. This all happened in the blink of an eye. The emotional jolt of whatever happened hit me and I jumped about a foot in the air, yelped, and ran crying to the parked van. My friend Dave was right behind me and we literally cried for days. We went back to the reenactment, got rides home early with other friends and didn't talk about it for about a year. He brought it up to me first and described the same thing that I experienced, except that he felt the cold sensation on his right side (he was standing to my left).

I've been back to Antietam three times since but I absolutely positively cannot bring myself to step foot anywhere in the area of the West Woods. There is a huge monument there that I can't even look at in pictures...I just know exactly what and where it is. I have an incredible unease about that particular area that's so bad I can close my eyes and feel it getting closer. When I get near the place I start to tear up uncontrollably. Basically it terrifies me beyond belief. After this experience I even get the same indescribable creeping terror around other places so bad that I can't go in certain rooms, houses, etc.. I have a very hard time explaining to people why I start to shake and tear up.

The second time I had a scary experience was at a historic farm called Carriage Hill, near Dayton, OH. A bunch of history nerd friends of mine were interpreters there at the time and I had never been there. One evening my friend Matt and I were in the area so we went over to check it out. He had resigned but still had his keys so we figured it would be easy to get in. We were on the porch and he was putting his key into the door when we heard a really slow dragging sound from inside, then a thud. The thud was so loud that we could hear the window panes shake. Not a light was on inside the place when we got there, no cars were nearby, and it seemed to be locked up tight. Matt tried the key and said it was already unlocked, but the knob wasn't turning. It finally turned and as we stepped inside we heard very clearly footsteps and the creaking of a door being closed. I didn't like the place the second I got there so I was about ready to get the hell out, but we went to investigate. The door that we thought had shut led to the basement and there was light coming out from around it. Neither of us wanted to admit that we were scared so Matt started telling me about the place, giving me the tour, etc. I kept hearing slow, drawn out, light footsteps and creaking on the basement steps behind the door. I knew Matt heard it too but neither of us admitted it at the time. His tour got progressively quicker until we got to the point where we were both so scared we were ready to throw a chair through a window and jump out. We passed the basement door and Matt suddenly stopped. We heard creaking again like someone was shifting weight right on the basement stairs landing. The light went out from around the door and right before it did I swear to god that I saw a shadow of someone's feet. We didn't stick around for any more. We ran out the front door and Matt didn't even bother to close or lock it.

About an hour later at his house we were telling his wife the story and Matt said that he was so scared he felt like he was going to have a heart attack. I felt the same way for the good part of the fifteen minutes we were in the house but I partially blacked out from panic on my way out the front door; Matt shoved me out of the way to get out first!

Our story got around to some of our friends who still worked there and they said the place was actually 100% closed down the two weeks leading to the night we were there. They weren't surprised by our story though. One guy had been there for six years and flat out believed that there were "people still living in the house." He told me that every day he would go to open the house to the public, day or night, for any reason, he would knock on the door, go inside, and announce out loud why he was "visiting." He also said that our story was nothing compared to things that he had actually seen.

God this sh*t freaks me out.
 
2009-10-30 08:56:10 PM
busy chillin': phedex

THANK YOU!!! I wonder what ever happened to my copy.... :-(

Off to buy it again. :-)
 
2009-10-30 09:04:30 PM
Google "Bigfoot Screams"

and then as you listen to the search results, imagine yourself in a cabin in the middle of the woods...alone



http://www.oregonbigfoot.com/sounds/ORBF_Klamath.mp3
(Let that one work on you.)
 
2009-10-30 09:25:02 PM
Well I don't really have much of a "ghost" experience, but when I was 16 I was never really afraid of the dark. It just didn't bother me and I'd sleep with my bedroom door closed in the pitch black. I'll try to be as descriptive as I can but understand this all happened in just a few seconds so close your eyes and imagine this. At what was around 2-3am I was asleep, when I instantly awoke and began to scream. I flew out of bed and while I could see all of this happening I had no control over my body. It wasn't until I was in the hallway that I regained control and I was sweating, my heart was pounding and i couldn't stop shaking, while every bit of me felt tense. It promptly woke both my parents up and my younger brother and sister were afraid of me. The whole thing felt like going from 0-60 in .5 seconds. My eyes shot open and my heart went from still to beating like a full-auto machine gun. The thing is, the most frightening part of it for everyone else was the scream I made, it started off deeper and oscillated in pitch while being as loud as my lungs could scream, almost like something was shaking me. The terror I felt was so real.... it was like I was watching this happen, I could feel all of it but I couldn't do anything about it. I just awoke, instantly filled with adrenaline, felt my entire nervous system shiver and kick into high gear as I screamed and flew out of bed, almost as if my sub-conscious knew I had to get out of there... like I was fleeing something that no barrier could hold back. I slept with the door open and the lights on after that. But the next night I decided to try and return to some sense of normalcy. I closed my door and left the lamp on next to my bed. I got in bed and pulled the covers over me, rolled over and turned off the lamp. The room went dark and I just closed my eyes, trying not to think about it. I occasionally let my imagination drift off to what happened, how it felt, and I thought about why it happened. Now, before I get to this next part, you have to understand that my bed is in a corner and that I sleep facing the wall, so there's a wall above my head and directly in front of me when I sleep. Well, at what I would later find out to be around the same time as before, I became aware that I was in an icy cold bed, in the middle of summer, and that rather than sleeping with my head facing the wall my chin was up on my pillow (I would have been staring at the wall perpendicular to my bed) and in the split seconds that existed between me waking up and when it happened I KNEW something was there, in the darkness, and it was coming for me and there was no where I could go, and just as before in probably 1-2 seconds I woke up with my eyes already open, filled with terror and my adrenaline peaked while it felt like all of my muscles tensed, I flew out of bed screaming all while I just watched completely detached, except this time I broke through my door, but I didn't even feel it (my door opens into my room, and admittedly this was a newer home with crappy doors, not solid ones like my grandparent's), and I regained control once I had reached just outside my parents' bedroom in the hallway, and they rushed out wanting to know what happened (my screams had woken up the whole house). After some studying on the internet the only thing we could come up with is that I had experienced some kind of "Night Terror", where my body's primal fear response just went haywire and took control. But for probably the next week or two even in broad daylight, with other people home, I just felt this sense of dread in my bedroom. Like, something was there that wanted me, that was just waiting for the lights to go out, waiting in the walls.... I'd sit on my floor surfing the internet with my laptop, and I'd look into that corner where my head would lay at night and it would give me this cold icy feeling, yet my light was on, the window was open, but yet it just felt "dim" in the room. Eventually it passed, yet I still sleep with the door open at night. I'm still not exactly sure what happened or why but I know I never want to experience anything like that ever again. A search on youtube for "night terror" helped me explain it to other people

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bSVwmSzxKtU (not a rick-roll)

(watch at about 15 seconds, that's similar to what my screaming was like)
 
2009-10-30 09:25:52 PM
My GF's story:

When I was about 8 yrs old I woke up during the middle of the night feeling like I was being watched. I remember being very scared and not wanting to open my eyes, I wish I never had. I saw at the foot of my bed a tall dark shadow standing there staring back at me. I closed my eyes and turned over, when I opened my eyes the shadow was standing right next to me, staring at me.
A few weeks later I was playing in my huge walk-in closet with my Barbie dolls, and I was alone in the house at the time.When I picked up my Ken doll I heard a deep voice say my name! I started screaming and I said, "Leave me alone!" I then ran out of my house.Lots of spooky things have happened to me since and I have seen that dark shadow from time to time, but I've never heard my name since.
 
2009-10-30 09:29:38 PM
After training at my Dojo for about a year, I found myself looking for a new place to live. I had become very close to my shiatan (Master instructor) and his wife, and it was summer time when Martial Arts schools are at their slowest. It was decided that the answer to my housing needs, and a way to generate a little more money for the dojo was the small loft in the back of the school.

Our school, from the outside, looks like most that you find all over the place. Looking in the windows you see a 15'x30' area with thick foam mats on the ground, a small shop area, mirrors covering one long wall. In the back, is one of the minor things that sets White Dragons apart from the others. Through a small hallway, you reach our back area. It's approximately 25'x80', with 90% of that area padded and set up as our main workout area. Just above the entrance to this area, is the loft. It's open to the main area, with banners giving privacy to the loft. Very convienient to me, as I was teaching private lessons after work and before classes in the evening.

I had been living there for about 4 months, when late one early October night I was settling down for sleep. It was about 1:30 in the morning or so, when from the middle of the workout floor I heard a loud smack. Now I know that buildings can make some strange noises at times, but after 2 years in the martial arts I was very familiar with the sound of a roundhouse kick hitting one of the large, square shield pads that we use in training. Which is exactly what this sounded like.

I waited for about 20 seconds or so before deciding that what I heard was actually someone closing a door hard in the fireplace business next door, when I heard 2 smacks in rapid succession. My hair went on end as this sounded exactly like one of our advanced students or another blackbelt performing a low-high flip kick on those same shield pads. Prior to going to bed, I had already locked all the doors and searched the place to ensure that nobody was lingering around, hoping to steal some of the expensive swords or other weapons that we have in our shop area.

I got out of bed, moved one of the banners aside and looked out on the dojo floor. It was empty. Once again, I tell myself that buildings can make some strange noises. They come from the pipes, or the foundation settling, from the walls or the ceiling. These noises had come from the direct center of our workout area. While I'm looking around to see if shiatan or one of the other black belts with a key are messing with me, the sounds of someone working out begin to come from the center of the room again. I flip on the lights, and the noise stops. I went out onto the dojo floor and look for a small speaker that might have been placed there without me noticing. Nothing but grey, double-padded carpet.

I went back up to bed and try to fall asleep, pretending that I'm not hearing the sounds of someone having a workout that resumed just after I turned out the lights and continued on for a half an hour.

Now; if this had been the end of it, I could have blamed the pizza that I had eated earlier that night for giving me bad dreams. The same events happened on 3 out of the next 5 nights. Preparing myself for ridicule, I described the events as they had happened to my shiatan. After finishing, with a thoughtful look on his face he says "I wonder if it could be Matt". I ask him what he meant, and he proceeds to tell me a story.

About 3 years prior to my coming to White Dragons, my instructor had a student named Matt. I can't remember Matt's last name, but he and shiatan had become very good friends, despite the 20 year age difference.It was around Halloween, when Matt and several of shiatan's young blackbelts were out having fun and being stupid, as teenagers often are. They were taking turns riding on the hood of a jeep that one of them owned. When Matt was riding on the hood, they had to stop very suddenly for something. Matt flew off, and took the corner of the curb directly on his neck. He died instantly.

After telling me this story, shiatan said that the two of them were so close, that if there was any way Matt could come back, he probably would try. Over the course of the next 3 weeks, shiatan and at least 4 other blackbelts also experienced disturbances in the main dojo area. One night shiatan, myself and another blackbelt were in late making a few new disks for the cardio kickboxing classes that we also held there. While we were facing the stereo, we heard the sound of a strong kick connecting with a pad coming from behind us. It should be noted that this came from well away from where the pads are actually kept. shiatan said "Hi, Matt". Immediately, the other blackbelt and I watched as shiatan broke out in goosebumps from head to toe. He shuddered and commanded loudly, "Get off me Matt!". The goosebumps went away like turning off the lights. He stated that he felt Matt put his hands on my instructor's shoulders.

A bout a week later, I was in the front of the school by the shop area cleaning up after the nights classes. At the end of each night, chores are assigned to the students. Things like cleaning the mirrors, taking out the trash and vaccuuming. I was vaccuuming while several other students werecleaning the mirrors, shiatan's wife was doing some accounting behind the counter, and two of our blackbelts were still in the main dojo in the back. They had a bit of a romantic relationship, so we were giving them some room.

Suddenly we hear a loud shriek from the dojo, and Jamie comes sprinting into the room, followed by Sensei Jeff, who was one of shiatan's main assistants. Jeff was looking quite pale and trying to grin as if to keep from grimacing. We ask what happened and he stated that he and Jamie had been seated at the far end of the Dojo, where we have 5-6 heavy everlast punching bags suspended from the ceiling. They had had their backs to the bags to keep an eye for anyone entering the dojo while they smooched a bit. While they were sitting there, they heard one of the bags get hit, and turned to find one of them swinging as if it had just been hit.

The final, and possibly the most siginficant of the events that happened before they went away for a while happened in late November. It was around or a little past midnight, when after watching a movie with my girlfriend at the mall accross the parking lot I stopped in to do a security check and use the bathroom. I had told Angie about Matt and the events that we had all experienced, but she never seemed to think much of it. After checking the lock on the back door behind the heavy bags, I walked to the front of the school where she was waiting in one of the chairs by the front counter.

I went in to use the bathroom, and when I came out Angie was quite pale. "Adam, what does Matt look like?" she asked. I took her to the small area that separated the front area from the main dojo, where a picture of Matt hung on the wall. After taking one look at the picture she took off running and leaped into the car outside. I went to the car and asked her what was wrong. She told me that while I was in the bathroom, she saw Matt standing in the opening from the Front area to the main dojo. She had been looking at the long line of pictures of the school's black belts that was located over the mirrors in the front area. While looking at them, she saw Matt in the mirror. Matt looked at her, smiled and gave her a little nod, and walked back into the dojo. After that time, she vehemently refused to enter the school after dark, unless there were several people present.

That was the last "large" experience that I am aware of happenning in the school. Matt had died on Halloween, and with that season passing Matt seemed to move on to places unknown. But starting about 4 months later, every now and then someone who was in the school late at night would say that they could hear pads being hit in the dojo when they knew noone was there. Now whenever I am there late at night closing up, before I leave, I'll usually call out to Matt, making sure that he's keeping good form and watching over the school.

Some people may tell you there's no such thing as ghosts or spirits, but there are those of us who know better.

Have a good workout, Sensei Matt.
 
2009-10-30 09:32:18 PM
Well, it's probably not so scary now, but when I was a kid, it scared the shiat out of me.

My parent's house where I grew up was pretty small, probably less than 1100 square feet. One night, I heard something knocking at the door. Thinking groggily it was my dad (he worked swingshift), I peeked through the blinds. Nothing there. Then I remembered that my dad was working daylight and was snoring happily in the next room. The entire time, the knocking at the door continued.

Thinking I was hearing something, I walked through the kitchen to the backporch, where our cat slept, but was known to entertain himself by clawing at the door. He was asleep.

Meanwhile, the knocking is continuing. I go back to the front door and put my hand on the door; I eventually feel that the vibrations from the knocking is coming from the lower corner of the door. I look out the windows and still see nothing--no animals, no people, nothing at all.

Freaked out, I climbed back into my bed...but only after pushing a bookshelf behind my bedroom door. That took some explaining the next morning.

/also woke up a few months later to find muddy footprints going up the steps and onto the porch...the only house on the block with those prints.
 
2009-10-30 09:32:23 PM
spartan6652: Nothing... Never been so happy in my life. I just knew I was gonna get it that day.

Semper Fi


And then you ate at the DFAC at KV.

THAT was scary.

/until they built the KBR one.
 
2009-10-30 09:39:05 PM
When I was a very little kid, five or six maybe, my father was spraying around the outside of the house for roaches. He told me not to play outside that day because of the poison. I decided I would be smart; I would play out in the yard and stay away from the edge of the house where he sprayed. And that's what I did. I jumped from the door as far as I could to avoid the poison and did the same to get back in. Later, I had a really strange, unpleasant taste in my mouth. I started to think about the poison, and I ran into the bathroom to spit in the sink. My spit was brown! I was terrified. I washed my mouth out and spit again. It was still brown! And the nasty taste was still there. I was going to die. I was too scared to tell my parents. I felt too stupid and ashamed. I could never admit I had done something childish or made a mistake. I hid the rest of the day, trying to cry quietly so I wouldn't attract attention, convinced I was going to die.
 
2009-10-30 09:45:24 PM
schezar: Cool stories, bros.

But, I should note that almost every story here can be explained by a combination of selective memory, Pareidolia, the ideomotor effect, and sleep paralysis.


What about that spider on your face?
 
2009-10-30 09:52:01 PM
This is totally true and sort of long, so I apologize.

When I was in high school, my parents lived in the middle of the woods in a very small town. My dad went through this long phase where he loved collecting rocks. Not any kind of valuable rocks, just ones he thought were interesting. My dad is weird.

One day, my mom came home from work and stood at the back window, staring out into the woods, sipping on a cup of coffee. She said she thought she saw someone standing at the back of the yard where it met the woods. It was a man. She rubbed her eyes and looked again and he was still there, staring up at the house...except now, there was a woman standing beside him, also staring at the house.

My mom chalked it up to her being tired and went to take a nap.

That night my dad was out at the edge of the yard and he found a cool looking rock. He thought it looked like a face. He came in and showed it to my mom who immediately freaked out and told him about her experience, yelling at him that the rock looked like the man she had seen. She made him promise to get rid of it.

As if that wasn't creepy enough, the next day I get home from school to discover no one is home. I had somewhere to be so I went into the bathroom to prep myself. I heard a loud crash in my parents bedroom down the hall, which scared the crap out of me. Before I could go investigate, I heard footsteps. I quietly shut and lock the door to the bathroom, thinking someone has broken in.

I heard a weird sound, like a footstep and then something being dragged slowly. Step, drag, step, drag, step, drag....closer and closer to the bathroom. By this point I am absolutely petrified. I have backed up to the wall farthest from the bathroom, and am actually in the bathtub by this point, trying to figure out what to do. The steps are right outside the door, and then I hear my parents pull up.

I open the window and start screaming "SOMEONE IS IN THE HOUSE!!" To my parents, who run in as fast as possible.

No one is in the house. No windows are open, the back door is still locked, and there is no evidence of anything being broken in my parents room.

Later that night my dad comes upstairs and tells me mom "Oops, I forgot to take that rock back," nonchalantly while holding it. My mom proceeds to freak out again, because now she thinks something has come into our house to get the rock for some reason.

That's it, that's my story. My dad put the rock back outside and nothing else weird happened. I don't know if it's connected to the sounds I heard, but those were also unexplained.
 
2009-10-30 09:53:45 PM
Rembrant_Q_Einstein: ferretman: Very short....

Being 600 ft away in the middle of the street when the first tower collapsed.

me too. right behind the church.


Yeah I was at the corner of Trinity and Liberty at the concrete 'park' that people used to gather at and play chess.
 
2009-10-30 10:00:24 PM
allestelle: This is totally true and sort of long, so I apologize.

When I was in high school ... I don't know if it's connected to the sounds I heard, but those were also unexplained.


Damn. Luckily for me, I was the youngest son in a house full of daughters and dogs, and Bird. I never had the fear of some stranger in the house, because the dogs would go crazy. And so would Bird.
 
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