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(Fark)   Can we get this year's Halloween / spooky story thread going? I need my fix, I've been jonesing all month   (fark.com) divider line
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4219 clicks; posted to Main » on 31 Oct 2012 at 9:57 AM (8 years ago)   |   Favorite    |   share:  Share on Twitter share via Email Share on Facebook



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2012-10-31 11:20:15 AM  
This one is from a close friend:

my aunt moved into this crappy little apartment in some rent-controlled district in east LA and had only been there a week or so when she came home from work one day and found that the furniture has been reorganized in the living room.

she was bugged out, since she didn't exactly live in a nice neighborhood and she considered it likely that someone had broken in and rifled through everything, moving the furniture in the process.

nevertheless, she cleaned up the living room and went on about her life. a few days later she came home from work and the furniture had all been moved again - same position as before.

at this point, she called the landlord and asked to have the locks changed because she thought that perhaps one of the neighbors had a spare key, or that the previous tenant had a grudge against the apartment complex and was taking it out on her.

they came and changed the locks a couple of days later and she was feeling much better about things.

several nervous days went by, she kept coming home and expecting to see everything re-arranged again, but was relieved to find that the living room remained undisturbed.

after a month or so had elapsed, she came home one afternoon and sure enough, the furniture in the living room was back in that unsettling configuration. this time she was beside herself and she ran next door to tell the neighbor lady that she had by now befriended.

frantically, she described her ordeal to the nice lady and begged her to come over to the apartment and look around for intruders. as they looked around the apartment, her neighbor became very concerned...she asked my aunt if the furniture was always moved into that exact configuration when this happened. my aunt was sure that it was always so. her neighbor went on to tell my aunt that the previous tenant, an elderly gentleman, used to keep his living room in precisely that layout.

my aunt was confused, because she knew that she had had the locks changed and there was never any other evidence of forced entry. she asked the neighbor if she knew where the old guy had gone, so that she could determine whether or not it was him that had been breaking in and moving the goddamned furniture around and generally freaking her out.

her neighbor smiled weakly and said, "yes. he died."

my aunt moved out of that apartment at the end of the month.

about a year later she moved into a 4-bedroom apartment in the barrio district of east LA where she lived with 16 other people.
3 of them were members of the band "Los Lobos." true story...G.O.D.
 
2012-10-31 11:21:16 AM  

ChrisDe: In the history of Halloween, nobody has ever found a razor blade in their apple. I'm not even sure anybody ever got an apple.


We always got fruit when we were trick-or-treating from the older couples in the neighborhood. They made up for it during the rest of the year by randomly giving us loose change for video games or candy when they saw us walking by.
 
2012-10-31 11:21:21 AM  

Gonz: I have nothing to contribute, other than to say that this is probably my favorite thread of the year, and thanks to all who tell their tales.


I second this as one of the great yearly threads, and also give props to mods for greenlighting early on a weekday so that we could get maximum participation.
 
2012-10-31 11:25:05 AM  
I've told this story before, but it's the only one I've got, and it's true...

When I was 8 or 9 years old (in 1978), my family moved into this house:
img802.imageshack.usView Full Size
 

Another view:
img208.imageshack.usView Full Size


Built in 1851, it's one of the oldest houses in the area, and it's out in the middle of nowhere. Weird things began almost immediately after moving in. The first night there, I slept on a mattress on the floor of the back 2nd floor bedroom, behind the left side window in the second photo. I didn't have much in my new bedroom yet, just a couple of boxes, the mattress, and a plastic yellow lamp that had no switch. You turned it on by plugging it in. Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke up. The lamp right next to my head was on. I clearly remembered unplugging it, and besides, it would've been impossible to sleep with it on. I reached out and traced down the cord. It wasn't plugged in. I was holding the loose plug in my hand when it went off.

I laid awake for awhile, and began to wonder if I imagined it. I didn't want to sleep, but eventually I passed out. It had been a busy day, and I was beat.

Sometime later, I woke up again, and something just felt.. very wrong. I laid there with my blanket pulled up over most of my face, with a little crack where I could see the room. Everything was normal. After maybe a couple of minutes, the closet door swung open very slowly. I was more freaked out this time, and as I peered out of my little viewing port in the blanket and my eyes got more adjusted to the darkness, I saw what were unmistakably reddish eyes looking at me from within the closet at the height of an adult. There was nothing in that closet that could have caused what I saw. There wasn't even a clothes rod in that closet. It was completely empty. I shot out of that bedroom and into my parents' room, where I spent the rest of the night.

The next day, I gradually began to accept that it was just a case of the new house heebie-jeebies, but I still dragged my mattress back into my parents' room and stayed there that next night. The following day, my sister told my parents she wasn't sleeping upstairs anymore. I never found out exactly why, but I knew she really didn't like that 2nd floor. Laying on the mattress in my parents' room awake that second night, I could hear noises in the hallway like faint footsteps, and door hinges creaking... and unintelligible faint speech. Though there were 4 bedrooms upstairs, we all spent the next, and all of the nights that followed, downstairs. My sister converted the pantry into a small bedroom, and my parents' and my bed were in what was supposed to be the dining room.

After we moved downstairs, the weirdness continued. Pictures occasionally fell off the walls, usually when we were in another room, but at least one occasion while my sister and I were looking in the direction of it, a small picture was jumped off the wall. It didn't drop straight down, but was flung in an arc off of the living room wall, landing a few feet from where it should have.

Many times while we were downstairs, we heard footsteps upstairs, doors being opened and closed, and muffled voices. Unfortunately, the only bathroom was upstairs at the back end of the hall. If I had to go to the bathroom at night, I'd do my best to wait 'til morning, but quite often couldn't hold out. I always left the door open and watched the hall while I did my business, because I was too afraid to close it and possibly have some sort of surprise staring me in the face when I opened it. One night I was in there, watching the hall like always, when the attic doorknob began to turn slowly. The door opened maybe 3 inches before slamming shut again. I bolted down the steps, nearly falling down the stairs in the process, and from that point on, if I had to piss in the night, I used a coffee can I kept under my bed.

One of dad's habits was to go outside for a cigarette in the warmer weather months. His cig breaks got longer as time went by, and he began going to the barn at night for maybe a half hour at a time. One night he came back in the house, and he was white as a sheet. He sat at the kitchen table and glared at us with a glassy-eyed look I can't describe. He looked agitated, but what's more, he looked legitimately dangerous. I never saw him look like that before, or since. Mom asked him what was wrong, and he just continued to stare right through us without saying a word. After awhile, he was gritting his teeth and looking at (or rather through) us like he was going to murder us. We were all freaked out and crying, and then it was like a light bulb was switched off. He was suddenly himself again, and asking us what was wrong. We told him, and he didn't believe us at first. But then he realized he didn't remember anything after going out for a cigarette. It was either that night or the next, that my folks woke me up in the middle of the night, and we left. They didn't even want to wait for me to change out of my pajamas. They just woke me up, shoved me in the car, and that was that. My sister was grown up by that time, and she went to stay in town with friends until we could come back with a U-Haul in a couple of days.

That house, as it turns out does have a history. The guy who built it was getting married. He built this house for his wife-to-be, and she left him shortly after the house was complete. Despondent, he went out to the barn, and hung himself from the rafters.. Later, I heard that a man put a shotgun in his mouth in an upstairs bedroom after killing his wife.

Another side note: After moving away for many years, I had a job interview in the area in 1998, and decided to stop by the place to show my wife. As it turns out, it was still being lived in, and the very nice couple who lived there invited us in. Of course I didn't want to freak them out, so I never said anything to tip them off to the weirdness of the place. Pretty soon, the guy starts telling me about how his wife won't stay there alone, how she hears footsteps and voices upstairs... and doors opening and closing themselves. Still, I never breathed a word about the strange goings-on when I lived there. Just before we left, he told us about returning from a trip into town for groceries. Their kitchen appliances were fried as if from an electrical spike, and the cabinet and refrigerator doors were all open with food from the fridge strewn around the kitchen floor. He halfheartedly blamed it on an electrical surge, but it was just a cover. An electrical surge wouldn't open the doors (including cabinet doors) and throw food on the floor.

This past May, we drove up through the area again, and I wanted to get a photo of the place to have a record of it before it was torn down or something. It is a 160 year old house, after all. I didn't know if it was still there, but I scoured the area most of the day to find it. I was about to give up when I thought I remembered a road that went through town that ran by the house. They had changed so many roads it was tough to find, but I took a chance, and finally I spotted it. It's still isolated, and only accessible by a stub of a road. (The other half of the road was wiped out by flooding years ago, which made it tough to find.) I was surprised to find that the place is exactly the same as it was when I lived there in 1978. It was as if it were frozen in time. When the photos above were taken, there was no curtains, no furniture visible through the windows, but there were a few dishes in a dish drainer on the kitchen sink. I wanted to go in, but I didn't have permission, and didn't want possible tenants coming home to find me inside, so I stayed outside to take photos. While I was taking the photos, my wife and I both felt like we were being watched. It was an eerie vibe. Whether something is still wrong with the place in 2012, I don't know. But it's very possible.
 
2012-10-31 11:32:38 AM  
Kids, make sure you don't go near the woods tonight:

img51.imageshack.usView Full Size
 
2012-10-31 11:33:34 AM  
Absolutely true story


Just another night driving to work. I was passing Boeing Field northbound, traffic was light. I was about 7 car lengths behind another car in the #2 lane, thinking about passing. The car suddenly, without signalling, swerved violently left. I had just enough time to think "WTF?!?" when I saw him.

A man. Standing calmly in my lane, left side facing me, looking directly at me. Not moving. Just standing there.

Less than 6 car lengths away, at 62 MPH.

My arm jerked the wheel right. He was just a blur as he passed mere inches from my drivers' side mirror. He never moved.

I tried to grab my cellphone to call 911, but I was shaking so violently I could barely stay in my lane. I managed to hold it together and made it to work. I shook for at least an hour afterwords, and wondered all night what on earth made that guy do that.

On my 5am break I flipped on the news. That wierdo was determined to commit suicide, and he succeeded. It seems that mere minutes after I missed him, some poor lady in a white car hit and killed him. She was OK but it messed up her car bigtime.

I heard later he was holding a teddy bear as he stood there.
 
2012-10-31 11:33:52 AM  
Here's another one from another friend:

My story begins around the age of 5 or 6, visiting my grandparents in Mexico. We would sleep outside to keep cool. One night, I fell asleep only to wake up freezing cold, and open my eyes because I heard what I would equate to a screeching owl. My grandmother quickly yelled at me "Don't look towards the screeching sound!" Stricken with fear, I asked her why, and she said "It's a lechuza," and proceeded to tell me they were these birds that were half-witch and half-owl (head of a witch on the body of an owl). I could see the panic in my grandmother's eyes, but I couldn't resist, and had to peek. I looked over towards the power lines, where I saw the lechuza, and she let out a bloodcurdling screech. At that point, I turned towards my grandmother. She knew I had looked, grabbed my arm, yanked me out of bed, and ran with me inside the house, locking the door behind us. I never really understood why I wasn't supposed to look at it, or why she was so panicked that I did.
 
2012-10-31 11:37:02 AM  
North Arlington ghost: Construction worker quits after Margaret Febrey sighting
By Kendis Gibson
March 19, 2012 - 07:15 pm
ABC 7 News, WJLA, Washington DC

An eerie encounter recently brought work at a North Arlington construction site to a complete stop.

Two months ago, an old Victorian house sat on the site, but as crews began demolishing the property to build a new club house, one of the workers spotted a young girl inside of the building.

The girl is thought to be Margaret Febrey, who was laid to rest in Oakwood Cemetery almost 100 years ago.

"He said he saw this little girl in the window ... and he went in and couldn't find her, and on his way out he saw her on the steps and turned around and didn't see her," said Jeff Schreiner, construction supervisor.

The encounter was too much for the construction worker. He immediately packed his stuff and walked off the job permanently.

Fourteen-year-old Febrey had lived in the Victorian house being demolished before her death in 1913.

The sighting spooked workers so much, they stopped construction on the 99th anniversary of her death in January.

-- ABC 7 News, WJLA, Washington DC
 
2012-10-31 11:39:35 AM  
I see a few references to Sleep Paralysis in here. I had a classic example of it happen to me just last night. I awoke from a dream to find a creature of darkness sitting on my chest. It was human-shaped, but had no definite physical appearance. The thing was so dark that I could not see features, it was like a three-dimensional shadow with weight. I couldn't move a muscle, classic SP; My hand was touching my wife's back but I couldn't move it to wake her up. Somehow I managed to fade back to sleep without resolving the issue and awoke again in the morning.

The dream I was having was that I was in a medieval town that was beset by demons and I was trying to convince the people to fight them. To have that proceed into Sleep Paralysis was a bit freaky.

Anyway, great thread. Carry on!
 
2012-10-31 11:46:10 AM  
Question for other SP sufferers out there ( I assume there are plenty in this thread. Mine has given me a fixation on the creep). When you are fighting to get conscientiousness, what happens if you give up? I feel forced to constantly fight through what my mind is forcing me to see. Trying to force my mind to wake up. Upon succeeding I awake to my paralyzed body which is slowly awakening, but what happens if I don't fight the previous stage? I never give up for fear of the unknown.
 
2012-10-31 11:46:23 AM  
Also, for anyone looking for spooky stuff on Netflix instant streaming, here's a list of stuff I queued for our Halloween party this year:

Insidious
Grave Encounters
Apartment 143
The Innkeepers
Pontypool
Paranormal activity 2/3
 
2012-10-31 11:46:27 AM  
I have one. I was on a tour of Crown Hill Cemetary. At one point, we had to get in our cars, and drive from point A to point B. I look at one of the mausoleums that they have and there's a ghost girl inside, looking out, as if she was trapped.

I learned later that some people put dummies in their mausoleums to deter theft. Frankly, i don't think this was the case as she was transparent, in addition to the fact that i don't' know why anyone if their right mind would use a 5 year old girl for that sort of thing.
 
2012-10-31 11:46:28 AM  
Spoiler Alert: The calls were coming from inside the house.
 
2012-10-31 11:48:34 AM  
AN OLD TALE FROM PEORIA, IL
(taken from www.prarieghosts.com)

If either of these questions can be answered in the affirmative, then this might explain the strange events that have plagued the old State Mental Hospital in Bartonville for many years. In its final years of operations, after the last of the patients had departed, staff members in the building started to report some odd occurrences. After they left, the building became the site of frequent excursions by vandals, trespassers and curiosity-seekers, many of whom have had their own encounters in the place.

But there is a long history behind this sad and forlorn place.... a history that is filled with social and medical reform, insanity and yes, even ghosts.

Construction on the first buildings here actually began in 1885 and were completed in 1887. The hospital, when completed, resembled a medieval castle with battlements and turrets. It was a foreboding structure and one not fit for the kind of progressive medicine that was planned for it. Despite the huge costs involved in building it, it was never used and was torn down in 1897. The reason for the demolition was given as structural and design flaws. According to early reports, the castle-like building had been constructed over an abandoned coal mine and wide cracks were beginning to appear in the walls. The decay was believed to be caused by the collapsing of the old mine shafts.

In 1902, the hospital would reopen with Dr. George A. Zeller, a pioneer in mental health, at the helm. The new hospital implemented the "cottage system" and 33 different buildings were used to house patients. There was also a nurse's home, a store, a power house, and a domestic building with a laundry, bakery and kitchen. Zeller also implemented a system with no window bars or restraints, something that was unheard of in those days.

Dr. Zeller also realized that a system was needed for the burial of the dead at the hospital. He decided that the asylum would take care of the burials of the unclaimed, but that all other deceased persons would be shipped home to their relatives. The hospital's burial ground eventually grew to include four cemeteries, which were located behind the main buildings. The older cemeteries are marked with stones that only bear numbers, as many of the patients came there without names. The newer cemeteries have stones bearing names, birth and death dates, and patient numbers upon them. The oldest cemetery here would mark the location of the very first ghost story to be associated with the hospital. But this is no mere folk legend or rumor, this was a documented account of a supernatural event.... and the teller of the tale was none other than Dr. George Zeller himself!

Shortly after taking over the hospital, Dr. Zeller created a burial corps to deal with the disposal of those who passed away while in care of the hospital. The corps consisted of a staff member of the hospital and a half-dozen of the patients. While these men were still disturbed, all of them were competent enough to take part in the digging of the graves.

Of all of the gravediggers, the most unusual man, according to Dr. Zeller, was a fellow called A. Bookbinder. The man was completely mute so no one knew his real name. Apparently, the man had suffered a breakdown while working in a printing house, possibly in Chicago, and his mental illness had left him incapable of coherent speech. The officer who had taken him into custody merely wrote in his report that the man had been employed as "a bookbinder". A court clerk listed this as the man's name and he was sent to the hospital as A. Bookbinder.

Dr. Zeller described the man as being strong and healthy, although completely uncommunicative. Soon, the attendants enlisted him to assist in the burial corps. Strangely, "Old Book" as he began to be called was especially suited to the work. Ordinarily, when the coffin was being lowered, the gravediggers would stand back out of the way and wait silently for the funeral to end. At that point, they would set to filling the grave. Nearly every single patient at the hospital was a stranger and unknown to the staff, so the funeral services were mainly done out of respect, rather than because of personal attachment to the deceased. Because of this, everyone was a little surprised when, at his first internment, Old Book proceeded to remove his cap, wipe his eyes and begin weeping loudly for the patient who had died. He would do the same thing at each service.... first his sleeve would be used to wipe away his tears and then he would walk over and lean against the old elm that stood in the center of the cemetery and begin sobbing loudly. This tree, where Book would give vent to his grief, was known as the "Graveyard Elm". It was a massive old tree which had been standing for many years.

Time passed and eventually Old Book too passed away. Word spread among the employees and as Book was well-liked, and noted for his peculiarities, everyone decided they would attend his funeral. Dr. Zeller wrote that more than 100 uniformed nurses attended, along with the male staff members and several hundred of the patients. Dr. Zeller officiated the service. Old Book's casket was placed on two cross beams above his empty grave and four men stood by to lower it into the ground at the end of the service. Dr. Zeller wrote, "Just as the choir finished the last lines of 'Rock of Ages', the men grasped the ropes, stooped forward, and with a powerful, muscular effort, prepared to lift the coffin, in order to permit the removal of the crossbeams and allow it to gently descend into the grave. "At a given signal, they heaved away the ropes and the next instant, all four lay on their backs. For the coffin, instead of offering resistance, bounded into the air like an eggshell, as if it were empty!"

Needless to say, the spectators were a little shocked at this turn of events and the nurses were to said to have shrieked, half of them running away and the other half coming closer to the grave to see what was going on.

"In the midst of the commotion," Dr. Zeller continued, "a wailing voice was heard and every eye turned toward the Graveyard Elm whence it emanated. Every man and woman stood transfixed, for there, just as had always been the case, stood Old Book, weeping and moaning with an earnestness that outrivaled anything he had ever shown before.

After a few moments of this, Dr. Zeller summoned some men to remove the lid of the coffin, convinced that Old Book could not be inside of it. The lid was lifted and as soon as it was, the wailing sound completely stopped. Inside of the coffin lay the body of Old Book.... unquestionably dead. It was said that every eye looked upon the still corpse and then over to the Graveyard Elm. The apparition had vanished.

"It was awful, but it was real," Dr. Zeller wrote. "I saw it; 100 nurses saw it and 300 spectators saw it."

A few days later, the Graveyard Elm mysteriously began to wither and die. In spite of efforts to save it, the tree declined over the next year until it was completely dead. Later, after the dead limbs had dropped, workmen tried to remove the rest of the tree, but stopped working after the first cut of the ax caused the tree to emanate an "agonized, despairing cry of pain". After that, Dr. Zeller suggested the tree be burned, however as soon as the flames started around the tree's base, the workers quickly put them out. They later told Zeller that they heard a sobbing and crying sound coming from it.

"Today, Old Book's grave remains without headstone or monument," Dr. Zeller wrote about his shared experience. "But if anyone asks where he is, those of us in the know point with a shudder to the remains of the Graveyard Elm."

After the death of Dr. Zeller, the hospital remained in continuous use for many more years, adding buildings, patients and care facilities for children and tuberculosis patients. The institution finally closed down in 1972 and remained mostly empty for a number of years. In 1980, it was sold off at auction to anyone who would tear down the empty buildings but it soon became the property of the bank again when the buyer declared bankruptcy. The remaining hospital buildings are today the property of Winsley Durand Jr., who hopes to convert the place into office space. It is private property and trespassers are not allowed.

Even though trespassing is discouraged at the old hospital, it hasn't stopped vandals and would-be ghost hunters from going inside the place over the last three decades. Although many of these people have been less than kind to the old building, most are not looking to damage the structure... they are looking for ghosts. As with most abandoned structures of this kind, stories about ghosts and hauntings are common. What derelict dwelling has not been targeted as the local "haunted house" at one time or another? With buildings of this type, once a story gets started, its hard to stop..... except in this case, the stories appear to be true!
 
2012-10-31 11:50:27 AM  
So, CSB time, and made super-creepy by FARK, of all things.

True story, etc.

I was 14, sitting in my parent's 'posh' front room where the nice furniture was. Mom and Dad had stepped out to pick up dinner, and it was night. I was sitting in front of my big-ass stereo, one of the old-school rack jobs, where the record player sat on top of the amp, which sat on top of the tuner, which sat on top of the tape deck. Headphones on, commence listening to music.

About twenty minutes in, I get this insane feeling of being watched. Not a casual 'hey, someone's there' vibe, but full-blown creeps; gooseflesh, hair on back of neck, etc. I whip my head around to the right to look out the window all the way across the room and bam, there's this dude in a cloak and a wide brimmed hat staring at me, through the window.

I could barely make out any features save for the fact he was tall, wore a cloak and had a wide-brimmed hat like something out of High Plains Drifter. What horrified me was he seemed to instantly amplify the fear I felt and reflect it back, his face pulled into this crazy rictus of a maniacal grin. The moment I made eye contact (all of 2 seconds if that) boom, vanished. Gone.

Then I instantly felt the same damn creepy gooseflesh vibe from my other side. I whip my head around to the left and the Hat Man is standing in the hallway looking and silently laughing at me. Again, the moment I made eye contact, boom, gone.

I never thought much of it later, until last week I brought it up on another creepy thread here on FARK. Never heard anyone else talk about it in my life, until another FARKer brought it up that the 'hat man' or 'man in hat' is something that's been seen by a lot of other people.

Bullshiat, I thought. I googled 'shadow people' + 'hat man'.

The first link had a drawing, and damned if it wasn't the same *@@(* thing I saw in the Hallway. Multpile people with the same descriptions, etc.

So, thanks fellow FARKers, for re-energizing something I thought was long gone, and for freaking me out all over again.
 
2012-10-31 11:51:00 AM  
Freakiest dream/sleep paralysis/whatever that happened to me:

Woke in a panic feeling that a hand had grabbed mine, fighting loose I grabbed a pillow and smashed it over top of the hand which continued to fight and grab at mine but it eventually disappeared down into the bed itself. I sat there mashing down on that pillow for who-knows how long until my higher brain functions kicked in and I realized I must look quite silly to be fighting with an imaginary hand. I calmly put my pillows back, took a leak and went back to bed.
 
2012-10-31 11:53:41 AM  

thecpt: Question for other SP sufferers out there ( I assume there are plenty in this thread. Mine has given me a fixation on the creep). When you are fighting to get conscientiousness, what happens if you give up? I feel forced to constantly fight through what my mind is forcing me to see. Trying to force my mind to wake up. Upon succeeding I awake to my paralyzed body which is slowly awakening, but what happens if I don't fight the previous stage? I never give up for fear of the unknown.


It's easier if you just let yourself go with it. Remember that you're in control. The few times I was able to let go I had amazing lucid dreams experiences-in one I could fly. It was amazingly real.
 
2012-10-31 11:55:15 AM  

capnmonkey: Also, for anyone looking for spooky stuff on Netflix instant streaming, here's a list of stuff I queued for our Halloween party this year:

Insidious
Grave Encounters
Apartment 143
The Innkeepers
Pontypool
Paranormal activity 2/3


Insidious is pretty good. The Innkeepers is creepy but not jump out of your skin scary. Paranormal Activity is typical loud noises make you jump. Might I suggest House of the Devil for an awesome newer movie with a retro feel. It's seriously good
 
2012-10-31 11:57:11 AM  
My Gentleman Caller - a true story of an Ellicott City haunting (this happened last year)

I've always had the feeling that my apartment is haunted. I've never had the slightest sense that it was malevolent or evil, just that he was there. I live on Main St. in a historic town that has more than its share of ghost stories and haunted establishments, so I'm not at all surprised mine is one of them.

I have always had the idea that my ghostie was an older gentleman, and like I said, never got the impression that he wanted to hurt me. The opposite, really, it almost seemed like he was looking out for me. I often come home late to find a light turned on for me. This behavior has made me all but ignore the occasional thumping or creaking as just my gentleman friend wandering around at night. I would sometimes see a "something" cross the dining room, but nothing more than a shadow out of the corner of my eye. (Others who have stayed in my place have reported different interactions, but I can't corroborate those.)

Last weekend I made beer bread and being the lazy ass I am, the cooling rack has been sitting on the dining room table for a week. Any time I would walk by it would vibrate/rattle faintly against the glass table top, but nothing else would move it. Not doors closing, or movement from the shop downstairs, just me walking across the dining room.

Saturday night I was curled up on my couch in a blanket - I am also cheap, and haven't wanted to turn the heat on - watching a movie when I start to hear that cooling rack rattling against the table top. Just 4 little rattles or so, increasing in force then stopping, and then 6 or so back across the room. I have not been bothered by any of the manifestations of my Ghostie in the time I have lived here, but this freaked me right the hell out.

While I was sufficiently startled, I got over it and went to bed. It was pretty cold by then, but I burrowed under my covers and eventually fell sleep. At some point I woke up to the sensation of being tucked in, having the blankets pulled up over me and tucked in around me. I turned over and saw someone standing next to my bed. He said "it's awfully cold in here." I wasn't afraid, but asked "how did you get in here?" He said "I used to live here. It's okay, go back to sleep. Stay warm."

I went back to sleep, but have the suspicion I met my Ghostie that night. I woke up tucked in like a burrito; arms still inside the covers.

And as nice as he is, I'm still a little freaked out about being there by myself, and turning the lights off to go to sleep.

And that little rattle from the dining room table...
 
2012-10-31 11:58:42 AM  

capnmonkey


Also, for anyone looking for spooky stuff on Netflix instant streaming, here's a list of stuff I queued for our Halloween party this year:

Insidious
Grave Encounters
Apartment 143
The Innkeepers
Pontypool
Paranormal activity 2/3


Liked them all, but Pontypool was kind a mixed bag. I watched Apartment 143 last night. Pretty good!
 
2012-10-31 12:05:38 PM  
Only "ghost" story I can tell you was real, and happened to me.

My fiancee and I bought a house in March, 2008. We got married in May. Every single day, I'd beat him home from work, and he'd pull up home on his motorcycle, open the garage door, and pull it inside. I knew the sound of his bike by heart. It was distinctive to me since he rode it every day. In June that year, he was killed in a pretty gruesome motorcycle accident.

Exactly six months, to the DAY, after the accident, I was inside my house, early evening, like 6pm or so. I heard his motorcycle pull up to the house. I swear to you all, I was not crazy, I know I heard it. Even stranger... I was walking to the front door to look outside at the driveway, (the sound of the bike stopped) and as I approached the door, the doorbell rang.

There were no kids messing around outside, and the wiring had never had a problem. He rang the doorbell. He came home, and he rang the doorbell.

I was unbelievably freaked out. But I know what I heard, and I have never been able to explain it.
 
2012-10-31 12:09:48 PM  
Ye olde classic American ghost story coming right up.

I respect my dad a lot as a no-nonsense kind of guy and he is a skeptic and will think through the logical explanation of just about anything so when he says he experienced some kind of a haunting I believe him.

Back in the 1960s my father was part of a repertoire company that was working in a small theater in Abingdon, VA. What you need to know about this mountain town is that there's a whole network of natural tunnels and caves just underground and they are blamed for some peculiarities in the town (apparently it's one of the most haunted places in the US). Well, Dad went to his director's house in the outskirts of town for a cold reading for the next play. As he and the cast (all men) were sitting in the living room he noticed that the light was shifting in an odd way and heard something squeaking. He glanced up and saw in the hallway a light bulb dangling from a wire making wide rapid ellipses. He just watched this light going in these wild, large circles until, as if caught by an invisible hand, it just stopped. It didn't slow down to a stop, it was as if someone just grabbed it to hold it steady. No one else seemed phased by it but they did stop to glimpse up at the light from time to time. 'The director has a ghost problem, nothing to concern yourself with. Not a big deal at all.'

Say what now?

This director had been renting the house for a few years now and for a long while would wake up in the middle of the night feeling like he was being watched. Some nights he'd get a glimpse in his periphery of a woman or someone wearing a long dress. Then one night he shot up and saw her. A young woman or teen girl standing at the foot of his bed watching him sleep. And like that she turned away and ran out of the bedroom. He told someone about it and was told to share his story with a local inn who had similar hauntings. Men, staying in alone, would wake up and see a young woman watching them. One night a guest actually chased after her when she fled and watched her vanish into a wall. But they didn't know why this seemingly unrelated house had the same haunting. About a year or two before my father arrived the hotel did a renovation and found a void behind the wall that the ghost ran into. That lead down to the cellar, which had been walled off likely in the 20s or 30s when the place had been converted from a girl's dorm to a hotel. The cellar itself was one of those tunnels and someone walked down about 500 paces or so and walked into someone's basement. Turns out that it was connected to the house all along.

As for the ghost the most likely candidate was a student from the girls college who was living in the then dormitory. Because of the descriptions of her clothing it was likely she was from the 1910's. About that time there was a student who was getting ready to leave school to get married but contracted a fever and died the night before her wedding date. Her body was stored in the cellar for a few days until her family was able to come into town to collect her.
 
2012-10-31 12:12:15 PM  

allestelle: When I was in junior high, my parents moved to a small town into a house that was in the middle of the woods. The closest house was a few miles away, and nobody lived there. I got pretty used to the isolation, and it never really bothered me.

I was in high school when this happened. The incident itself was creepy, but the events leading up to it made it even more unexplainable and frightening to me. My dad had developed a love for rocks around this time. He loved finding unique rocks and had amassed quite a collection. They were worthless, but he enjoyed it. Most of the rocks he acquired because they were pretty, but he also had some rocks that just looked odd, and so he kept them. He had developed a penchant for rocks that looked like faces.

One day, he was clearing some weeds from the creek behind our house. He found a rock that looked like a miniature skull. It had two "eye sockets," a hole where a nose would be, and a missing chunk that really did look like it could be a mouth.

My mother was instantly creeped out by the rock and told him not to keep it in the house. He told her he'd get rid of it.

The next afternoon, my mother was home alone, standing in the kitchen which faced the back yard and the creek. She was staring out one of the windows when she thought she saw a man standing out in the back yard on the edge of the woods. (There was no fence, just a large back yard which was surrounded by the creek & the woods.) He was looking towards the house. She obviously got really nervous and moved to another window to get a closer look. By the time she got to that window, there was now a woman standing by him. Which was odd, because there wouldn't have been enough time for someone to walk up and stand by him. It took all of five seconds to get to the other window.
Realizing that, my mom started to wonder if they were really there or if it was a mirage of some sort. She moved back to the other window (another five seconds) and could no longer see anyone, so she ...


This story reminds me: if readers like this sort of thing and don't know about them already, they might like looking up the stories of M. R. James and his pupil H. R. Wakefield, two of the great ghost story writers:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I6IVIFJKDdQ&feature=related
 
2012-10-31 12:22:52 PM  
I used to live in a large house in Westlake Ohio that was well over a hundred years old (it'd be at least 130 by now). The place was...unnerving. For example, my bedroom floor was crooked. Not so you'd notice if you weren't looking for it, but if you put a marble on the floor it would roll under the bed without fail. One of the walls bowed slightly inward as well. Again, you probably wouldn't notice without knowing about it, but it you walked toward it your forehead would hit the wall while your feet were still six inches away.

I only mention this, because the subtle "offness" of the place could offer a non-supernatural explanation for what I'm telling you. I've read a lot about how little things like that can give you a subconscious sense that things are "wrong". Messes with your perception, causes you to see things out of the corner of your eye, that sort of thing.

Anyway, I'm about seven years old, and living in this crooked room. I've been having a lot of nightmares, and the weird spatial properties of the place are probably the cause. One day I'm sitting on my floor, in front of my closet, drawing with crayons. The doors of my closet are those sliding mirror ones. I'm drawing, and I keep seeing things in the mirror out of the corner of my eye. Things moving. I look up and they are gone. Brain playing tricks on me.

After about the fourth time this has happened, I am getting more annoyed than scared. It happens again, and this time I resolve not to look up. I stay focused on my drawing, and just keep watching with my peripheral vision. The movement in the mirror doesn't cease, and in fact seems to be getting clearer the more I avoid looking directly at it.

Finally I am sure there is something there and look up. To my shock, what I saw was still there. I was looking either through the mirror like a window to a room beyond, or at a reflection of the room I was in (hard to tell, I was young and rather too taken aback to examine minute details).

What I saw was a family. Just an ordinary family. There was a mother and a father and a little girl. The mother and father were sitting at a table talking, and the little girl was lying on her stomach perpendicular to me reading a book. I couldn't hear anything, just see them. I wish to hell I could remember more of the details, like what they were wearing or what the furniture in the room was like. I'm not sure if this was the past or the present or what. Hell if I know, I was seven.

I stared at them in complete shock for over a minute, waiting for either the image to fade or them to notice me. I was too freaked out to leave or call my mom, the people in the mirror might have heard me.

But they ignored me completely. I watched the girl mostly; she was close enough that I almost felt like I could lean forward and touch her through the mirror. She was engrossed in what she was reading, but kept sort of glancing my general direction, as if something was bothering her.

Another minute passes, and the shock has faded just enough that I'm wondering if saying something or calling my mom would be okay. These aren't scary looking people, they just really shouldn't be in my mirror. But just as I'm trying to convince myself to do something the girl slowly turns her head and her eyes widen and holy Christ she can see me! I still remember the utter shock on her face, because I'm sure I had the exact same expression. She opened her mouth to scream or call her parents attention to me or something, but at that point I bolted from the room in abject terror.

Took a couple of days for my own parents to convince me to enter my bedroom again, and I made them take down the mirrored closet doors. So...ghosts? A window into the past or future? A parallel world? Or some dumbass kid who dozed off playing with his crayons, had a dream, and was spooked by his own reflection upon waking?
 
2012-10-31 12:23:04 PM  
i2.ytimg.comView Full Size
 
2012-10-31 12:24:00 PM  

farkerintx: True story, this happened to me, about 20 years ago.

I never slept in that apartment again, and won't go up there after dark, to this day. My biggest fear when I'm visiting my parents home, is that I'll move something in the garage or barn, and behind it will be that board.


Don't have any creepy tales like that because I never used it, but I threw the same damn Ouija board away multiple times.

Long version: After getting married I was helping my new wife(now ex) pack up her shiat so we could move into our new apartment. Found a Parker Bros. Ouija board in the back of her closet. Threw it away with the rest of the trash. About a year later, I was packing up our apartment so we could move into a bigger apartment, and found the (I think) same Ouija board in the bottom of the bedroom closet. Strange. Threw it in the dumpster.

About a year after that, I was packing up all my shiat because we decided to separate, and found the Ouija board in the bottom of the linen closet. Took it out back and threw it in the creek.

Haven't seen it since...but I should ask the ex if she has cleaned out her closets lately.
 
2012-10-31 12:25:42 PM  

cscanlon7: fugeeface: muck4doo: fugeeface: About 12 years ago, I lived with in San Jose with my now ex wife. We went out one evening going somewhere in Los Gatos (I don't remember where we were headed). I was driving and she was in the passenger seat. I had taken a couple of wrong turns and we were a bit lost in an upper-middle class residential area. This neighborhood was fairly well-lighted, and looked like it had been built in the 1950's. I decide to pull into a empty driveway to turn around and go back the opposite direction in search of our destination. The driveway I chose at random lead to a typical garage attached to a non-nondescript house with a light-colored paint job. One or 2 lights were on in the house, and the shades were all down. The front end of our car had barely crossed the sidewalk when I felt a cold wave of fathomless evil fear pass over and through me. We were about 25 feet from the garage door. I instantly hit the brakes and at the same time glanced at the ex. Her eyes were open wide and she was staring straight ahead. She looked at me and said, "Get out of here," in a very serious flat tone of voice. I was already in reverse, and got out of that neighborhood as fast as I could. We decided to abort whatever we were going to do and went straight home. We were quiet for about a minute, and after we had gone a few blocks or so, I asked her what was wrong, and she replied that she experienced a sudden "cold evil fear" as we pulled into that driveway. She essentially felt the same thing at the same moment as I did. We neither saw nor heard nothing to prompt what we sensed. Nothing of that kind ever happened to me before or since, and I'm not in the habit of experiencing that level of creepiness. I kinda wish now that I would have had the presence of mind to remember the street and house number, if only to see if that experience would happen again -in the daytime-. No way would I ever go back at night and without more witnesses. I have a p ...


I LOL'd, would LOL again.
 
2012-10-31 12:30:23 PM  

FatherChaos: AN OLD TALE FROM PEORIA, IL
(taken from www.prarieghosts.com)

If either of these questions can be answered in the affirmative, then this might explain the strange events that have plagued the old State Mental Hospital in Bartonville for many years. In its final years of operations, after the last of the patients had departed, staff members in the building started to report some odd occurrences. After they left, the building became the site of frequent excursions by vandals, trespassers and curiosity-seekers, many of whom have had their own encounters in the place.

But there is a long history behind this sad and forlorn place.... a history that is filled with social and medical reform, insanity and yes, even ghosts.

Construction on the first buildings here actually began in 1885 and were completed in 1887. The hospital, when completed, resembled a medieval castle with battlements and turrets. It was a foreboding structure and one not fit for the kind of progressive medicine that was planned for it. Despite the huge costs involved in building it, it was never used and was torn down in 1897. The reason for the demolition was given as structural and design flaws. According to early reports, the castle-like building had been constructed over an abandoned coal mine and wide cracks were beginning to appear in the walls. The decay was believed to be caused by the collapsing of the old mine shafts.

In 1902, the hospital would reopen with Dr. George A. Zeller, a pioneer in mental health, at the helm. The new hospital implemented the "cottage system" and 33 different buildings were used to house patients. There was also a nurse's home, a store, a power house, and a domestic building with a laundry, bakery and kitchen. Zeller also implemented a system with no window bars or restraints, something that was unheard of in those days.

Dr. Zeller also realized that a system was needed for the burial of the dead at the hospital. He decided that the asylum would take care of the burials of the unclaimed, but that all other deceased persons would be shipped home to their relatives. The hospital's burial ground eventually grew to include four cemeteries, which were located behind the main buildings. The older cemeteries are marked with stones that only bear numbers, as many of the patients came there without names. The newer cemeteries have stones bearing names, birth and death dates, and patient numbers upon them. The oldest cemetery here would mark the location of the very first ghost story to be associated with the hospital. But this is no mere folk legend or rumor, this was a documented account of a supernatural event.... and the teller of the tale was none other than Dr. George Zeller himself!

Shortly after taking over the hospital, Dr. Zeller created a burial corps to deal with the disposal of those who passed away while in care of the hospital. The corps consisted of a staff member of the hospital and a half-dozen of the patients. While these men were still disturbed, all of them were competent enough to take part in the digging of the graves.

Of all of the gravediggers, the most unusual man, according to Dr. Zeller, was a fellow called A. Bookbinder. The man was completely mute so no one knew his real name. Apparently, the man had suffered a breakdown while working in a printing house, possibly in Chicago, and his mental illness had left him incapable of coherent speech. The officer who had taken him into custody merely wrote in his report that the man had been employed as "a bookbinder". A court clerk listed this as the man's name and he was sent to the hospital as A. Bookbinder.

Dr. Zeller described the man as being strong and healthy, although completely uncommunicative. Soon, the attendants enlisted him to assist in the burial corps. Strangely, "Old Book" as he began to be called was especially suited to the work. Ordinarily, when the coffin was being lowered, the gravediggers would stand back out of the way and wait silently for the funeral to end. At that point, they would set to filling the grave. Nearly every single patient at the hospital was a stranger and unknown to the staff, so the funeral services were mainly done out of respect, rather than because of personal attachment to the deceased. Because of this, everyone was a little surprised when, at his first internment, Old Book proceeded to remove his cap, wipe his eyes and begin weeping loudly for the patient who had died. He would do the same thing at each service.... first his sleeve would be used to wipe away his tears and then he would walk over and lean against the old elm that stood in the center of the cemetery and begin sobbing loudly. This tree, where Book would give vent to his grief, was known as the "Graveyard Elm". It was a massive old tree which had been standing for many years.

Time passed and eventually Old Book too passed away. Word spread among the employees and as Book was well-liked, and noted for his peculiarities, everyone decided they would attend his funeral. Dr. Zeller wrote that more than 100 uniformed nurses attended, along with the male staff members and several hundred of the patients. Dr. Zeller officiated the service. Old Book's casket was placed on two cross beams above his empty grave and four men stood by to lower it into the ground at the end of the service. Dr. Zeller wrote, "Just as the choir finished the last lines of 'Rock of Ages', the men grasped the ropes, stooped forward, and with a powerful, muscular effort, prepared to lift the coffin, in order to permit the removal of the crossbeams and allow it to gently descend into the grave. "At a given signal, they heaved away the ropes and the next instant, all four lay on their backs. For the coffin, instead of offering resistance, bounded into the air like an eggshell, as if it were empty!"

Needless to say, the spectators were a little shocked at this turn of events and the nurses were to said to have shrieked, half of them running away and the other half coming closer to the grave to see what was going on.

"In the midst of the commotion," Dr. Zeller continued, "a wailing voice was heard and every eye turned toward the Graveyard Elm whence it emanated. Every man and woman stood transfixed, for there, just as had always been the case, stood Old Book, weeping and moaning with an earnestness that outrivaled anything he had ever shown before.

After a few moments of this, Dr. Zeller summoned some men to remove the lid of the coffin, convinced that Old Book could not be inside of it. The lid was lifted and as soon as it was, the wailing sound completely stopped. Inside of the coffin lay the body of Old Book.... unquestionably dead. It was said that every eye looked upon the still corpse and then over to the Graveyard Elm. The apparition had vanished.

"It was awful, but it was real," Dr. Zeller wrote. "I saw it; 100 nurses saw it and 300 spectators saw it."

A few days later, the Graveyard Elm mysteriously began to wither and die. In spite of efforts to save it, the tree declined over the next year until it was completely dead. Later, after the dead limbs had dropped, workmen tried to remove the rest of the tree, but stopped working after the first cut of the ax caused the tree to emanate an "agonized, despairing cry of pain". After that, Dr. Zeller suggested the tree be burned, however as soon as the flames started around the tree's base, the workers quickly put them out. They later told Zeller that they heard a sobbing and crying sound coming from it.

"Today, Old Book's grave remains without headstone or monument," Dr. Zeller wrote about his shared experience. "But if anyone asks where he is, those of us in the know point with a shudder to the remains of the Graveyard Elm."

After the death of Dr. Zeller, the hospital remained in continuous use for many more years, adding buildings, patients and care facilities for children and tuberculosis patients. The institution finally closed down in 1972 and remained mostly empty for a number of years. In 1980, it was sold off at auction to anyone who would tear down the empty buildings but it soon became the property of the bank again when the buyer declared bankruptcy. The remaining hospital buildings are today the property of Winsley Durand Jr., who hopes to convert the place into office space. It is private property and trespassers are not allowed.

Even though trespassing is discouraged at the old hospital, it hasn't stopped vandals and would-be ghost hunters from going inside the place over the last three decades. Although many of these people have been less than kind to the old building, most are not looking to damage the structure... they are looking for ghosts. As with most abandoned structures of this kind, stories about ghosts and hauntings are common. What derelict dwelling has not been targeted as the local "haunted house" at one time or another? With buildings of this type, once a story gets started, its hard to stop..... except in this case, the stories appear to be true!


Most of the grounds of that old hospital were converted into an industrial park. I used to work, often alone, in a warehouse there that used to be a dormatory for the patients. You can see the areas in the basement walls where they bricked up the underground passages.

The only structure that is still unmodernized is the administrative building. Teens used to go in there to freak themselves out. Some Halloween tour group bought it and they give ghost tours this time of year. The place is a dump.

I never experienced anything freaky there, although kids who go in late at night have stories.
 
2012-10-31 12:30:31 PM  
Went to Waverly Hills this year on a mini tour. When we got to the fourth floor, where there are usually a lot of "shadow people" sightings, we stopped at the beginning of a long hallway, and the guide asked for a volunteer. A teenage boy next to me was like "Hell yeah" and ran up front. The guide told him to walk down the hall by himself til she told him to stop. He said no way. I said "Move it, I'll do it." So she repeated to walked down the hall til she tells me to stop. Okay, I was thinking about ten feet. Nope, far end of the hall which was about twenty yards. Then she tells me to stop and put out my arms, so I did. I had my back to everyone and I hear them saying stuff behind me about a ball of light and shadow people, which of course I couldn't see. Then I felt something start to pet my hair, like one would pet a cat or dog. It kinda creeped me out but it was funny at the same time. I had my arms stretched out and just beyond my vision of my right hand, I could hear something pacing, but I couldn't see it. I could see a figure in front of me, just a vaguely humanish shape without details, and I could see something break the light to the room just to my left. The guide asked me if I was moving my arms and I said no. She said that something kept blocking their vision of my right arm then (I guess whatever it was that I heard pacing). After about five minutes, she tells me to walk back slowly to the group. I rejoined them then we all walked down the hall together and to the staircase. While I was waiting on my turn to walk down the stairs, I said "It's still touching my hair" but this time it felt like it was just tickling the crown of my hair. After I said that, my friend in front of me turned around to look and as she turned her flashlight on, a lock of my hair went straight out then fell back down. Creepy but again, pretty fun.

When we went last year, one of the girls in my group ended up with four bright red scratch marks on her back while we were standing in the old OR. I had seen this girl change her shirt in the car and I'm pretty sure I would have noticed scratches like that if they were there before. She was wearing two layers of clothes (because it's cold in thurr, damnit) and whatever it was didnt hurt her clothes but scratched her pretty good.

Looking forward to doing an overnight soon. Would LOVE to see the little boy on the fifth floor.
 
2012-10-31 12:32:10 PM  
True story:

I remember an incident when my wife and I moved to a new house. It had taken us a while to get used to sleeping there due to living "in town" where there were constant sirens and traffic noise. I remember how horribly quiet it was. The slightest noise sounded amplified.

One night I remember half waking up and feeling her next to me. This, of course was not unusual at all but just a few minutes later I started hearing something in the hall. It sounded like footsteps. It invoked that horrible panic you feel when you were a little kid. Surely that's not really what I heard.

So I remained still, eyes shut in the hopes that I was imagining it. Trying to hear if it would happen again. Then I heard another step.This time it was real, no doubt. In fact, it was getting closer. There was someone in my house that should not be there.

By the time I decided to find out what it was (one or two seconds) I could hear steps in the room right in front of me. I had to open my eyes and take a look.

In my rapidly diminishing half-sleep I opened my eyes to see the blurry shape of a woman standing next to the bed moving in what looked like a shambling motion toward me. I about shiat myself.

I was so startled that I sat up in bed screaming in terror. All my childhood fears of the dark suddenly came true. The woman started screaming in return as if she too what frightened silly.

Then I realized, it was my wife... she had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and in my half-asleep state did not know she had left the bed.

We laughed about that for weeks.
 
2012-10-31 12:34:06 PM  

blatz514: Beer 'fridge

[aromacucina.typepad.com image 459x315]


You owe me a new pair of boxers
 
2012-10-31 12:34:56 PM  
From the time I was about 2 until 14/15 my mom, little brother and I lived with my grandparents. Their house wasn't all that old, the property it sat on used to be sugarcane fields my grandmother's family owned before it was split between my grandmother and her two sisters. My grandparents married, built a house on my grandmother's share of the land in the early 60's, nothing out of the ordinary, really.

From the time I was about 5 until maybe 13, I'd have this recurring nightmare where I'm in the hall, and this train comes barreling by, loaded with skeletons hanging out the windows, spanning between the cars themselves, chattering and talking loudly over the roar of the engine. The train would screech to a halt, and at this point I'm pressed up against the wall as flat as I could make myself, and two or three skeletons would begin reaching out and grabbing at my nightshirt, at which point I'd wake up. Always the same nightmare, maybe once a month or so, always ending the same way.

The dreams stopped after my uncle brought home an old, old map of the area, from the late 1800's. It didn't reveal any gravesites or have stories of horrible things happening on the land, but it did show the location of an old railroad track that cut through the property... almost perfectly down where the hall was.

Maybe not css, but I think it was more than coincidence.
 
2012-10-31 12:35:51 PM  
Well, here is my contribution.

My house in Ohio was built in 1910. When my ex and I were moving in, the busybody neighbors from across the street came over to meet us (more like size us up) and talk to us about the previous tenants. Like the fact that the plumbing in the house busted and they pissed in the garage (cue the bleach cleaning of that) and that the house had fallen into disrepair with the last owner who has rented the property out. We assured them that we intended to fix it up as best we could, and then the old fart told us a story.

The house had been owned by a couple for many years. They were the ones responsible for most of the "garden" around the property. Apparently the old lady would get up every morning and walk about weeding the yard. One morning she had a heart attack and collapsed on the lawn, dead. Her husband inside continued to live in the house for a couple years past that but eventually went insane and was placed in a nursing home, where he eventually passed away. The neighbor was very explicit about the fact that they LOVED the house.

Well, being the owner of a house where a previous owner had died in the lawn was not really disconcerting. I figure that since the dawn of time people and animals have probably died over most of the surface of the Earth. Why be paranoid? Whenever something weird would happen in the house, we used to joke that the old lady was about.

One incident that still boggles my mind is the evening I was watching TV in the living room. My ex was in the office. While sitting there, one of the dogs started growling at the entryway. And not just a low growl, his hackles were up and he was quite disturbed. At first I saw nothing, but then the TV started flickering like some sort of electrical interference. The dog finally started barking, and he ran up to the entryway and then yelped like he was struck. My ex barrelled into the living room and asked me what happened. I told him, and we both just figured that it was the old lady.

Not overly scary, but it's all that I've got.
 
2012-10-31 12:35:57 PM  

Znuh: So, CSB time, and made super-creepy by FARK, of all things.

True story, etc.

I was 14, sitting in my parent's 'posh' front room where the nice furniture was. Mom and Dad had stepped out to pick up dinner, and it was night. I was sitting in front of my big-ass stereo, one of the old-school rack jobs, where the record player sat on top of the amp, which sat on top of the tuner, which sat on top of the tape deck. Headphones on, commence listening to music.

About twenty minutes in, I get this insane feeling of being watched. Not a casual 'hey, someone's there' vibe, but full-blown creeps; gooseflesh, hair on back of neck, etc. I whip my head around to the right to look out the window all the way across the room and bam, there's this dude in a cloak and a wide brimmed hat staring at me, through the window.

I could barely make out any features save for the fact he was tall, wore a cloak and had a wide-brimmed hat like something out of High Plains Drifter. What horrified me was he seemed to instantly amplify the fear I felt and reflect it back, his face pulled into this crazy rictus of a maniacal grin. The moment I made eye contact (all of 2 seconds if that) boom, vanished. Gone.

Then I instantly felt the same damn creepy gooseflesh vibe from my other side. I whip my head around to the left and the Hat Man is standing in the hallway looking and silently laughing at me. Again, the moment I made eye contact, boom, gone.

I never thought much of it later, until last week I brought it up on another creepy thread here on FARK. Never heard anyone else talk about it in my life, until another FARKer brought it up that the 'hat man' or 'man in hat' is something that's been seen by a lot of other people.

Bullshiat, I thought. I googled 'shadow people' + 'hat man'.

The first link had a drawing, and damned if it wasn't the same *@@(* thing I saw in the Hallway. Multpile people with the same descriptions, etc.

So, thanks fellow FARKers, for re-energizing something I thought was long gone, and for freaking me out all over again.


I spoke to the Hat Man.

I took my girlfriend (now wife) home one night, and passed him at an intersection precisely at midnight. On the trip home I discovered him standing on the road out front of my house. He asked, "Do you want something?" I said no and ran inside like a little pussy. I figured he was either a drifter or the devil (at the crossroads at midnight).
 
2012-10-31 12:41:41 PM  

Wolf892: I was 15 years old and it was the first summer where my parents decided to take a weeklong vacation to visit my grandmother. This was great for me for two reasons, the first, I was allowed to stay home alone for the week, and the second, my mother had left me a 4 gallon tub of bubblegum ice-cream that she had told me to go wild on.
I stayed awake every night late, watching Japanese anime, drinking root-beer and eating the heck out of that bubble gum ice cream. I was in 15 year old boy Heaven.
On the second to last night of the week everything was going the same. It was three o clock in the morning when I finally finished the last episode of "bubblegum crisis" (which I'd loved watching while eating bubblegum ice-cream) and decided it was time to go downstairs to bed.
So I did.
I'm not sure what time it was when I woke up, my room was dark, I was laying in bed facing my wall and I could tell that if I didn't get out of bed my bladder was going to burst.
As I started to turn over in my bed so that I could climb out, something happened that to this day (34 years old now) I'll never forget.
From right beside my head, almost like a breath away from my ear I heard as clear as day a voice. The voice was strange though because it was devoid of all inflection, all tone, all emotion. It only spoke three words to me...
"Don't turn around"
That was it, nothing more, nothing less. But I didn't question that voice. It was so clear, so close to my head and so flat and inhuman in its substance that held my bladder and did not turn around to get out of bed until I could see the second rays of sunlight peaking through my curtain the next morning.
Just... "Don't turn around."


The commissar's in town?
 
2012-10-31 12:45:09 PM  
Where i went to college (between Grateful Dead shows):
Mount St. Mary's University was founded in 1808. According to Father Daniel Nusbaum, campus historian, in 1805, a circuit-riding priest, John DuBois, became tired while on a road between Frederick and Emmitsburg. He saw a light on a mountain and thought it was a farmhouse, so he rode toward it. He couldn't find the house and decided to sleep. When he awoke, he discovered a majestic scene of hills and fields. DuBois decided to stay to build a church and school. Today, its grounds are haunted.

Brute Hall, Room 252 Poltergeist

The dorm was named for the Rev. Simon Brute, a college president. Legend has it that he glides on the campus wearing a long black robe. He normally smiles, nods and moves on.

A priest lived in Room 252, actually, a suite with bedroom, sitting room/office and bathroom, when many of the professors lived on campus. One night he straightened his room, went out for a few minutes and returned to find everything in total disorder. Lights and the television flashed on and off at random times. He moved out. Another priest moved in. When his cat began hissing at strange times and scurrying under the bed in fear, he moved out.

Father Daniel lived in the room. When he was sleeping, objects were moved around. A mantle clock would move from one end to another and, sometimes, to the middle. The bed moved. Interior doors mysteriously opened and shut. At night, he heard the bathroom door squeakily open, saw the light turned on and the door shut. He wasn't afraid of the phenomena.

After he moved out the room was turned into one for students. In 1997, three students moved in. They witnessed a falling mirror and flushing toilet.

Brendan McMahon lived in 252 and experienced weird happenings. He and some friends were watching TV and sometimes, for no reason, the TV began jumping from channel to channel. He said the school put a bookshelf on the place where Brute died. Glasses fell off the shelves by themselves in the middle of the night.

McCaffrey Hall

Leander, a slave, worked for the college in the mid-1800s and lived on the first floor. He was accused of stealing. Because of this, his left hand was cut off and buried in the quadrangle. While Leander was eventually freed, he stayed at the college. When he died, he was buried in the college's cemetery. Residents of the hall have reported seeing a severed hand and hearing fingers scratching on dorm windows.

Civil War Soldier

He promised the woman he loved that he would think of her while in battle. They agreed to look at the sky and gaze upon the same star every night. When the soldier was killed at Gettysburg, he was buried, face down, in an old well. His ghost wanders about Mount Saint Mary's, tapping people on their shoulders as if he wants them to turn him over so he can see the sky.

Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton

She was the first American-born person who was canonized. Her ghost appears dressed in a floor-length cloak and bonnet with a Bible in one hand and rosary beads in the other. Her apparition is often seen walking beside a man who appears to be, by some, her father, a doctor. She was seen by wounded Civil War soldiers when the school was used as a hospital and she helped doctors heal the patients.

The Fr. Brute referenced above, his ghost is known to appear to troubled students, wearing vintage robes, giving them a pep talk urging the student not to give up.
 
2012-10-31 12:48:42 PM  
My favorite thread of the year. I actually have something to contribute now.

I live in a small country in West Africa, often considered the home of voodoo. Lots of slaves who left here two hundred years ago went to Haiti and that's why voodoo is such an important part of their culture there.

While the country is mostly Christian and Muslim now, voodoo still permeates lfie. There are voodoo markets with shrunken animal heads and all sorts of other fetishes. Even those who don't believe in voodoo still avoid doing anything to anger a witch doctor "just in case..."

Anyway, one of the legends around here is that many of the trees on the beaches were used by old voodoo worshipers as "trees of remembrance" to help them always remember their homes as they were being shipped as slaves, and as "trees of forgetting" to help them realize they were never coming back and that they should not hold on to the past, but rather look forward. They would often walk around these trees in a circle 40 times while carrying old amulets (again, shrunken animal heads and other charms).

Some of these trees are near my house by the beach. Before I knew what these trees were used for, I would walk my dog down by the beach and she would run after anything that moved, like birds or small crabs. But she would never get close to the tree of forgetting. She would actively try to avoid it and would whimper when I'd try to take her close to it.

One night I went out a little later than normal and it was already dark (it's recommended that you don't go to the beach at night due to criminals). I had my dog with me and people here are really scared of dogs, so I figured I would be ok. When I was about 200 yards from the trees of remembering and forgetting, I started to hear what sounded like a weird chant. My dog acted like she caught the scent of something and started practically running in the direction of the trees. As I got closer, I still couldn't see the trees, but the chanting was louder. I assumed there was some local party or something going on. That wouldn't be unusual.

My dog kept pulling me in that direction until we were about 50 yards away. It was so odd because she kept pulling and pulling - the opposite of what she normally did by the tree of forgetting. By now I was close enough to see what was causing it, and all I saw were little puffs of sand rising from the beach around one of the trees. No people, no party. Nothing.

Sudden my dog ripped away from me and instead of running away from the beach, she ran right to the tree. I chased her and got there a few seconds later. I don't know when the noise stopped, but now it was completely silent except for the waves. I looked around wondering where the people went, but I didn't see anybody. But what I did see, and what still gives me goose bumps, were footprints all around the trees. I don't know where they could have come from, but they were there and they looked fairly fresh. Normally the amount of wind would whip the sand all over the place and erase footprints relatively quickly.

I took my dog back home, got into bed, and basically stared at the ceiling until the next morning.

Later I found out that the legend goes that if the voodoo worshipers walked around the tree of forgetting in the wrong direction, they would be doomed to come back and repeat the ritual until they got it right.

I don't normally believe in the supernatural, but this was a really strange experience for me.
 
2012-10-31 12:54:42 PM  
I posted this last year, but it's absolutely a true one.

A few years ago I moved into a house with a couple of my friends. We got a ridiculously good deal on the rental price, since it was a friend's family's place. An old house, that my friend's grandfather had built himself, and in which both he and his wife lived until they died. Actually, that's why we got it so cheaply, because the grandmother had recently died in the house, and I guess they were still trying to figure out if they were going to sell or keep the house. One cold winter evening, I was sitting at home by myself downstairs watching tv, when I started hearing this tapping noise coming from upstairs. It wasn't even a regular tapping, but more of a "tap. tap. tap tap tap tap....... tap tap. tap." kind of thing. Definitely not dripping, or expanding/contracting pipes, etc. Like I said, I was alone, and this was pretty freaky. I turned on all of the lights downstairs and headed up to check out what was going on. Once I got to the top of the stairs, I realized it was still above me, coming from the attic. This was one of those houses with the pull-down stairs to the attic, and with no way to turn the lights on until you get up there. So, I turned on the upstairs lights, went and got a headlamp, getting ready to go up. The tapping was continuing the whole time, and was definitely loud, and now I could tell it wasn't even staying in the same place. I pulled down the stairs, and the tapping stopped. Holding my headlamp above my head, I went up there, wildly trying to look everywhere at once, since I was basically coming up out of a trap door. And there it was. Right in front of me. A monstrous shape, all spindly legs and eyes, easily three feet tall, right in front of me, eyes glinting in the light; a giant spider-like thing three feet across. And then I realized it was just a Halloween decoration I had put up there months before to scare my roommates when they went up next, but I just scared the crap out of myself for a few seconds. It later turned out the tapping had been crows, which for some reason decided they enjoyed pecking at the ice on the roof.
 
2012-10-31 12:54:53 PM  

meg12279: My father in law died about six months before I got pregnant with my son, his first grandchild. Pretty much right after he was born, we started hearing footsteps in his room, and we'd find him tucked in when neither one of us had done it, or if we couldn't find one of his stuffed animals when we put him to bed, it would somehow be in his crib when we got him in the morning. He would throw his pacifier out of the crib, and I'd go in to get it and it would be in his mouth.

Once, when he was about six weeks old, my husband came home from work and I asked him to take Henry (our son) so I could have a break. He asked to just get something to eat first, and I said fine, and took Henry into the office. The chair in there rocks, so I was sitting there, facing away from the door, he fell asleep, and I had my eyes closed. I felt someone walk into the room and put their hand on the back of the chair. Naturally I thought it was my husband, and I think he's going to think we're asleep and tiptoe out so he doesn't have to take his turn with the baby. I sit there until I feel him start to walk away, then I spin around and am ready to bust him, but no one is there. I go out to the living room and he's sitting on the couch eating. Hadn't been in the room. Then I realized I'd smelled cigarette smoke, and niether of us smoke-but my father in law did.

Similar stuff kept happening, and one day when Henry was maybe 4 months old I had him in his exersaucer. I heard footsteps, smelled cigarette smoke, and Henry started looking up and waving and laughing at someone. I said "Wayne, we miss you, and you can come see Henry any time, just please don't scare him." Then I heard a man's cough, in the room with me. I was home alone.

It's kind of nice, really.


You tell this story every year, and every year it makes me happy reading it.
 
2012-10-31 12:57:35 PM  
Not a ghost story, but likely the creepiest thing that ever happened to me...

I've always had a very active imagination and can still work myself scared silly when alone at night. One time, however, it was actually justified.

What others have described as feelings of "cold, malevolent evil," goosebumps, crawling in their stomach, etc. is something that, thanks to a grade school teacher, I always think of as "the uh-oh bells." Well, one sunny morning, rather than a dark and stormy night, I was home alone. My parents would leave for work and my sisters for school before me, so I always had time to myself.

Just before my mom left, she was trying to put laundry in one of my sister's rooms and the door was strangely locked (sister was already out of the house). I picked the lock (i.e. stuck a toothpick in that little opening that pops simple inside door locks), put the laundry away, and mom left. After a while, I felt "uh-oh bells" like crazy. I did not feel safe in that house. I ended up leaving for school early, terrified to stay another minute, and read at the bus stop for half an hour.

When I came home from school, we had been robbed. Apparently, my black sheep sister had allowed her shady boyfriend to stay the night. He'd been hiding in her room the whole time.
 
2012-10-31 12:59:17 PM  

The Muthaship: blatz514: Beer 'fridge

[aromacucina.typepad.com image 459x315]

Hold me.


It's easier to hold people when you've had the beer.
 
2012-10-31 1:01:56 PM  
One afternoon, I was out hunting on one of those sweet Inland Empire Southern California days.......not a care in the world. It was a beautiful day, smoking some bud, enjoying the scenery. I was out enjoying the natural beauty all around me too late in to the day and was way too far away from my car to make it back before nightfall. I came across a weird old one-room cabin that had a cot and nice recliner in it. I smoked a little more, listened to the sounds of the desert, and eventually fell asleep. Middle of the night, I woke up and figured I'd shuffle over to the cot and stretch out.
As I moved over to the cot, I noticed two paintings on the far wall that I hadn't noticed when I first arrived. They were both pictures of some creepy distorted faces, probably 3 or 4 faces in each painting looking back at me.......almost like the eyes were following me around the cabin. I figured the painter was really tripping to come up with some vivid paintings like that. Especially to hang in this old cabin way out in God's country in the middle of Imperial County.
I lay down and stared at those damn paintings, those distorted twisted faces looking back at me until I finally dozed off. I didn't wake until the light of a new morning.
When I woke up, I looked over at the paintings. There were no paintings on that wall. Only 2 windows.....
 
2012-10-31 1:03:25 PM  

Harv72b: So I was in the U.S. Army in my younger years, and my first duty station was Fort Irwin, California, aka the National Training Center, located smack dab in the middle of Mojave Desert ("30 miles from water, 3 feet from hell"). Nowadays they do these elaborate urban pacification exercises in full-blown "Arab" villages built in the desert there, but back then we were still doing brigade-sized force on force training...in layman's terms, we tore through the desert playing laser tag, only instead of little plastic guns we used assault rifles, machine guns, tanks, helicopters, and even jets. Every month they'd bring in a different unit from some other base in the U.S. and we'd roll out and "kill" them repeatedly in the hopes that they'd learn how not to die when people were shooting real rounds at them.

My job was in intelligence, which primarily consisted of listening in on the visiting unit's communications during the exercises. On one night, one of our teams was monitoring a radio frequency and heard one unit reporting back to their field headquarters:

Dispatched team: Hey, uh, base...look, I know this is going to sound weird and, uh, I don't want to be that guy, but...we're being followed by some kind of light in the sky and we have no idea what it is.
Base: Say again?
Team: It's just a light in the sky, it's been following us for a couple minutes now. I don't want to say "UFO", but...
Base: Is it moving? It might just be one of the radio repeater towers on the hills.
Team: Negative base, it is moving. It is not a helicopter and it's not any kind of aircraft any of us has seen before.
Base: Send your position, please.
Team: [sends encrypted grid coordinates] This is really freaking us out, base.
Base: Stand by.

A couple minutes pass, at which point the team calls in again:

Team: Disregard, base, it's gone now. We're going to go ahead and continue mission.
Base: Roger.

About ten minutes later our crew picked up another transmission on that network:
Team: ...


I'm confused here. Are you saying that an entire team of people just disappeared?

Seems a little far fetched to me. You think there would be investigations from family member, death notices, funerals and such.
 
2012-10-31 1:04:06 PM  

echo5juliet: Bathia_Mapes: Still haven't read one that topped the spooky story posted by echo5juliet in the 2008 thread. Still gives me the creeps everytime I read it. For those who missed it the first time around or just want to experience it again, here it is:

I was driving a shortcut from Twentynine Palms, CA to Albuquerque, NM. Twentynine Palms is located in the desolate high desert east of LA. The shortcut was all two lane road through total nothingness, except for passing through Amboy, CA. Amboy is a nearly abandoned town nearly as far below sea level as Death Valley, with a dormant volcano and lava field on one side and a salt flat on the other. It was also, at the time, a hotspot for satanic group activity.

So I was driving by myself in the afternoon. I stopped in Amboy and snapped a picture of the city sign, just to prove I was there to friends who dared me to take that route to I-40. I got back in my car and proceeded to drive up into the mountain range between Amboy and I-40.

Once I reach the top I am driving north through a canyon with high grass on both sides of the road. Up ahead I see some stuff in the middle of the road. As I approach I slow down to see a red Pontiac Fiero stopped sideways across both lanes, a suitcase open with clothes scattered everywhere and two bodies laying face down in the road, a man and a woman.

I stop a hundred feet or so away and the hair on the back of my neck is standing up. Being a Marine, I reach under the seat and pull out a 9mm pistol and chamber a round. Something seemed very wrong, it looked too perfect as if it were staged. An ambush? Was I being paranoid? Something was just wrong. Getting out of the car seemed unthinkable, it was the horror movie move.

As I scanned the road I saw a line I could drive. Pass the guy in the road on his left, swerve to the right side of the woman, behind the Fiero and I'd be on the other side. I dropped it into first gear, punched it and drove the line I planned.

I passed the back of the Fi ...


In the driver's seat?
You nearly ran over me!
Nut!
 
2012-10-31 1:05:22 PM  
For those of you who keep mentioning the horribleness of sleep paralysis you'll be interested in what the Germans call alps.
 
2012-10-31 1:07:52 PM  
I had just finished seeing the "Band" and was hanging out at the Student Center at SUNY stony brook. I ran into a group i knew who wanted to hold a Seance at some house in Mt. Sinai. They needed 13 people so I went along with my friend Bill. We were told that the prior owner had killed himself and we were going to attempt to contact him with the Ouigi board.
when we all got there we found a back door that was opened and we all entered one by one and we were attacked by a flock of Grackles. This was real and terrifying everyone witnessed it and they all disappeared as quickly as they attacked us.
We than unsteadily found our way into the dining room where we found a furnished table and chairs and commenced to hold our seance. We never got anything but negative remarks from the board just "leave" and short negative words . After about a hour of this we heard loud banging noises from upstairs. I thought it might be some homeless squatter. We continued to hold hands and try to communicate with the ghost . My Friend Tim Buckley (no connection to the singer) went into a panic fit and we still hung out while he rocked back and forth in pure terror. This whole affair lasted from 11pm till about 12:30. I finally had had enough and told the leader that whatever or whomever was in this house does not want us here and I had enough. The leader told me i would be breaking up the group of 13 but i told him "tuff". It was the longest sustained horror I have ever endured. I am sure if I had seen a ghost I would have had a full melt down. Fortunately we never did see anything we just herd the banging. I went past that house it was demolished (about a month later). I still talk to Bill who shares the same dread of that evening.
 
Ab3
2012-10-31 1:08:33 PM  
(Hope you guys are being entertained by these instead of annoyed...)

WHAT ROUGH BEAST


Everyone thought she had gone home hours ago, no one noticed her car parked behind a dumpster near the back of the complex. She hid herself in a cramped room with high shelves stacked with petri dishes, latex gloves and medical equipment. Alone there she waited, waited for the late shift to end and the custodial staff to finish their rounds.

Bored and terrified all at once Dr. Linda Harrison went over her memories one by one, examining them like samples suspended in formaldehyde.

It had begun for her five years ago, a young professor of primatology fresh out of school and swimming in debt. She had no family, and had been to busy for anything more than academic pursuits. The Balock Corporation's offer had been too lucrative to resist, she'd have her student and car loans paid off in two years if she was frugal enough. All she knew going in is that she would be working as a consultant for a team of cardiologists, urologists and geneticists.

She wasn't naive, she knew it wasn't the Goodall institute she was going to work for. These were ethically nebulous medical experiments involving primates, but she rationalized it she told herself that these weren't real apes these were livestock bred for only one purpose.

Of course it wasn't that simple, nothing in life ever is.

The apes had been genetically engineered with human DNA. The goal was to create a resource for transplants. Apes with blood types and cellular structures so close to human as to be a nearly universal match. It would mean an end to waiting lists and organ rejections.

To Linda it seemed so noble, yet so farfetched.

Most of the apes died on the operating table or as a result of flawed theories and experiments. Only one was kept alive, a control subject they had given the strange-sounding nickname of Jermyn. They monitored him to see if the altered apes would suffer any long-term problems.

A noise roused Linda from her thoughts, she pressed her ear to the door and listened. She recognized the voices of the security guards as they made their leisurely way up the halls. They were talking about sports, those two always talked about sports.

She waited a little while longer then she headed out, moving as quietly as she could. She used her passkey once to enter the secure wing and a second time to enter the wing that held the animal pens.

For some reason the memory of her first day of work flashed across her mind. She had to force her way through a gauntlet of animal rights protesters. They held up signs that proclaimed 'A rat is a cat is a dog is an ape is a boy' and went out of their way to sneer and spit on her.

Perhaps she should have taken that as an omen.

Since she was mainly on hand to maintain the apes and answer the other scientist's questions Linda tried to spend a little time each day observing Baylock Inc.'s new creations. She made notes and field reports. The altered primates were taller and more bipedal in stature than their ordinary kin. They were bright, imitative but prone to sudden outbursts of violence.

During her time there she had seen two of the ape keepers gravely injured and there had been uncountable near misses. Linda knew to keep well away from the cages, especially when she was alone.

But it was when she was alone that Jermyn made contact.

At first she had thought there was someone else in the room, and then she had thought that someone was playing an elaborate prank. It wasn't until the ape called her name for a third time that she realized what was really happening and that realization left her shaking.

The memory of the encounter was still enough to make her knees weak as she made her way down the hallway. Perhaps fear was making her weak as well. This was more than just quitting her job, she was sacrificing her career- her future. The Baylock Corporation might never reveal what she had done but here tonight but they would use their every influence within the halls of government and academia to ruin her.

Very well, She thought as she entered the darkened hallway that contained the ape pens, ruin me then.

She flicked on the lights, momentarily blinding herself, when her eyes sight cleared she found herself staring at row after row of empty cages. Her heart caught a beat at the realization that they had already begun liquidating the test subjects. What if she was too late?

The pen at the far end, the largest one belonged to the control subject. It had a tire swing, climbing bars and toys. She ran down the short hall calling his name. When his gruff voice answered her back she almost groaned with relief.


The massive silverback paced before his cage, running his thick dark hands along the reinforced bars. She knew he was tense, she knew he hadn't been sure she'd come back for him.

The truth was even she hadn't been sure until a few hours ago

"Lin-da." He said again.

Once Jermyn had spoken to her events began to move quickly. She analyzed the ape under the guise of a 'behavior / neurological survey' in addition to her other work. Alone, always alone she performed her test sand examinations. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between herself and the ape that no one else on the research team should know about this. The solitude and late nights didn't bother her, she had little else to look forward to.

Over time the testing became teaching. The ape's communication and reasoning skills grew by leaps and bounds, although his reading skills were never quite as strong as his ability to learn the spoken language. There was something about the nature of the printed word that he found mercurial and frustrating. Linda found it equally disconcerting to realize that as she was studying this creature he was in turn studying her. He appropriated her slang and gestures; here asked her questions about the world outside the research center's opaque windows.

There was something very trusting and knowing in the way that he looked at her. Sometimes he let her stoke his rich dark fur, sometimes she let him gently stroke her cheek. It amazed her that a hand so powerful could be so tender.

It took a year of study and notes before she was ready to reveal her findings. The reaction was nothing like she had expected. The project's director, a loathsome little company mouthpiece named Evans, seemed horrified and immediately began talking about legal and moral complications. He ordered the project shut down, the research team sent on to other endeavors, it's specimens catalogued and destroyed.

And that was what brought her here in the middle of the night with a stolen keyring in her hand.

"Lin-da" Jermyn said again, an edge of pleading had crept into his voice. "Hu-rry."

Hurry she did, rushing down the hallway to meet him. Nervous and shaking she had to fumble thought each key on the ring twice before she found the right one. By the time the pen's reinforced door swung open both woman and beast were on the verge of hyperventilation.

"Professor Harris?"

She froze, recognizing the voice of the older security guard, and if he was there, could his partner be far behind?

Roaring with defiance Jermyn dropped to all fours.

"I don't think-" The younger security guard started to say.

Jermyn bounded past her, she fell back striking her head on the metal bars. Sparks flashed before her eyes rendering the chaos before her in strobe- like fashion. The guards had been armed in preparation for a moment like this but they never had a chance. Screams and the snap of bones echoed off the empty pens.

The abruptness of the attack left Linda speechless. She watched Jermyn methodically undress the older security guard. The corpse's neck jiggled and twisted with every twist and tug.

The dark blue uniform was too small in the arms and too tight in the chest- the shoes were a lost cause. It was a poor excuse for a disguise but when the ape buttoned the jacket he issued a grunt that could only be self-satisfaction.

All he's ever been is naked. She thought, He's spent his whole life in that cage watching us pass by him fully dressed and acting like a bunch of second rate gods. How could he have ever known anything more than envy?

For the first time the realization that for all his words and poise Jermyn was still a wild animal struck her.

And what was it that wild animals did?

Adapt and survive. Adapt and survive.

What have I done? Oh God what have I done?

Straightening up to his full height Jermyn approached her, his smile was gruff. He offered his hand and said, "We must leave."

Her confidence broke and she tried to scramble into the pen. He caught the door as she tried to swing it shut. "Lin-da? Don't be af-raid."

When he lifted her up she flailed and screamed but there was no one alive to hear. The ape held her tightly, pressing her against his soft fur. He whispered her name over and over again until she had calmed, until she had returned to her senses

Slowly, tentatively Linda reached up to stroke Jermyn's face. He leaned in and nuzzled her cheek. She could have pulled away now but instead she sank deeper into his embrace. They needed to get away from here, her car was waiting, and their future was waiting. A future she hadn't understood before this very moment.

"You damned ape." She sobbed with anticipation as Jermyn's heavy hands ran down the curves of her form, "You damned dirty ape."
 
2012-10-31 1:09:29 PM  
Happy Halloween to all my fellow bronys!

img203.imageshack.usView Full Size
 
2012-10-31 1:09:47 PM  

cgraves67: I spoke to the Hat Man...


See, that's exactly what I'm talking about. Imagine my WTF-ness when I discovered that the 'Man in the Hat' was a known thing, experienced by others. I never told another person about it until another Farker commented that other people have had similar experiences.

Ugh. (shudders)
 
2012-10-31 1:10:13 PM  

fugeeface: About 12 years ago, I lived with in San Jose with my now ex wife. We went out one evening going somewhere in Los Gatos (I don't remember where we were headed). I was driving and she was in the passenger seat. I had taken a couple of wrong turns and we were a bit lost in an upper-middle class residential area. This neighborhood was fairly well-lighted, and looked like it had been built in the 1950's. I decide to pull into a empty driveway to turn around and go back the opposite direction in search of our destination. The driveway I chose at random lead to a typical garage attached to a non-nondescript house with a light-colored paint job. One or 2 lights were on in the house, and the shades were all down. The front end of our car had barely crossed the sidewalk when I felt a cold wave of fathomless evil fear pass over and through me. We were about 25 feet from the garage door. I instantly hit the brakes and at the same time glanced at the ex. Her eyes were open wide and she was staring straight ahead. She looked at me and said, "Get out of here," in a very serious flat tone of voice. I was already in reverse, and got out of that neighborhood as fast as I could. We decided to abort whatever we were going to do and went straight home. We were quiet for about a minute, and after we had gone a few blocks or so, I asked her what was wrong, and she replied that she experienced a sudden "cold evil fear" as we pulled into that driveway. She essentially felt the same thing at the same moment as I did. We neither saw nor heard nothing to prompt what we sensed. Nothing of that kind ever happened to me before or since, and I'm not in the habit of experiencing that level of creepiness. I kinda wish now that I would have had the presence of mind to remember the street and house number, if only to see if that experience would happen again -in the daytime-. No way would I ever go back at night and without more witnesses. I have a pit in my stomach just rememberin ...


I think sometimes you see or hear things that your mind doesn't fully process except to say that something is *wrong*. I had a similar experience when I was a kid. I wasn't extremely young, maybe 12 or 13, and I was walking my dog in my neighborhood. I decided to stop at the playground at the end of the street and goof off on the swings for a while. There's a path that runs through one end of the playground that goes to a pedestrian bridge that connects the two neighborhoods that are on opposite sides of a busy street and my side has a little shopping plaza so it's not uncommon to see people walking through there.

That day, I was sitting on the swings and a man came down the path. He was just a middle aged guy, scruffy beard and and old-looking coat but otherwise fairly nondescript. He smiled and gave a little wave when he saw me and suddenly I felt cold fear run through my body. I got up and quickly walked out of the park (I don't even remember which direction I went...just AWAY). He didn't follow me or try to approach me, just continued on up the street. It would be cool to say that later a man of his description did something terrible, but I never saw or heard of him again. All I know is that I've never been as afraid of anyone as I was when that man smiled at me.
 
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