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(Fark)   Gather around, Farkers, it's time for Fark's 16th annual spooky story thread. Get into the Halloween spirit and share your true ghost/scary stories. 👻 Farkers who bring up politics get thrown in the dungeon ☠   (fark.com) divider line
    More: Creepy, Figure It Out, Existential quantification, hard time, closest thing, Good thing, lifelong friend, last year, first time  
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1394 clicks; posted to Main » and Discussion » on 31 Oct 2019 at 9:05 PM (1 year ago)   |   Favorite    |   share:  Share on Twitter share via Email Share on Facebook



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2019-10-31 3:06:02 PM  
My little ones used to claim there's a "grandfather" that lives in the attic, but so far as we can tell the house isn't haunted. The master bathroom has a low flow toilet though, so it's kind of the same
 
2019-10-31 3:15:27 PM  

CAT-LIKE TYPING DETECTED: It's finally here..!

The best holiday and the best FARK thread o'the year have finally arrived..!!      =)

Wishing a Great, Safe, Spooky All Hallow's Eve to everyone..!!

Bring on the stories..!

(..also, preemptive requests for "Fishy," "Ted the Caver,"  "Dionaea (sp) House," "Desert Ambush," "Turkey Feathers" and I see a particular individual has already covered his awesome "Danny"..}       =)

Here's my annual, non-fictional addition to this wunnerful thread..looking forward to reading everything tonight thru t'morrow..

Have fun, all..!!

===   ===   ===

My annual, obligatory contribution to the thread..

It's not my scariest or strangest experience, believe it or don't..but it has the singular benefit of having been witnessed by multiple, clear-thinking, very respectable (save fer the whole 'home invasion' angle..  =P  ) individuals..

Enjoy..

***   ***   ***

When I was young (9 - 15, roundabouts), my parents would take the family..mom, dad, me, younger brother..camping/cottaging every year at the very end of the season, so as to get better locations at lower rates. Invariably, we'd go with a couple or couples that were friends of the family and it would be a nice group-event weekend or longer.

One particular couple..Dave and Karen..went along every year and my father and Dave were, and are, fast friends.

The year of this story, we were in a cottage on a small lake (about 2 miles in diameter) during a near-perfect autumn in, I think, the Southern Tier/Finger Lakes region of Western New York. It was only my family and Dave and Karen, this year.

One thing that is of importance to relate is that Dave and my father fancy themselves amateur architectural buffs and love looking at vintage/old/historical buildings/houses.

Bear with me here...

Often, camping/cottaging as late in the season as we did, the 'regulars' would already be gone for the season. Summer homes, fishing cottages and the like would be prepped for the winter and locked up for the season..aw ...


This reminds me of the Dandy/Hinsdale house.... just south of the finger lakes in NY.  I wonder if the whole area is haunted.
 
2019-10-31 3:18:03 PM  

meg12279: We've had all sorts of experiences with my son's paternal grandfather, who died before he was born.  When my son was little he used to see him-he came back from Christmas at his grandmother's house one year and told me "I saw Grandpa! No one could see him but me, but he was happy!"

We've even had a medium describe his grandfather exactly, and he's described events in my son's life where his grandfather was around-these are times I don't even know about.  The medium told my son that his grandpa wanted him to try harder to make new friends-that too often my son goes off at recess and reads, or tries to talk to the teachers more than the other kids.

But the other night we were riding in the car, and my son wanted to play music on my phone.  He's got a playlist he likes, but he picked one he'd never played before-Illegal Smile, by John Prine.  He asked me what it was, and I said "Oh, it's an old song that your grandfather used to like.  It makes me think of him."  As we're driving something in me is saying "Don't look in the mirror".  I was convinced if i glanced back, I'd see his grandfather sitting there, beside my son.  I didn't say anything to my son about it.

So the song ends and a while later we get home, and as I'm helping my son out of the car, he says "When i played that song, I think Grandpa was sitting next to me."


Ghost grandpa's got good taste in music.

Something reassuring about these tales.
 
2019-10-31 3:21:30 PM  

Fightin' Helmfish: My little ones used to claim there's a "grandfather" that lives in the attic, but so far as we can tell the house isn't haunted. The master bathroom has a low flow toilet though, so it's kind of the same


Oh that reminds me of another story I can tell. My sister lived in a haunted house back in 2005. Her three sons used to see this old guy all the time. My oldest nephew, who is 21 now but 7 then, is the bad one of the three. He used to sleep in the top bunk of the bunk bed. He still talks about till this day that this old man used to bug him when he was trying to sleep and one time spanked him hard on the butt when he was in the top bunk. He wouldn't sleep there after that.

My sister says the middle nephew one time called out to her to come tell the man to stop talking to him so he could go to sleep.

The youngest nephew, who was probably around 4 at the time, had the most interaction with him. He still talks about him, what he was wearing and everything. They used to interact in the basement. He said nothing bad ever happened. He was a nice guy. He said he wore a red suit and was an old guy and just talked to him.

Turns out a previous owner (old man) dropped dead of a heart attack while mowing his lawn.
 
2019-10-31 3:27:49 PM  

Honest Geologist: Something reassuring about these tales.


Both of my grandfathers were alcoholics, divorced by their wives and died in their mid/late 50s.  Their spirits visited the first upon me and tried on the second two but, as evidenced by my story above, they haven't fully succeeded quite yet.  Eight more years of 50s to go for me, so there's time yet.
 
2019-10-31 3:34:00 PM  
Thirty-five years on, and this one still bothers me... but, here goes.

When I was in my teens, I learned how to read Tarot cards. I had a Wiccan friend who taught me, and I picked up on it fairly well - had my own Rider deck that I kept under my pillow as I slept (to keep a connection with the cards). Anyhow, one night, I was in a bad headspace, as 15-year-olds can be, and I broke the one rule that my friend explained to me as a cardinal rule of the Tarot - never read for yourself.

Well, I did, and it wasn't a good reading. I don't recall the details of the reading at this point, and considering, it's probably for the best. Anyhow, after I finished with the cards, I wrapped them in the cloth that I kept them in, and put them back under my pillow. Then, I gave my girlfriend a call. The last time I remember looking at the clock beside my bed, it read 1:15am.

The next thing I knew, I was standing, looking out of my bedroom window, and the clock read 6:30am. The phone was no longer in my room. And the Tarot was gone from under my pillow.

I don't know what the hell happened in those missing five hours, and to be honest, I don't want to. But I have never so much as touched a Tarot deck since.
 
2019-10-31 3:37:00 PM  

JeffKochosky: Thirty-five years on, and this one still bothers me... but, here goes.

When I was in my teens, I learned how to read Tarot cards. I had a Wiccan friend who taught me, and I picked up on it fairly well - had my own Rider deck that I kept under my pillow as I slept (to keep a connection with the cards). Anyhow, one night, I was in a bad headspace, as 15-year-olds can be, and I broke the one rule that my friend explained to me as a cardinal rule of the Tarot - never read for yourself.

Well, I did, and it wasn't a good reading. I don't recall the details of the reading at this point, and considering, it's probably for the best. Anyhow, after I finished with the cards, I wrapped them in the cloth that I kept them in, and put them back under my pillow. Then, I gave my girlfriend a call. The last time I remember looking at the clock beside my bed, it read 1:15am.

The next thing I knew, I was standing, looking out of my bedroom window, and the clock read 6:30am. The phone was no longer in my room. And the Tarot was gone from under my pillow.

I don't know what the hell happened in those missing five hours, and to be honest, I don't want to. But I have never so much as touched a Tarot deck since.


BUT WHERE WAS PHONE?
 
2019-10-31 3:41:35 PM  

Honest Geologist: meg12279: We've had all sorts of experiences with my son's paternal grandfather, who died before he was born.  When my son was little he used to see him-he came back from Christmas at his grandmother's house one year and told me "I saw Grandpa! No one could see him but me, but he was happy!"

We've even had a medium describe his grandfather exactly, and he's described events in my son's life where his grandfather was around-these are times I don't even know about.  The medium told my son that his grandpa wanted him to try harder to make new friends-that too often my son goes off at recess and reads, or tries to talk to the teachers more than the other kids.

But the other night we were riding in the car, and my son wanted to play music on my phone.  He's got a playlist he likes, but he picked one he'd never played before-Illegal Smile, by John Prine.  He asked me what it was, and I said "Oh, it's an old song that your grandfather used to like.  It makes me think of him."  As we're driving something in me is saying "Don't look in the mirror".  I was convinced if i glanced back, I'd see his grandfather sitting there, beside my son.  I didn't say anything to my son about it.

So the song ends and a while later we get home, and as I'm helping my son out of the car, he says "When i played that song, I think Grandpa was sitting next to me."

Ghost grandpa's got good taste in music.

Something reassuring about these tales.


It is reassuring.  The medium also told me that my son and I find pennies all the time, and that he leaves him. Without fail, every time the man is on my mind, I'll find a penny.  And not just laying around like you always do-there will be a bright shiny one on a surface I just cleaned, so I know it wasn't there before.
 
2019-10-31 3:44:45 PM  

gunshellmav: I don't know what he ever did with it, but every now and again, I bring up the 'hate book' to my wife to check if we're still cool.


Finish the story. What volume is she on?
 
2019-10-31 3:46:31 PM  

Walker: JeffKochosky: Thirty-five years on, and this one still bothers me... but, here goes.

When I was in my teens, I learned how to read Tarot cards. I had a Wiccan friend who taught me, and I picked up on it fairly well - had my own Rider deck that I kept under my pillow as I slept (to keep a connection with the cards). Anyhow, one night, I was in a bad headspace, as 15-year-olds can be, and I broke the one rule that my friend explained to me as a cardinal rule of the Tarot - never read for yourself.

Well, I did, and it wasn't a good reading. I don't recall the details of the reading at this point, and considering, it's probably for the best. Anyhow, after I finished with the cards, I wrapped them in the cloth that I kept them in, and put them back under my pillow. Then, I gave my girlfriend a call. The last time I remember looking at the clock beside my bed, it read 1:15am.

The next thing I knew, I was standing, looking out of my bedroom window, and the clock read 6:30am. The phone was no longer in my room. And the Tarot was gone from under my pillow.

I don't know what the hell happened in those missing five hours, and to be honest, I don't want to. But I have never so much as touched a Tarot deck since.

BUT WHERE WAS PHONE?


UNDERNEATH!
 
2019-10-31 3:47:03 PM  
I was nineteen and my mother, after a long illness, decided to end it all.  She took an overdose, but unfortunately was discovered too soon.  Paramedics were called and managed to get her heart started, but she was brain dead.  Her heart continued to beat for five days in the ICU, while they did a couple of EEGs, proving she was brain dead.  We were waiting for her heart to stop on its own, since at that time, turning off the ventilator was a big deal.  I came home very late one night and saw a white mist pass through the house and disappear into a wall.  I knew then she was dead.  About two hours later, the phone rang.  I rang to answer it.  It was a nurse calling from the hospital to ask if we had made arrangements with a mortuary.  My father was on the phone, too.  He asked why and she said "Didn't the doctor call you?"  He said no.  There was a pause then she said my mother had died.  He hung up on her.  I stayed on and asked when.  She said it was about two hours ago -- about the time I saw the mist.
 
2019-10-31 4:05:27 PM  
I joined the high school debate team back in 2001ish. For those of you that don't know, in Oklahoma, debate tournaments typically happen on Friday evening. They'll run from around 3 pm until 9-10 in the evening. Each round is approximately an hour long - maybe more depending on the format, and you travel across the whole region to go to different tournaments.

This particular tournament took place at Bethany High School, which was about two hours away from home. I was kind of grateful, because that meant that we got out of class around noon, and then we got to go on a trip. So that was great. It was November, so all the leaves had fallen off the trees. It's my time of year. Being the resident fat kid, cool air is kind of my thing, but anyway... So, our last round ended at 10, and we started back to my hometown, which is another tiny Oklahoma town with about 2000 or so people in it. Of course, since it's November, it's already dark when we leave. Did I mention I forgot to go to the bathroom before we left Bethany? Yeah... I'd been holding it since around 8 PM, so the whole time I'm sitting there needing to go, and my debate coach was kind of a douche, and didn't want to stop anywhere. So I hold it...

We get back to our school around midnight. No one is around but the debate team. We crowd around the door with our evidence boxes, waiting for our slow-poke of a debate coach to open the doors so we can call our parents, and put our debate equipment away for the night. On the way to the bathroom, I duck into the speech room, and place my evidence box on the stage, and start heading for the bathroom.

I get to the intersection of the two big hallways in the main high school building. Now, mind you, it is dead quiet in this hallway - though I can hear some murmurings from back toward the speech room. I look down this highschool hallway, toward the restrooms, and it's just this long empty hallway and at the end, there is a single light on at the end. I don't know why, but there's something about that hallway - late at night - that just raises the hackles on the back of my neck. I decide that I can wait until Mom comes and gets me and takes me home because I REALLY don't want to go down this hallway. So, I start back toward the speechroom. I get half way back to the speech room, and my bladder lets me know that there is no freaking way that it is going to wait until I get home. So, I turn back.

I get back to the intersection. I take a deep breath and steel myself for the lonesome walk down the darkened hallway.

It's not a very long walk - relatively speaking - from the intersection to the men's room, but there's got to be some obscure law of metaphysics that time passes slowly when you're worried. A thousand stories flash through my mind. Stories that I've heard about what happens in this high school late at night. The rational part of my brain is telling me that they're just stories. Some of them aren't even well written. No, no one tied up some outlaws in the school's boiler room just after the civil war and left them to starve. The school isn't nearly that old. But supposedly, a janitor died in what is now the copy room a few decades back.

Again, I want you to understand, that at a guess, the walk from the intersection to the bathroom is maybe 30 feet, but as I carefully tread down this hallway, time seems to flow at a sloth's pace. I remember a story about how a stack of chairs randomly flew across a room at a student after hours in the band room which was just behind me. I'm not sure how much stock I put in this story, but your mind does funny things when you're alone in a darkened hallway at midnight in November.

Finally, I get to the door. I take a deep breath, and open the door. There's a window on the other end of the restroom, and it lets a little sliver of moonlight snake in. The bathroom lights are off, but by the light of this single beam of light, I see a figure. This figure is totally shrouded in shadow, and it is standing directly in front of the sink, and for a moment, I just stare at it, and then it notices me.

"Oh...!" I said a word that my mother wouldn't be very proud to hear me say.

The figure tilts its head, looks at me, and then utters a phrase that I will remember to my dying day:

"Ummmmmmmmmmm...... I'm telling Mrs. Smith!" and with that, Thomas bounded past me, down the hallway and back to the speech room in search of someone to tattle to.
 
2019-10-31 4:11:47 PM  
Same place as the story from above.

On the first floor of that place was a beautiful old 8x10 black and white picture of the house in an ornate old wooden frame. There was a light snow blanketing the house and surrounding bare trees. The picture was taken at night, but there was enough light to take the picture because every light in the house was on. There was also a pre-teen young lady pulling back the window sash and peering out the front dormer window (see pic above).

My friend researched the house and found this story:

At the start of walking his dog, a neighbor noticed some lights in the house were on. upon his return home, he noticed that all the lights in the house were on, as well as all the external lights. He knew the family that owned the home was away on vacation and decided to call the police. It had snowed lightly that day and there was a light coating of snow blanketing everything - roofs, trees, grass, driveways, etc. A policeman came and inspected that area. There were no signs of forced entry or broken windows and further, no tracks of any kind in or out of the house in the snow.

The house, with all the lights on, and the house and grounds being blanketed in snow looked fantastic and the neighbor decided to take a picture for the owners. Later, when the film was developed, he noticed the girl in the window pulling the sash back and peering out. When he showed the owners, the gasped and said the girl looked just like their daughter who'd died of sickness the year before.

I lived there for a couple of years and there were a few times when I came home to find every light, both inside and outside, on.
 
2019-10-31 4:15:09 PM  

RPG_Guy: in Oklahoma


Town of 2000 two hours from Bethany.  My old hometown, Cherokee, was even smaller than that.  May I ask what town yours was?
 
2019-10-31 4:25:51 PM  
This is completely true.

When the chairman of the department at one of the grad schools I went to moved to take the job he bought a house where some family members had been murdered. He even joked about what great deal he got on the house because if the murders. He also said that there was blood on the carpet when he first saw the place. It was a nice big house in a nice neighborhood (for that craphole town). It also had a swimming pool, but the backyard was basically facing an interstate.

Anyway, there were no ghosts or unexplained noises. But a couple of years after I was done with school there was a big car crash on the interstate almost directly behind his house. A couple of people were killed in the crash. They were members of the family that had been murdered in the house.
 
2019-10-31 4:26:22 PM  

meg12279: Honest Geologist: meg12279: We've had all sorts of experiences with my son's paternal grandfather, who died before he was born.  When my son was little he used to see him-he came back from Christmas at his grandmother's house one year and told me "I saw Grandpa! No one could see him but me, but he was happy!"

We've even had a medium describe his grandfather exactly, and he's described events in my son's life where his grandfather was around-these are times I don't even know about.  The medium told my son that his grandpa wanted him to try harder to make new friends-that too often my son goes off at recess and reads, or tries to talk to the teachers more than the other kids.

But the other night we were riding in the car, and my son wanted to play music on my phone.  He's got a playlist he likes, but he picked one he'd never played before-Illegal Smile, by John Prine.  He asked me what it was, and I said "Oh, it's an old song that your grandfather used to like.  It makes me think of him."  As we're driving something in me is saying "Don't look in the mirror".  I was convinced if i glanced back, I'd see his grandfather sitting there, beside my son.  I didn't say anything to my son about it.

So the song ends and a while later we get home, and as I'm helping my son out of the car, he says "When i played that song, I think Grandpa was sitting next to me."

Ghost grandpa's got good taste in music.

Something reassuring about these tales.

It is reassuring.  The medium also told me that my son and I find pennies all the time, and that he leaves him. Without fail, every time the man is on my mind, I'll find a penny.  And not just laying around like you always do-there will be a bright shiny one on a surface I just cleaned, so I know it wasn't there before.


My beloved labradoodle, the Dude, died suddenly when he was only 7 years old. Cancer out of the blue. Three days after I had him euthanized, I dreamed that I was lying in my bed (as I was) and the Dude was lying where he always used to lie on the foot of the bed. Dude said he was sorry he had to go. I said "I guess this is the only way we can be together now." He said something to agree, and I sat there and petted him and went into another dream. Two nights later, he was back, and told me he had to go, and he loved me.

I don't believe in ghosts or an afterlife, but I had those dreams that were exactly like being awake.

God, I miss the Dude. Such a good friend.

Fark user imageView Full Size
 
2019-10-31 4:31:31 PM  
True Story Bro:
Several years ago my husband (then boyfriend), a friend, and I were heading out to an SCA event out in the Bay Area. Sorta. It was off of some weird exits in the middle of nowhere, and thanks to some packing issues and things it was dark by the time we got to (what we tonight was) our exit, off of 880 to Old Calaveras Road. It was a twisting, windy, one-lane road, and this was the days before cheap GPS (or smartphones, just old Nokias), so we were valiantly trying to follow the printed instructions. (Also, f*ck you, MapQuest.)

At some point the trees got very tall and overgrown, and we began to see animals just chilling by the side of the road. Or the middle of it. Most wildlife will book it at the presence of a motor vehicle, but these farkers just watched us go by. Silently judging us. ...Okay, creepy. We're not superstitious or believe in supernatural weirdness, but something about this place just didn't seem right. Our friend had passed out for a nap in the backseat and she woke up because something felt off, too.

Then the radio shut off.

No static or fading or anything. Off.

F*ck it, nope. We pulled the fastest 3-point turn we had ever done and booked it the hell out of there. The radio came back on. A few minutes later the itchy, prickling feeling went away. We could see the sky again.

Apparently Old Calaveras Road crosses 880 like a badly stitched wound and we had taken the wrong exit. After getting the correctexit we proceeded to wend our way up a switchback road up the hill, nearly melting the damn brakes. (That Olds got put through a LOT during its lifetime.) We stopped at a gate, and wondered if we were in the right place, when some gigantic bloke of Italian descent, wearing black leather and fur, detached from the shadows to ask if we were here for the SCA event, and goddamn near got clocked or run over by my now-jumpy BF, who is 6'5 and built like an outhouse constructed of cement building materials, as it were. We went in, found a spot where we would camp, and parked the car. Achy from the trip, we got out and stretched-

And saw more stars than we'd ever seen before. In a bit of a bowl atop one of the hills/mountains in the Coastal Range this place blocked the city lights that normally erased the sky. We had never seen the Milky Way before, and constellations that previously been just a couple of points of light were now stellar portraits. Definitely worth the mortal terror we had experienced only a couple of hours before. :)
 
2019-10-31 4:39:31 PM  
This one time in 1991, I got married.

That's my scary story.
 
2019-10-31 4:39:34 PM  
I've been on Fark for 14 years and I'm just finding out this thread is a thing?

What is wrong with me?

/cool stories all
 
2019-10-31 4:40:46 PM  

meg12279: If I had gone when I started to, they would have hit me on the driver's side.  I can't imagine I'd have survived.


I'm way late to the party, but that story was very moving.

You also had that story about your friend's cabin that I CANNOT stop thinking about.


How many ghost stories do you have?!?
 
2019-10-31 4:43:19 PM  

Rev.K: I've been on Fark for 14 years and I'm just finding out this thread is a thing?

What is wrong with me?


Perhaps you were in a different timeline and have now crossed over? :)
 
2019-10-31 4:43:54 PM  

Rev.K: I've been on Fark for 14 years and I'm just finding out this thread is a thing?

What is wrong with me?

/cool stories all


Dude. I don't know if I'd admit that.
 
2019-10-31 4:47:16 PM  

a particular individual: My beloved labradoodle, the Dude, died suddenly when he was only 7 years old. Cancer out of the blue. Three days after I had him euthanized, I dreamed that I was lying in my bed (as I was) and the Dude was lying where he always used to lie on the foot of the bed. Dude said he was sorry he had to go. I said "I guess this is the only way we can be together now." He said something to agree, and I sat there and petted him and went into another dream. Two nights later, he was back, and told me he had to go, and he loved me.

I don't believe in ghosts or an afterlife, but I had those dreams that were exactly like being awake.



I had something like that happen years ago. We had lost our little doggie unexpectedly, and a couple nights later I dreamed I was in the same room where she had passed, looking out the window. Despite being a multi-story house, there was only light above - no ceiling, etc. but the walls were there. She appeared in the spot where she died and came trotting over to me, wagging her tail. I said to her in joyful disbelief "You're okay!", giving her a scritch on the head. She looked at me and then trotted back to the spot where she died and disappeared. At this time the light above went away and the ceiling was back. I woke up, then went back to sleep feeling very peaceful.

I assume it was my brain trying to find a way to accept that she was gone. It was a nice dream, though, and makes me tear up even now.
 
2019-10-31 4:52:04 PM  
Today at work I got a Facebook message from a name I didn't recognize. It read simply " Were you Tharkin on Fark?" Well yes, I was, and still am I guess though I probably haven't posted in most of a decade. That feeling of "oh no, what did I do?" was probably the spookiest thing that's happened to me today (so far!)

Turns out she was following up on a story I posted in this very thread like 7 or 8 years ago. Pretty cool!  I'm about to take the kids out for trick or treat, but I'll check in later to read up on everyone's spooky stories this year.
 
2019-10-31 4:53:57 PM  
There have been 3 separate occasions where I have been wrapping up a visit with someone I was close to and had a very clear and loud thought "You will not see this person again" in my head. All 3 times, the person has died some time later, but before I ever saw them again.

Admittedly, one was very old and ill, so that might not count, but the other 2 were young and healthy and there was no reason to think that.
 
2019-10-31 4:55:16 PM  
No Ghosts in here in SF. They can't afford the rent.
 
2019-10-31 4:59:01 PM  
When my son was 3, he had that hilarious toddler personality that combined a wild imagination with
inflexible, rabid enforcement of the facts he just made up.

One day he decided that he had his very own house, and it was a green one, and it was in Germany so we couldn't see it. No girlfriend in Canada, but he had a green house in Germany.  Months later, if we tweaked this even little a bit ("don't  you have a blue house in Germany?") he'd look at us like we were idiots, and patiently correct us.

Another time, after we watched The Motorcycle Diaries, he insisted that back when he was 18, he had a motorcycle too. His mother tried to tell him that he never was 18, but that was obviously a losing battle. It was his toddler fact, and he heard himself say it so it was unquestionably true.

He spent hours imitating his teacher in daycare, authoritatively lecturing his own reflection in his crib mirror (no longer using a crib, still using the mirror), pretending to read books to his "class" and confidently declaring ludicrous random facts about the human body or swords or whatever.

This was all hilarious and wonderful and fun, as everyone with a toddler knows.  But then I shared some of his stories with our neighbor. Our neighbor is in his 90s, actually fought in WWII, and is normally tough as nails.  If I don't shovel the snow early enough in the morning he'll come out and do it before I get a chance.

That day, however, he grew a bit pale and ... aged, I guess, looking more like a 90-year-old than usual.  He quietly told me that the previous owners of my house, who lived here most of their lives, did have a house in Germany, and they had a son who died in a motorcycle accident at 18.

Then he asked me if my kid was looking into mirrors a lot.

Why, I asked?  Because after their son died, the owners went off the reservation a bit.  The husband had a small stroke, and recovered but with a 180-degree change in his personality.  Afterwards he was a mean bastard in every way.  His wife sort of lost her marbles taking care of him, and she began this strange habit of staring into the mirror over the mantelpiece for hours on end, sometimes smiling or grimacing at it, sometimes launching into creepy conversations with it.

Once the neighbor paid a visit to check up on them---he was the only one who would, now that mean bastard husband was such a mean bastard.  Mean bastard husband told him to go to Hell, blamed him for his basement flooding (?), accused him of stealing things from his garage, etc.  Okay, have a nice day mean bastard husband. Then the neighbor checked how the wife was doing.  She was in her usual place staring at the mantle, and she  plainly said, "you have to murder him."

"Edna," he began, "I know things are tough right now."

"Yes, and her too. Both of them."  She was completely ignoring him, talking to the mirror.  "When you're older.  I told you this."

So now my neighbor has some freaky superstitious ideas about looking into mirrors and he made me promise to keep the boy away from them.  I was freaked out enough that I agreed. I still find him sometimes at the bathroom mirror, but he jumps away from it whenever he hears me coming.  Sometimes he'd look really guilty, some other times he'd just be sad and want to hug me for a few hours.
 
2019-10-31 5:00:02 PM  
Well embedding seems to be broken for YouTube today but.....
HAPPY HAPPY HALLOWEEN HALLOWEEN HALLOWEEN
HAPPY HAPPY HALLOWEEN
SILVER SHAMROCK

https://youtu.be/hIHUv2ooG38
 
2019-10-31 5:04:04 PM  

Tharkin: Today at work I got a Facebook message from a name I didn't recognize. It read simply " Were you Tharkin on Fark?" Well yes, I was, and still am I guess though I probably haven't posted in most of a decade. That feeling of "oh no, what did I do?" was probably the spookiest thing that's happened to me today (so far!)

Turns out she was following up on a story I posted in this very thread like 7 or 8 years ago. Pretty cool!  I'm about to take the kids out for trick or treat, but I'll check in later to read up on everyone's spooky stories this year.


Hey! I actually got worried about you after your Halloween story. You said you were going back the next day, and that was it. I even posted a thread asking after you.

Your story reminded me a lot of Stephen King, especially Dream Catcher. Which was a terrible book. But your story creeped me the fark out.
 
2019-10-31 5:09:45 PM  
So, I'm a skeptic but here's a run down of thing I can explain, all from one place.

Late 80's-90's, my mom was plant nurse at Baker Furniture in Grand Rapids. This also meant she was HR, secretary or whatever the boss wanted. He was generous in that she could work all the OT she wanted but her being a single mom, that meant a lot of times I was there with her at night. It was cool for me because I got 5 floors of factory to run wild in. Most the time it was just skateboarding around the place (you can find some CRAZY lines in a place like that). Anyway... the first one I remember. I was in the "planing" room. Swore I could hear someone walking on the next level (old, wood floors). Sat there for a few and went back to doing my thing. Next thing I know, it sounds like a steamroller going across the floor above me. Made the lights shake and all. I ran up front and tell my mom who looks at the security system and says "the alarms are on, nothing set off motion sensors, doors never opened, you're dreaming. We ended up walking up there and nothing of note out of place.
2nd time. We were actually on our way out. She got the alarm set and as we walked to the door, it let out the alarm for "door open". She checked it and it was the break room which was pretty much the center of the factory. She checks the controls and it shows the door as closed. We go through the same process and the same thing happens, only the door on the opposite side of the break room. She gets annoyed and we head up there to check doors. Get in the old service elevator and half-way up, it stops with a "door open" warning. Obviously, it's not. We're looking at it. About 30 seconds later, warning light goes off and we can move again. We finally get up there and find both doors are closed but the sink faucet is running full blast. Went back down and tried to leave... "door open" alarm at the 1st break room door again. We had to go back 5x before the alarm finally set and we left. Never an open door and it kept changing between the two.
Last, on the planet floor again, started seeing "smoke" at the south end of the building and it smelled BAD! Like burning shiat. Run up and tell mom again. She freaks a little this time because it wouldn't be the first really old furniture factory to burn down. She checks the alarms, no fire. We walk out onto the floor and she says "we gotta figure out where it is, I smell it too".
We checked EVERYWHERE but the only place you could really smell smoke was in that one area. The area in question was the old boiler/incinerator for the plant. At that point it had been decommissioned for probably 25 yrs but if you went in that room, your eyes burned the air was so thick. I always thought it was a cool room so I'd spent a ton of time there. Never experienced anything like it before or after.

/ I know... CSB.
 
2019-10-31 5:10:06 PM  
This is not a ghost story, nor is it "scary" in the traditional sense, but its something I experienced onetime that I couldn't explain, and have wondered for a long time whether it may have been supernatural/cryptozoological in nature. This story contains no jump scares or humanoid figures, but it illustrates one of my favorite subjects of the unexplained: that mankind is said to know more about the surface of distant planets than we do about the deep ocean. And the ocean can be weird as shiat!

In the summer of 2006 I was studying abroad in England. We had a few days off and decided to take a side trip to Amsterdam to do, uh, the things that American college students used to do in Amsterdam; this required an overnight ride on a massive cruise ferry called the Pride of Hull from Hull, England, to Rotterdam, Netherlands. It was a big, beautiful ship, as nice as a cruise ship with restaurants, bars, lounges, private staterooms, etc. There were over a thousand passengers and crew onboard, welt Hull in the late afternoon.

It was a beautiful summer evening, strangely warm for the North Sea but windy as hell: the sea was choppy and full of white-caps glowing greenish in the light of the setting Sun. My group holed up at the bar and ordered drinks, after one or two ales I excused myself to the outside deck to smoke a cigarette. Now - remember we were going TO Amsterdam, not FROM; I swear I was smoking nothing more than good old harmless Marlboro tobacco!

Anyways, I walked out onto the outer deck and that's when I saw one of the most bizarre things Ive ever seen. Off the Port side, about even with the ship there was a very heavy wake in the water - WITH NO VISIBLE SOURCE AT ALL! Yup: a classic Kelvin wake pattern just randomly kicked up in the middle of the sea!

I grew up in the Chesapeake region - I know how boats work, It looked like a large watercraft of some sort was underway a few hundred yards off our port: a large Chevron-shaped wave pattern moved abreast of us at roughly the same speed. It was even kicking up a vortex of bubbles behind it - but not a thing was visible at the vertex that could explain its existence.

Other people saw it too: I saw a few passengers point it out to others. Some officers were visible on the flying bridge with binoculars, looking at it, but they were too far away to get a good look at their faces to discern any concern or apprehension. One appeared to be talking into a cellphone or walkie-talkie.

I watched it for about ten minutes as it appeared to slow and fall back behind us, eventually disappearing on the horizon. The Officers upstairs never took their binoculars off of it. At no point was I ever concerned, just mesmerized: was it something under the surface? It was way too big and fast to be a whale. Some kind of submarine? It would be highly unprofessional and dangerous for a sub to get that close to a passenger ship with so many people on board. Was it some kind of natural phenomenon? A confluence of several waves? An underwater sea vent? To this day I have never seen or heard of anything that even remotely resembles what I saw.

The ocean holds more mysteries than I think we even realize.
 
2019-10-31 5:17:20 PM  
As a board certified wet blanket atheist (which makes me the athiest), here's a couple stories.

When I was a teenager, my grandparents lived out on Puget Sound, south of Seattle. They lived just a 5 minutes walk from the rocky beach. It really was a great spot, though being from Texas I thought it was kinda chilly. Anyway, there was a burned down boat house not too fr up the beach. We were warned not to go out on the remains - they were unstable and a girl had already died there.

So first thing I do is go out and explore the remains. It was more walking on top than looking in. You could see through to the water, though. Interesting and exciting. So I happen to look down and I see a head. There's long hair swirling in the water from the action of the waves, which are pretty gentle there. A jerk back, of course, and when I look again, nothing is there.

So of course, my reaction is to look around and wonder if someone's trying to pull something. My brother is poking at something that had washed up a little ways away and there's nobody else around. So I look back and now there's not just a head. I can see her face. It's a young woman. Probably about my age. And... well... dead. No way that she's alive. But she looks peaceful - eyes closed, mouth gentle.

This, of course, freaks me the hell out. And it's even worse because she wasn't there for a moment. So I yell for my brother, who starts to come over. When I look back, her eyes are open and she's no longer peaceful. Her eyes are open, looking right at me, and she's snarling.

So I ske-farking-daddle. I meet my brother at the edge and tell him that it started to shiat under me. No way I'm telling him anything that risks him going to look. Never went back up on those remains again. No way in hell.

------------------------

A shorter one, now. When my son had just moved from his little bassinet by our bed to his crib in his own room, I woke up one night terrified. I knew something was wrong with him. So I hurry over to his room - it takes only 6 steps from my bedside to his if I'm hauling ass. I look down and the crib is full of gore. It's horrible. Blood all over. He's... open.

I shout something and look back for my wife. When I look back, he's fine, except for the fact that his dad just woke him up by standing over his bed screaming like an idiot.

----------------------

Wet blanket time. I did go back UNDER the boat house at low tide. There was stringy seaweed and a contour on the bottom that would make the water swirl like it was going around something, even without a rock right there. I saw seaweed and my imagination did the rest. Also, my grandfather made up the death to try to keep us off the remains.

And for the second, I was badly sleep deprived. That'll do all kinds of things to you.

Still, just because there's an explanation doesn't mean it wasn't scary.
 
2019-10-31 5:23:29 PM  

Rev.K: I've been on Fark for 14 years and I'm just finding out this thread is a thing?

What is wrong with me?

/cool stories all


The weird thing is I thought you were joking because I thought I'd seen you here every year.
I thought you had even posted stories.
I even went to the last few year's threads and did a search for your name and didn't find you.
I guess I was in a different timeline too.
 
2019-10-31 5:28:18 PM  

Tonto's Expanding Headband: This is completely true.

When the chairman of the department at one of the grad schools I went to moved to take the job he bought a house where some family members had been murdered. He even joked about what great deal he got on the house because if the murders. He also said that there was blood on the carpet when he first saw the place. It was a nice big house in a nice neighborhood (for that craphole town). It also had a swimming pool, but the backyard was basically facing an interstate.

Anyway, there were no ghosts or unexplained noises. But a couple of years after I was done with school there was a big car crash on the interstate almost directly behind his house. A couple of people were killed in the crash. They were members of the family that had been murdered in the house.


Wait...what? So they were murdered AND died in a car accident? That family has some crappy luck.

(Yeah, yeah...pretty sure you meant they were related to the people who'd been murdered.)
 
2019-10-31 5:50:38 PM  

Lord of the Highway: I had a weird thing happen to me last year.  My lifelong friend took his own life at the end of June 2018.  No one saw it coming, from the outside he had a great life... good job, wonderful family, usually upbeat and positive, so it was a serious shock to all of us that were close to him and it was heart wrenching to learn he had been hiding his depression from all of us for so long.  It hit me pretty hard, he was pretty close to a brother to me.

A few months after he died I was sitting at the bar of a local dive getting some lunch and chatting with the bartender who I knew pretty well.  She started telling me about how things have gotten weird with her room mate lately and that the gal was wigging out about this new guy the bartender was dating and making all kinds of weird threats about him infringing on their life, including a threat that she would take her own life if things didn't change.  I told her that was all pretty farked up but don't dismiss her threat of suicide.  I opened up to her about my own friend and how difficult it was when he actually did the deed.  It was the first time I talked about it to anyone aside from my buddy's widow, his mom and my own wife.  I got a little emotional talking to the bartender about it.

After lunch I headed to the grocery store to stock up for the week.  I was standing in line waiting to check out and pulled out my phone to see if another of my friends had texted me, since we were chatting about stuff earlier that day.  There was nothing on the phone so I turned it off and put it in the front pocket of my shorts, got through the line and headed back home with the groceries.

I decided to check my phone again before I unloaded the car and the screen was open to Google street view and it showed the picture of my deceased friend's house.  I though, ok, that is weird and closed the app and saw my contacts were open as well, with his contact info displayed.  I had a bit of a WTF moment.  When my phone is off there is no way ...


Chills.
 
2019-10-31 5:51:44 PM  

hiredgoonz: This is all true, happened before the 2017 scary story thread, decided to write it down, oh, about 30 minutes ago, so forgive the quality...

And if anyone has any better explanations, I'd love to hear them.


So, two summers ago, it's hot as balls, but my then wife wants to walk the dog and we need stuff at the grocery store. Since I was not at all thrilled at the concept of walking the dog for a third time that day (did I mention that it was hot as balls?), she suggests I drop her off at the end of a street that looks like it should be the beginning of a trail (there are a LOT of trails here) but is closed to vehicle traffic, hit the grocery store, then pick her up where I dropped her off.

Worst case scenario, this road, or trail, or whatever, ends in something impassable and she walks 100 yards to a trail we know. It's not the Dark Ages, we have cell phones, we'll figure it out.

Now, we've been down this road a million times, but, well, it ends with a large gate and some rather excessive, in my opinion, signage. "Do not enter, dead end, road closed," etc.

Cool, I get to hang out in the AC'ed environment of the grocery store for about 30 minutes, then get back into the AC'ed environment of the car to pick her up.

The look on her face when she gets in the car is hard to describe...wonder, confusion, sense of mystery? Maybe all of that, plus something I couldn't put my finger on at the time. Long story made short, she insists I walk this trail with her.

Since it's hot as balls here until nearly Halloween, it's some time before I make good on my "promise." But I do, eventually, keep my word, and we take the dog for a stroll.

Just past the crazy signage is a freshly paved road. Fire hydrants with fresh, glistening orange paint line both sides of what appeared to be a nature trail, but is actually a road in better condition than the ones I'm forced to drive on every day, even just outside my driveway.

It was farking weird. Why is this road, out of all the roads around here, in goddamn perfect condition? Why are there fire hydrants every 20 feet, and why do they look old, but also like they were painted last week?

Whole thing just felt like a dream, the broad strokes were within the realm of reality, but the details were a biatch. It all just felt off...

Turns out, that road used to connect to a road on the other side of the river. Bridge washed out in 1972 during Hurricane Agnes. And that all makes sense, with regard to why the road is there, but not with regard to it's state of maintenance.

I may be paranoid, I started studying Russian during the Cold War and was a Russian linguist in the USMC, but it seems to me that I live next to some sort of "depot" or staging area for the weapons of war in the event of the Cold War turning hot.

The real question, in the unlikely event that I'm right, is: where is the rest of it?


When Streets gets a work order to repave a road, Streets repaves a road.  Public sector will do whatever they get in a work order, regardless of location.
 
2019-10-31 6:04:39 PM  

Xcott: His wife sort of lost her marbles taking care of him, and she began this strange habit of staring into the mirror over the mantelpiece for hours on end, sometimes smiling or grimacing at it, sometimes launching into creepy conversations with it.


I have an modest addendum to this:  that wonderfully creepy fireplace has a 100-year-old coal-burning insert, all cast iron and infernal as the dickens, and I finally managed to remove an iron panel that will let a chimney sweep clean the flue for the first time since we bought the house.

Removing 100-year-old screws and nuts, rusted and covered with soot and creosote, from inside a fireplace insert.  Nuts I could not see, and could barely even reach (this is Fark, I'm sure lots of people will sympathize.)  That sucked, but I managed after about a week of struggling with different ideas.  Now I'm sitting back with a glass of Tullamore that I totally farking earned.

And just now, waiting in the parlor to give out candy, I realize just how many insanely creepy noises that thing makes when the flue is open.  I was just sitting on the stairs by the mantle to use a nearby outlet, but I had to go somewhere else because it unnerved me how much it sounded like something moaning or rattling just upstairs.

Hold on,
 
2019-10-31 6:13:39 PM  

Texas Gabe: mikaloyd: Pass.
Too many wet blanket atheists in here to share my ghost or UFO tales again

I've said it before and I'll say it again - Fark needs a UFO story thread just like the spooky story thread.

Let Farkers tell their stories and let us all decide for ourselves. Just like with the spooky story thread, whether the tales are real or not, they would still be intriguing and entertaining.


UFO and unexplained paranormal activity are arguably related. Go for it.
 
2019-10-31 6:29:00 PM  
I used to drive tractor trailer for a large 'salty snack' company. I delivered to the guys who deliver the stuff to the stores.

So I catch a run I've never done before. Up through Western Massachusetts and into the sticks Vermont. I start at midnight, knock out Massachusetts and head for Vermont. The place I'm delivering to is a huge building. Paperwork says how to get inside and that I should back the trailer into the building to make it easier. As I'm unlocking everything I notice that the part of the building not being used for chip storage used to be a crematorium. Still has faded signs and stuff. So I back the truck in and start the delivery.

After about five trips in with a hand truck full of chips, I start hearing bangs and slamming noises coming from the other part of the building. It's winter so I am trying to blow it off as the wind in an old building. As I keep working I still hear the noise. It's loud, and while I'm a pretty brave dude I'm starting to get a little spooked.

Leave the hand truck and start walking to the other part of the building. There is a waist high wall separating the two sides. I get to the wall and lean in, trying to see what I could see. Whole area is dark as fark.

And then the horse that is stabled there leans over and snuffles my hair. Damn near pissed myself and died of a heart attack.
 
2019-10-31 6:29:34 PM  

hiredgoonz: ObscureNameHere: Jerseysteve22: What happened to the guy from Maine who went into the woods to investigate something weird? Is he still around? I forgot what year that story was from. 2012ish?

Never posted a follow-up as far as I know. Also, don't think that login showed up ever again in a thread.

Well, it was either true and something bad happened, or he was damn committed to the act, excellent story either way:

https://www.fark.com/comments/7408886/​80387820#c80387820

Username was Tharkin, had been around five years before that story.


He posted a second story later in the thread. Another poster was concerned that they'd not hear from Tharkin again...
 
2019-10-31 6:37:44 PM  

Walker: Well embedding seems to be broken for YouTube today but.....
HAPPY HAPPY HALLOWEEN HALLOWEEN HALLOWEEN
HAPPY HAPPY HALLOWEEN
SILVER SHAMROCK

https://youtu.be/hIHUv2ooG38


Hah, just finished watching Season of the Witch
 
2019-10-31 6:38:08 PM  

rebelyell2006: hiredgoonz: This is all true, happened before the 2017 scary story thread, decided to write it down, oh, about 30 minutes ago, so forgive the quality...

And if anyone has any better explanations, I'd love to hear them.


So, two summers ago, it's hot as balls, but my then wife wants to walk the dog and we need stuff at the grocery store. Since I was not at all thrilled at the concept of walking the dog for a third time that day (did I mention that it was hot as balls?), she suggests I drop her off at the end of a street that looks like it should be the beginning of a trail (there are a LOT of trails here) but is closed to vehicle traffic, hit the grocery store, then pick her up where I dropped her off.

Worst case scenario, this road, or trail, or whatever, ends in something impassable and she walks 100 yards to a trail we know. It's not the Dark Ages, we have cell phones, we'll figure it out.

Now, we've been down this road a million times, but, well, it ends with a large gate and some rather excessive, in my opinion, signage. "Do not enter, dead end, road closed," etc.

Cool, I get to hang out in the AC'ed environment of the grocery store for about 30 minutes, then get back into the AC'ed environment of the car to pick her up.

The look on her face when she gets in the car is hard to describe...wonder, confusion, sense of mystery? Maybe all of that, plus something I couldn't put my finger on at the time. Long story made short, she insists I walk this trail with her.

Since it's hot as balls here until nearly Halloween, it's some time before I make good on my "promise." But I do, eventually, keep my word, and we take the dog for a stroll.

Just past the crazy signage is a freshly paved road. Fire hydrants with fresh, glistening orange paint line both sides of what appeared to be a nature trail, but is actually a road in better condition than the ones I'm forced to drive on every day, even just outside my driveway.

It was farking weird. Why is this road, out of all the roads around here, in goddamn perfect condition? Why are there fire hydrants every 20 feet, and why do they look old, but also like they were painted last week?

Whole thing just felt like a dream, the broad strokes were within the realm of reality, but the details were a biatch. It all just felt off...

Turns out, that road used to connect to a road on the other side of the river. Bridge washed out in 1972 during Hurricane Agnes. And that all makes sense, with regard to why the road is there, but not with regard to it's state of maintenance.

I may be paranoid, I started studying Russian during the Cold War and was a Russian linguist in the USMC, but it seems to me that I live next to some sort of "depot" or staging area for the weapons of war in the event of the Cold War turning hot.

The real question, in the unlikely event that I'm right, is: where is the rest of it?

When Streets gets a work order to repave a road, Streets repaves a road.  Public sector will do whatever they get in a work order, regardless of location.


Sure, I get that part of it, it's just that this road hadn't been open to traffic for over four decades.

As inept as I know government bureaucracies to be, that's a little tough to swallow as an explanation, "yeah boss, we got an order to resurface and pave this road," that no one has used since before I was born.
 
2019-10-31 6:38:28 PM  
Coming from an atheist

Setting:  Like '96-'97 in a suburb of Dayton Ohio.  Age 16-17 I was driving the future Mrs. Joe home at about 2 in the morning in my Plymouth Reliant (bench seats in the front of a car....SPOOKY). We were driving in a residential housing unit with large plots of land and spaced out house.  No street lights the only real illumination was the lights from my car.

We saw a young woman, maybe late teens early twenties strolling slowly in the middle of the road..  She had on a long flowing white dress with frills.  Her face was white, like Kabuki theater ivory white.  She stopped moving when the headlights hid her.  I stopped the car about 15 feet away. She turned around and faced the car. Now when i say i saw her, i don't mean out of the corner of my eye, or she was in any why insubstantial.  Me and the future wife both clearly saw her, and looked at each other in confusion. Mrs. Joe got scared and said "Lets go NOW".  So i drove around her.

My guess was a bored teenage girl who was out messing with people, but we did not stop to find out.
 
2019-10-31 6:55:38 PM  

hiredgoonz: rebelyell2006: hiredgoonz: This is all true, happened before the 2017 scary story thread, decided to write it down, oh, about 30 minutes ago, so forgive the quality...

And if anyone has any better explanations, I'd love to hear them.


So, two summers ago, it's hot as balls, but my then wife wants to walk the dog and we need stuff at the grocery store. Since I was not at all thrilled at the concept of walking the dog for a third time that day (did I mention that it was hot as balls?), she suggests I drop her off at the end of a street that looks like it should be the beginning of a trail (there are a LOT of trails here) but is closed to vehicle traffic, hit the grocery store, then pick her up where I dropped her off.

Worst case scenario, this road, or trail, or whatever, ends in something impassable and she walks 100 yards to a trail we know. It's not the Dark Ages, we have cell phones, we'll figure it out.

Now, we've been down this road a million times, but, well, it ends with a large gate and some rather excessive, in my opinion, signage. "Do not enter, dead end, road closed," etc.

Cool, I get to hang out in the AC'ed environment of the grocery store for about 30 minutes, then get back into the AC'ed environment of the car to pick her up.

The look on her face when she gets in the car is hard to describe...wonder, confusion, sense of mystery? Maybe all of that, plus something I couldn't put my finger on at the time. Long story made short, she insists I walk this trail with her.

Since it's hot as balls here until nearly Halloween, it's some time before I make good on my "promise." But I do, eventually, keep my word, and we take the dog for a stroll.

Just past the crazy signage is a freshly paved road. Fire hydrants with fresh, glistening orange paint line both sides of what appeared to be a nature trail, but is actually a road in better condition than the ones I'm forced to drive on every day, even just outside my driveway.

It was farking weird. Why is this road, out of all the roads around here, in goddamn perfect condition? Why are there fire hydrants every 20 feet, and why do they look old, but also like they were painted last week?

Whole thing just felt like a dream, the broad strokes were within the realm of reality, but the details were a biatch. It all just felt off...

Turns out, that road used to connect to a road on the other side of the river. Bridge washed out in 1972 during Hurricane Agnes. And that all makes sense, with regard to why the road is there, but not with regard to it's state of maintenance.

I may be paranoid, I started studying Russian during the Cold War and was a Russian linguist in the USMC, but it seems to me that I live next to some sort of "depot" or staging area for the weapons of war in the event of the Cold War turning hot.

The real question, in the unlikely event that I'm right, is: where is the rest of it?

When Streets gets a work order to repave a road, Streets repaves a road.  Public sector will do whatever they get in a work order, regardless of location.

Sure, I get that part of it, it's just that this road hadn't been open to traffic for over four decades.

As inept as I know government bureaucracies to be, that's a little tough to swallow as an explanation, "yeah boss, we got an order to resurface and pave this road," that no one has used since before I was born.


Take it from someone who has worked in small municipalities in the past, there's something going on there.  Maybe a city councilor owns that area, and pressured Streets to take care of it in the hope that eventually the state will rebuild the bridge, opening it up to development as residential.
 
2019-10-31 6:55:45 PM  

Witchyman: I used to drive tractor trailer for a large 'salty snack' company. I delivered to the guys who deliver the stuff to the stores.

So I catch a run I've never done before. Up through Western Massachusetts and into the sticks Vermont. I start at midnight, knock out Massachusetts and head for Vermont. The place I'm delivering to is a huge building. Paperwork says how to get inside and that I should back the trailer into the building to make it easier. As I'm unlocking everything I notice that the part of the building not being used for chip storage used to be a crematorium. Still has faded signs and stuff. So I back the truck in and start the delivery.

After about five trips in with a hand truck full of chips, I start hearing bangs and slamming noises coming from the other part of the building. It's winter so I am trying to blow it off as the wind in an old building. As I keep working I still hear the noise. It's loud, and while I'm a pretty brave dude I'm starting to get a little spooked.

Leave the hand truck and start walking to the other part of the building. There is a waist high wall separating the two sides. I get to the wall and lean in, trying to see what I could see. Whole area is dark as fark.

And then the horse that is stabled there leans over and snuffles my hair. Damn near pissed myself and died of a heart attack.


Ha!  That's a great story.   Poor horse was probably just lonely.
 
2019-10-31 7:01:07 PM  

SomeFarkinFarmgirl: White women abound everywhere in Iowa and many are generally frightening under most circumstances


Nice
 
2019-10-31 7:03:03 PM  

rebelyell2006: hiredgoonz: rebelyell2006: hiredgoonz: This is all true, happened before the 2017 scary story thread, decided to write it down, oh, about 30 minutes ago, so forgive the quality...

And if anyone has any better explanations, I'd love to hear them.


So, two summers ago, it's hot as balls, but my then wife wants to walk the dog and we need stuff at the grocery store. Since I was not at all thrilled at the concept of walking the dog for a third time that day (did I mention that it was hot as balls?), she suggests I drop her off at the end of a street that looks like it should be the beginning of a trail (there are a LOT of trails here) but is closed to vehicle traffic, hit the grocery store, then pick her up where I dropped her off.

Worst case scenario, this road, or trail, or whatever, ends in something impassable and she walks 100 yards to a trail we know. It's not the Dark Ages, we have cell phones, we'll figure it out.

Now, we've been down this road a million times, but, well, it ends with a large gate and some rather excessive, in my opinion, signage. "Do not enter, dead end, road closed," etc.

Cool, I get to hang out in the AC'ed environment of the grocery store for about 30 minutes, then get back into the AC'ed environment of the car to pick her up.

The look on her face when she gets in the car is hard to describe...wonder, confusion, sense of mystery? Maybe all of that, plus something I couldn't put my finger on at the time. Long story made short, she insists I walk this trail with her.

Since it's hot as balls here until nearly Halloween, it's some time before I make good on my "promise." But I do, eventually, keep my word, and we take the dog for a stroll.

Just past the crazy signage is a freshly paved road. Fire hydrants with fresh, glistening orange paint line both sides of what appeared to be a nature trail, but is actually a road in better condition than the ones I'm forced to drive on every day, even just outside my driveway.

It was farking weird. Why is this road, out of all the roads around here, in goddamn perfect condition? Why are there fire hydrants every 20 feet, and why do they look old, but also like they were painted last week?

Whole thing just felt like a dream, the broad strokes were within the realm of reality, but the details were a biatch. It all just felt off...

Turns out, that road used to connect to a road on the other side of the river. Bridge washed out in 1972 during Hurricane Agnes. And that all makes sense, with regard to why the road is there, but not with regard to it's state of maintenance.

I may be paranoid, I started studying Russian during the Cold War and was a Russian linguist in the USMC, but it seems to me that I live next to some sort of "depot" or staging area for the weapons of war in the event of the Cold War turning hot.

The real question, in the unlikely event that I'm right, is: where is the rest of it?

When Streets gets a work order to repave a road, Streets repaves a road.  Public sector will do whatever they get in a work order, regardless of location.

Sure, I get that part of it, it's just that this road hadn't been open to traffic for over four decades.

As inept as I know government bureaucracies to be, that's a little tough to swallow as an explanation, "yeah boss, we got an order to resurface and pave this road," that no one has used since before I was born.

Take it from someone who has worked in small municipalities in the past, there's something going on there.  Maybe a city councilor owns that area, and pressured Streets to take care of it in the hope that eventually the state will rebuild the bridge, opening it up to development as residential.


And yet another voice of reason...

(Just trying to get in the Halloween mood, grumble, grumble...)

In any other place I've lived, I'd agree with you, 100%. Hell, coming across this shiat in any other place I've lived, I'd have never posted the story

Cause it would have seemed mundane.

But given where this is, the ownership of the land, and the "facilities" that are nearby, something is up.

You don't have to believe me, I probably wouldn't, but I've lived here for over 20 years, something is rotten in Denmark...and here...
 
2019-10-31 7:03:23 PM  
 
2019-10-31 7:03:33 PM  

SansNeural: RPG_Guy: in Oklahoma

Town of 2000 two hours from Bethany.  My old hometown, Cherokee, was even smaller than that.  May I ask what town yours was?


I wanna share it. I really do, but my mommy told me to never tell strangers on the internet where I live(d).
 
2019-10-31 7:15:12 PM  
In 2008 I married a woman who ended up being a co-dependent narcissistic sociopath.  The end.

/Well, we separated at the end of '09 and finalized the divorce in '11, so I guess it has a happy ending.
 
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