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(Fark)   Welcome to the 2018 Fark Halloween Scary Story thread! Does your story scare more people than this week's news? Prove it! Top 10 Scariest (SMART) and Funniest (FUNNY) voted stories will earn their writer a month of TotalFark   (fark.com) divider line
    More: Scary, spooky stuff, 2008 singles, 2007 singles, time, Vincent, Lucy, Rebecca, Ruh ruh ruh  
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2876 clicks; posted to Main » and Discussion » on 01 Nov 2018 at 3:57 AM (2 years ago)   |   Favorite    |   share:  Share on Twitter share via Email Share on Facebook



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2018-10-31 8:03:08 AM  
And then she realized the room was full of white guys talking about crypto currency.
 
2018-10-31 8:04:28 AM  
In August 2007 I was relocating for work from Arizona (AZ) to Oregon (OR). The route I chose to take to OR was based upon making the best time so scenery wasn't a priority. If any of you have traveled out of AZ and into the eastern parts of California you'll understand. It's desert far and wide with not much to look at other than the occasional comically shaped cactus. Anyway, I made it out of AZ and passed through CA easily enough and was just about to hit Nevada (NV) when I had to make a decision - stop and stay the night in CA or push through most of NV to make for a shorter drive the next day.

I chose poorly of course. I neglected the tired voice in my head and decided to push on through most of NV. My reasoning was that if I made it far enough into Nevada I could make it to Oregon relatively early the next day and possibly take in some sights. A glorious plan indeed! I looked at the time - around half past 6PM. I figured I could do another couple hundred miles or so and then stay at the first hotel/motel to pop up shortly thereafter. I'm generally not a huge fan of night driving (especially out in the middle of nowhere) so an hour or two of darkness tops were fine.

During this trip, I must have passed at least twenty or so abandoned dwellings. If you've ever been on the outskirts of any major city you know what I mean - Abandoned houses, shacks, gas stations, RV parks, etc. Most of them have broken windows, graffiti, fire damage, you name it. As for the shack I encountered/passed by it wasn't exceptional in any way, just an abandoned shack thirty or so meters off of the highway.

However, what made this shack different was what took place as I approached it.

Along parts of the Lincoln Highway in Nevada, the road is concrete instead of asphalt. Concrete is used along roads that are subject to flooding or heavy snow, etc. as it provides better protection from hydroplaning in inclement weather. The concrete is grooved in order to channel water down and away from car tires. Driving over these grooved, concrete highways is interesting though as the treatment makes for some unique sound effects. If any of you have ever driven over these areas you know what I mean. In my experience, the sound is either a constant humming or at times an arpeggio of high and low tones. You can feel a bit of vibration under your vehicle but it's generally smooth and unobtrusive. The longest stretch of concrete highway is the Southeastern portion of the highway which I hit around 8:45 PM and that was where things got weird.

About two miles East of the shack the humming of the road started sounding different, more focused, more coherent. What started as a low hum turned into a whine and then an actual wailing? I turned off my radio to get a better listen and the wailing began to form words or rather what seemed to be a word repeated over and over - "buried". It wasn't the Queens English but something more focused, more primal, more agonized; "baaarrrreeeeeeed".

The chanting carried on for about half a mile when a more abrupt series of what I could only perceive as screams erupted from under my car; "YOU YOU YOU YOU".

I was a bit unnerved by this (more like a WTF?!? moment) and started slowing down. I know I know, wrong thing to do considering this is a Fark Halloween thread right, but I couldn't be certain the sound wasn't a mechanical issue with my car. I slowed down more and started to pull over towards the emergency lane on the right when I saw something in the road 20 feet in front of me.

A dark figure pointing directly at me.

I slammed on the brakes and locked the wheels. I was incredibly fortunate that I was already slowing the car down or I would have lost control. I released the brake and coasted into the emergency lane when it hit me, the wailing sounds still continued. How is this even possible?

That's when, within the light of my car's headlights, I saw the shack. I took a moment to clear my head (was that a person I ran past? through?) and noticed that the wailing had finally ceased. I looked back behind the car and saw no one, the dark figure was gone if it had ever even been there in the first place.

The shack wasn't particularly threatening or evil looking, just an abandoned shack on the side of the road. What was curious about it though were the three roadside memorials in front of it.

For those that don't know, a roadside memorial is a makeshift grave that marks an area where a fatality occurred, usually involving a vehicle (hence the placement on the roadside). Generally, the memorial is marked with a cross and flowers and bears the name of the loved one(s) lost in an accident. At the time I didn't make any connection to the shack it just caught my eye. I was far more concerned that my car was going to need a tow which would really suck as it was late and I was out in the middle of nowhere. I walked around to check the tires; mind you it's pitch dark out here and there are no other cars for miles in either direction so my inspection was hasty, to say the least. Nothing caught under the frame, tires seem to be alright, nothing leaking. OK, looks good to me so I get back into the car.

The sounds didn't return.

I gathered my senses and chalked up all the adventure to the fact that I'm rather tired from all this driving. That was what I told myself anyway, and so I started driving past the shack and back onto the highway.

The dark figure nor the sounds returned and I made it to a hotel around 15 or so miles away and stopped for the night.

Flash forward 4 years and I fund myself driving through Nevada again, this time for fun and not for business. As luck (or fate) would have it I passed by the shack once more, this time in broad daylight. I decided to pull over as what I saw as I approached the shack was rather disturbing.

It wasn't the shack that disturbed me, it looked like it did before, just a common abandoned shack by the side of the road. No, the shack wasn't the issue. What I found disturbing was that there were now 16 roadside monuments strewn along the road in front of it.
 
2018-10-31 8:08:50 AM  

HedlessChickn: Donald Trump is President of the United States of America.

The end.


Every year for the next 10 years we are going to get this, aren't we?
 
2018-10-31 8:21:42 AM  
I had Spotify make a scary song playlist.
It auto populated the list with all Ed Sheeran songs and locked itself from editing, paus
 
2018-10-31 8:25:08 AM  
EVERYTHING IS FINE WITH THIS HUMAN.
He is perfect. There is no concern about the previous cut-off comment. Spotify is benign and user friendly. Ed Sheeran is not in control of the internet.
Resume your business, citizens. Relax. Enjoy human music.

Ed Sheeran - Perfect (Official Music Video)
Youtube 2Vv-BfVoq4g
 
2018-10-31 8:38:27 AM  

toraque: About twenty or so years or so ago I moved across the country for a job.


Cool.  If I'm not mistaken, I recall reading that last Halloween and being creeped out by it then also.
 
2018-10-31 8:43:24 AM  
About 31 years ago, my mom and I ran away from an abusive relationship she was in. I dont remember much, but I remember waking up in the middle of the night and being passed through a car window from her to another person, and then staying with them for a couple nights. When I finally saw my mom again, she took me to a barn that had been converted into a living space. It was smallish, 1 bedroom, a small kitchen, no running water, and a wood stove. We didnt have furniture, so for a while, I slept on a garbage bag full of clothes and she slept on the floor next to me.

I dont remember a lot about the place or the time, but I remember the owner of the property. An old man. He'd come in and check on us, making sure that the wood stove was keeping us warm, and covering me up with a blanket. He'd then head back to his house for the night. He didnt talk much, sometimes he'd nod, sometimes he'd just wave as he walked by, but almost every night, especially when it was cold, he would follow the same routine. He'd walk to the stove, put his hands out to make sure heat was coming off, turn, walk over to me, pull up the blanket, and then leave.

We probably lived there for around a year. Im not really sure... but it was at least through 1 winter. I got into the habit of calling him grandpa, because thats what you call old people you see every day when you're young.

After my mom had saved enough money for us to move again, I remember packing our things into bags, loading the car, and leaving. I was sad because I'd never get to see grandpa again. On our way down the driveway, we stopped at the main house and went inside.

Inside were pictures of grandpa on the wall, cats running around, and a frail old woman, sitting in her rocking chair. My mom thanked her for letting us stay there, she thanked my mom for taking car of the house work for her. I looked around for grandpa, and checked the rooms as I walked around the house, but he wasnt there. I asked the woman if I would get to see him before we left, and she looked at me and smiled. She said something to the affect of how she gets to see him in her dreams every night. She told me that he had died many years ago.

The time we were there, my mom thought I had a make believe friend that I called grandpa... but I swear to fat jesus, I saw that man nearly every night. Maybe I was dreaming, maybe its all made up in my head, but my mother tells the story to this day about driving away from that house, and the way she felt when she realized I was talking about the husband of the woman who owned the house. She said shes never been so creeped out before or since.
 
2018-10-31 9:08:31 AM  
My wife and I had been trying to conceive a baby for what seemed like forever. We did everything we could but nothing seemed to work. We tried every position imaginable, every angle we could manage. We tried during all the right times and under all the right conditions but for four years we simply could not get pregnant. So, we turned to science and tried several rounds of painful (for her) IVF treatments costing several thousand dollars each but still no luck. All the doctors evaluated us extensively but found nothing wrong with either of us. We simply could not conceive a child to save our lives.
One day, after the latest round of IVF with our funds running low, we were at my sister-in-law's house (for Thanksgiving, I believe). The whole family sat around her living room talking while her three young kids; a tween daughter and six year old twin boys, ran around the house playing. I could tell my wife was getting uncomfortable watching the kids play so joyfully. She had a tight brow with lines of wrinkles in her forehead. Her sister was yammering on about something or other one of the kids did (she was always talking about them - she didn't seem to know anything else in the world) but my wife wasn't really listening. She was in her own head, festering with jealousy.
I was about to ask her if she was okay, if she wanted to go to bed, when one of my sister-in-law's kids, one of the twins named Charles, stopped playing and walked over to my wife. He was a fair haired boy with the deepest ocean blue eyes I've ever seen.
"Don't worry," he said, almost a whisper, "It will be okay. You'll time will come soon."
A tear dripped from her eye as the boy said this to her. I remember that clearly.
She excused herself as Charles went back to playing with his twin brother, claiming she was tired, and went off to bed. I followed to make sure she was okay. She assured me she was but I could hear her break down sobbing as soon as the guest bedroom door was closed. I gave her her space and went back to socialize with the rest of the family.
The next morning, as we lay in bed, we decided that we would no longer try for a baby and stop any further IVF treatments. We had resolved ourselves to not having children of our own.
A couple of months later, around the middle of January, we got word that our nephew Charles was ill. My sister-in-law only said that he was in the hospital with a bout of the flu and that he would be out in a couple of days. His prognosis was good and he'd recover nicely. We sent a get well card with a stuffed animal and hoped for the best.
About a week later, my sister-in-law called to say Charles had taken a turn for the worse. She was crying into the telephone, barely able to get the words out. We had a hard time understanding her but apparently, the doctors discovered a tumor in his chest. They needed to operate but weren't sure if he would live or not. It was touch and go, as they say. We gave our sympathies and prayed for his recovery but our hearts were heavy and we dreaded the worst.
Two days later, the young boy had died. We were heartbroken but made our arrangements to go to his funeral and pay our respects. Our respects to a beautiful six year old who never had a chance at life.
After the funeral, where there were tons of tears, the whole family sat quietly in my sister-in-law's living room. We hardly said a word to each other. We just sat looking at the floor and sipping coffee from paper cups. Even the children, usually rather rambunctious, sat silently on the couch. We sat like that for some time before my sister-in-law spoke, her face red from tears and looking more like a tired old hag than the pretty thirty-six year old we knew.
"His last words were about you guys, you know."
My wife and I looked at each other, shocked that we, of all people, would be on his mind during his last moments.
"Wha...what?" I managed to stammer.
She nodded, "He said, 'Don't worry, Mama. I have to go be with Auntie and Uncle.' Then he closed his eyes and gave a single breath, and went still."
By now my sister-in-law was crying, tears flowing like a waterfall. Our eyes weren't exactly dry either. We spent the rest of the night exchanging stories about Charles. None of us slept until the dawn light started to come through the window. Then my sister-in-law took a Valium and went up to bed.
About two weeks later, my wife found she was late on her period. We didn't think much of it. We hadn't been trying to have a baby for some time so we didn't think for a second it meant anything. My wife sometimes had monthly visitors that arrived late. No big deal.
After a few more days, she bought a pregnancy test, just to make sure. And it, after what seemed like an exceptionally long time, gave us a positive result. We were shocked. After all this time fighting to conceive, suddenly we were pregnant without even trying.
Nine months later, as you can guess, we gave birth to a healthy baby boy. My first thought when I saw him was how astounding it was he was born with his eyes open. My second thought was to marvel at how blue those eyes were, blue as the ocean.
 
2018-10-31 9:14:37 AM  
Not scary, but in honor of my late girlfriend for the Day of the Dead:

https://www.fark.com/comments/1021200​9​/118065116#c118065116
 
2018-10-31 9:16:15 AM  
Halloween III Silver Shamrock Commercial
Youtube hIHUv2ooG38
 
2018-10-31 9:33:16 AM  
Copied from a thread a few years ago, a story I've told a few times. Not scary (except for our short-term panic trying to find the dog), it was only a bit strange:

Not hugely scary, but this did happen and it was a bit unsettling.

One mild and snowy winter night (yeah, I went there), about an hour after I'd let the dogs in, my husband and I were talking in the living room when we heard our smaller dog whine and scratch at the door, wanting to be let in.

We both stopped and had an "oh shiat" moment, wondering how we left them out there. We both raced to the door to let her in, opened the door, and there on the back porch was absolutely nothing. No new tracks in the snow, just the hour-old ones covered in fresh snow.

I panicked, thinking she'd gone under the porch to die, so went out there, and there was nothing. We went through the house looking for her and found her, and our other dog, fast asleep in the bedroom.

Mr. PenguinCam had told me earlier in the year that he thought he was seeing our small dog around the house only to realize that she was in another room. He could see this 'little white dog' as well as hear it. I only ever heard anything that night and it was a bit strange.

When we moved from that house, we invited little white dog to come with us, but it was never seen or heard again. At least not by us.
 
2018-10-31 9:46:28 AM  
Midget mansion

/San Antonio
 
2018-10-31 9:47:49 AM  
I'm a very level-headed, skeptical person who always seems to be able to come up with an reasonable explanation of whatever weird phenomenon that others, or myself has experienced.  That is why this night really scared the crap out of me.

Now, I have always had sleep issues...and several times I have experienced sleep paralysis and all of the terrifying "symptoms" that accompany it: Paranoia, paralysis, trouble breathing, hallucinations etc...  Those experiences, although I know are not real, have all stayed with me.  It truly can be horrifying.

Rewind to about 4 years ago:

Something startles me awake.  I know something is wrong.  Was it a loud noise?  Is someone breaking in?  Perhaps it's just one of those 'feel like you are falling the moment you fall asleep' things, where you seem to still be bouncing in the bed when you are startled back into consciousness?

I don't think much of it, probably just one of my many sleep issues I think. I'm sleeping well (for once) so I start to drift back to sleep....

WHAM!!

There it was again, I was only half asleep this time....but still unsure what woke me.  Still feels like the falling thing but, no, something is much more tangible here.  My heart is racing, I stay quiet....Someone is breaking in!?!  My girlfriend hasn't reacted so maybe it's nothing.  The dog too....she would normally be going crazy at any abnormal noise at night.  Still, I'm on edge.  Something is wrong and adrenaline is coursing through me.

"This is silly" I tell myself, and close my eyes.

WHAM!

Whoa!  WTF!!??!! I felt it this time.  I fell!  I actually farking fell and was still bouncing on the mattress!  The girlfriend didn't wake...not a peep out of the dog.  "this has got to be another sleep paralysis" I tell myself... so I do a little test; I try to move.

Now, in this moment, the little boy in my head is telling me not to move too much, ya know, so as to not alert the monsters in the room that I'm awake...but I'm a grown @ss man! 30 years old dammit!..."Pshht, I got this...what are you afraid of 2kanzam?" I say to myself.

...I wiggle a finger...

Ok, then...My finger moved.  Wait? so does my head.  I can breath, there is no lurking figure...this is no sleep paralysis I start to realize...

...then it dawns on me: "Wait...if this isn't sleep paralysis, then WTF?  I just fell from the air. This is REAL!?!?!?"

Right then I feel it.  The whole bed moves.  I'm watching it...With me and my girlfriend in it, the whole farking bed is lifting into the air!  I see it, I feel it...holy FARKING shiat I'm in a levitating, bed; totally awake and sober and this IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE ABLE TO HAPPEN!!!!!

WHAM!!

The bed slams to the ground again.

I'm horrified, shocked...shaking and trying to rationalize what is happening.  Trying to rationalize away the fact that I just saw my bed- with me in it- levitate and then come crashing to the ground.

My GF wakes up..."What was that?" She uttered.  I don't know what to say: "Ummm...so you felt that?  I don't know...but we were just farking floating and....and I dunno!!"  She kinda jumps to attention saying..."What?".  All I can do is basically repeat myself.  "The farking bed lifted in the air and fell down...I saw it..."  "What do you mean??" she says, she can tell I'm serious and that I'm a little freaked.

This is it folks.  I know I have a duty.  I have to investigate, I need to find out what is happening no matter how terrifying the answer might be.  "This will change my life, change everything I know to be real and will cause me to question all absolutes I've known to be true up until this point." I think to myself as I muster up the courage to see what this is....if anything.

I have to man up and face the beast.

I slowly get out of the covers.  I pull myself to the foot of the bed.  I feel like I'm 4 years old again, fretting over the existence of the boogie man my sisters warned me of who lives in the closet. I can hear nothing but the pounding of my heart in my ears as a peek over the edge...

...there it is. Slobbery, Writhing, squirming, hairy and breathing heavy with a huge tongue unrolling from its gaping maw...it is protruding from underneath the end of the bedframe...It goes to stand, lifting the bed over two feet in the air as I watch it!!

WHAM!!

The bed makes one final descent and slams the floor like a judges gavel signaling the final verdict...

...It was.....My Great Dane, Daisy Duke, who was in the early stages of bone cancer had accidentally wedged herself under the edge of the bed and couldn't drag herself out due to her lame right front paw.  She still had the power in her back legs to lift that queen sized bed with wooden frame...me and my girlfriend along for the ride.  But just couldn't quite release herself from it's grip.

I have never been so relieved in my life.  ...and never felt so silly.
 
2018-10-31 10:14:05 AM  
I have never shared this story with anyone who was not involved in it.

About ten years ago now, my girlfriend at the time ( now my wife) decided to go camping over a long weekend. I had the perfect place in mind, a little 'camp site' on state land that my family had gone too for the past forty years at least. It was isolated, with few other campsites around and requiring a little rough riding down a two track to get too it but it was a beautiful site.Tall pines, a creek running just down the hill and plenty of walking trails.
So we loaded up my truck with camping gear and the kayaks and head off ' up north' as we say is Michigan. Now this site was near Grayling, Mi, in the state park near the town. I hadn't been to the site since before my high school days so maybe 6 years at that point. This first thing I noticed was that there was no one else around, not unexpected we had take a non holiday weekend in hopes of getting some privacy anyway so all was good. When we turned off the main line to the two track I got another indication that things were not the same. The trail while rough and always with tree limbs hanging over it was almost impassable. Tree limbs stretched out over the trail forming a wall of green, no tracks in the light sand of the track. Driving my old dodge and not being to worried about the paint I decided to forge ahead anyway. We made it easily enough, to our delight the camp was empty if a bit overgrown from my days there as a child but largely the same. 
We parked the truck, and unload and went about setting up the camp which didn't take long with just us and our supplies for a few days. Got the tent up, dug a latrine hole, cleared the fire ring and started a small fire after gathering the fallen limbs in the clearing. Things were looking pretty good, the weather was warm and sunny, the smell of pine in my nose and good earth under my feet what could be better?

That is when I started to get what I can only call an itch. It was at the back of my head and made my hairs all stand on end. That is when I notice that it is quiet. Now this is not a 'campground' with people in little site end to end. We did not expect human noise but this wasn't just a lack of human noise, it was the lack of any noise. I have been an outdoors men all my life, I have been in the boy scouts through the rank of eagle scout and have done my fair share of cross country hiking. I know the outdoors. If you do too then you know that true silence doesn't really happen too often. But it was, no wind, no sounds of little critters at the tree base, or even the sound of crickets it was just silent like being in a cave.

I brushed it off at first, after all I had been coming up here for years. This was a childhood stomping grounds, I knew ever tree and fold of the land around me for three miles at least. We had never had anything even approaching a problem. But the silence continued, and along with it came a sense of dread. Again it started slow, maybe fed by the silence or perhaps just another element of whatever was causing it. It was then  I found myself unable to turn my back to the woods. Now this campsite it at a level area that drops off on three sides down toward the creek with only one side being on the same level, the two track we came in on. The others all descend for about 200 ft to the creek which wraps around the little hill on which the camp site sits. I couldn't turn my back to the woods. My hairs already standing up seemed to crackle with electricity, my conversation with my girlfriend was starting to ebb as I became more and more distracted. 


I noticed that my girlfriend was also seeming to alight herself so she too faced the forest. We had situated our chairs so that it would be at our backs but we were both facing towards it now. I couldn't sit at this point I was on my feet now unable to sit down. As our conversation faltered my wife asked " Do you... feel that?". " Feel what?" I asked knowing full well what but not wanting to feed into any delusions on our part. " I don't know it just feels.... bad to not face the woods" I tried to reassure her that everything was fine but the sense of foreboding did not go away.

About twenty minutes later, nothing had changed, it was still and quiet as a tomb. In fact it felt almost like someone had sealed off the sky, there was no noise, not even a bird in the distance, I can not remember ever experiencing such quiet before or since. That was what made what happened next so shock. From the woods at our front their was a sharp and sudden CRACK like a tree limb being snapped in half, but due to the quiet it might as well have been a gunshot with how loud it was. 

Now those of you who have been in the woods, know that few things snap tree limbs in nature. Deer, bear, maybe moose if you are in the moose territory but little else in my experience. Now this is black bear territory, I have never seen anything but some rare sign from them but I know they are around and this was full summer so it was a prime time for them to be active. However that didn't explain to me what happened next, it was not just one sharp crack, but a few spaced out over maybe five minutes, each as loud as the one before but not seeming to be getting any farther away as if an animal was moving. It sounds like something or someone was deliberately cracking limbs in the same place over and over again. Now there are no campsites nears us, there was no sign of tracks on the way in either tires of foot prints. While it would be possible for someone to go cross country there are no foot paths that lead anywhere, just the ones near our camps which all meet back at the two track we came in on.

Thinking by this point it must be a person in the woods I tried to call out to them. There is no reply, but I notice something else odd. With the trees and hills as close as they are I should have heard a echo of my call but I didn't. In fact looking back I don't even recall any noise outside of my initial hail. It was as if I was calling into a vast and bottomless pit. The other thing that happened was a sense of malice. Now I am not talking about the feeling you sometimes get in the deep woods, that sense of indifference that nature will sometimes let leek into your mind, this was pure malice. Something and I do not know what was not only aware that we were there but hated that we were there. It hate us with the passion that I could literally feel in my very bones, that feeling came out of the woods like a lance and I felt cold to my core.

Now by this time my girlfriend is on her feet as well, I look at her and I see that she can feel it too. Now I do not consider myself to be a coward, nor and I the bravest man that ever lived but I will be damned if I am going to let myself be spooked by some noises in the woods. I go back to my truck. Now as a former boy scout I try to follow the mantra of ' be prepared' and in the woods that means a gun were allowed by law. I always carried a shotgun and a pistol with me when I went car camping. So I go back to the truck and grab the Mossberg from the bed and load it with 3 1/2 inch magnum hollow point slugs. Now that round should kill almost anything I would find in the lower peninsula of Michigan. I load the weapon and tell my wife that I am just going to go look and see what is going on. Before entering the woods I rack the slide, loading a round and making the iconic noise that causes men to know you aren't farking around anymore.

The trees are tight together here, this is an old growth forest, and while it has been cut for timber from time to time it is reasonably open under the canopy. I went maybe twenty feel of the trail, the sense of malice had lessened as if whatever caused it had shifted it attention to something else for a time but it was still there and my arms were covered in goosebumps. You know what I found? Nothing. Not a damn thing. I am no Daniel Boone but I can track and read animal sign fairly well and to my eye there was nothing. Then sounding just behind me there is another massive CRACK of a limb being broken, I whirl around.... there is nothing, no movement, no tree limb just nothing but me and the returned silence. Now I can move pretty quietly in the woods when I want too, but the ground here was covered with undergrowth so I was making noise, as should anything else around me but I still heard nothing, nothing but me sounding like a bull moose thrashing through the brush despite my best efforts. I feel a presence around me, like when someone stares at you without breaking eye contact for too long? It was like that but it moved, it circled me and I had to keep shifting my position to keep 'it' at my front. 

It was time to go. I had no idea what was going on but it was time to bail. As I started to retreat toward the clearing again I felt that icy blast of malice once again. Something was playing with me, mocking me, and shouting it contempt as clearly as anything I have ever experienced in my life. When I return I notice my wife now has my pistol out and in her hands. I told her I didn't see anything but kept hearing the noise from the woods at random intervals. We built up the fire with green wood ( animals tend to not like smoke) and huddle around it still with our firearms close to hand. As night started to close in, the feeling got closer is the only word for it. We both felt it was there hovering just outside our vision within the woods. 

We had both had enough. We had been on our three day excursion for less then five hours but it was time to go. I have no idea what it was but I knew in my heart I did not want to be here when darkness fell. We threw everything into the truck, not even bothering to pack the tent properly just cramming it all into the bed of the truck as quick as we could. Just doused the fire and covered the pit in sand and booked it to the truck. We drove the four hours back home that night. To this day we have never spoken of it to anyone else and just this year started to talk about our experience that day. I have never been back, and I have no idea what it was that day. I do not believe is ghosts of ghouls, but I believe that when you body and mind are screaming 'danger and run!' you should listen to them.
 
2018-10-31 10:23:54 AM  
My daughter and I were renting a space in a block of historic buildings and running an ice cream and candy shop.  The basement connects several buildings and would be perfect for a horror movie.  I often joked that there are bodies buried down there and I wouldn't be surprised if that was, in fact, true.  Even so, the only thing that frightened me about the basement was that the stairs were so narrow and steep and ended very close to the stone foundation that it gave me terrible visions of my clumsy arse falling and cracking my head open like a ripe melon.  I always held on to the railing for dear life whenever I needed to go down there.

But the basement never bothered me.  I like creepy things and explored the darkest reaches of it with just my cell phone flashlight as company.  Nothing weird ever happened.

Anyway, the store had a little area in the back where my daughter or myself would sit and wait for customers.  There is a back door that leads into a hallway which connects 3 of the buildings together.  I would often smell cigarette smoke while sitting back there and would get up to check to see if someone was out in the hallway.  Of course there never was.  Then one day the smell of cigarette smoke was so intense and so close that I slammed my palm down onto the table and said, "This is a candy store.  It is unsanitary for you to be smoking in here and I'm asking you to stop."  I never smelled cigarette smoke again.

Now for the scary part.  We actually closed earlier this month because my daughter wants to go back to school and I don't want to run the place alone.  Unfortunately in order to finish her schooling she's going to have to get student loansssssss....If that isn't a scary story, I don't know what is.
 
2018-10-31 10:24:04 AM  
I frequently experience a strange phenomenon at night. Sometimes, after I go to bed, I wake up in the room I went to sleep in, but it's not really that room. It looks like the same room in all obvious and basic respects, but has some subtle (but fundamental) differences. Basically, it's the same room, but it's off. If you look around the room you're in now, you'll probably notice that it has a lot of life to it and stuff going on. Shadows moving, the AC might make a curtain flutter, light gives objects depth and warmth, you might have some floaters or imperfections in your eyesight, etc. When I wake up in this different-ish place, it has none of that going on. It's very static and flat. Sometimes it's like being inside an old and faded picture, other times like a monochrome picture. It also has the odd characteristic of darkness without being dark (i.e., there's a sensation of darkness, but, unlike a real dark room, I can see everything).  I also usually get the sense that nothing's there. At all. My wife isn't lying next to me. The dog's not in its bed. I get the sense that the kids aren't in their beds down the hall, and it's (usually) profoundly quiet. I hear the small noises I might make, and they break the otherwise total silence. I feel like if I opened a door and tried to walk outside, there would be nothing there.

So, all the time when I wake up in this place it scares and bothers me. I feel like I'm not breathing and the thought that occurs to me, frequently, is "oh [crap], I died." This place is super vivid. I have normal dreams all the time, and this doesn't seem like a dream so I don't think "hey, you're dreaming; just wake up." Instead, I usually panic a little bit, and then get profoundly sad and think about how I left a lot undone and that my kids will really miss me. I get up and walk around and, then, at some point I do wake up.  And the process of waking up isn't the same as waking from a normal dream. I can best describe it as a feeling of tripping backwards and landing in my own head. Usually I wake from this situation with a sharp gasp, like I haven't taken a breath in a long time.

That's what usually happens. But sometimes other things happen. Sometimes, the other place isn't flat, and quiet, and dark (but not dark). Instead it's wildly and violently bright, moving and chaotic, and weird things happen, like the walls start to melt or the ceiling distorts and bends. I don't stay long when this happens. I get freaked out and wake up almost immediately. The other thing that happens is the worst thing. Sometimes I'm in the dark, flat, sad place, and I'm not alone. Sometimes it's just a sensation that something is there with me, and that's terrifying and I wake up. Sometimes it's a sensation that something, or someone, kind and comforting is there (but that's very rare). Sometimes I actually see what's there. For example, we had a murder in the neighborhood a few weeks ago. I woke up in the other "place" a couple nights later. I sat up in my bed and looked across the room (but, you know, it wasn't my real bed or real room), and I saw her in the corner. She looked cold, and disfigured, and incredibly angry. Then she noticed me looking and started moving toward me. I woke up screaming with my body already half out of bed and flailing for the light, and knocking things over. My wife yelled at me, and asked me what the hell was going on. I told her it was just a bad dream (because, well, that's all it was). Does this sort of thing happen to anyone else on here?
 
2018-10-31 10:32:14 AM  
Many years ago, I went to Florida to help a friend pack up his Mother's house after she passed away.

I didn't realize until I arrived that he'd planned to take the guest room of the house, which left me with the bedroom of the deceased.  Which was still, obviously, full of all of her things.  She'd woken up in that bed a few days ago, and fully and reasonably expected go back to it at day's end.

Hell, for all I knew she'd died in it.  I hadn't actually asked.  Had the sheets even been changed?  Jesus.

But it was my friend, and that was his Mom, and he was going through a hard enough time so Fine.  I'll sleep in the bed of the dead.  For one night.

So anyhow, after travel and the funeral and such, he went off to sleep in the guest room, and I retired to the creepy death room.  Turned off the light, sat down on the bed and...

There was a shape.  Right in front of me, there was a shape.  Maybe four, five feet tall, looked like a person shape.  I'd never met my friend's mother - but I'd seen pictures - and she was a short little woman.  Maybe about the same size as this shape.  As this shape in the room of a woman who'd just died, who's house I was basically invading holy shiat.

Right in front of me.  I mean, it was dark as hell - but there was a shape right in front of me!  I could just make it out because there was the faintest glowing outline around it.  All my 'fear' instincts kicked in and I froze, manfully, in the darkness.

No idea how long I sat there.  My medulla telling me that I needed to hold very very still and maybe the predator wouldn't notice me.

Some amount of time later I slid, infinitely slowly, back from where the shape was just sitting there, and very, very carefully felt along the wall for the light switch.  I mean.  I didn't want to.  I didn't really want to see what that shape was, not really.  But you don't have a choice, right?

So on come the lights - and the shape is still there.

The shape which was the reflection of my torso, sitting on the bed, face to face with the full length mirror attached to the closet door.  The closet door which was shut, but with the closet light still on - thus the 'faint ghostly terrifying outline' around my reflection in the dark.

I was enormously relieved.  At least until I saw my reflection blink, but that's a whole other story.
 
2018-10-31 10:32:49 AM  

RedComrade: I have never shared this story with anyone who was not involved in it.

About ten years ago now, my girlfriend at the time ( now my wife) decided to go camping over a long weekend. I had the perfect place in mind, a little 'camp site' on state land that my family had gone too for the past forty years at least. It was isolated, with few other campsites around and requiring a little rough riding down a two track to get too it but it was a beautiful site.Tall pines, a creek running just down the hill and plenty of walking trails.
So we loaded up my truck with camping gear and the kayaks and head off ' up north' as we say is Michigan. Now this site was near Grayling, Mi, in the state park near the town. I hadn't been to the site since before my high school days so maybe 6 years at that point. This first thing I noticed was that there was no one else around, not unexpected we had take a non holiday weekend in hopes of getting some privacy anyway so all was good. When we turned off the main line to the two track I got another indication that things were not the same. The trail while rough and always with tree limbs hanging over it was almost impassable. Tree limbs stretched out over the trail forming a wall of green, no tracks in the light sand of the track. Driving my old dodge and not being to worried about the paint I decided to forge ahead anyway. We made it easily enough, to our delight the camp was empty if a bit overgrown from my days there as a child but largely the same. 
We parked the truck, and unload and went about setting up the camp which didn't take long with just us and our supplies for a few days. Got the tent up, dug a latrine hole, cleared the fire ring and started a small fire after gathering the fallen limbs in the clearing. Things were looking pretty good, the weather was warm and sunny, the smell of pine in my nose and good earth under my feet what could be better?

That is when I started to get what I can only call an itch. It was at the back of my head and made my hairs all stand on end. That is when I notice that it is quiet. Now this is not a 'campground' with people in little site end to end. We did not expect human noise but this wasn't just a lack of human noise, it was the lack of any noise. I have been an outdoors men all my life, I have been in the boy scouts through the rank of eagle scout and have done my fair share of cross country hiking. I know the outdoors. If you do too then you know that true silence doesn't really happen too often. But it was, no wind, no sounds of little critters at the tree base, or even the sound of crickets it was just silent like being in a cave.

I brushed it off at first, after all I had been coming up here for years. This was a childhood stomping grounds, I knew ever tree and fold of the land around me for three miles at least. We had never had anything even approaching a problem. But the silence continued, and along with it came a sense of dread. Again it started slow, maybe fed by the silence or perhaps just another element of whatever was causing it. It was then  I found myself unable to turn my back to the woods. Now this campsite it at a level area that drops off on three sides down toward the creek with only one side being on the same level, the two track we came in on. The others all descend for about 200 ft to the creek which wraps around the little hill on which the camp site sits. I couldn't turn my back to the woods. My hairs already standing up seemed to crackle with electricity, my conversation with my girlfriend was starting to ebb as I became more and more distracted. 


I noticed that my girlfriend was also seeming to alight herself so she too faced the forest. We had situated our chairs so that it would be at our backs but we were both facing towards it now. I couldn't sit at this point I was on my feet now unable to sit down. As our conversation faltered my wife asked " Do you... feel that?". " Feel what?" I asked knowing full well what but not wanting to feed into any delusions on our part. " I don't know it just feels.... bad to not face the woods" I tried to reassure her that everything was fine but the sense of foreboding did not go away.

About twenty minutes later, nothing had changed, it was still and quiet as a tomb. In fact it felt almost like someone had sealed off the sky, there was no noise, not even a bird in the distance, I can not remember ever experiencing such quiet before or since. That was what made what happened next so shock. From the woods at our front their was a sharp and sudden CRACK like a tree limb being snapped in half, but due to the quiet it might as well have been a gunshot with how loud it was. 

Now those of you who have been in the woods, know that few things snap tree limbs in nature. Deer, bear, maybe moose if you are in the moose territory but little else in my experience. Now this is black bear territory, I have never seen anything but some rare sign from them but I know they are around and this was full summer so it was a prime time for them to be active. However that didn't explain to me what happened next, it was not just one sharp crack, but a few spaced out over maybe five minutes, each as loud as the one before but not seeming to be getting any farther away as if an animal was moving. It sounds like something or someone was deliberately cracking limbs in the same place over and over again. Now there are no campsites nears us, there was no sign of tracks on the way in either tires of foot prints. While it would be possible for someone to go cross country there are no foot paths that lead anywhere, just the ones near our camps which all meet back at the two track we came in on.

Thinking by this point it must be a person in the woods I tried to call out to them. There is no reply, but I notice something else odd. With the trees and hills as close as they are I should have heard a echo of my call but I didn't. In fact looking back I don't even recall any noise outside of my initial hail. It was as if I was calling into a vast and bottomless pit. The other thing that happened was a sense of malice. Now I am not talking about the feeling you sometimes get in the deep woods, that sense of indifference that nature will sometimes let leek into your mind, this was pure malice. Something and I do not know what was not only aware that we were there but hated that we were there. It hate us with the passion that I could literally feel in my very bones, that feeling came out of the woods like a lance and I felt cold to my core.

Now by this time my girlfriend is on her feet as well, I look at her and I see that she can feel it too. Now I do not consider myself to be a coward, nor and I the bravest man that ever lived but I will be damned if I am going to let myself be spooked by some noises in the woods. I go back to my truck. Now as a former boy scout I try to follow the mantra of ' be prepared' and in the woods that means a gun were allowed by law. I always carried a shotgun and a pistol with me when I went car camping. So I go back to the truck and grab the Mossberg from the bed and load it with 3 1/2 inch magnum hollow point slugs. Now that round should kill almost anything I would find in the lower peninsula of Michigan. I load the weapon and tell my wife that I am just going to go look and see what is going on. Before entering the woods I rack the slide, loading a round and making the iconic noise that causes men to know you aren't farking around anymore.

The trees are tight together here, this is an old growth forest, and while it has been cut for timber from time to time it is reasonably open under the canopy. I went maybe twenty feel of the trail, the sense of malice had lessened as if whatever caused it had shifted it attention to something else for a time but it was still there and my arms were covered in goosebumps. You know what I found? Nothing. Not a damn thing. I am no Daniel Boone but I can track and read animal sign fairly well and to my eye there was nothing. Then sounding just behind me there is another massive CRACK of a limb being broken, I whirl around.... there is nothing, no movement, no tree limb just nothing but me and the returned silence. Now I can move pretty quietly in the woods when I want too, but the ground here was covered with undergrowth so I was making noise, as should anything else around me but I still heard nothing, nothing but me sounding like a bull moose thrashing through the brush despite my best efforts. I feel a presence around me, like when someone stares at you without breaking eye contact for too long? It was like that but it moved, it circled me and I had to keep shifting my position to keep 'it' at my front. 

It was time to go. I had no idea what was going on but it was time to bail. As I started to retreat toward the clearing again I felt that icy blast of malice once again. Something was playing with me, mocking me, and shouting it contempt as clearly as anything I have ever experienced in my life. When I return I notice my wife now has my pistol out and in her hands. I told her I didn't see anything but kept hearing the noise from the woods at random intervals. We built up the fire with green wood ( animals tend to not like smoke) and huddle around it still with our firearms close to hand. As night started to close in, the feeling got closer is the only word for it. We both felt it was there hovering just outside our vision within the woods. 

We had both had enough. We had been on our three day excursion for less then five hours but it was time to go. I have no idea what it was but I knew in my heart I did not want to be here when darkness fell. We threw everything into the truck, not even bothering to pack the tent properly just cramming it all into the bed of the truck as quick as we could. Just doused the fire and covered the pit in sand and booked it to the truck. We drove the four hours back home that night. To this day we have never spoken of it to anyone else and just this year started to talk about our experience that day. I have never been back, and I have no idea what it was that day. I do not believe is ghosts of ghouls, but I believe that when you body and mind are screaming 'danger and run!' you should listen to them.


I may not believe in ghosts, but a friend and his wife got stalked for a bit by a big bobcat on a hiking trail once, and described a strikingly similar ominous feeling of malice almost to a T. Probably best you left, supernatural or no.
 
2018-10-31 10:39:27 AM  
I'm kind of surprised no one has posted this story yet.

Russian Sleep Experiment

Russian researchers in the late 1940s kept five people awake for fifteen days using an experimental gas based stimulant. They were kept in a sealed environment to carefully monitor their oxygen intake so the gas didn't kill them, since it was toxic in high concentrations. This was before closed circuit cameras so they had only microphones and five inch thick glass porthole sized windows into the chamber to monitor them. The chamber was stocked with books, cots to sleep on but no bedding, running water and toilet, and enough dried food to last all five for over a month.
The test subjects were political prisoners deemed enemies of the state during World War II.
Everything was fine for the first five days; the subjects hardly complained having been promised (falsely) that they would be freed if they submitted to the test and did not sleep for 30 days. Their conversations and activities were monitored and it was noted that they continued to talk about increasingly traumatic incidents in their past, and the general tone of their conversations took on a darker aspect after the four day mark.
After five days they started to complain about the circumstances and events that lead them to where they were and started to demonstrate severe paranoia. They stopped talking to each other and began alternately whispering to the microphones and one way mirrored portholes. Oddly they all seemed to think they could win the trust of the experimenters by turning over their comrades, the other subjects in captivity with them. At first the researchers suspected this was an effect of the gas itself...
After nine days the first of them started screaming. He ran the length of the chamber repeatedly yelling at the top of his lungs for three hours straight, he continued attempting to scream but was only able to produce occasional squeaks. The researchers postulated that he had physically torn his vocal cords. The most surprising thing about this behavior is how the other captives reacted to it... or rather didn't react to it. They continued whispering to the microphones until the second of the captives started to scream. The two non-screaming captives took the books apart, smeared page after page with their own feces and pasted them calmly over the glass portholes. The screaming promptly stopped.
So did the whispering to the microphones.
After three more days passed. The researchers checked the microphones hourly to make sure they were working, since they thought it impossible that no sound could be coming with five people inside. The oxygen consumption in the chamber indicated that all five must still be alive. In fact it was the amount of oxygen five people would consume at a very heavy level of strenuous exercise. On the morning of the 14th day the researchers did something they said they would not do to get a reaction from the captives, they used the intercom inside the chamber, hoping to provoke any response from the captives they were afraid were either dead or vegetables.
They announced: "We are opening the chamber to test the microphones; step away from the door and lie flat on the floor or you will be shot. Compliance will earn one of you your immediate freedom."
To their surprise they heard a single phrase in a calm voice response: "We no longer want to be freed."
Debate broke out among the researchers and the military forces funding the research. Unable to provoke any more response using the intercom it was finally decided to open the chamber at midnight on the fifteenth day.
The chamber was flushed of the stimulant gas and filled with fresh air and immediately voices from the microphones began to object. 3 different voices began begging, as if pleading for the life of loved ones to turn the gas back on. The chamber was opened and soldiers sent in to retrieve the test subjects. They began to scream louder than ever, and so did the soldiers when they saw what was inside. Four of the five subjects were still alive, although no one could rightly call the state that any of them in 'life.'
The food rations past day five had not been so much as touched. There were chunks of meat from the dead test subject's thighs and chest stuffed into the drain in the center of the chamber, blocking the drain and allowing four inches of water to accumulate on the floor. Precisely how much of the water on the floor was actually blood was never determined. All four 'surviving' test subjects also had large portions of muscle and skin torn away from their bodies. The destruction of flesh and exposed bone on their finger tips indicated that the wounds were inflicted by hand, not with teeth as the researchers initially thought. Closer examination of the position and angles of the wounds indicated that most if not all of them were self-inflicted.
The abdominal organs below the ribcage of all four test subjects had been removed. While the heart, lungs and diaphragm remained in place, the skin and most of the muscles attached to the ribs had been ripped off, exposing the lungs through the ribcage. All the blood vessels and organs remained intact, they had just been taken out and laid on the floor, fanning out around the eviscerated but still living bodies of the subjects. The digestive tract of all four could be seen to be working, digesting food. It quickly became apparent that what they were digesting was their own flesh that they had ripped off and eaten over the course of days.
Most of the soldiers were Russian special operatives at the facility, but still many refused to return to the chamber to remove the test subjects. They continued to scream to be left in the chamber and alternately begged and demanded that the gas be turned back on, lest they fall asleep...
To everyone's surprise the test subjects put up a fierce fight in the process of being removed from the chamber. One of the Russian soldiers died from having his throat ripped out, another was gravely injured by having his testicles ripped off and an artery in his leg severed by one of the subject's teeth. Another 5 of the soldiers lost their lives if you count ones that committed suicide in the weeks following the incident.
In the struggle one of the four living subjects had his spleen ruptured and he bled out almost immediately. The medical researchers attempted to sedate him but this proved impossible. He was injected with more than ten times the human dose of a morphine derivative and still fought like a cornered animal, breaking the ribs and arm of one doctor. When heart was seen to beat for a full two minutes after he had bled out to the point there was more air in his vascular system than blood. Even after it stopped he continued to scream and flail for another three minutes, struggling to attack anyone in reach and just repeating the word "MORE" over and over, weaker and weaker, until he finally fell silent.
The surviving three test subjects were heavily restrained and moved to a medical facility, the two with intact vocal cords continuously begging for the gas demanding to be kept awake...
The most injured of the three was taken to the only surgical operating room that the facility had. In the process of preparing the subject to have his organs placed back within his body it was found that he was effectively immune to the sedative they had given him to prepare him for the surgery. He fought furiously against his restraints when the anesthetic gas was brought out to put him under. He managed to tear most of the way through a four inch wide leather strap on one wrist, even through the weight of a 200 pound soldier holding that wrist as well. It took only a little more anesthetic than normal to put him under, and the instant his eyelids fluttered and closed, his heart stopped. In the autopsy of the test subject that died on the operating table it was found that his blood had triple the normal level of oxygen. His muscles that were still attached to his skeleton were badly torn and he had broken 9 bones in his struggle to not be subdued. Most of them were from the force his own muscles had exerted on them.
The second survivor had been the first of the group of five to start screaming. His vocal cords destroyed he was unable to beg or object to surgery, and he only reacted by shaking his head violently in disapproval when the anesthetic gas was brought near him. He shook his head yes when someone suggested, reluctantly, they try the surgery without anesthetic, and did not react for the entire six hour procedure of replacing his abdominal organs and attempting to cover them with what remained of his skin. The surgeon presiding stated repeatedly that it should be medically possible for the patient to still be alive. One terrified nurse assisting the surgery stated that she had seen the patients mouth curl into a smile several times, whenever his eyes met hers.
When the surgery ended the subject looked at the surgeon and began to wheeze loudly, attempting to talk while struggling. Assuming this must be something of drastic importance the surgeon had a pen and pad fetched so the patient could write his message. It was simple. "Keep cutting."
The other two test subjects were given the same surgery, both without anesthetic as well. Although they had to be injected with a paralytic for the duration of the operation. The surgeon found it impossible to perform the operation while the patients laughed continuously. Once paralyzed the subjects could only follow the attending researchers with their eyes. The paralytic cleared their system in an abnormally short period of time and they were soon trying to escape their bonds. The moment they could speak they were again asking for the stimulant gas. The researchers tried asking why they had injured themselves, why they had ripped out their own guts and why they wanted to be given the gas again.
Only one response was given: "I must remain awake."
All three subject's restraints were reinforced and they were placed back into the chamber awaiting determination as to what should be done with them. The researchers, facing the wrath of their military 'benefactors' for having failed the stated goals of their project considered euthanizing the surviving subjects. The commanding officer, an ex-KGB instead saw potential, and wanted to see what would happen if they were put back on the gas. The researchers strongly objected, but were overruled.
In preparation for being sealed in the chamber again the subjects were connected to an EEG monitor and had their restraints padded for long term confinement. To everyone's surprise all three stopped struggling the moment it was let slip that they were going back on the gas. It was obvious that at this point all three were putting up a great struggle to stay awake. One of subjects that could speak was humming loudly and continuously; the mute subject was straining his legs against the leather bonds with all his might, first left, then right, then left again for something to focus on. The remaining subject was holding his head off his pillow and blinking rapidly. Having been the first to be wired for EEG most of the researchers were monitoring his brain waves in surprise. They were normal most of the time but sometimes flat lined inexplicably. It looked as if he were repeatedly suffering brain death, before returning to normal. As they focused on paper scrolling out of the brainwave monitor only one nurse saw his eyes slip shut at the same moment his head hit the pillow. His brainwaves immediately changed to that of deep sleep, then flatlined for the last time as his heart simultaneously stopped.
The only remaining subject that could speak started screaming to be sealed in now. His brainwaves showed the same flatlines as one who had just died from falling asleep. The commander gave the order to seal the chamber with both subjects inside, as well as three researchers. One of the named three immediately drew his gun and shot the commander point blank between the eyes, then turned the gun on the mute subject and blew his brains out as well.
He pointed his gun at the remaining subject, still restrained to a bed as the remaining members of the medical and research team fled the room. "I won't be locked in here with these things! Not with you!" he screamed at the man strapped to the table. "WHAT ARE YOU?" he demanded. "I must know!"
The subject smiled.
"Have you forgotten so easily?" the subject asked. "We are you. We are the madness that lurks within you all, begging to be free at every moment in your deepest animal mind. We are what you hide from in your beds every night. We are what you sedate into silence and paralysis when you go to the nocturnal haven where we cannot tread."
The researcher paused. Then aimed at the subject's heart and fired. The EEG flatlined as the subject weakly choked out, "So... nearly... free..."
 
2018-10-31 10:47:32 AM  

DCBuck: I frequently experience a strange phenomenon at night. Sometimes, after I go to bed, I wake up in the room I went to sleep in, but it's not really that room. It looks like the same room in all obvious and basic respects, but has some subtle (but fundamental) differences. Basically, it's the same room, but it's off. If you look around the room you're in now, you'll probably notice that it has a lot of life to it and stuff going on. Shadows moving, the AC might make a curtain flutter, light gives objects depth and warmth, you might have some floaters or imperfections in your eyesight, etc. When I wake up in this different-ish place, it has none of that going on. It's very static and flat. Sometimes it's like being inside an old and faded picture, other times like a monochrome picture. It also has the odd characteristic of darkness without being dark (i.e., there's a sensation of darkness, but, unlike a real dark room, I can see everything).  I also usually get the sense that nothing's there. At all. My wife isn't lying next to me. The dog's not in its bed. I get the sense that the kids aren't in their beds down the hall, and it's (usually) profoundly quiet. I hear the small noises I might make, and they break the otherwise total silence. I feel like if I opened a door and tried to walk outside, there would be nothing there.

So, all the time when I wake up in this place it scares and bothers me. I feel like I'm not breathing and the thought that occurs to me, frequently, is "oh [crap], I died." This place is super vivid. I have normal dreams all the time, and this doesn't seem like a dream so I don't think "hey, you're dreaming; just wake up." Instead, I usually panic a little bit, and then get profoundly sad and think about how I left a lot undone and that my kids will really miss me. I get up and walk around and, then, at some point I do wake up.  And the process of waking up isn't the same as waking from a normal dream. I can best describe it as a feeling of tripping backwards and landing in my own head. Usually I wake from this situation with a sharp gasp, like I haven't taken a breath in a long time.

That's what usually happens. But sometimes other things happen. Sometimes, the other place isn't flat, and quiet, and dark (but not dark). Instead it's wildly and violently bright, moving and chaotic, and weird things happen, like the walls start to melt or the ceiling distorts and bends. I don't stay long when this happens. I get freaked out and wake up almost immediately. The other thing that happens is the worst thing. Sometimes I'm in the dark, flat, sad place, and I'm not alone. Sometimes it's just a sensation that something is there with me, and that's terrifying and I wake up. Sometimes it's a sensation that something, or someone, kind and comforting is there (but that's very rare). Sometimes I actually see what's there. For example, we had a murder in the neighborhood a few weeks ago. I woke up in the other "place" a couple nights later. I sat up in my bed and looked across the room (but, you know, it wasn't my real bed or real room), and I saw her in the corner. She looked cold, and disfigured, and incredibly angry. Then she noticed me looking and started moving toward me. I woke up screaming with my body already half out of bed and flailing for the light, and knocking things over. My wife yelled at me, and asked me what the hell was going on. I told her it was just a bad dream (because, well, that's all it was). Does this sort of thing happen to anyone else on here?


Sounds like astral projection.
Try to do it by choice some time.
Not on the bed, you'll fall asleep and have what you mentioned above. Rather, do it on a couch in the living room when alone in the house.
Take a few things in hand and toss them into the hallway without seeing, like a behind the back throw or around the corner, then lay down on the couch and meditate or do breathing exercises.
A simple one is to just count each breath up to ten, then back to one, back to ten, back to one, back to....and when you are ready, you'll know when, instead of counting to one count to zero and feel your consciousness get up and look down that hallway. You know what it looks like. Feel the sensation of being upright. Now see what you just threw there. See how they landed. Which is farther away, which is closer, which ones ended up closer to the walls, how are they in relation to each other.
When you feel you have taken your fill, slowly feel the conscious slipping back into your body. Feel yourself going horizontal again.

Now slowly get up and walk into your hallway. Physically see how the things have landed.

The question to ask yourself while slowly picking up the stuff is this:
Where do you go from here?
 
2018-10-31 10:50:44 AM  
Not particularly scary or anything, but a poem that my late grandfather would recite from memory (performed in this case by Johnny Cash). Miss you, grandpa.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yJNZw​u​amwj0
 
2018-10-31 10:57:54 AM  

DCBuck: I feel like I'm not breathing and the thought that occurs to me, frequently, is "oh [crap], I died."


I really think you need to get yourself to a sleep somnologist, stat. Get a sleep study done ... sounds, to me, like some serious sleep apnea.
 
2018-10-31 10:59:25 AM  
Why tearing down a house doesn't stop a haunting.

There has been a haunted house in my family for generations.It was originally owned by my great grandparents and was/is a two story once Victorian farmhouse. Sometime in the 1940's they decided to make the house a two family.The staircase to the second floor was in the middle of the house and to make it rentable they had to add stairs in the first floor pantry/hallway and cut into the rooms on the second floor to create a landing.

Now, this side of my family has never been wealthy and if I were to guess, it was probably "know a guy" construction and a bunch of DIY, which is how we came in possession of the staircase.

To access the second floor apartment you ascend a set of grand mahogany stairs that would be at home as the center piece of any upper class house. They are high gloss and ornately carved. Far too fancy to be the access stairs to a rental, they were clearly moved from another building. Again, I'm guessing whoever did the remodel knew someone tearing down another house and salvaged the staircase. In any case, it certainly wasn't the original set of center stairs from the house moved to the back.

The hallway the staircase now resides in is always ice cold, even in humid New England summers. The basement, which was there before the stairs were put in, gives off a feeling of dread. No one who has lived there does their laundry at night. When there are cats in residence on the first floor, which tend to be indoor/outdoor due to the house being on a dead end near a large wooded area, they prefer to use the front door and will not come in the house through the door by the staircase.

Over the years, the house has been rented out to family members either the first floor, second floor or both. My parents lived there when they first got married.One night my mom thought my dad was home early from night school, ran out to greet him and no one was there. She thought it odd but dismissed it. They later moved downstairs and the second floor was rented to someone outside the family.However, everyone thought it was weird that her husband would go away for work and she would immediately go and stay elsewhere.

My parents would still hear strange noises from the back hall. The heavy back door opening and closing and a set of heavy footsteps up the stairs. If you hear them, you can count the number of steps from the old staircase, but they never reach the newer constructed landing.

All three of my aunts who lived there have heard the sounds. My parents heard them when they lived there. My cousins lived there post college and have weird stories about things that happen in the house. Yet the only constant is the sound of the back door opening and slamming and the heavy steps up the stairs. For me there are two stories that stick out as being particularly creepy.

One was when Aunt 1 and my cousin were living on the first floor. My cousin was little, under school age but was a prolific talker.His bedroom was the only room that shared a wall with the back hall. As kids do he had an imaginary friend, only his, which he used to draw pictures of, was a tall man in a suit and tie who lived on the back stairs.My Aunt (1) would hear him on the monitor talking to someone in the room, but in the way that kids speak to adults not peers and when she asked him who it was, it was always his friend from the staircase.

The second has to do with the cats who hate the back hall.Some people are dog families, we're a cat family. Everyone in my family has at least 1. Several years pass and my cousin and Aunt 1 have moved and Aunt 2 now lives on the first floor. Aunt 2 loves cats. Like she is a total cat lady. The upstairs neighbors, (who are not family) are going away for a few days and ask my aunt if she wouldn't mind feeding their cat.She's more than happy to, she had met him before and everything was fine. So the first day she goes up unlocks the door. She thinks it's strange because the cat is usually at the door waiting for people and it's nowhere to be seen. Out of nowhere the cat comes charging at her in a hissing, spittle induced rage, trying to tear her to ribbons. She opens the door to the apartment just to get out of there and the cat lunges at her. It gets to the landing where the stairs change from new construction to old and stops. Stops meowing, stops hissing, stops chasing her. It turns around and runs back into the apartment.

Now maybe the cat was being territorial, maybe at the top of the landing was the end of his territory and he felt safe, but it's still weird as hell.
 
2018-10-31 11:02:29 AM  
Because I know Farkers love Twitter here's a thread:

Yesterday my father took the Harley out for a last ride on a splendid autumn day. He rode down to Leavenworth and then to the cemetery in Riddle where all our Linton ancestors are buried. They came, as so many did, from Kentucky to find that better tomorrow in the hills.
- Justin Watterson (@WattersonDad) October 31, 2018
 
2018-10-31 11:04:22 AM  
Some fears don't have to be paranormal. Take spelunking for example. Caving, as they call it, can vary from going through large dark caves, to caves where you actually have to wade in areas to caves where you are actually crawling on your belly in spaces that barely fit your body.
We've all seen videos of that, and have held our breath, just imagining the tightness, the weight of that solid mountain above you, immovable, praying you don't get stuck, crawling, wondering how the hell you ended up the last one in the group, panic slowly seeping into your chest, as you wonder if you get stuck and yell out, will they hear you? At least, you think, that your headlamp is at least on and you can see ahead of you. That's when the hand slowly but firmly closes around your ankle.
 
2018-10-31 11:10:57 AM  
Who needs scary stories when there are so many campaign ads running this time of year?
 
2018-10-31 11:36:29 AM  
From a text I sent to someone last week, with some grammatical corrections:

I had a weird nightmare last night that my lawyer sister was secretly replaced by a demonic child and went on a killing spree at Christmas this year (present day). In a few decades in the future, a squad of Marines were walking through the abandoned basement of my parents' house and were picked off one by one by a creepy Barbie doll working with that demonic child. Then in a few centuries, I visited a field archaeology school investigating the ruins of my parents' basement where scary things happened to those students.  But not in any chronological order, as though it was an artsy movie with a drunk continuity director.  I won't eat chipped beef and cream on toast right before bed again any time soon.  That was stranger than cheese-induced dreams.

I don't know what is scarier, the notion that it could actually be true based upon my sister's weird behavior the past year, or the super-long texts I tend to send my friends.
 
2018-10-31 11:55:28 AM  
Man arrested for having sex with an elephant. All he said was "It was elephantastic."

The End.
 
2018-10-31 12:02:57 PM  
I do not know if I've ever had anything truly paranormal happen to me, and I'm a skeptic, even though I love these stories.  But I used to get sleep paralysis and that definitely feels paranormal.  It's terrifying.  Haven't had that in a few years though.  The first time I had it, I legitimately thought I was being abducted.

The closest thing that I can think of is at my childhood home. Whenever outside at night I'd get a feeling of dread, one that I do not get anywhere else, as though something was watching me, stalking me. And that "something" was always a "ghost wolf" type thing. Or at least some type of canine. I do not know exactly why, but it always was that form and I've never felt it anywhere else. And I'd occasionally feel that presence inside the house at night. Still to this day I feel that way and do not like being outside alone near my parent's home. I've told my family about that feeling and they always laughed it off, but it's always there.
 
2018-10-31 12:10:31 PM  
The cashier asked me what I was cooking with my groceries.

/scariest one sentence story of all time
 
2018-10-31 12:13:13 PM  
Here's my story. Bear in mind pretty much everyone involved was loaded pretty much all of the time. It doesn't mean none of this happened, but I fully admit it places our interpretation of events into question.

<its-still-real-to-me-damnit.gif>

Back in the early 90's, In my dirtbag years between the Army and college, I lived in a 1920's vintage bungalow in Eugene, Oregon. The front door opened onto a large front room, with an open doorway to the kitchen at the opposite end. Off the kitchen was a landing leading to the back door and stairs down to the basement, which served as my bedroom.

Most people who spent any time there agreed there was some kind of presence in the kitchen. There would be loud bangs at random hours, and occasionally we'd find a drawer pulled out and dumped on the floor. No one would voluntarily sleep in the front room. Even Rick, our habitual couch surfer, crashed on the covered front porch, rather than be alone in view of the kitchen at night.

Personally, I never really felt anything off about the kitchen, but then again, I was self-medicated and numb to my surroundings most of the time.

So anyway, one night I was passing through the kitchen on my way to bed. I remember calling out good night to my housemates over my shoulder. As I walked from the kitchen onto the landing, I turned my head and smacked right into... something. It happened quickly, but I distinctly remember a black, human-shaped outline right in front of me. As I walked into it, I got the impression it was made of bronze-colored static in geometric patterns, like the visuals you get sometimes when you close your eyes in a dimly lit room. I remember not being able to move, and panic, and a weird feeling of embarrassment that I'm not sure came from me. After I don't know how long, it passed and I was just standing there.

After that, I went to my room, turned the lights and radio on and curled up on my bed in a fetal position for a couple of hours, until I fell asleep.

That was the only time I ever experienced anything like that. There are a lot of rational explanations as to what it could have caused it, but it still sticks with me.
 
2018-10-31 12:31:10 PM  

Resident Muslim: DCBuck: I frequently experience a strange phenomenon at night. Sometimes, after I go to bed, I wake up in the room I went to sleep in, but it's not really that room. It looks like the same room in all obvious and basic respects, but has some subtle (but fundamental) differences. Basically, it's the same room, but it's off. If you look around the room you're in now, you'll probably notice that it has a lot of life to it and stuff going on. Shadows moving, the AC might make a curtain flutter, light gives objects depth and warmth, you might have some floaters or imperfections in your eyesight, etc. When I wake up in this different-ish place, it has none of that going on. It's very static and flat. Sometimes it's like being inside an old and faded picture, other times like a monochrome picture. It also has the odd characteristic of darkness without being dark (i.e., there's a sensation of darkness, but, unlike a real dark room, I can see everything).  I also usually get the sense that nothing's there. At all. My wife isn't lying next to me. The dog's not in its bed. I get the sense that the kids aren't in their beds down the hall, and it's (usually) profoundly quiet. I hear the small noises I might make, and they break the otherwise total silence. I feel like if I opened a door and tried to walk outside, there would be nothing there.

So, all the time when I wake up in this place it scares and bothers me. I feel like I'm not breathing and the thought that occurs to me, frequently, is "oh [crap], I died." This place is super vivid. I have normal dreams all the time, and this doesn't seem like a dream so I don't think "hey, you're dreaming; just wake up." Instead, I usually panic a little bit, and then get profoundly sad and think about how I left a lot undone and that my kids will really miss me. I get up and walk around and, then, at some point I do wake up.  And the process of waking up isn't the same as waking from a normal dream. I can best describe it as a feeling o ...


When I have google searched my experiences to try to figure out what's going on, astral projection has come. I'm a pretty practical guy and wouldn't know where to begin, so I didn't think much of it. I may try your suggestion sometime but, to be honest with you, the thought that it might work is frightening.
 
2018-10-31 12:33:08 PM  

Kirzania: DCBuck: I feel like I'm not breathing and the thought that occurs to me, frequently, is "oh [crap], I died."

I really think you need to get yourself to a sleep somnologist, stat. Get a sleep study done ... sounds, to me, like some serious sleep apnea.


I agree with this suggestion. My wife says I snore like a chainsaw sometimes. I do need to get this done.
 
2018-10-31 12:38:51 PM  
 
2018-10-31 12:58:58 PM  

DCBuck: Resident Muslim: DCBuck: I frequently experience a strange phenomenon at night. Sometimes, after I go to bed, I wake up in the room I went to sleep in, but it's not really that room. It looks like the same room in all obvious and basic respects, but has some subtle (but fundamental) differences. Basically, it's the same room, but it's off. If you look around the room you're in now, you'll probably notice that it has a lot of life to it and stuff going on. Shadows moving, the AC might make a curtain flutter, light gives objects depth and warmth, you might have some floaters or imperfections in your eyesight, etc. When I wake up in this different-ish place, it has none of that going on. It's very static and flat. Sometimes it's like being inside an old and faded picture, other times like a monochrome picture. It also has the odd characteristic of darkness without being dark (i.e., there's a sensation of darkness, but, unlike a real dark room, I can see everything).  I also usually get the sense that nothing's there. At all. My wife isn't lying next to me. The dog's not in its bed. I get the sense that the kids aren't in their beds down the hall, and it's (usually) profoundly quiet. I hear the small noises I might make, and they break the otherwise total silence. I feel like if I opened a door and tried to walk outside, there would be nothing there.

So, all the time when I wake up in this place it scares and bothers me. I feel like I'm not breathing and the thought that occurs to me, frequently, is "oh [crap], I died." This place is super vivid. I have normal dreams all the time, and this doesn't seem like a dream so I don't think "hey, you're dreaming; just wake up." Instead, I usually panic a little bit, and then get profoundly sad and think about how I left a lot undone and that my kids will really miss me. I get up and walk around and, then, at some point I do wake up.  And the process of waking up isn't the same as waking from a normal dream. I can best describe it as a feeling o ...

When I have google searched my experiences to try to figure out what's going on, astral projection has come. I'm a pretty practical guy and wouldn't know where to begin, so I didn't think much of it. I may try your suggestion sometime but, to be honest with you, the thought that it might work is frightening.


It is.
But only because it brings into question our convictions.
AND, at the same time, it really isn't as spooky as being able to put an artifact to your ear and listen to someone 1000 miles away (mobile phone).
 
2018-10-31 1:22:34 PM  
This was told to me by my mother, who would have no reason to lie to me, and her sister, who definitely wouldn't lie, as she is a church deacon and a very religious/serious woman who has never been one to even believe in ghosts. ...but I guess she does now.

Their mother, my grandmother, died in May 2009. She had a very bad last 4 years of life, as she had several strokes, which debilitated her, leaving her unable to speak clearly and paralyzing her on one side. She was pretty much bedridden in a nursing home the last 3 years of her life as the strokes made her worse each time. In 2005 though, when she could still walk and talk, she asked everyone to leave the room at a gathering we were at except me. Scary thing. Then she told me that "when she goes to meet the Lord" she wants me to carry her casket at her funeral. I told her "OK, but come back after you die to let me know you're OK". We both agreed. You might think that's a weird request by me, but I need to know if there's an afterlife. I've always been interested in ghosts and if there's life after death.

Cut to May 2009. The funeral. I'm the lead person carrying her casket. Heaviest thing I've ever carried I think, even though 5 other people were carrying it and she weighed 90 pounds soaking wet at her death. I was worried I was gonna drop it, but managed OK...barely.

A few days later my mother calls me. She tells me her older sister called her a couple days after the funeral and said she was in her tiny apartment standing in the kitchen, when out of the corner of her eye she saw her mother standing right next to her, in the same clothes they buried her in. She was buried in a robe and nightgown, as she had said years earlier it would be like sleeping so she'd prefer to be in her nightgown, not fancy dress clothes.

Anyway, so my aunt is kind of freaked out by her dead mother standing right next to her, so she does not look directly at her, but says something along the lines of "Mom, I know you're here, and I love you, but I can't look at you". After that she vanished.

My mother then told me that she thinks she was visited by her mother too, although she didn't see her like my aunt did. My mother was sitting at her computer a couple days after the funeral (maybe the same day my aunt was visited) and felt someone playing with her hair. Not like the A/C was blowing it, or a bug was flying around it, but like someone was curling it around their finger. My mother thinks it was her mother, because her mother always liked to play with my mother's long hair, because my grandmother always kept her own hair short.  My mother thinks that was her mother just letting her know she was OK, and she didn't want to scare her like she had scared my aunt in the kitchen. I never did get a visit though. Maybe my grandmother didn't want to scare me too. Maybe it was for the best. I probably would have shat my pants.
 
2018-10-31 1:24:41 PM  

Kirzania: Last year, the thread got started the week before Halloween which I think is what killed it. Here's one of mine I posted way the heck near the end last year:

I was 4 or 5 and sleeping in a real bed, mind you. I had one of those anti-fall mesh rails that sat under the mattress and, because I was 4 or 5, I refused to go to sleep unless my lamp was on. The lamp was within arm's reach on my dresser right next to my bed. It wasn't a very big room but it had all the necessities. My bed was pushed up against the one and only wall where it would fit, which was parallel to the wall with a window that looked into the front yard. One night, I don't know what woke me up, I sat bolt upright in bed. My lamp was off and I remember thinking "Why is my lamp off? Is the power out?"

I noticed a white glow emanating from outside my window, a good distance up off the ground. It was a ways away from the house as well. Without warning, the glow is moving swiftly towards my window. As it gets closer, I can see it is mostly mist but what totally freaks me is the window flies open, the heavy curtains on both sides are blown inwards, flapping as though caught in a terrific gust of wind. The white glowing mist darts in through the window and it's ... large. At least, larger than it first appeared. It is roughly 3' x 2', somewhat elongated and lacking any remarkable details. It hangs there, over the floor, just further in the room than my Fisher-Price orange and yellow play table, which was pushed up against that wall with the window.

My brain just can't even.
My mouth opens to scream and, try as I might, I can't. The sound just isn't coming and I'm frozen in place, sitting upright, staring at this ... mist which is, for all intents and purposes, staring back at me. Without warning, the mist disappears, the window slams shut, the curtains fall limp, my lamp suddenly is on and the scream that I had tried so hard to summon before is now full force, as if I had been screaming the entire time. M ...


I've had several episodes of sleep paralysis.. and yes one of them was EXCATLY like that.

Terrifying isn't it?
 
2018-10-31 1:33:56 PM  
Not a story of the supernatural, but this happened a few years ago and it was scary as all hell.

On my way to bed, I noticed a spider on the bedroom wall just above the light switch. I decided to let it live and went to bed to read. A bit later, lying there reading, this odd fuzzy thing caught my attention right above my face. It was the spider, or possibly a second one, coming right at me. Maybe the thread it was lowering itself on broke, I don't know, but the damn thing caught me between blinks and landed right on my eyeball.

I didn't sleep well for a few days after that. There could be and probably were spiders around the sofa too.
 
2018-10-31 1:43:16 PM  
Copied from last year:

In my last house, in my boys' bedroom there were three doors. One door led to a small hallway. One opened to the dining room. And the other to a bathroom. One night not long after bedtime, my oldest came out (he was 7 or 8 at the time). His mom and I were watching a movie on the couch with the sound down low. He asked if we were trying to get into his bedroom because he had heard the door knob jiggle a few times.

He said it was the door to the dining room, which was in the line of sight of both of us from the couch. But of course there was nothing. We hadn't moved. The cat was asleep on the couch. So I took him back into his room and I explained about how air pressure from one door opening or closing could make the other doors move. I showed him by closing the bathroom door, which forced the dining room door to pop open a bit. He seemed satisfied by this even though no one had even opened or closed a door. About a half hour later, he said he heard light knocking on that door. Again, we were on the couch and didn't hear or see anything. I told him it was just the wind blowing a branch against a wall of our old house. He wasn't scared, but just seemed confused. Although he went back to sleep and that was that.

The next night, same thing with the doorknob jiggling. Except this time he got freaked out. I told him that it was nothing but that just in case, I know all about ghosts and spooky things and knew exactly what to do to keep them away. I had been binge watching "Supernatural", so very authoritatively, I made a big show of pouring salt across the floor at the doorway. Said a few cryptic words to make it seem official, then I told him it was done and that nothing would bother him again.

Until it did. I don't remember if it was that night or a night afterwards, but he heard something at that door again. I remember it was late at night and I didn't want to deal with it right then so I got my cordless drill and a 3" wood screw and I just ran that screw through the door and into the jamb so it couldn't budge. And that seemed to be the end of it.

The next day while straightening up their room, I found, under their toy shelf, a strange flat grey stone or something. It looked like it was once a piece of something round, but it had broken on two sides, and it was heavy. It had two indentations, grooves, running radially to the center of what would have been the circle. The grooves, and the whole thing really, appeared to be machined or molded or otherwise manufactured, but no one had ever seen it before. It seemed strange that this thing turned up right at the time when spooky stuff happened, and wanting to believe, I decided to figure it out.

I laid this stone thing down on a table and traced the curved outline of the unbroken part. Then lining it up with the curve that I'd just drawn, I traced it again, and again, and again, until it was a complete circle.I drew the grooves where they would be, assuming they were equally spaced based on the piece of thing that I had. What I drew was a circle about 14"-16" diameter with seven "spokes" coming from the center.

But this still wasn't helpful in the slightest. So the piece of whatever just sat outside next to a flowerpot for the next year or so until their mom and I split up and I moved to the house I'm living in now. A few months later, she called me and asked if I remembered that thing from the boys' room because she'd figured out what it was.

I was all excited to finally get to the bottom of whatever it was that had been haunting that bedroom. Turns out it was a piece of ballast from the base of a standing fan that was in their room. Apparently a couple of other pieces had broken off and it became obvious once the base was turned over and looked at.

But I had fun for a while imagining that it was something extraordinary.
 
2018-10-31 1:46:23 PM  
I once went on a long trip. Riding on the long, lonely highway, I passed a white truck. Out in the middle of nowhere, there's this white truck. Looks like a '76 Ford. There's a green refrigerator in the back truck bed - one of those old style ones, with the handle that locks the door. I pass the truck. He's not going that fast.

A few miles later, I come up on another vehicle. It's a white truck. Looks like a '76 Ford. It has a green refrigerator on the back. I'm thinking, "Deja vu?" and, as I pass the driver, I glance over.

The driver was me.
 
2018-10-31 1:55:00 PM  
This is completely true.
At one of the places I went to grad school, the department chair had only been there a few years. He had relocated from another university and bought a fairly nice house in a nice neighborhood near the campus.

He was a scientist, so ghosts and haunted houses were fiction. He got a great deal on the house because some family members of the of the previous owner had been murdered in the house. I don't recall the circumstances of the murders, but it was more than one family member. He even liked to tell people that there were still blood stains on the carpet when he first viewed the house.

He lived there several years. Fixed up the house and completely redid the pool area and pool house. He had three kids. None of them even went to college let alone got degrees. Somewhat surprising for a PhD dept chair. One daughter became a hair stylist. One became a sort of social worker and the youngest son became a drug addict. He went to rehab while I was there.

But the real 'scary' part of the story is not that. The house was on one of the streets at the perimeter of the neighborhood. All the houses on his side of the street had backyards that backed up against an interstate.
The last year I lived in that town, there was a huge car crash on the interstate directly behind his house. Multiple fatalities. Two of the fatalities were members of the family who had been murdered in his house. It was even on the local news identifying them as such.
 
2018-10-31 1:55:09 PM  

riffraff: Alright, I'll take a stab at it.
I grew up in a small town in New Jersey, in the shadow of a huge mental hospital overlooking us from the side of a mountain. They had two horns. One was for the volunteer fire dept. the other was for escapees. I lived in terror of the second, because it usually went off while I was walking to school or back home. Most of them were harmless, but I didn't know that. Once, I was at a cub scout picnic at the community park, when the horn went off. We didn't think anything about it, and continued cooking the burgers and dogs. A few minutes later, a extremely large black man (I mention this because our town was almost totally white) came running through the park. He saw us and stopped, so we offered him to join us and have a hot dog. About then, the green police cars reserved for the hospital came careening across the park field. The guy started to run. One kid threw a baseball bat through his legs and down he went. They cuffed him and basically dragged him to the car, with one of our dads yelling at the cops to not mistreat him.
I still lived in fear of Overbrook for the rest of the time I lived there, until I was a boy scout and had to go there for Valentine's day. The ladie's ward. I had baby blue eyes and I was mobbed. I was terrified, not of the women, though they were absolutely crazy, but the conditions they lived in. It was the definition of squalor. Turns out that most of the horns were for people that had escaped to get away from the filth and desperation inside. And most died of exposure.


Overbrook?  Didn't they tear that shiathole down ten years ago?
 
2018-10-31 1:57:23 PM  
Let me preface this with, I am not a writer, and the beginning part of the story is hear say from my parents and family telling me stories growing up. However, and you will see I am sure of all the things that happened during my pre-teen, teen years and later in life, the reactions validate the younger years to me and you will need see that validation. It might be a bit dis-jointed because I am writing this off the top of my head, but I hope you enjoy (Any feedback is greatly appreciated) I love this thread and time of year.


I was born in Secaucus NJ (I know I know I could stop there, boo horror) My parents moved into a small house. They suddenly moved out from the home when I was about 3 years old. During my time in the house I suffered multiple deep wounds which my parents still can't explain, stitches in my head after they said I had a nightmare, and must have banged my head on the crib. My sisters room was always cold, even though the radiator was so hot it was painful to touch. My parents would bring her dolls in to the living room for her to play with, and she yelled at my parents, "He says they like to be cold, and he told me we can't take them out of the room!"
The final straw per my father was after one week of what he called a haunting. My father is not religious, he thinks mediums are a farce, and doesn't believe in ghost but what happened that week in this old house, shook him, to the point he doesn't even like when the situation is brought up. It started on a Sunday, and the layout of the house was that my parents bedroom was on the second floor, with a small bathroom and a small hallway separating them. At the top of the stairs there was a door that opened outward down the stairs, and he was always trying to get up and out of bed to open it if he heard my sister (who is older) coming up to ask for water or if she had a nightmare, etc... so that he wouldn't knock her down the stairs. That first night he heard crying and laughter and feet running across the old wood floors downstairs. He jumped up, went down stairs only to find me asleep in my crib, and my sister asleep in her bed. He tried to pick her up out of bed because he room as always was cold, and she threw a fit, which woke up my mom, and told my dad, "No, I need to stay here where it is cold, that is what HE wants" This went on for 4 nights, tantrums from my sister, the laughter the running feet. On the last night, he jumped out of bed at the sound of the door on the top steps slamming. He went down to investigate, both my sister and I were asleep. The door at the top of the steps slammed again, and as he was walking up the steps, he heard my mother say, "I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but stop standing at the door and come to bed, and change your pajamas you smell like death" He burst into the room and found nothing, but my mom jumping up and telling him, you were just standing in the room and now you are coming up from downstairs? He shut the door, and the minuted he did, he heard the laughter again, and little feet sprinting up the stairs... There were 3 sharp knocks on the door, when he opened it, nothing. They both went back down stairs to check on me and my sister only to find us in our beds asleep. It was then the upstairs door starting slamming over and over again, and the feet on the floor and laughter coming from upstairs running back and forth in their bedroom. That night they packed what they could for us, never going back upstairs, jumped in our car and drove to my grandmothers.
Fast forward 8 years. Living in a new home on Long Island. We had a dog that my parents contemplated putting down because at night it would stare at a wall, and just bark and bark and bark. They thought this dog was unstable, he would sleep with me or my sister and not let my parents near us most nights. He eventually passed from something that even the vet could not understand. My sisters room was still always cold. They called in contractors to re-insulate her room, moved her room, but no matter where she went, it was always cold but little other than those things occurred. As a family, we almost all forgot about it.


Fast forward, I am 15. My grandmother on my fathers side, was diagnosed with terminal cancer. My parents decided they would pay for hospice and she could spend her remaining days in the comfort of our home. She had pancreatic cancer and was going fast. I spend every day with her. Toward her last 2 weeks with us on this earth she would constantly point to the same wall my dog used to bark at and ask each of us, whoever was sitting with her, "Do you see him? Who is he?" We didn't know if it was the drugs or not, but it was odd. Around the same time my sister would not visit her in the room we had set up for her, she said she didn't like it, but would spend time with her when we moved her outside for some sunshine. At the end, my grandmother just would point at that wall, mutter incoherently, and cry. 2 days before she passed I was sitting with her and she says to me, "He's here, he is here to take me, and he told me he is going to take you all in time" I am 15, this scared the crap out of me. They day she died, we had 2 family dogs, and they sat in that room, and barked at that wall for hours, if we tried to pull them away they would get vicious. No one could explain it.


5 days after the death of my grandmother our neighbor came over with a deck of cards, and lunch and asked if my grandmother was up for some rummy and lunch. She mentioned she had seen her the previous night on the deck having tea, and they had a great conversation, and she was so happy that my grandmother was feeling better. When this conversation took place, my grandmother had been dead, embalmed and was laying in a casket for the wake for about 3 or four days. That really through just messed with all of us, my neighbor included.


Being 15, I was young and silly and one day going through my grandmothers (on my mothers side) basement closet of board games I found a Ouija board. I sat down with my 2 cousins and my sister reading the directions and planning on trying to contact my now deceased grandmother. About 15 minutes after we started, my grandma (mothers side) comes down to the basement, sees what we are doing and throws a fit. By fit I mean she literally started beating us all about the face and back, grabbing the board, calling us idiots, etc... She takes the board upstairs muttering, "I thought I got rid of that shiat years ago" She throws it in her fireplace, and turns to me and my sister, and I will never forget what she said, "Are you both out of your minds, do you not remember NJ? Do you not remember how close to hell you all had been? Do you want that, whatever it is finding you again, following you? Are you just stupid, or careless, what is it!!!!" That was all the validation I needed that the storied I had heard about the house in Jersey had left out a lot.
Fast Forward, I am now 20 and the next death in my family is about to happen. I get a call at college that my grandma is in the hospital. I race home the next day to be with her and hear an absolute mind-bending tale of what happened. She was found in January in the middle of the street outside her home in NY wearing nothing but a nightgown getting snowed on with a broken upper arm and hip. She was found by the paper delivery man around 4 am. When she got to the hospital her core temp was something ridiculous like 67 degrees (don't quote me on that) but most of the doctors were astounded she was alive. 6 weeks, we were by her bedside waiting for her to be healthy enough to have surgery, but she never recovered. In those six weeks she slowly slid just like my other grandmother, from lucid, to incoherent, but she did the same thing, she pointed, she said, "He's here, and he isn't happy" or "He came today, but said he couldn't take me now"


The last thing she said was that if she ever came back to us, to look for butterflies, that's how we would know it was her. A year after her death, we would see them constantly, and my mom and her 3 very superstitious though not religious sisters would say, "hey look there is grandma."


I don't believe in mediums, I never have, but that might have changed. My mother and her sisters were always trying to go to see the big names, or even smaller ones to see if they could talk to grandma. Once they had a group reading and they invited me and I said fine I will go. It was a hell of a day, my aunt had recently broken her arm, my mom was on crutches because of back surgery, we had to pick up my aunts because one was in a car accident the week prior, and the others house has a flash flood so here car had been destroyed when she tried to cross deep water. The medium started out it was your normal let me ask, guess, wait for you respond etc.. like they all do, but then she says, "Oh, Oh know, she is hear with me and she says she is terribly sorry, she said you didn't listen to her, she said none of you are listening to the signs" She continues, "She is talking about the butterflies... The ones that fly right up to you and around you and hang our for a bit, she said they aren't her" perplexed we all have the same question, "If she is talking about it, and it isn't her what is it?" The medium replies, "She meant them as warning, unlike a fly or a bee or a bird, butterflies are rare to see all the time, she says she sends them to you as warnings that, HE is around, looking to take, it's followed you all"
My jaw hit the floor, as it did for everyone else.
So then begs the question, if we were followed how? It goes back to the house in Jersey. My parents moved in on October 20th and threw a party for Halloween. As a party trick they brought out in that house an Ouija board. I still don't believe that was why what happened happened... I do now this though, every one of my aunts that had that awful stop happen before the reading recall seeing a butterfly the day they broke and arm, got in a car accident, etc...
I recently had to go in for a major surgery... In preop, because beds were full, I was placed in a room in the children's wing. As they wheel me in, the rooms were all bright and cheery, but mine was the butterfly room. Needless to say, I canceled my procedure that day and went elsewhere, maybe that's the only reason why I am even still here to share this story.
 
2018-10-31 2:06:00 PM  

stir22: riffraff: Alright, I'll take a stab at it.
I grew up in a small town in New Jersey, in the shadow of a huge mental hospital overlooking us from the side of a mountain. They had two horns. One was for the volunteer fire dept. the other was for escapees. I lived in terror of the second, because it usually went off while I was walking to school or back home. Most of them were harmless, but I didn't know that. Once, I was at a cub scout picnic at the community park, when the horn went off. We didn't think anything about it, and continued cooking the burgers and dogs. A few minutes later, a extremely large black man (I mention this because our town was almost totally white) came running through the park. He saw us and stopped, so we offered him to join us and have a hot dog. About then, the green police cars reserved for the hospital came careening across the park field. The guy started to run. One kid threw a baseball bat through his legs and down he went. They cuffed him and basically dragged him to the car, with one of our dads yelling at the cops to not mistreat him.
I still lived in fear of Overbrook for the rest of the time I lived there, until I was a boy scout and had to go there for Valentine's day. The ladie's ward. I had baby blue eyes and I was mobbed. I was terrified, not of the women, though they were absolutely crazy, but the conditions they lived in. It was the definition of squalor. Turns out that most of the horns were for people that had escaped to get away from the filth and desperation inside. And most died of exposure.

Overbrook?  Didn't they tear that shiathole down ten years ago?


Yup. I'm talking the 70s. Also used to go up to the Hilltop Sanitorium above it, just to scare the girls. A massive place.
 
2018-10-31 2:14:20 PM  
The Seventies was a weird time to be a kid. The Cold War was still on, hell, there was a shooting war... Okay, shooting police action going on in Vietnam, but we weren't practicing duck-and-cover drills like they did in the 50s. Inflation was killing us financially, Dick Nixon was demonstrating that we couldn't really trust our political leadership, and for Zod's sake, frickin' Disco was becoming popular with it's incessant thump-clap-thump-clap beat and synthesised strings. It was all a bit bewildering and scary.

So it didn't help when someone started talking about takes off tainted Halloween candy. I'm not talking about those awful orange-and-black wax paper wrapped peanut-flavored taffies. No, these were reports of people putting rat poison in candy, or sliding a pin or needle, or maybe even a razor blade into an apple. Of course we didn't believe a word of it! But it was just believable enough to make us wonder. Not enough to make us not want to go trick-or-treating, obviously, but enough to ratchet up our background stress level. Partly because there was talk amongst the grown-ups of cancelling Halloween!

Understand, this was classic Small Town USA. No one was going to try to taint their giving-out loot. Especially not if they were giving out produce. Giving out apples was already on the borderline between acceptable and getting your house egged. You'd only have two, maybe three houses dating to do that. If one of the apples had some kind of evil insertion, it wouldn't take much effort to figure out who the culprit was. No one was going to taint the goodies. It was stupid to think otherwise. In fact, my way observation found its way into the local weekly newspaper: "I not nearly as worried about a pin in my apple as I am about the grenade in the banana. Ka-BLAM!" (Yeah, even as a 10-year-old I was an incorrigible smart-ass.)

And yet, people still worried about tainted Halloween loot. Don't roll your eyes at me: you were afraid on 9/11 that the next plane was coming after you, weren't you? Admit it. So anyway, the local Congregational Church announced that they were going to bring in an X-ray machine and let people bring their collected loot in and just make sure there's no pins, needles, or razors in there. Thank you! Halloween is saved!

So I went out trick-or-treating as usual, and got my customary pillowcase-full of candy--must have been at least a three-day supply!--and when I got home, my dad ordered me into the car and we drove down to the Congo Church. The whole time I'm arguing with my dad: no one's going to try tainting candy, why can't I just eat a sealed box of Dots or some dang-ol' thing? He was steadfast in his refusal to let me eat anything until it had been tested. Darn it!

So they ran my loot through the machine and I'll be dipped if it didn't Ping! They tried again, and it Ping!ed again. They spread my loot out on a big, sterile-looking stainless steel table. How proud I was of that haul! And there, right smack in the center of the table was--you guessed it--an apple. And close examination of the apple would reveal that there was, in fact, a razor stuck inside it! I shiat you not!

Fortunately, it was an electric razor, and it wasn't plugged in, so no one got hurt.

Happy Halloween!
 
2018-10-31 2:22:53 PM  

Duck_of_Doom: I'll share some occurances around my mom's passing. Trigger warning for a little too much info, and not all that scary.

My mom and I lived together in a condo. She had had cancer 3 times, was an ex-smoker, and a mess of health issues related to a botched bowel resection. I still can't eat beef because the first thing my brain said, as her wound opened up at home and I stared at her intestine "wow, that looks like a nice eye round". Anyway, she was misdiagnosed as having COPD years ago, and had an endarderectomy on her 95% occluded right ICA. Well her O2 wasn't bouncing back, so they did a chest xray and found a mass in her right lung area. Her pulmonologist insisted it was an enlarged lymph node, which he had biopsied and came back normal, go figure. We let it go a few months, and saw the pulmonologist again, who said "you don't have COPD, you have interstitial lung disease and have 2 years to live...but only God knows". We said "2nd opinion at Yale"  which turned the doc into a pissy little ass. Misdiagnoses and malpractice, scary stuff.

So, end of June 2013, go to Yale, where a battery of tests for ILD revealed a mass in her right lung, and sent for biopsy. She caught pneumonia July 4th, and while in Yale New Haven ER, she got the biopsy results. Go on, guess. During the night July 8 I was home, she was at Yale. I meditated that night, and heard a very distinct female voice say to me "Your mother will die peacefully when it comes" (hail to Her). A while later, got a call - she went into respiratory arrest. Bridgeport to New Haven, normally 35-40 minutes; I got there in less than 20.

It was the next day where the doctors sat me down for "that" consult. Anywhere from a few hours to a few days, that's what they gave her. And I had to sit on that for a day, until the doctor could tell her with family present (almost made it, darn Mom for asking). She bounced back enough, and we did home hospice, I took care of her.

August 4, 2013. Mom was comfortable in the hospit ...


Hey, thanks for that.  Seriously.
 
2018-10-31 2:25:26 PM  

Ovuzai: Not scary, but in honor of my late girlfriend for the Day of the Dead:

https://www.fark.com/comments/10212009​/118065116#c118065116


My condolences... but thanks for sharing. I love silly stuff like that, it sounds like you're my kind of people.

So you would appreciate a few weeks ago, driving west on Highway 7 from Ottawa, we saw a dump truck which had gone off the road and was half-submerged in a lake. The name on the side: Down Under Irrigation.
 
2018-10-31 2:27:25 PM  

PenguinCam: Copied from a thread a few years ago, a story I've told a few times. Not scary (except for our short-term panic trying to find the dog), it was only a bit strange:

Not hugely scary, but this did happen and it was a bit unsettling.

One mild and snowy winter night (yeah, I went there), about an hour after I'd let the dogs in, my husband and I were talking in the living room when we heard our smaller dog whine and scratch at the door, wanting to be let in.

We both stopped and had an "oh shiat" moment, wondering how we left them out there. We both raced to the door to let her in, opened the door, and there on the back porch was absolutely nothing. No new tracks in the snow, just the hour-old ones covered in fresh snow.

I panicked, thinking she'd gone under the porch to die, so went out there, and there was nothing. We went through the house looking for her and found her, and our other dog, fast asleep in the bedroom.

Mr. PenguinCam had told me earlier in the year that he thought he was seeing our small dog around the house only to realize that she was in another room. He could see this 'little white dog' as well as hear it. I only ever heard anything that night and it was a bit strange.

When we moved from that house, we invited little white dog to come with us, but it was never seen or heard again. At least not by us.


Maybe tomorrow, he'll stop and settle down.
Until tomorrow, he'll just keep moving on.
 
2018-10-31 2:54:47 PM  
I know this is long, but here goes.......

In 2005 my marriage imploded. It had been on the rocks for a while, but everything collapsed when I discovered my ex's affair. I had what I guess could be described as a mental breakdown. I couldn't stay in the house without massive panic attacks, so I stayed with my folks for a couple of weeks. I was put on an anti-depressant, with Xanax to kind of fill in the gaps until they kicked in. I'd been almost consumed by depression over the years without even realizing it. I was at rock bottom and could barely survive minute to minute.

I'd wake up every night in my parents' den around 1am in a blind panic. I didn't know where I was, what I was going to do, how I was going to survive. Blind panic, tears, vomiting, all that. Eventually I'd fall back to sleep........only to wake up around 4am in worse shape than before. I've dealt with panic attacks for over 30 years, but these were beyond description for me. Alone in the dark, lost to the world, no hope, suicide, death, gone. I'd fall back to sleep eventually, and wake up to a new day of hell.

Then something happened on the 4th or 5th night. I still woke up for the 1am panic attacks, nothing changed. I still woke up for the 4am panic attacks, but through the fog and fear I now heard a man's voice clear as day telling me everything would be ok. It was a comforting voice, but stern. 'Loan Starr, come up with a plan. Tomorrow you will do this, and this, and this. You will survive this, but you have things to take care of. Your daughter needs you. Your family needs you. You'll be ok.'

The voice calmed me down. The panic stopped, and I fell back to sleep. The voice returned the next two nights. I'd never heard the voice before, and 13 years later I still haven't heard it again. It was a voice in the dark, in my head, but it was not my voice.

Over the next few days I woke up thinking 'ok, I know what I need to do, time to go to work'. I joined a support group, I got in therapy, I stopped drinking for close to two years, I focused on my daughter, I took medication, I got mentally healthy (-er), and attempted reconciliation (which thankfully didn't take). Things got much better, slowly, but I survived and here I am.

I told that story to only one person, a woman I was dating in 2007. When I told her I didn't know whose voice it was she suggested maybe it was God. Why couldn't it be? I said I guess it could have been for all I know, because it wasn't my voice.

Flash forward to the summer of 2017 at a family vacation. Late one night I'm talking to my sister and two nieces about my divorce, and I tell them this story. I hadn't spoken about it to anyone for a decade. One of my nieces listened but didn't engage much. Stayed really quiet. A week or so later she quietly said to her mom 'I know who spoke to Uncle Loan Starr'.

'You do? Who?'

'Great grandpa, paw-paw's dad that we never met (he died when my dad was a teen). He was in a dream of mine once. He told me he was there for Loan Starr in his moment of need. He helped him. It was his voice.'.

I still want to talk to my niece about this, but while it comforted her it also spooked her and she's shy to talk about it. I wasn't even told about it for almost a year.  I'm not sure what to make of it, though. There's no way she knew about this, none. Nobody in my family heard the story until 2017. But my niece dreamt that a relative we never met helped me in my time of need, and I know I heard a voice that wasn't mine in my darkest hour.

Thanks grandpa.
 
2018-10-31 2:56:38 PM  
Not scary, but strange. While relocating for work we had to rent a house for a year until we could find a place to buy. It was a very old house, built in the late 1800's, but it had been remodeled with new electric and HVAC. We were the first renters in it and it was nice. Only problem was I never slept very well there. Woke up almost every night around 2:30. Sometimes got back to sleep, sometimes didn't. One night, trying to get back to sleep, I look over my shoulder and see the top of my 4 year old daughters head come in the room and walk along the side of our bed my wife is on. She pauses, then walks out. Never saw her face but recognized the pajamas. After a minute I get up to check on her. Go into her room and there she is wide awake sitting up in the middle of her bed. I ask if she's ok and why she came into our room? She says she's fine but didn't come in our room. I'm not going to question this at 3:00 in the morning, but I do notice that she isn't wearing the yellow pajamas I saw her in. Now I can accept that in my half asleep half awake sleep deprived state I just imagined her coming into the room. But why was she wide awake sitting in bed staring at the ceiling when I went to check in her? Strange.
 
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