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(Fark)   Gather round, Farkers, it's time for Fark's 18th 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
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743 clicks; posted to Main » and Discussion » on 31 Oct 2021 at 5:00 AM (28 weeks ago)   |   Favorite    |   share:  Share on Twitter share via Email Share on Facebook



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2021-10-30 11:07:57 PM  
Here are all the Halloween spooky story threads from the last 17 years:

2004   2005   2006   2007
2008   2009   2010   2011
2012   2013   2014   2015
2016   2017   2018   2019
2020
 
2021-10-30 11:11:16 PM  
I look forward to this thread every year!
 
2021-10-30 11:14:20 PM  
I live next door to the site of Captain Phillips' Massacre
They say this mountain is haunted.
But I walk alone at night on my trails.
We have bear and Bob cat. Coyote and Fisher cats.
It isn't haunted.
But the stories I hear.
The guy who owned the farm house down the road killed himself with a pistol shot through his head, from below his jaw.
I used to live in the house, growing up, and the bullet hole in the beadboard ceiling wad covered with a tin can lid and some nails and paint.
The original house is log, and got built around it.
They say he haunts it.
I doubt it.
The red neck down the street had two ex wife's buried in the yard outside his single wide.
Yeah. Not haunted.
But the price of chicken necks is going up and that scares me.
I'm only here for the spooky tales.
Oh, and I've been dead for 3 years now.
Happy Halloween.
 
2021-10-30 11:24:35 PM  
Can we throw everyone who brings up politics into the Pit of Death? Asking for a friend.
 
2021-10-30 11:27:22 PM  

Non Sequitur Man: Can we throw everyone who brings up politics into the Pit of Death? Asking for a friend.


You just brought it up...
 
2021-10-30 11:30:45 PM  
I've been talking to ghosts this weekend. But they're not there. And these people are still alive.

I've decided I need more sleep.

Or less.
 
2021-10-30 11:33:00 PM  
Went to some training out in Santa Clara. Stayed in a BnB in Milpitas. The owner said they they had reports of a "other earthly plane being" at times before I finished the reservation. Ok whatever.

The first night I hear a knock on the door and there's a tall pale almost ashy man that asks me if everything is fine. I tell him it's all good.

The second night the same tall pale man knocks again and asks if everything is alright but seems to have much more information he wants to talk about including my trip in the afternoon up in the Blue Oak. No one there knew where I went on my own time.

I asked at the desk about the tall pale dude when checking out and was told "Oh. That's our ghost. Did you see him?"

Pretty weird
 
2021-10-30 11:39:52 PM  

lindalouwho: Non Sequitur Man: Can we throw everyone who brings up politics into the Pit of Death? Asking for a friend.

You just brought it up...


In to the pit with you, NSM! :D
 
2021-10-30 11:40:44 PM  

lindalouwho: Non Sequitur Man: Can we throw everyone who brings up politics into the Pit of Death? Asking for a friend.

You just brought it up...


Pit of Death!
 
2021-10-30 11:46:49 PM  
When I was about 6, I got my own room, after sharing with my brother forever.

That summer, I started hearing a tapping at the window every night. It stopped if I opened the window but started again if I closed it. This went on for months, but finally stoped.

I also saw "shadow people" a lot in that room.

/currently a rationalist, but know weird shiat is all around me.
 
2021-10-31 12:06:07 AM  
Some of us like dungeons.
 
2021-10-31 12:09:45 AM  
I don't think I mentioned this previously, but we have a 100-ish year-old house, and a while back we remodeled our walk-up attic into a nice big space with an office nook, a play nook/toy hoard, spare bedroom, sitting area etc.  One day a few years ago we're all hanging out in the attic goofing around and my son, about 8, freezes for a moment.  Then he says he just saw a woman on the stairs coming up, who wasn't there anymore.

This area has a rich history including quite a bit of ghost stories.  I just picked up a book of ghost stories by a local author, and in the first chapter is a picture of the antique wooden carousel in the park outside.  The book says it's reputed to be haunted by the ghost of Rod Serling (who grew up a few blocks away, and wrote at least one episode inspired by that park.)  It occurred to me that my son can see that carousel right out his window, and I could just, you know, leave that book lying around on a nightstand or something, but my wife told me no.
 
2021-10-31 12:10:04 AM  
A couple of days ago, I mailed this letter to:

Whoever lives at
█ █ █  NW 49th St.
Oklahoma City, OK 73118

Dear stranger:

Hi. My name is Adam. I used to live in your house. This letter is about that. Maybe you'll find this interesting, or maybe you'll think I'm weird, and you'll want to have nothing to do with what follows. I understand.

In 1976, my family moved from where you are to where I am, in Montana. I left something behind that is probably still there, unless major renovations have taken place. It's a small plastic pumpkin inside the wall that separates the garage from the laundry room. Maybe it's still a laundry room. You probably know which room I'm talking about. It's sunny and looks over the back patio. The wall between that room and the garage is where my lost treasure is buried. Perhaps you can retrieve it for me. Let me explain.

When I was about six, I was trespassing in your neighbor's back yard. They were the Wileys, a kind, elderly couple with grown children in places I never learned. They were like everyone's grandma and grandpa. So, when I say I was trespassing in their yard, I mean they could have called the cops on me, but that would have been unlike them. They'd more likely have offered me lemonade.

Under the trees that separated their yard from ours, half-buried in the soil, left over from a Halloween years prior, was a plastic pumpkin the size of my fist. (That's my fist today, 50 years later, not the puppy fist I clenched back then.)  The pumpkin was white on the top, where the sun had bleached it. Orange on the bottom, where the dirt had kept it fresh.

It enchanted me. It was like a misplaced piece of Halloween that could keep my mental trick-or-treat bag full till the real thing came along. So I did a theft. I knew it. No excusing it. I stole it. I stole that sun-bleached plastic pumpkin from their back yard, knowing full well that if I'd asked for it, they'd have given it to me, and a glass of lemonade. Maybe that's why I didn't ask. Lemonade would have diluted the thrill.

This is where your house comes in. Back in those days--let's say, 1970--the room above the garage was our (and by "our" I mean my brother's and my) playroom. A sturdy wooden ladder, snug against the red brick wall, above a work bench, led to a hole in the ceiling. Beyond that hole was the playroom. Clubhouse. Attic. Whatever. Mom and Dad let us go up there, so we did, and we made it ours.

At the top of the ladder was the top of the wall. Hollow, red, ceramic brick. Note that word "hollow." That's why the pumpkin is in there. Whoever built the wall didn't think it was important to fill the bricks with concrete, as intended. They were left empty. Anything could fall in there, including the pumpkin that I hadn't even had time to appreciate yet. I got to the top of that ladder, set the pumpkin on it, and then accidentally knocked it down into the inexplicably hollow wall.

I got a flashlight. I could see it down there. At the age of six, I didn't have the know-how to retrieve it. Even if I'd had the skills, I wouldn't have had the courage to ask someone to help me retrieve my purloined pumpkin.

Enough is enough, I say. I have the courage, the agency, the wherewithal to finally summon help. I want that pumpkin, dammit. The Wileys and the statute of limitations are long expired, and that pumpkin is still there. With your help, it will be in my hands soon.

Its retrieval will require some specialized equipment. This is not an endeavor to be undertaken lightly. So, with your go-ahead, I'd like to send you a kit with diagrams and instructions for safely procuring my long-lost loot. Unless you want to bash in the wall with a sledge hammer. Don't let me slow you down.

If you think I'm just some nut, that's understandable. If, however, you'd like to be my accomplice in a 50-year-old heist, please reply, and I will send more explicit instructions.

Yours very truly,
API
(Name and address withheld for this thread)
 
2021-10-31 12:17:00 AM  
I tried to write something.  I don't know if I've succeeded or not.  I had to work around fun things this week like a colonoscopy.  Oh well, hope it's not shiat.  I experimented with first person sort of dead pan factual narration.  I have no idea if it worked.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1roSNLyYoY2p87NfCh6TGOkR3yB07IKrFCQ92RMrq2fo/edit?usp=sharing
 
2021-10-31 12:20:08 AM  
Not really a spooky story, but I grew up in a rural town that seemed to have a rate of serial type murders greater than nearly every other place in the world. Rural forest town in the California Sierra foothills.
Hands were often found in the lake. They were pulled off.
My friends sister was kidnapped at age 6. They identified her body years later, she was kept alive and tortured until she was about 16.
My stepdad has been on many cases where a burnt car was found off the road with mutilated victims inside. If you have to clarify which torched and murdered folks your buddy is talking about you realize your home ain't normal.
Cops picked up my autistic brother once because he was found near an old mine shaft that was packed with bodies. (His alibi is strong)
I knew a kid that carried a hand grenade to school. He used it.
Someone was murdered in the court house where I first fought a ticket. The killing was only about two weeks prior. You could still see the dry wall patches.
Tons of other strange shiat. You don't always need the super natural to be scared.

Oh yeah, my sister talked to a ghost and I watched a TV fly off a shelf at my friend.
 
2021-10-31 12:20:15 AM  

Non Sequitur Man: Can we throw everyone who brings up politics into the Pit of Death? Asking for a friend.


c.tenor.comView Full Size
 
2021-10-31 12:22:24 AM  
My house is in a valley. Kinda like a bowl. So I get sunrise late and sunset early. It was late afternoon. I was looking out my kitchen window that faces north. The sun was in my eyes. Wut? Why? How? The sun should be off to my left. But it was right there, kinda NE from me. Bright. But it can't be. But there it is. WTF??? I started to panic. The Twilight Zone is not real. Magic SciFi movie things do not happen. But the sun is right there!!! Then I realize. The rich people home on top of the hill has a full wall of floor-to-ceiling reflective windows. I am just getting a reflection.
OK. Better. Needed a beer.
 
2021-10-31 12:22:53 AM  
Also, still wanting to find out about the strange circles in the forest.

You old FARKers will know what I'm talking about.
 
2021-10-31 12:32:08 AM  

a particular individual: A couple of days ago, I mailed this letter to:

Whoever lives at
█ █ █  NW 49th St.
Oklahoma City, OK 73118

Dear stranger:

Hi. My name is Adam. I used to live in your house. This letter is about that. Maybe you'll find this interesting, or maybe you'll think I'm weird, and you'll want to have nothing to do with what follows. I understand.

In 1976, my family moved from where you are to where I am, in Montana. I left something behind that is probably still there, unless major renovations have taken place. It's a small plastic pumpkin inside the wall that separates the garage from the laundry room. Maybe it's still a laundry room. You probably know which room I'm talking about. It's sunny and looks over the back patio. The wall between that room and the garage is where my lost treasure is buried. Perhaps you can retrieve it for me. Let me explain.

When I was about six, I was trespassing in your neighbor's back yard. They were the Wileys, a kind, elderly couple with grown children in places I never learned. They were like everyone's grandma and grandpa. So, when I say I was trespassing in their yard, I mean they could have called the cops on me, but that would have been unlike them. They'd more likely have offered me lemonade.

Under the trees that separated their yard from ours, half-buried in the soil, left over from a Halloween years prior, was a plastic pumpkin the size of my fist. (That's my fist today, 50 years later, not the puppy fist I clenched back then.)  The pumpkin was white on the top, where the sun had bleached it. Orange on the bottom, where the dirt had kept it fresh.

It enchanted me. It was like a misplaced piece of Halloween that could keep my mental trick-or-treat bag full till the real thing came along. So I did a theft. I knew it. No excusing it. I stole it. I stole that sun-bleached plastic pumpkin from their back yard, knowing full well that if I'd asked for it, they'd have given it to me, and a glass of lemonade. Maybe that's why I didn't ask. Lemonade would have diluted the thrill.

This is where your house comes in. Back in those days--let's say, 1970--the room above the garage was our (and by "our" I mean my brother's and my) playroom. A sturdy wooden ladder, snug against the red brick wall, above a work bench, led to a hole in the ceiling. Beyond that hole was the playroom. Clubhouse. Attic. Whatever. Mom and Dad let us go up there, so we did, and we made it ours.

At the top of the ladder was the top of the wall. Hollow, red, ceramic brick. Note that word "hollow." That's why the pumpkin is in there. Whoever built the wall didn't think it was important to fill the bricks with concrete, as intended. They were left empty. Anything could fall in there, including the pumpkin that I hadn't even had time to appreciate yet. I got to the top of that ladder, set the pumpkin on it, and then accidentally knocked it down into the inexplicably hollow wall.

I got a flashlight. I could see it down there. At the age of six, I didn't have the know-how to retrieve it. Even if I'd had the skills, I wouldn't have had the courage to ask someone to help me retrieve my purloined pumpkin.

Enough is enough, I say. I have the courage, the agency, the wherewithal to finally summon help. I want that pumpkin, dammit. The Wileys and the statute of limitations are long expired, and that pumpkin is still there. With your help, it will be in my hands soon.

Its retrieval will require some specialized equipment. This is not an endeavor to be undertaken lightly. So, with your go-ahead, I'd like to send you a kit with diagrams and instructions for safely procuring my long-lost loot. Unless you want to bash in the wall with a sledge hammer. Don't let me slow you down.

If you think I'm just some nut, that's understandable. If, however, you'd like to be my accomplice in a 50-year-old heist, please reply, and I will send more explicit instructions.

Yours very truly,
API
(Name and address withheld for this thread)


i.kym-cdn.comView Full Size
 
2021-10-31 12:40:41 AM  

HoratioGates: I tried to write something.  I don't know if I've succeeded or not.  I had to work around fun things this week like a colonoscopy.  Oh well, hope it's not shiat.  I experimented with first person sort of dead pan factual narration.  I have no idea if it worked.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1roSNLyYoY2p87NfCh6TGOkR3yB07IKrFCQ92RMrq2fo/edit?usp=sharing


Wow! I am impressed!
 
2021-10-31 12:41:37 AM  
One night, after "Burrito Thursday", I was lying in bed with my wife when I heard a horrible, indescribable noise followed by a hideous odor that must have come from the very depths of Hell itself.
 
2021-10-31 12:42:03 AM  
Halloween III Silver Shamrock Commercial
Youtube hIHUv2ooG38
 
2021-10-31 12:43:34 AM  
I work in a haunted house that used to be a Farmer John's slaughter house/packing plant.

The most visceral this I ever had happen to me was the voice of a 30-40 man yell "Hey, what?!" into my right ear. Turns out other employees had the same experience. That was 2 years ago. About 2 weeks ago a teenaged girl employee had a CO2 that we use dropped on her head. It looked old and used and there was nothing but a solid ceiling and no place to throw it from as it's a small corner. I'd heard stories about cartridges being thrown at people from impossible places before, but it was the first time I was there right after it happened.

I still don't know if I believe in ghosts, but the experiences and other people's (whom I trust to at least believe what they've told me) stories make me wonder.
 
2021-10-31 12:48:27 AM  

minorshan: I work in a haunted house that used to be a Farmer John's slaughter house/packing plant.

The most visceral this I ever had happen to me was the voice of a 30-40 man yell "Hey, what?!" into my right ear. Turns out other employees had the same experience. That was 2 years ago. About 2 weeks ago a teenaged girl employee had a CO2 that we use dropped on her head. It looked old and used and there was nothing but a solid ceiling and no place to throw it from as it's a small corner. I'd heard stories about cartridges being thrown at people from impossible places before, but it was the first time I was there right after it happened.

I still don't know if I believe in ghosts, but the experiences and other people's (whom I trust to at least believe what they've told me) stories make me wonder.


Just realize that I should add that I was totally alone in that area of the building at that point when I heard the voice. It was so clear, I wonder if I heard the echo of an industrial accident.
 
2021-10-31 12:51:15 AM  
OK, so this is not one but TWO ghost stories. The first originates in Alabama and is called The Northport Ghosts. The second is from Pittsburgh and is called The Legend of Green Man Tunnel.

I was living in Alabama and hanging out with some friends when the conversation turned to a local legend about the Northport Ghosts. I had moved to the area (from Pittsburgh) a few years earlier so I had never heard the story; which goes something like this:

It was the year 1861 and two sisters from a wealthy family in Northport, Alabama were to be married off. But the US Civil War broke out. The stalwart husbands-to-be promised to come back and marry the two young women after the war was over. But the two men were lost in battle and their bodies were never found.

The sisters held out hope that their men would eventually return to them. So whenever a carriage would come down the road, the two sisters would walk out of the road hoping it was word of the men they loved.

Their beloved fiances were never returned and the sisters died years later as old women waiting in vain hope for word of the men they loved.

The locals say that their spirits still haunt the property; still waiting for word of their men to return to them. So if you drive your car really slowly, with just the parking lights on, it looks and sounds enough like an old-fashioned carriage. And the Northport Ghosts will walk from the house to the road hoping it's word of their long lost loves.

So, of course, I knew the story was bullshiat and I said as much. And explained to them there was a ghost story called the Green Man Tunnel from where I grew up and it went something like this:

Years ago, in a rural area south of Pittsburgh, a man was struck by lightning which turned his skin GREEN! And he was so disfigured that he now lives in an old road tunnel. And if you drive slowly through the tunnel (at night, naturally) and flash your lights you just might see him!

Now the gag is as follows: Before you tell the story to your hapless victims you send a few compatriots to drive to the tunnel and hide in the shadows. The storyteller then brings the uninitiated in another car, embellishing the story along the way. When he arrives at the tunnel he drives slowly through it while flashing the lights. This, of course, is the signal for the first group to jump out of the shaddows, yelling and screaming and banging on the car windows. And hilarity ensues.

Now fast forward back to our story in Alabama and I was in the back seat of a car with two other "victims" on our way to see The Northport Ghosts! One friend was driving and the other was in the front passenger's seat embellishing the story. I was sitting with my arms folded saying, "Ha! I'm not going to be scared by this lame ghost story."

It turns out these guys did not send a carload of accomplices ahead of us. They didn't need to. Because the entrance to this particular property is marked with two brick pillars, topped with cement balls, all painted white.

So the driver, under orders from the narrator in the front seat, dimmed his lights and slowed down on this gravel road with no streetlights. As we turned the corner the car's parking lights illuminated the two pillars and our narrator shouted, "OH MY GOD! THERE THEY ARE!"

Now, I realised what these "ghosts" were after about half a second. But for that brief half-second, I have to admit, my reaction was, "There's no such thing as... GAAA! SHIAT! JESUS! GOD!" So during that short half-second... I believed in ghosts!

So I said to my friends, "Son of a biatch! You got me! Nice Job!" And I laughed and laughed and laughed.
 
2021-10-31 12:55:45 AM  
I've got two, not super spooky, but they're what I've got.

First is the one and only time I've had sleep paralysis. I was around 16/17 and napping in the mid afternoon. So I woke up to a bright room but couldn't move and the bed was shaking. As this was no where near an area that gets earthquakes with any regularity, my brain decided this was due to a ghost cat running around on the bed on top of my legs. Lasted for 20 or 30 seconds until I was able to move again.

The second is the time my brother and I saw a UFO. I think I was 18/19 at the time, we were coming home at around Midnight after playing D&D for the day. We were somewhere around Eighty Four Pennsylvania on either Thomas Eighty Four Rd or 519. It was just a rural two lane road. We were driving past a dairy pasture and it had a number of high mast lights illuminating it. And we saw something hovering in the sky. We pulled over to the side of the road and got out to look at it. No noticeable sound came from it, we could hear the hum from the lights clearly. The object was lit, but not terribly bright and appeared to be higher up than the high mast lights and not terribly near to any of them. It didn't move and it was difficult to judge it size. It seemed to be at least 100' up but also very small. We're it today, I'd think a drone except for the lack of noise. Since this was the early 90s, that wasn't a possibility. At the time we thought maybe an RC helicopter, but again, no noise and it'd be really odd to just be hovering there at Midnight. We watched it for a minute or two and it didn't do anything but hover, so we headed on home.
 
2021-10-31 12:58:51 AM  
When I was younger, our family used to go visit the cousins who lived at the edge of a national forest. It was my mom, dad, two brothers and sister and we'd meet up with two aunts, two uncles and their 6 kids.

While the adults pittered around the house making lunch or dinner or setting up the BBQ, we kids used to go as far into the forest as we dared before it got dark. It was really only the younger kids who did this, though, as the teenagers were not interested in coming with us anymore. This left only three of us: me, and a 10-year old and 7-year old. At 12 this made me the oldest.

The oldest cousin, Jack, used to tease us by warning that we should always make sure we could still hear the adults at the cabin, otherwise they couldn't hear us if we screamed for help. He just got his driver's license and was acting too cool for school. But we kids were duly impressed.

One year, we wandered further than we'd ever gone and stumbled upon a weird geographical formation. It looked like the opening to a cave or a dried up pond. The strangest thing about it was nothing seemed to grow near it. All the trees and bushes were just dead branches. And the ground around it was covered in decayed leaves.

Another thing we noticed was it was all the sounds seemed to die off the closer we got to it. No birds, frogs, squirrels, hell, we didn't hear the wind even. Of course, at one point the only sounds were us kids daring each other to get closer and closer. We decided we would grab one of the dead branches and bring it back as a trophy.

As the oldest and presumably bravest, it was up to me to do the deed.

I spotted what I hoped was the closest and easiest to grab twig and made my way forward.

Just as I leaned over to pick it up, I heard a human voice, "Ffffff..."

I looked back at the two kids to see if they heard it too, but they had already ran back to the cabin. Spooked, I turned back around and without aiming, I grabbed whatever was within reach and started to run back.

"Filibuster!"

The voice screached.

"Infrastructure! Caucus!"

No one would believe me, but I never dared go back to the Pit.

You couldn't pay me enough.
 
2021-10-31 1:01:05 AM  
When my grandfather died he had a well attended funeral because he was active in the community and well liked. During the eulogy a family friend was speaking and described my grandfather and his booming voice.

Just then a hearty crack of thunder rolled and came echoing off the koolau mountains like a big booming laugh. It was a sunny day and entirely unexpected, most stories you will hear here are small and private. This one was not frightening but did make about 300 people all jump at the same time.

/My grandfather would have loved a prank like that and I am sure he had something to do with it.
 
2021-10-31 1:02:09 AM  
I explore abandoned places, and this is my favorite time of year to do that. New England is perfect for this when there's a crispness to the air and it's just chilly enough to be thrilling. I know of pretty much every famous spot from vacation lodges to whole towns. I almost never find places myself before someone has put up graffiti, but some cabins and such are still nearly pristine with beds made up and dishes left in a drying rack, magazines from years ago left open on a side table. I love the melancholy feeling of knowing that people once lived and loved in these places that are now all but forgotten.

One of my favorite spots is well-treaded but draws me back again and again, and that's where I was last night. It was a mental institution with a name that would be rather disturbing to today's sensibilities. Not one of the huge ones, but large enough to house a few hundred patients. It's tucked well enough away down an overgrown road so that most trespassers that venture out to it are the respectful type. There's a good amount of graffiti, but many things have been left intact, with books still on shelves and glass jars left unbroken.

One thing about it most people don't know is that patients were buried in a small clearing a few hundred yards beyond the grounds. I figure at least a few dozen were buried there, but all that marks the spot is a solitary standing stone.

That's where I started my evening, just before sundown. I like to pay my respects, especially to the unmourned. I noticed that something had been digging there, and the overturned earth was fresh. I saw no sign of remains, so I let things be and went back to my truck to wait for night to fall. I have nothing against exploring in the twilight, but I had come for the dark.

I started on the ground floor and worked my way upward, deciding to leave the sublevel for last. I didn't spend too much time in each room, just enough to reacquaint myself and see what changes had taken place, or rummage through the odd drawer. I noted some new litter and a few things overturned, but for the most part little had been disturbed since the last time I had visited.

It was a few minutes before midnight when I made my way up to the third and final floor. I had just started on the first room when a dull crash from below made me jump in surprise. It's not too unusual for things to simply fall down in abandoned places, but I wondered if I wasn't the only one exploring that night. I stopped to listen for a few minutes, and hearing nothing, I continued on.

I was in the middle of the main hallway when I heard something again--a faint sound like claws scrabbling over tile, coming from the stairs behind me. I turned off my headlamp and waited for my sight to adjust to the dim light coming in through the windows, peering down the hallway in the direction of the sound. For a long moment I couldn't see anything, but then started to make out a pair of lightly glowing eyes near the floor in the darkness of the stairwell.

I paused, wondering if it could see me where I stood in my own patch of darkness. The eyes rose upward until they were at my height, undoubtedly looking straight at me, and then rushed forward.

I turned and sprinted down the hallway. I could see well enough to navigate the turn at the T-intersection at the end, but I was heading down a shorter dead-end hallway, away from the other stairwell. I knew there was an office at the end of the hall with a large metal desk. I flew into the room and dove behind and under the desk.

I got down on all fours and peaked out at the doorway. A few moments passed, and then I saw a thin arm reach around the doorframe, followed by the rest of the creature. Its form was emaciated with elongated limbs, and it stood hunched over, naked and hairless.

I held my breath as it crept into the room. I moved quietly, raising myself up and turning around so I was on my feet, hunched under the desk. I could no longer see it, but I could hear its nails scraping over the floor, coming closer and closer. Then silence.

It leaped around the desk, and now there was no escape. I sprang, one hand grabbing the forearm it thrust out towards me, the other around its throat. I slammed it against the wall. It tried to wrench its arm out of my grasp with inhuman strength, little good that it did it. The other arm clawed at my side, ripping open my shirt, but found resistance underneath. I kept my hand firmly around its throat as its jaws snapped toward me, and with the other felt its thick dry skin, sinewy muscle, and the bones beneath. With that hand I began to squeeze and twist, feeling the bones bend and then snap. It thrashed and howled in what was probably rage, and what I hoped was also pain and fear. I stared into its murky yellow eyes and grinned, because I am what preys on ghouls.
 
2021-10-31 1:06:25 AM  
So, where's the story from that guy about his likely imaginary friend on the ceiling named Fishy? That's a classic that I ofte
 
2021-10-31 1:07:13 AM  
The fire station by my house is supposedly haunted by Clyde. A FF that died in the 50's of a heart attack after a fire call. I've worked there a few times but only as an officer, thus I've never been upstairs but I've heard of odd things happening to there.

Anyways, first time I worked there I just kept getting the feeling of someone behind me watching what I was doing.

The next time as I was going to bed, the hall to the officers room has a short hall that leads to another bay that's been turned into a workout room. As I walked by going to bed I thought I saw a person in there. I looked again and saw nothing. That night I woke up several times feeling like someone was standing over me.

Last time I worked there we got up in the middle of the night for a call. As I walked out of the officers room the was a couch and on it at a man in a uniform and hat, I was opening the door and half looking up and then back down since I was still getting dressed. When I looked back up, the figure was gone.

Yes, I know API... BOOOOOOOOOOORING
 
2021-10-31 1:07:34 AM  

a particular individual: A couple of days ago, I mailed this letter to:

Whoever lives at
█ █ █  NW 49th St.
Oklahoma City, OK 73118

Dear stranger:

Hi. My name is Adam. I used to live in your house. This letter is about that. Maybe you'll find this interesting, or maybe you'll think I'm weird, and you'll want to have nothing to do with what follows. I understand.

In 1976, my family moved from where you are to where I am, in Montana. I left something behind that is probably still there, unless major renovations have taken place. It's a small plastic pumpkin inside the wall that separates the garage from the laundry room. Maybe it's still a laundry room. You probably know which room I'm talking about. It's sunny and looks over the back patio. The wall between that room and the garage is where my lost treasure is buried. Perhaps you can retrieve it for me. Let me explain.


Although that story went nowhere, it made me think I should send a letter to whoever lives at the haunted house I used to live at with my family from 1986-1992. It was just my sister and I on the top floor with rooms across from each other and a tiny bathroom in the middle. We would always hear someone walking above us in the attic even though no one was up there. She said she would hear chains sometimes, I just heard loud walking like someone in boots. It would freak me out so much I would put my fingers in my ears and say  "You're dead, you're dead, go away!" That would work....until the next time they showed up.

She moved out in 1991 so I was left alone up there, which made it even scarier. Luckily I moved out in March 1992 when I got my own place. My parents and little brother moved out a year later. I've always wondered if the people who have lived there since have also heard things. Also we had two cats whose eyes would follow in unison something around the room that we couldn't see. Maybe it was just a flying bug, but we couldn't see it, even in bright light when we looked where they were looking.

Also one time I got home form my retail hell job around 10pm and there was a police car in front of my house. I walk in and my mom is sitting on the living room couch talking to a police officer. It was just her at home at the time. The cop goes "Do you know him?" and she says "Yes, that's my son". It turns out she called them because she heard a loud disturbance upstairs even though no one was home but her. The cops found no one there or no rational cause for the loud disturbance.

It's not fun living in haunted house, no matter how "cool" you think it might be. And to those who think there's no such thing as a haunted house or ghosts....well I would think the same thing if numerous unexplainable things hadn't happened to me over the years. I'm not religious, I believe in science, but I can't explain the things I've experienced.
 
2021-10-31 1:08:03 AM  
Often think about. Thanks for the bad post, phone and my thumb.
 
2021-10-31 1:20:50 AM  

Walker: Although that story went nowhere...


Hey, it led to your story, didn't it?
 
2021-10-31 1:24:33 AM  
There's an old movie palace in my home town, built in 1929.  Onw of those great places with a tile floor, mezzanine, huge lobby, ornate plasterwork decorating the walls, thick curtain partitions in front of staff doors, and a slightly dark paint job that seems to cool everything down.  The main floor seats about 900 people, and the large balcony, another 350 or so.  It hit hard times, like every other old theater when multiplexes came into vogue.  A family in Mexico bought it, and promptly shut it up tight, turned out the lights and did nothing with it for years.

Of course, being a theater, everyone had a story about it being haunted.  The odd things about these stories, however, was they were all the same.  A man climbing to the top of the balcony using a narrow back stairway (instead of the main set just off the lobby) had a heart attack and died.  He was smoking a cigar or cigarette, and you could see the glow of the tip midway up.  Some stories said you could smell it.  The other stories were specifically about the (many) bathrooms -- some were in the lobby area, and the main ones were under the main floor (accessed underneath the grand staircase I mentioned earlier).  They were supposed to flush constantly, with no one anywhere near them.

One year, about 8 years after the Mexican family closed the place (save for a security/watch man they paid to live in a room off the premises) I was working for a local TV station that needed a story for that Halloween.  I'd always loved the old theater, so I grabbed my cameraman and we went and pounded on the door until the security guy answered.

He was newly arrived from the interior of Mexico.  We asked about the theater, and he said he knew nothing about it. He couldn't help us.  He didn't know anything about any "haunting".

We said thanks and were walking out, when he said, laughing, "The only bad thing is sleeping.  The noise!  The plumbing in this place is bad.  The water's off, and the stupid toilets keep flushing."

Then we asked about the light on the stairway.  He quit laughing and said, "I don't know anything about that.  I'll never use that stairway".

We had to leave it at that.
 
2021-10-31 1:24:36 AM  

Xcott: I don't think I mentioned this previously, but we have a 100-ish year-old house, and a while back we remodeled our walk-up attic into a nice big space with an office nook, a play nook/toy hoard, spare bedroom, sitting area etc.  One day a few years ago we're all hanging out in the attic goofing around and my son, about 8, freezes for a moment.  Then he says he just saw a woman on the stairs coming up, who wasn't there anymore.

This area has a rich history including quite a bit of ghost stories.  I just picked up a book of ghost stories by a local author, and in the first chapter is a picture of the antique wooden carousel in the park outside.  The book says it's reputed to be haunted by the ghost of Rod Serling (who grew up a few blocks away, and wrote at least one episode inspired by that park.)  It occurred to me that my son can see that carousel right out his window, and I could just, you know, leave that book lying around on a nightstand or something, but my wife told me no.


I have to say Rod Serling was a highly nostalgic gut and loved kids in a non-creepy way. So if he is haunting that place I suspect he's disguised as a fun kid. Dude was too cool to haunt malevolently.
 
2021-10-31 1:27:21 AM  
One of my favorite threads. And I have a tale of my own to share, as true as I can recall it.

It doesn't matter what the objective truth is, so don't try to argue with me. The subjective truth is that this story still raises the hackles on my neck and causes that twist of fear that accelerated my heartbeat and causes a knot in my gut, a tingle and pressure in my head that says "Fly you fool!"

I have lived in Nee Jersey for more than 10 years now. A couple of different places, some rural, some not so much. Now, keep in mind that I grew up on top of a literal mountain in the wilderness of Washington state, where rattlesnakes, bears, cougars, and other apex predators hang out, with no electricity or running water. So if something domestic crossed my path it probably would have not really elicited a reaction.

My first residence in NJ was a house in the middle of the Pine Barrens. It was cheap rent and I couldn't afford much on an E-5 salary. I would on occasion gather firewood and kindling from the forest; the fireplace worked well, the gas heat didn't. A few times I did this after dark, until I felt uneasy, a presence of something. I couldn't say what it was, or wasn't. All I can say, 10 years later, is that the best approximation is feeling like prey, the anxiety that something hungry and dangerous is searching for you.

When I moved, that feeling didn't return. Except...

I bought a telescope, expensive damn toy, 8 inch catadioptric scope. You can see Saturn's rings with it, and more. I was working a shift that ended at midnight, so I decided I'd take my new toy out to the Pine Barrens (away from the toxic and prevalent light pollution) to see what I could see.

I looked at some stars, craters of the moon, meteors. But I had to stop. That feeling came back...a feeling that I was being watched. Sized up. Mind you, dark nights have never been a problem for me. Solitude, woodland creatures, not an issue.

I looked around I until I saw a big pair of gleaming red dots in the woods a few hundred yards away. I stared at them, trying to figure out if I was just looking at some red reflectors or perhaps someone's porch lights.

Until they blinked.

I packed my gear without turning my back to it, and never returned to the Pine Barrens after dark again. You couldn't pay me enough to camp out there. Even writing this the chills return. I'm a rational sort, and believe in the truth. I don't know what happened to me in those woods or what I encountered, but there are tales of something sinister that curious readers can find with a quick Google search of the Jersey Devil.

It is truly a unique experience to feel as prey in constant vigil, waiting for a creature that will never come. As the ultimate predator, Mankind's sole fears are those that spring unbidden from imagination. But the noises that unnerved me were not a figment, nor were the eerie crimson eyes glowing in the treeline.

I pray, dear reader, that you reflect on the time of man in which the electric lamp did not serve as a bastion against darkness, or when oil lamps burned in windows. Harken back to a time before mankind tamed the power of flame, before we harnessed fire's ability to keep the shadows of the unknown at bay.

Know then, as I do now, of the terrors that lurk in shadow, as you sleep in a bed where a light switch is only scant few feet away.

Do not go in the Pine Barrens at night.
 
2021-10-31 1:30:52 AM  

minorshan: Xcott: I don't think I mentioned this previously, but we have a 100-ish year-old house, and a while back we remodeled our walk-up attic into a nice big space with an office nook, a play nook/toy hoard, spare bedroom, sitting area etc.  One day a few years ago we're all hanging out in the attic goofing around and my son, about 8, freezes for a moment.  Then he says he just saw a woman on the stairs coming up, who wasn't there anymore.

This area has a rich history including quite a bit of ghost stories.  I just picked up a book of ghost stories by a local author, and in the first chapter is a picture of the antique wooden carousel in the park outside.  The book says it's reputed to be haunted by the ghost of Rod Serling (who grew up a few blocks away, and wrote at least one episode inspired by that park.)  It occurred to me that my son can see that carousel right out his window, and I could just, you know, leave that book lying around on a nightstand or something, but my wife told me no.

I have to say Rod Serling was a highly nostalgic gut and loved kids in a non-creepy way. So if he is haunting that place I suspect he's disguised as a fun kid. Dude was too cool to haunt malevolently.


Yeah, he loved kids.  He HAD to.  Because if he didn't, one of them would . . .
THINK HIM INTO THE CORNFIELD!!!

(i know he didn't write the original story, but still . . .)
 
2021-10-31 1:34:43 AM  
Thurs., Nov. 18, 2010. The ex and I had bought an older house where the wiring was an absolute friggin mess. Her kids had the entire top floor to themselves, but the stairwell landing & hallway was the only co-ax jack that was actually hooked up for me to connect the internet modem, so that's where my computer desk was.

That night, neither kid could sleep because they said every time they started to drift off to sleep, they felt like someone was standing over them.

Eventually, about 1am I said "Fine, go climb into bed with your mom. But when I get to a stopping point in my game (KotOR I, heavily modded with new levels and an insta-kill lightsaber crystal and a bloody gore mod) y'all need to come back up and go to bed [step-kids, and I wasn't comfortable sleeping in the same bed]).

About an hour later or so, I got a death chill. Every hair on my body stood up and it felt like an icy hand on my heart and my screen went black to a cut-scene. In the dim light from the glow of my modem & power button, I watched someone's reflection walk behind me from the bathroom to the kids' room.

I quicksaved and GTFO and stayed up awake all night on the couch.

In the Sunday paper, the obituaries said the husband of the couple we'd just bought the house from had died that night (Thursday), about 7pm, from an apparent heart attack.

And here's another kicker I learned from the obit: I discovered he used to be a Sheriff's deputy in a county about an hour north of the town, in the 70's. So I asked my dad if he'd ever heard of him, and he said "Yeah, that arsehole popping me for underage drinking is why I got two choices by the judge: Enlist, or do jail."

The previous owner of our house was who arrested my dad, who chose joining the Army vs jail and then met my mother during his stint at Ft. Irwin, 1800 miles from his hometown, resulting in my conception......

Here's a rough layout of the upper floor. No outside attic access, no way one of the kids could have snuck back up the stairs w/o me seeing them, no outside window access.
Fark user imageView Full Size


It's been 12 years, but I can pull the memory up of that shadow walking behind me in the dark, and get goosebumps on command. Which is impressive for what's supposed to be an involuntary reaction. Thanks, Subby. Jerk.
 
2021-10-31 1:37:25 AM  

your cats butt: Not really a spooky story, but I grew up in a rural town that seemed to have a rate of serial type murders greater than nearly every other place in the world. Rural forest town in the California Sierra foothills.
Hands were often found in the lake. They were pulled off.
My friends sister was kidnapped at age 6. They identified her body years later, she was kept alive and tortured until she was about 16.
My stepdad has been on many cases where a burnt car was found off the road with mutilated victims inside. If you have to clarify which torched and murdered folks your buddy is talking about you realize your home ain't normal.
Cops picked up my autistic brother once because he was found near an old mine shaft that was packed with bodies. (His alibi is strong)
I knew a kid that carried a hand grenade to school. He used it.
Someone was murdered in the court house where I first fought a ticket. The killing was only about two weeks prior. You could still see the dry wall patches.
Tons of other strange shiat. You don't always need the super natural to be scared.

Oh yeah, my sister talked to a ghost and I watched a TV fly off a shelf at my friend.


I know lots of people don't get it, but weird shiat happens. I don't even know what I believe, other than I'm not crazy, because I usually have witnesses.
 
2021-10-31 1:38:11 AM  

baronbloodbath: this story still raises the hackles on my neck


Have I got a word for you:

Horripilation
 
2021-10-31 1:42:51 AM  

baronbloodbath: One of my favorite threads. And I have a tale of my own to share, as true as I can recall it.

It doesn't matter what the objective truth is, so don't try to argue with me. The subjective truth is that this story still raises the hackles on my neck and causes that twist of fear that accelerated my heartbeat and causes a knot in my gut, a tingle and pressure in my head that says "Fly you fool!"

I have lived in Nee Jersey for more than 10 years now. A couple of different places, some rural, some not so much. Now, keep in mind that I grew up on top of a literal mountain in the wilderness of Washington state, where rattlesnakes, bears, cougars, and other apex predators hang out, with no electricity or running water. So if something domestic crossed my path it probably would have not really elicited a reaction.

My first residence in NJ was a house in the middle of the Pine Barrens. It was cheap rent and I couldn't afford much on an E-5 salary. I would on occasion gather firewood and kindling from the forest; the fireplace worked well, the gas heat didn't. A few times I did this after dark, until I felt uneasy, a presence of something. I couldn't say what it was, or wasn't. All I can say, 10 years later, is that the best approximation is feeling like prey, the anxiety that something hungry and dangerous is searching for you.

When I moved, that feeling didn't return. Except...

I bought a telescope, expensive damn toy, 8 inch catadioptric scope. You can see Saturn's rings with it, and more. I was working a shift that ended at midnight, so I decided I'd take my new toy out to the Pine Barrens (away from the toxic and prevalent light pollution) to see what I could see.

I looked at some stars, craters of the moon, meteors. But I had to stop. That feeling came back...a feeling that I was being watched. Sized up. Mind you, dark nights have never been a problem for me. Solitude, woodland creatures, not an issue.

I looked around I until I saw a big pair of gleaming red dots in the woods a few hundred yards away. I stared at them, trying to figure out if I was just looking at some red reflectors or perhaps someone's porch lights.

Until they blinked.

I packed my gear without turning my back to it, and never returned to the Pine Barrens after dark again. You couldn't pay me enough to camp out there. Even writing this the chills return. I'm a rational sort, and believe in the truth. I don't know what happened to me in those woods or what I encountered, but there are tales of something sinister that curious readers can find with a quick Google search of the Jersey Devil.

It is truly a unique experience to feel as prey in constant vigil, waiting for a creature that will never come. As the ultimate predator, Mankind's sole fears are those that spring unbidden from imagination. But the noises that unnerved me were not a figment, nor were the eerie crimson eyes glowing in the treeline.

I pray, dear reader, that you reflect on the time of man in which the electric lamp did not serve as a bastion against darkness, or when oil lamps burned in windows. Harken back to a time before mankind tamed the power of flame, before we harnessed fire's ability to keep the shadows of the unknown at bay.

Know then, as I do now, of the terrors that lurk in shadow, as you sleep in a bed where a light switch is only scant few feet away.

Do not go in the Pine Barrens at night.


Do not go into the Pine Barrens during the day, either.
 
2021-10-31 1:47:29 AM  
I am a Detroit Lions fan.  Is that scary or just depressing?
 
2021-10-31 1:50:23 AM  

MrBallou: When I was about 6, I got my own room, after sharing with my brother forever.

That summer, I started hearing a tapping at the window every night. It stopped if I opened the window but started again if I closed it. This went on for months, but finally stoped.

I also saw "shadow people" a lot in that room.

/currently a rationalist, but know weird shiat is all around me.


Not to break the spoopy bubble, but I had that happen this summer.

I'd go out & look around & there was nothing there. Til I left the window closed & waited. It was wasps that couldn't see through the UV-shaded double-paned window & were hitting it thinking it was part of the house. Bastards were building a nest under the faux shutters.
 
2021-10-31 1:52:37 AM  
I grew up at the jersey shore, two short blocks from the beach.  Big old house.

When we first moved in, before our energy seeped into the walls and dislodged any previous inhabitants, I was chillin' on the third floor in my room.  I had the whole floor to myself, two bedrooms and a bathroom, plus hella closets and attic space.  The door to the one bedroom was coming apart (made of real, solid wood) so the door would often stick, especially in the summer.

So when I couldn't immediately open the door, I didn't think much of it.  But after awhile, I realized the bottom wasn't opening either (only the top stuck, because that's where it was coming apart, and the bottom would move a bit).  I pushed on this door so damn hard, eventually sitting down with my back against it and pushing that way.

I finally got it to move maybe an inch.  Probably not even.  I could see that my dresser was blocking the door somehow.  And since there was carpet on the floor, it was going to take more strength that I had.

Unfortunately, I had to go get my dad.  He's been a grumpy old man since as far back as I can remember, which includes the year he turned 27.  So I didn't relish this.  Sure enough, he comes up and immediately starts bellyaching, as if I was the one who did this.

He pushes with all his might, and finally the door opens enough so I can squeeze through and climb over the dresser, which was covering the door by about eight inches.  I managed to get in the room and move the dresser.

My dad then proceeded to get mad at me for causing this problem.  I asked him to explain the physics of that to me.  No really old man, explain how I did that WITHOUT climbing out the window up here on the third floor.

/tdlr ghosts move furniture and get me in trouble
 
2021-10-31 1:57:10 AM  

Denjiro: I've got two, not super spooky, but they're what I've got.

First is the one and only time I've had sleep paralysis. I was around 16/17 and napping in the mid afternoon. So I woke up to a bright room but couldn't move and the bed was shaking. As this was no where near an area that gets earthquakes with any regularity, my brain decided this was due to a ghost cat running around on the bed on top of my legs. Lasted for 20 or 30 seconds until I was able to move again.


Sleep paralysis is no joke. I remember the first time it happened to me - being unable to move and the weight on the chest was one thing, but feeling that Old Hag presence, I swear I could hear her cackling... I've never been so frightened before or after. When I was finally able to move again I almost punched a hole in the wall hitting the light switch.

I always wonder what would have happened had I lived 50 years ago before the Internet. I'd never have realized this was a semi-common experience.

Still don't understand why this manifests as a witch or old hag for so many people... like, why that? Why not a young sorcerer? Or an alien? Or a teletubby?
 
2021-10-31 1:59:57 AM  
One night when I was a kid my older sister, who had her own room, screamed in the middle of the night. After everyone rushed to her room to ask what was wrong she told my parents that she saw the Devil outside her window. She had blinds down, so she meant the silhouette of the Devil. My parents went out into the backyard and there was no one there and no sign of anyone doing anything back there. It wasn't until a few weeks later that the mystery was solved. Our next door neighbor had a small monkey, not a chimp just a regular garden variety monkey, and he occasionally would let the monkey out at night. The monkey was restrained by a long leash, but he had enough slack to climb on top of the 6' fence that separated our backyards. What happened was the monkey had jumped up on the fence when the Moon full again and was backlit by the Moon. He cast a shadow on my parents' blinds and freaked them out too. Except they quickly looked outside the window(cause fark the Devil I guess) and saw the monkey standing there on top of the fence. They said that with his ears sticking up and his tail curled around him, his silhouette did sorta looked like the Devil and I guess the distance from the him to the blinds allowed him to cast a bigger shadow, so he looked a lot bigger than he really was.
 
2021-10-31 2:05:11 AM  
Ooh! Got another one:

One night, I (being 18 and could stay to help close) and the closing manager were hanging out in the office while the closing mgr. did the drawer counts and safe drops & tallied everything up. We're in the office and heard a bloodcurdling scream from the back of the store that wrecked our souls. It was full of emotional pain, not physical. It was a destitute scream of anger and rage that pulled at our souls, hearts, and bladders. Mgr. tossed the tills into the safe uncounted & we ran out. Didn't even set the security alarms. The store manager pulled me into the office the next afternoon when I rolled in for my shift wanting to know why the hell we left the doors unlocked, and the security system unarmed. When I told no-nonsense, gruff, "Time to lean, time to clean" Bobby about the blood-curdling scream we'd heard, he actually shuddered, went pale, and said "Don't do it again".

After doing some digging in the local newspaper archives, I discovered that the cardboard compactor used to be in the produce section. Where the fire started in 1988 (I was 5 or so at the time, and lived 1800 miles away, and had no idea this had happened), and where I and the night manager heard the scream come from. Apparently the compactor caught fire and everyone evacuated the store.

But because of the multiple exits, a dude went back in for his wife not knowing she'd gotten out. He didn't. Died from smoke inhalation trying to stumble around in a haze of plastic-heavy burning cardboard, hydraulic fluid, and burning crappy 1950's chemically treated lumber. During fall & the weeks approaching Halloween/Samhain/the anniversary, night shift would hear the screams of anger/frustration. Even good ol no-nonsense Bobby must've heard those screams over the years. Enough to forgive us for bailing & leaving the doors, and drawers unlocked and the tills uncounted & unsecured without even setting the alarm.
 
2021-10-31 2:11:42 AM  
For those of you who disapprove of my contribution this year, here's a link to the story I wrote a few years ago. It went over quite well.

Danny Doesn't Live There Anymore

I'm working on a book of short stories about my childhood in Oklahoma City.

I had a creepy childhood. Serial bomber. Warlocks. Snakes.
 
2021-10-31 2:16:21 AM  
i.imgur.comView Full Size
 
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