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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
    More: Scary  
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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



Voting Results (Smartest)
View Voting Results: Smartest and Funniest

 
2012-10-31 12:51:09 AM  
11 votes:
Romney is elected. That should scare the bejesus out of some people.
 
2012-10-30 9:37:14 PM  
11 votes:
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 Fierro without hitting it or either of the bodies in the road. I continued forward a couple hundred feet and slowed down so I could breathe and let my heart slow down. As I looked up into the rearview mirror I saw that the two bodies had gotten up to their knees and twenty or so people emerged from the tall grass on either side of the road by the car and bodies.

At that moment my right foot smashed the gas pedal to the floor and did not let up until I had to slowdown for the I-40 east onramp.

I will never know what would have happened to me had I gotten out of the car to check on the bodies or stopped my car closer to them. Somehow I do not think it would have been good. Sometimes real life can be scarier than a movie.
 
2012-10-31 12:58:45 AM  
9 votes:

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 Fierro without ...


If you think it was scary reading it, you should have been sitting in the drivers seat... ;)
 
2012-10-31 12:59:39 AM  
6 votes:
once upon a midnight dreary, while i pron surfed, weak and weary, over many a strange and spurious site of ' hot xxx galore'. While i clicked my fav'rite bookmark, suddenly there came a warning, and my heart was filled with mourning, mourning for my dear amour, " 'Tis not possible!", i muttered, " give me back my free hardcore!"..... quoth the server, 404.
*cries*, scary....


/All props to bash
 
2012-10-31 1:28:02 AM  
5 votes:
About 10 years ago my gf and I went on a road trip from Florida to Philly, and on the way back we decides to take a byway through the Apalachians. We went west from Philly through Harrisburg, then went south through West Virginia. We stopped for the night off some exit in WV, and ended up getting a room at a Knight's Inn. Our room was on the back side of the motel. When I pulled up to the room, there were like 5 hillbilly type guys sitting in old lawn chairs in a parking space next to what I think was a logging tuck. As far as I could tell we were the only two groups at the motel, me and my gf and the logger guys.

Anyway, we walk into the room and get a silent state-down from the hillbillies. We settled in, took showers, and were about to go eat when the phone rang. My gf answered, talked for a minute, then hung up. It was the motel clerk, and asked to move my car to the other side of the motel because they were paving that side in the morning.

So I go to move my car, and as I walk outside, I see the hillbilly guys are gone, and what was really creepy is that I saw one of them peeking peeking out of their window. Anyway, after I got in my car I realized I didn't know.where exactly to move it to, so I went back in the room and called the clerk back. "Hey uh, this is room 22, you just called and asked me to move the car, but where did you want me to move it? Over by check-in?" "Sorry sir, I don't follow. No one from the front desk called." "My girlfriend just spoke to someone, they asked me to move because you were paving the parking lot tomorrow." "Hold on."- a few seconds go by. "Sir, we're not paving the parking lot, and no one here called you. The only phone activity has been from... 21, right next door to you. Their line was lit about 10 minutes ago."
Click. That was enough for me. I grabbed our shiat and we got the fark out of there. I think we ended up staying in a busy Comfort Inn somewhere in Virginia.
 
2012-10-31 12:59:39 AM  
5 votes:
Visit the politics tab. That should be all the scary you need.
 
2012-10-31 8:38:39 AM  
4 votes:
This is something that is easier for me to write about that talk about. Probably the only thing that kept me from going completely batshiat insane is that it was nothing supernatural and my mind could eventually process it. It was Halloween and I was ten I think. My parents got invited to a party and the baby sitter they would usually hire couldn't make it for some reason and my big brother was at another Halloween party with his friends. I assured them that I was a "big boy" so that they would trust me to be fine by myself. I was just hoping to have the place to myself so that I could watch a bunch of R-rated horror movies on HBO that night. They were going to be showing The Shining which I had never seen before. Also the first Friday the 13th but I can't remember what else. Anyway, it was halfway through Friday the 13th when the phone rang. Knowing it was my parents checking up on me, I answered it. The only thing on the other end was somebody laughing and then they hung up. Thinking it was probably one of my friends I tried to ignore it and got back to the movie. About an hour into The Shining, I was so into the movie I forgot all about the phone call and was just enjoying it. Then the phone rang again. I answered it. There was a voice in a little sing-song voice saying "little boy, all alone". Obviously by this point I was freaked the fark out. Now something I need to point out that the house I was living in at the time didn't have solid doors. They had glass panes so that anybosy standing outside could look in. And with the lights on inside and everything dark outside, I saw more of a reflection in the glass panes than the outside. And by this time I was so freaked out, turning the lights off was the last thing I wanted to do. I got a phone book and tried looking up the people who was having the party my parents were at. Out of the corner of my eye, I could swear I saw something move past the window going up. Again, with the lights on inside, it made it harder to see what was going on outside. I found what I thought was the right number and picked up the phone and started dialing it. But then I heard somebody else dialing numbers at the same time so that the call couildn't go through. The only other phone was upstairs. Each time, I tried dialing the number, the person on the other phone would push random numbers as well. It was probably at this point that I peed myself. Too scared to run outside, I ran to the kitchen to grab a knife. Then I heard loud footsteps from upstairs. Keep in mind that I was only ten. I was too scared to move. I pissed myself and all I could do was start crying. I heard the footsteps over me, then reaching the stairs, then down the stairs and then through the living room into the kitchen behind me. All I could do was pray to God that it was my brother and his friends scaring me. But then the person through me to the ground and held me there, pinned. He didnt say anything at first. I could feel his hot, stinky breath on the back of my neck. Then he flipped me over. It was Bill Murray. He said "nobody will ever believe you". Then he jumped out the window and ran off. I still can't watch What About Bob without thinking of that night.
 
2012-10-31 2:05:14 AM  
4 votes:
In the mid-90's when I was like 15 and my sister was 8, our parents took us to the Lamb State Park for a picnic. We parked at a campground and hiked down a little trail to a small creek with picnic tables and some big oaks. We set up, had a nice picnic, and as we were finishing up my sister pointed and yelled, "That little man! He went down a hole!" And everyone laughed, but she was serious and insisted she saw a small man dive into a hole not 50 feet from the picnic area. My dad walked over to where she pointed, and saw a gopher tortoise burrow. "It was a gopher!" He yelled while pointed down at the burrow. He then knelt down and stuck his head down inside with his cigarette lighter in front of him. He came back to the picnic area, whispered something to my mom, and we all packed up and left in a bit of a rush. My mom said that my dad had seen a rattle snake over there and wanted to get back to the car.

A year or two ago at Christmas, I was talking to my mom about old stories and reminded her of that, and she said, dead seriously, "Oh my god, I forgot all about that! You know when your dad looked in that hole, he saw a person staring back at him." I never asked any more about it.
 
2012-10-31 1:11:00 AM  
4 votes:
This ones a little long but I first read it in one of the previous Fark years Halloween threads and really liked it.

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

Russian researchers in the late 1940s kept five people awake for fifteen days using an experimental gas based stimulant. They were kept in a sealed environment to carefully monitor their oxygen intake so the gas didn't kill them, since it was toxic in high concentrations. This was before closed circuit cameras so they had only microphones and 5 inch thick glass porthole sized windows into the chamber to monitor them. The chamber was stocked with books, cots to sleep on but no bedding, running water and toilet, and enough dried food to last all five for over a month.
The test subjects were political prisoners deemed enemies of the state during World War II.

Everything was fine for the first five days; the subjects hardly complained having been promised (falsely) that they would be freed if they submitted to the test and did not sleep for 30 days. Their conversations and activities were monitored and it was noted that they continued to talk about increasingly traumatic incidents in their past, and the general tone of their conversations took on a darker aspect after the 4 day mark.
After five days they started to complain about the circumstances and events that lead them to where they were and started to demonstrate severe paranoia. They stopped talking to each other and began alternately whispering to the microphones and one way mirrored portholes. Oddly they all seemed to think they could win the trust of the experimenters by turning over their comrades, the other subjects in captivity with them. At first the researchers suspected this was an effect of the gas itself...
After nine days the first of them started screaming. He ran the length of the chamber repeatedly yelling at the top of his lungs for 3 hours straight, he continued attempting to scream but was only able to produce occasional squeaks. The researchers postulated that he had physically torn his vocal cords. The most surprising thing about this behavior is how the other captives reacted to it... or rather didn't react to it. They continued whispering to the microphones until the second of the captives started to scream. The 2 non-screaming captives took the books apart, smeared page after page with their own feces and pasted them calmly over the glass portholes. The screaming promptly stopped.

So did the whispering to the microphones.

After 3 more days passed. The researchers checked the microphones hourly to make sure they were working, since they thought it impossible that no sound could be coming with 5 people inside. The oxygen consumption in the chamber indicated that all 5 must still be alive. In fact it was the amount of oxygen 5 people would consume at a very heavy level of strenuous exercise. On the morning of the 14th day the researchers did something they said they would not do to get a reaction from the captives, they used the intercom inside the chamber, hoping to provoke any response from the captives they were afraid were either dead or vegetables.

They announced: "We are opening the chamber to test the microphones step away from the door and lie flat on the floor or you will be shot. Compliance will earn one of you your immediate freedom."

To their surprise they heard a single phrase in a calm voice response: "We no longer want to be freed."

Debate broke out among the researchers and the military forces funding the research. Unable to provoke any more response using the intercom it was finally decided to open the chamber at midnight on the fifteenth day.

The chamber was flushed of the stimulant gas and filled with fresh air and immediately voices from the microphones began to object. 3 different voices began begging, as if pleading for the life of loved ones to turn the gas back on. The chamber was opened and soldiers sent in to retrieve the test subjects. They began to scream louder than ever, and so did the soldiers when they saw what was inside. Four of the five subjects were still alive, although no one could rightly call the state that any of them in 'life.'

The food rations past day 5 had not been so much as touched. There were chunks of meat from the dead test subject's thighs and chest stuffed into the drain in the center of the chamber, blocking the drain and allowing 4 inches of water to accumulate on the floor. Precisely how much of the water on the floor was actually blood was never determined. All four 'surviving' test subjects also had large portions of muscle and skin torn away from their bodies. The destruction of flesh and exposed bone on their finger tips indicated that the wounds were inflicted by hand, not with teeth as the researchers initially thought. Closer examination of the position and angles of the wounds indicated that most if not all of them were self-inflicted.

The abdominal organs below the ribcage of all four test subjects had been removed. While the heart, lungs and diaphragm remained in place, the skin and most of the muscles attached to the ribs had been ripped off, exposing the lungs through the ribcage. All the blood vessels and organs remained intact, they had just been taken out and laid on the floor, fanning out around the eviscerated but still living bodies of the subjects. The digestive tract of all four could be seen to be working, digesting food. It quickly became apparent that what they were digesting was their own flesh that they had ripped off and eaten over the course of days.

Most of the soldiers were Russian special operatives at the facility, but still many refused to return to the chamber to remove the test subjects. They continued to scream to be left in the chamber and alternately begged and demanded that the gas be turned back on, lest they fall asleep...

To everyone's surprise the test subjects put up a fierce fight in the process of being removed from the chamber. One of the Russian soldiers died from having his throat ripped out, another was gravely injured by having his testicles ripped off and an artery in his leg severed by one of the subject's teeth. Another 5 of the soldiers lost their lives if you count ones that committed suicide in the weeks following the incident.

In the struggle one of the four living subjects had his spleen ruptured and he bled out almost immediately. The medical researchers attempted to sedate him but this proved impossible. He was injected with more than ten times the human dose of a morphine derivative and still fought like a cornered animal, breaking the ribs and arm of one doctor. When heart was seen to beat for a full two minutes after he had bled out to the point there was more air in his vascular system than blood. Even after it stopped he continued to scream and flail for another 3 minutes, struggling to attack anyone in reach and just repeating the word "MORE" over and over, weaker and weaker, until he finally fell silent.

The surviving three test subjects were heavily restrained and moved to a medical facility, the two with intact vocal cords continuously begging for the gas demanding to be kept awake...

The most injured of the three was taken to the only surgical operating room that the facility had. In the process of preparing the subject to have his organs placed back within his body it was found that he was effectively immune to the sedative they had given him to prepare him for the surgery. He fought furiously against his restraints when the anesthetic gas was brought out to put him under. He managed to tear most of the way through a 4 inch wide leather strap on one wrist, even through the weight of a 200 pound soldier holding that wrist as well. It took only a little more anesthetic than normal to put him under, and the instant his eyelids fluttered and closed, his heart stopped. In the autopsy of the test subject that died on the operating table it was found that his blood had triple the normal level of oxygen. His muscles that were still attached to his skeleton were badly torn and he had broken 9 bones in his struggle to not be subdued. Most of them were from the force his own muscles had exerted on them.

The second survivor had been the first of the group of five to start screaming. His vocal cords destroyed he was unable to beg or object to surgery, and he only reacted by shaking his head violently in disapproval when the anesthetic gas was brought near him. He shook his head yes when someone suggested, reluctantly, they try the surgery without anesthetic, and did not react for the entire 6 hour procedure of replacing his abdominal organs and attempting to cover them with what remained of his skin. The surgeon presiding stated repeatedly that it should be medically possible for the patient to still be alive. One terrified nurse assisting the surgery stated that she had seen the patients mouth curl into a smile several times, whenever his eyes met hers.

When the surgery ended the subject looked at the surgeon and began to wheeze loudly, attempting to talk while struggling. Assuming this must be something of drastic importance the surgeon had a pen and pad fetched so the patient could write his message. It was simple. "Keep cutting."

The other two test subjects were given the same surgery, both without anesthetic as well. Although they had to be injected with a paralytic for the duration of the operation. The surgeon found it impossible to perform the operation while the patients laughed continuously. Once paralyzed the subjects could only follow the attending researchers with their eyes. The paralytic cleared their system in an abnormally short period of time and they were soon trying to escape their bonds. The moment they could speak they were again asking for the stimulant gas. The researchers tried asking why they had injured themselves, why they had ripped out their own guts and why they wanted to be given the gas again.

Only one response was given: "I must remain awake."

All three subject's restraints were reinforced and they were placed back into the chamber awaiting determination as to what should be done with them. The researchers, facing the wrath of their military 'benefactors' for having failed the stated goals of their project considered euthanizing the surviving subjects. The commanding officer, an ex-KGB instead saw potential, and wanted to see what would happen if they were put back on the gas. The researchers strongly objected, but were overruled.

In preparation for being sealed in the chamber again the subjects were connected to an EEG monitor and had their restraints padded for long term confinement. To everyone's surprise all three stopped struggling the moment it was let slip that they were going back on the gas. It was obvious that at this point all three were putting up a great struggle to stay awake. One of subjects that could speak was humming loudly and continuously; the mute subject was straining his legs against the leather bonds with all his might, first left, then right, then left again for something to focus on. The remaining subject was holding his head off his pillow and blinking rapidly. Having been the first to be wired for EEG most of the researchers were monitoring his brain waves in surprise. They were normal most of the time but sometimes flat lined inexplicably. It looked as if he were repeatedly suffering brain death, before returning to normal. As they focused on paper scrolling out of the brainwave monitor only one nurse saw his eyes slip shut at the same moment his head hit the pillow. His brainwaves immediately changed to that of deep sleep, then flatlined for the last time as his heart simultaneously stopped.

The only remaining subject that could speak started screaming to be sealed in now. His brainwaves showed the same flatlines as one who had just died from falling asleep. The commander gave the order to seal the chamber with both subjects inside, as well as 3 researchers. One of the named three immediately drew his gun and shot the commander point blank between the eyes, then turned the gun on the mute subject and blew his brains out as well.

He pointed his gun at the remaining subject, still restrained to a bed as the remaining members of the medical and research team fled the room. "I won't be locked in here with these things! Not with you!" he screamed at the man strapped to the table. "WHAT ARE YOU?" he demanded. "I must know!"

The subject smiled.

"Have you forgotten so easily?" The subject asked. "We are you. We are the madness that lurks within you all, begging to be free at every moment in your deepest animal mind. We are what you hide from in your beds every night. We are what you sedate into silence and paralysis when you go to the nocturnal haven where we cannot tread."

The researcher paused. Then aimed at the subject's heart and fired. The EEG flatlined as the subject weakly choked out, "So... nearly... free..."
 
2012-10-31 11:16:18 AM  
3 votes:
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.
 
2012-10-31 9:25:55 AM  
3 votes:
No one has posted the Fishy story? That one still gives me the creeps.

---

I have always found that this story gives me the chills, originally posted in 2005 I think.

Original post by Quexy:

Psychosis or ghost story, I don't know.

When I was little, probably about four or five years old, I had an imaginary "friend" (I think.) It was yellow and about four feet tall (taller than me at the time), bipedal, and had oversized eyes that always looked straight ahead otherwise, relatively human and naked. I called the thing "Fishy." The wierdest thing, though, was it scared the hell out of me. I didn't want anything to do with it, and I couldn't imagine, as a child, that it was coming from inside my head.

It "walked" (more like skated along) on the walls in the rooms of our house, and apparently could not leave those surfaces. I knew that if I played outside, it could only follow me to the limits of the garage. It always followed me, too, even though I often told it not to. I had difficulty concentrating on drawing things or reading because Fishy was always standing somewhere on the wall, looking over my shoulder. It did not ever sit down, it didn't have facial expressions, and it never made any noise.

The only times I ever interacted with Fishy were when I was sick in the middle of the night or when I woke up panicked from nightmares. Those times, if I looked at it intently, Fishy would methodically start drifting along the wall towards my parents' bedroom; around the corner, out the door, and down the hall. As soon as he was out of sight, I'd start calling for Mom (as in: "Mooooom, I'm gonna barrrrrf...") and she'd show up quickly (god bless ya, mom) to help me through it. Fishy would come back, though, as soon as I'd recovered. Then it would stare for the rest of the night, two days, or longer, in the direction of my parents' room.

It finally vanished when my sister was born in 1992. I was almost 8 years old by then, and I'd been ignoring Fishy for about a year, but not so much that I didn't notice it had learned to fly off the wall and visit the floor from time to time.

There was one instance, in the last two months of Fishy-ness when I saw it at someone else's house; a new home that friends of mine, two sisters, were moving into. Their father walked into the room where we were playing with the moving boxes to give us another one, and in the darkened laundry room behind him, filling the entire doorway at many times it's normal size, was Fishy, staring down the father's back. It wasn't scary, so much as irritating.

We moved away from there less than a year later.
 
2012-10-31 9:22:42 AM  
3 votes:
Christ, those are some scary stories. I'll share mine. I was 17 or so and had the house to myself. Most of my family was at my aunt's home, other than my brother who was 19 and camping with his friends. I was not a social kid and had always hated big parties so I just chose to hang out with my dog and watch some movies. Long story short, I hear my front door slam and some feet run up the stairs. I was seated where I could just barely not see the front door. The way they came in I figured it had to have been my brother came home early, (what kind of robber would bust in like that?) I called for him but got no response (this was before people had cell phones attached to them 24/7)

So I got a bit more worried and went to the kitchen in the next room over and grabbed a knife. Walked towards the hallway leading to the front door and thought better of it, and put the knife down on a table and picked up a baseball bat that my dad always left behind the front door (I didn't want to accidentally get freaked out and stab a sibling, but if they scared me bad enough to get whacked with a bat, that was their fault.)

I walked up the stairs, called out for my brother again and still got no response. I heard even more noise coming from his room, which solidified in my mind that it was him, but freaked me out even more as he was still not responding to me. He was into drugs back then, so I figured he was quickly trying to sneak something out before parents came home. "Hey, Mum and Dad are gone for the weekend, don't worry." and I swear I heard a voice call back "Oh?" It was quiet enough that I wasn't sure it was even said, or who said it, but it could have been him.

I walk into his room and a lamp is on, but he is not there. No one is there. I search every room upstairs and no one is there. The way the house is set up he would have had to have walked past me or behind me at some point, the stairs I went up were the only set of stairs. I walk back downstairs and see the front door is locked and I can't remember if I had locked it or not when going up. I start to doubt myself, perhaps I had been dreaming and woken up right when I thought the door had slammed. My dog didn't bark, he would have surely barked. I breathed a sigh of relief and walked back to the kitchen/t.v room and noticed my dog was terrified and shaking, the back door was wide open. I ran back to where I put the knife down and it was gone. I locked the door, grabbed my dog and huddled into a corner with the bat. After awhile I got up to call the cops, but the phone was off the charger, I hit the little "locate" button and it started beeping from upstairs, there wasn't a chance in hell I was going to go up and get it.
 
2012-10-31 9:20:13 AM  
3 votes:
cdnimg.visualizeus.comView Full Size


Not a scary story but this picture has always freaked me the hell out.
 
2012-10-31 8:19:27 AM  
3 votes:
This apparently real tale has bugged me since I heard it.

Train Crash Victim's Cell Phone Make Calls
 
2012-10-31 7:37:46 AM  
3 votes:
11 more years till Honey Boo Boo poses for Playboy. The End.
 
2012-10-31 7:01:22 AM  
3 votes:
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 chalked it up to being tired and seeing things, and went off to take a nap. That night, however, she started to feel really nervous about the whole thing, and being extremely superstitious, she asked my dad if he had gotten rid of that rock. He admitted it was in the basement, and she freaked and demanded he throw it out.

The following afternoon was when my incident occurred. I had gotten off of the school bus and went inside. My parents were gone. I had plans that evening so I went into the hall bathroom to put on my makeup and whatnot. While in there, I heard a loud crash coming from my parents room, which was across the hall and two doors down.
I froze. I knew I was home alone, and there was nothing in my parents' room that I knew of that could have fallen and made that noise.

Then I heard it. Step, draaaag. Step, draaaag.

It sounded as if someone (or something) had entered the house through my parents' room and had injured itself, and was now dragging its hurt leg as it walked. Or maybe somebody was walking & dragging something very heavy. Whatever it was, I knew it wasn't supposed to be in the house. I quietly shut and locked the bathroom door and began to panic. This was before the days of cell phones, and we didn't have a phone in the bathroom. I had no way of calling for help.

I was alone, in the middle of the woods, with this person or thing that should not be in my home.

Step, draaag. Step, draaag.

It continued, and it was getting closer.

There was a window in the bathroom, but I was scared to try to open it, because I didn't want whoever it was to know I was in there.

Step, draaag. Step, draaag. It was almost to the door. I crawled into the shower and cowered down, silently crying. I had never been so scared in all of my life.

Whatever it was, it was right outside the bathroom door now. Suddenly, I heard the crunching of gravel. I stood up and looked out of the window. My parents were home! I didn't hesitate to open the window now, and screamed out "SOMEONE IS IN THE HOUSE!"

My dad bolted into the front door. I didn't hear anymore footsteps or dragging. My dad came to the bathroom door, and I opened it and ran outside to my mother. My dad never found anyone in the house, and we never saw anyone leave it.

I explained to my parents what had happened. My mom, ever so paranoid, yelled at my dad, asking if he got rid of the skull rock. He said it was still in the basement. She made him go get it and throw it back into the creek.

Nothing weird ever happened after that.

I don't know if the strange rock had ANYTHING to do with what happened. Maybe my mom really did see two people standing outside looking in, and maybe someone did break into the house and somehow got away before my dad got inside - but why didn't I hear them leaving, when I could hear them limping through the house so clearly before?

Whatever the reason, my dad had to stop collecting rocks.
 
2012-10-31 5:12:36 AM  
3 votes:
True story. Excuse my English. My in-laws live in a huge house that used to be some sort of a fraternity. When I first met my wife she told me that she felt the place was haunted. Her best friend had house sat a couple of times and experienced some really creepy stuff. I really didn't believe any of it until I had two of the scariest experiences that I still can't explain.
Around 1999, my wife (girlfriend at the time), and her parents went to Italy for a month. I agreed to take care of the house and their dogs. I had my cousin come out and spend the weekend with me at the house. One night, my cousin and I decided to go bar hopping. Before heading out, I told my cousin I wanted to leave some of the lights on in the theater, which was on the second floor. At the same time, I left the kitchen light on, which was on the first floor, and all the other lights (Basement, 3rd floor) were turned off. As we were pulling out of the drive way, for some odd reason I stopped and pointed to my cousin that we had left some of the lights on along with the alarm system.
My cousin and I returned sometime after 2:00 A.M., and noticed as we were pulling into the driveway, that the lights in the theater were turned off, but the light in the basement was on. My cousin freaked out and refused to go inside. Knowing that I had turned on the alarm system, I wasn't afraid of any intruders, but just confused as to what might have happened. I went inside, the dogs were fine, and as I went into the basement to turn off the lights, I realized they were all in off position, and one of the lights was the kind where you pull the string. Can't explain it to this day.
Now the really scary experience. Again my in-laws were out of the country, but this time my wife and I decided to take care of the place as a favor to them. The house as mentioned above is huge, and almost has a museum like feel to it. Wooden floors, Paintings and antiques all over etc. So my wife and I are in bed reading when we hear this really loud laughter outside the house. We figure that it is college kids walking back from some party since the place is pretty much 5 minutes from the University of Michigan. But I realize that for us to hear any sound, the kids would have to be on the premises, and if that is the case the perimeter lights should have turned on. I look out the window nothing. I get back in bed and start reading when we hear some footsteps coming up the stairs. My wife starts freaking out and I tell her that the alarm is on and not to worry. The sound of the steps starts moving towards the room where we were and by this time I am freaking out. Our dog (Lab and Shepherd mix) was sleeping on his bed by the foot of the bed. He wakes up and starts growling. My wife actually starts crying, and I am screaming "who's there?" The dog jumps on our bed (was never allowed on the bed) and starts showing his teeth. Our bedroom door opens up slowly, and that's where I was like WTF. The door shuts back up and nothing. The dog literally has cowered down. No explanation. Never took care of that house again. In-laws laugh it off when we bring it up. They have never experienced anything.
 
2012-10-31 3:43:45 AM  
3 votes:
I grew up in an old two-flat house in Chicago. I had a small room, big enough for my bed, my desk, a bookcase, dresser, and not much else, on the north side of the house. My bed was a four-poster with space underneath it for a disorganized assortment of toys and miscellaneous stuff. It was in the northwest corner, along the north wall, its head in the corner and its foot beneath the room's one window. The bookcase and desk were along the south wall. The ceiling angled down in the northeast corner, under the stairway to the second floor, and the dresser was tucked in under the slope. In the southeast corner, diagonally across from where the head of my bed was, were two doors; the door to the room itself in the south wall, and the door to the closet in the east wall. The bedrooms in that house all had sizable but narrow walk-in closets, and mine was full of hanging clothes, a shoe rack, and a high shelf full of pillows and blankets and various boxes of stuff. The back side of my closet door had a row of hooks on which were hung a number of winter coats. I slept in that room from the age of four or five until I was twenty. When I was little I never had any monsters under my bed or in the closet.

Except just that one time when I was about nine.

It was one night, after everyone had gone to bed and the house had settled down in darkness, and the busy street in front of the house had quieted to only the occasional car whispering past. I was lying in bed in the dark and the quiet, drifting in and out of that foggy half-awareness that is neither quite wakefulness nor quite yet sleep, when odd random images which are neither thoughts nor dreams play through your mind. I was perhaps a few seconds away from finally sinking into full sleep, falling, fading, when with the very last remnant of conscious awareness I heard something, a soft, gentle sort of shifting sound from somewhere across the room. I dragged my eyelids up just a crack and in the dimness I saw the closet door swinging slowly open. It stopped moving as soon as I looked at it.

I have never awakened so instantly or as fully as I did at that moment. I don't think I ever believed in closet monsters, which is probably why I never had any, but it's one thing to know rationally what exists in your closet and what does not, and another thing entirely to be a little kid jerked awake in the dark watching his closet door stop opening. I don't remember how long I lay there petrified, afraid to move, afraid to breathe, staring into the impenetrable blackness along the edge of that slightly-open door, my mind racing to imagine what unimaginable thing might be staring back at me, some horrid dark bulgy-eyed thing coiled and hungry, waiting for me to fall asleep so it could move again. It needed me to be asleep. It could only get me when I was asleep. It had made a mistake, been too eager, moved too soon, and now it had to wait, motionless and silent. As long as I stayed awake and didn't move and didn't look away.

Eventually I got enough of a grip on things to leap out of bed and punch the light on and pull the closet door open. The door hadn't been pushed closed all the way, and something - a hanging coat or a shelved pillow or something, I don't remember now - had fallen to the floor against the door and pushed it open with its weight. So I managed to get to sleep after all that night, but I did scan the back of that closet with a flashlight first, and for quite some time after that I made damn sure that door was good and closed before I went to bed.
 
2012-10-31 2:55:56 AM  
3 votes:
Not a scary story per say, but the most scared I've ever been in my life (well, second-most; the most was the time I walked up on a rattlesnake):

Also at Fort Irwin, I was out with an intercept team ("team" meaning me, one other guy, and a truck) on another night. We were set up all the way at the northern boundary of the exercise area, farther than I'd ever been before, and since I was the lower-ranking team member I drew the night shift. Being that our job was to intercept "enemy" radio signals, we'd set up on top of hills & far away from any other friendly forces, and this was no exception.

So at some point in the middle of the night, pitch black outside aside from the starlight, I'm sitting at my position & hearing absolutely nothing from the equipment when suddenly I cue in on this ungodly deep sound...kind of a mesh of a roar, a growl, and something being torn to shreds all at once. It's loud as fark and it's not coming out of my headphones--it's somewhere outside. Being the middle of the desert the only wildlife which made appreciable amounts of noise were coyotes, but they pretty much never bothered us in the field (they were too busy raiding the dumpsters back in garrison) and they sure as hell didn't sound anything like that. It stopped for a few seconds, and then I heard it again...about two or three seconds long, probably, but it seemed to last forever at that point.

Now keep in mind that I'm a 23 year-old soldier at this point, I didn't (and don't) believe in monsters or ghosts or any of that stuff, and I sure as hell wasn't going to wake up my partner because I was hearing weird noises in the dark. So I slowly take off the headphones, set them down in front of me, ease the door of the truck open, and grab my M-16 as I step outside (which was really good thinking on my part since all we had were blank rounds). I set one shaking boot after the other onto the hilltop and scan around me when I hear it again. Like I said, I don't believe in banshees or anything, but I'd imagine this was what one would sound like if they did exist. My brain is puzzling over it, trying to focus in on where the noise is coming from, one-by-one discarding the possibilities of a bear or a wolf or a space alien, and I hear it again. My knees are literally shaking, but I creep out towards the edge of the hilltop and peer around, but I can't see anything. I hear the sound one more time and then it's gone for the rest of the night. Eventually I calmed myself down enough to get back in the truck & start working again.

SPOILER BELOW IN WHITE (if you have me farkied you're just screwed, sorry):

It turned out my teammate heard it, too, but having been at Fort Irwin longer than I had he knew what it was. A couple of A-10s were doing live gun runs on the range a dozen or so miles north of us.

Link to hear it for yourself (real world run, so if that bothers you don't click).
 
2012-10-31 2:27:03 AM  
3 votes:

FraggleStickCar: 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...

This is a really old urban legend, have heard it plenty of times. Still creepy though and could have origins in truth, I suppose.


That is funny since I am the OP and it really happened. I was driving a maroon 1978 280Z. The 9mm was a Ruger P85. The Fiero was red. The woman in the road was wearing faded blue jeans and a pale pink shirt. The suitcase in the road closest to me was tan in color. The oddest thing about the picture in front of me was that the suitcases were open and the contents were scattered around far more evenly that you would think would happen in a real accident. That is what stood out, everything was too spread, that and there were no skid marks to explain why the Fiero was sideways in the street.

If it is a really old urban legend it must be because the same group pulled it on lots of people before they pulled it on me.
 
2012-10-31 1:38:28 AM  
3 votes:
True story, this happened to me, about 20 years ago.

I was about 18, a girl I knew in college introduced me to Ouija board one night, it was your store-bought parker bros. version...we played with it, it wasn't that weird because everyone was suspicious of each other about who was moving the planchette. Just a TOY I thought...but interesting at the least. Maybe even a little spooky.

I did a little reading and found out that if you make your own, it's more powerful, better connection to the spirit world, blah blah blah, I wasn't taking this thing seriously, but I was excited by the creepy factor, and how many other people DID take it seriously.

So, one night in October (couple of weeks before Halloween) I called an old girlfriend, "Jenny", and we got to talking (We were reduced to good friends at the time. She was dating some guy named "Patrick" and I had other girls on my mind). We were both a bit bored, so I invited her over. I was living in the apartment above my parents garage, it wasn't much, but it was my "own" place. I told her about my new found knowledge and said I'd make a ouija board to keep us entertained. She was reluctant, but I assured her it was "just a toy" and parker brothers makes these things. "Nothing to worry about, it can't hurt you, it'll be fun"

She had a 20 mile span to cover so I had some time. The board was easy to make, just a piece of 18" x 24" drywall, and I drew the letters and symbols on it with a sharpie. To make the planchette I cut a corner off a pine board and drilled a hole in the middle. Oila~ we had board and were ready to contact Elvis.

A couple of things i told her that I read about these things...(from the box in the store or a movie, I don't know.)

Don't take your hands off the board once you've started. If you do, you could open a "door"
Don't stop the "session" without saying "goodbye", if you do, you could open a "door"
Spirits Lie, can't spell, don't use it alone, and don't burn it near your house.

Now, on to the fun stuff...we sit down across from each other, with this thing on our knees.
I don't remember the name of the first "spirit" we got from the afterlife, but we asked it the usual questions:
"Are you dead?"
Yes
"Can you see us?"
Yes
"I just tossed a thesaurus over my shoulder, it landed open...what page is open to?"
1..3..4 (I get up and check the book, Ouija spirit is.....Correct)
"Where are you?"
H..E..L..L
"Oh really? Is there anyone there we know?"
Yes (Yes was written on the board in the corner, opposite "No")
"Who is there that we know?"
U..N..C..L..E

At this point Jenny stops and gets a little weirded out. Turns out she had an uncle who committed suicide. (I found this out that night. One of those family secrets.) We put the board down, and I reassure her that "it's just a toy", and it's our subconcsious minds moving this thing around. We smoke a cig or two and decide to try again.

This time we get some other "spirit", also in "Hell", and I ask:
"Is there anyone there I know?"
Yes
"Who is it?"
D..A..R..R..E..N (This is the older brother I had lost 4 years earlier in an accident)

I get a little miffed at this thing, because my brother was a teenager and a good kid before he passed, he was a hero of sorts to me, and there was no way in my mind he would be in Hell.

I press on, because this thing is bullshiat to me at this point.
"Oh really...well then...If he's there I want to talk to him! Is he there?"
Yes
"Ok, 'Darren', you and I shared a room when I was in 6th grade and you were in 7th...you were in love with a girl, and wrote her name on the wall behind your bed, and only I knew it was there...what was the name you wrote?"
K..A..R..A

I dropped the board. Nobody but me and Darren knew that...and he never dated her, so it wasn't public knowledge...she was his dream girl and he passed on before anything developed.
Jenny is a little concerned at this point, and once again I tell her that this stupid thing is just a TOY, and my subconcious mind is playing tricks on us. We took another break, another cigarette or two, and decide to give it another shot.

We get the third "spirit"...
"Who are you?"

S..A..T..A

shiat!!!! I panic and drop the board...Santa Claus doesn't spell his name that way! BREAK TIME!

Jenny is pretty rattled at this point, and says "I don't want to play with this 'Toy' anymore." I agreed and we decided to say "goodbye" to the "spirits" and be done with it."

We decide that this is going to be the last communication no matter who we get.

"Who are you?"
S..A..T..A (i cringe at this point) ..R ....SATAR

"Well, SATAR, we'd like to go now, so 'goodbye'"
NO
"We need to go. Goodbye"
NO YOU...R
"What is YOU R?"
YOU..R..W..R..O..N..G
"Who is wrong?"
J-E-N-N-Y (I was glad it wasn't talking to me)
"What is Jenny wrong about?"
YOU..R..W..R..O..N..G
(We are irritated and creeped out at this point, and practically shouting at this thing.)
"WHAT IS SHE WRONG ABOUT?!"
YOU..R..W..R..O..N..G
"ABOUT WHAT?!?!?!"

T....O....Y....S


It took a split second for that to grab me...then it did. You know that rush of adrenaline you get when you have a close call? The way it rushes up your spine like a wave hits you in the back? This felt like a tidal wave to me. I freaked out. The board went flying, I grabbed Jenny by the arm and it took me about 3 steps to get to the door 15 feet away. We dashed down the stairs and into the house 50 feet away. She was crying at this point and I was VERY rattled, I felt like the devil himself was standing behind me.

We spent at least an hour in the house trying to calm down, and trying to figure out what to do...that WAS my apartment, but I wasn't going up there alone, and that board had to go. Finally, armed with a shotgun (not much good against Satan, but I felt better with it) we sent the dog into the apartment first while we waited on the stairs...after a few minutes, I went in....Jenny waited in the doorway...(she was NOT going back in there...considering the "door" we may have opened) while I ran in and grabbed the board and the planchette. We drove 15 miles and dropped the planchette in a dumpster, and 15 more miles before I dropped the board in another dumpster. Both of us still shaking.

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.
 
2012-10-31 1:15:42 AM  
3 votes:
 
2012-10-31 1:12:46 AM  
3 votes:
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: Base, it's back again.

And that was the last they heard from that unit. Their field HQ tried to raise them repeatedly for the rest of the night but never got an answer. We sent the report up the chain as a potential "real world incident", but never heard back on that, either. 100% true, I was there.
 
2012-10-31 1:11:52 AM  
3 votes:
OK, I'll give you these. From the house I grew up in.

Built in 1895. My fam moved in in 1975.

Apparently, a lot of people had experiences there. I never really did, however, I am a skeptic.

So, lets start.

The earliest I remember was me, my friend, and my mother were all sitting in the living room watching TV. All of a sudden, my friend and my mother looked at each other and asked if they saw that...
Apparently, they both saw wavy white lines floating up the stairs. I was at an angle in the living room where I couldn't see the stairs.

One day, my GF and I were in my room, and my room was in the attic. I heard my mother calling me from downstairs, so I went out the door of my room, and turned right down the hallway towards the top of the attic stairs to answer my mother. At which point I heard my GF scream. I walked back to the room, and she swore that she saw someone walking towards left in the hallway, the opposite of the way I had just gone. She described it as solid, and wearing a colored shirt. I, being in the hallway, saw nothing, or heard nothing.

My sister for a short period, also had a room in the attic. There were three rooms there. Anyways,my sister had a habit of sleeping with her radio on, and I used to go and shut it off, cause it would keep me up. I was sleeping at a friends house the night in question. She says she was awake, with the lights off, listening to the radio. All of a sudden the stations started chaning, she assumed it was me, trying to shut the radio off, so she sits up and says "I'm still awake, leave it on" Except, I am not there. She says what was there was a small boy, dressed in a tuxedo, standing at the end of her bed. She screamed bloody murder, so badly, that my other brother downstairs heard the screams screamed up to her to her what was wrong. She says she was so scared that she pulled the covers over her head. My brother didnt hear any response, so he went back to sleep. She says she waited 10 minutes, and then looked again, except now the boy was standing directly next to her at the bed. Apparently she screamed so loud that my brother ran upstairs, turing on the hallway light in the attic on his way up. She says instantly when the lights came on, the boy disappeared.

There are lots more, I can go on, but it's late, and I may stop in again.

Oh, let me add this:
in 32004, the house was sold to my brother. He gut-renovated it, and when the pulled up the landing at the bottom of the stairs (where the white lights emanated form) they found an old straw hat, from 1895, and a shoe. Also from the same era.

A little weird, but apparently, it was good luck to plank a shoe in a house you were building, or something like that.
 
2012-10-31 1:11:36 AM  
3 votes:
For those of you who can get 640 AM KFI radio, tomorrow night, starting at 10pm, is Coast to Coast with George Nory (the old Art Bell show). Except it isn't Coast to Coast.... it is Ghost to Ghost for this one night. Callers call in ghost stories, all night long. Turn down the lights, burn a blunt or two, grab a bag of candy and enjoy.....
 
2012-10-31 1:00:30 AM  
3 votes:
Abort, Retry, Ignore?

Once upon a midnight dreary, fingers cramped and vision bleary,
System manuals piled high and wasted paper on the floor,
Longing for the warmth of bed sheets, still I sat there doing spreadsheets.
Having reached the bottom line I took a floppy from the drawer,
I then invoked the SAVE command and waited for the disk to store,
Only this and nothing more.

Deep into the monitor peering, long I sat there wond'ring, fearing,
Doubting, while the disk kept churning, turning yet to churn some more.
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token.
"Save!" I said, "You cursed mother! Save my data from before!"
One thing did the phosphors answer, only this and nothing more,
Just, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

Was this some occult illusion, some maniacal intrusion?
These were choices undesired, ones I'd never faced before.
Carefully I weighed the choices as the disk made impish noises.
The cursor flashed, insistent, waiting, baiting me to type some more.
Clearly I must press a key, choosing one and nothing more,
>From "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

With fingers pale and trembling, slowly toward the keyboard bending,
Longing for a happy ending, hoping all would be restored,
Praying for some guarantee, timidly, I pressed a key.
But on the screen there still persisted words appearing as before.
Ghastly grim they blinked and taunted, haunted, as my patience wore,
Saying "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

I tried to catch the chips off guard, and pressed again, but twice as hard.
I pleaded with the cursed machine: I begged and cried and then I swore.
Now in mighty desperation, trying random combinations,
Still there came the incantation, just as senseless as before.
Cursor blinking, angrily winking, blinking nonsense as before.
Reading, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

There I sat, distraught, exhausted, by my own machine accosted.
Getting up I turned away and paced across the office floor.
And then I saw a dreadful sight: a lightning bolt cut through the night.
A gasp of horror overtook me, shook me to my very core.
The lightning zapped my previous data, lost and gone forevermore.
Not even, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

To this day I do not know the place to which lost data go.
What demonic nether world us wrought where lost data will be stored,
Beyond the reach of mortal souls, beyond the ether, into black holes?
But sure as there's C, Pascal, Lotus, Ashton-Tate and more,
You will be one day be left to wander, lost on some Plutonian shore,
Pleading, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?" 


/That one is not aging well.
 
2012-10-31 8:29:04 PM  
2 votes:
I've thoroughly enjoyed this thread today, at the expense of all productivity and general adult responsibilities. Well done, FARK.
 
2012-10-31 6:28:45 PM  
2 votes:

I should be in the kitchen: Something my dad told me: the night my sister died and during the two nights before, their dog started acting really odd in the middle of the night. She (the dog) was awake, panting heavily, pacing around and in general acting really restless and wouldn't calm down. Totally out of character; she's never done that before and hasn't done it since. I've heard amazing stories of animal intuition so I'm inclined to believe she sensed *something* was up but didn't understand what.


One day I was walking my BIG lab (100+ pounds) past a house with two dominant shepherds. Normally they are tied, and just bark like beasts. On the few occasions they've been loose, they've been very agressive and mean to my dog. I noticed they were loose this day, and tried to turn around and walk the other way, but they saw us and came tearing down the driveway towards me and my dog. I was very concerned, and didn't think it was going to end well. I stood tall and tried to put on my calm-assertive face, but I was worried. They got to us at a full run, but as soon as they reached my dog, they calmed right down. They each in turn sniffed his butt, touched noses with him, held eye contact for a minute, and walked away. This was extremely abnormal for them - I've never not seen them agressive. Hmmmm, I thought, maybe you're finally getting some respect int he neighborhood.

My dog had a massive stroke that night and died. They knew, and were saying goodbye.
 
2012-10-31 4:49:53 PM  
2 votes:

Tharkin: Note--this is longer than I meant it to be. Sometimes I'm a little long-winded. I think it's worth a read though--it's all true and, in my opinion, pretty frigging creepy.


You do realize this is exactly the kind of story someone tells right before they disappear forever or are found dead in some crazy scenario in those same woods, right?

Not to freak you out or anything, but the whole "I'm going to go back next weekend!" after seeing some really creepy shiat is like classic horror story fodder.

The animals acting weird is pretty damn weird, but finding the turkey feathers stuck in the ground (something that doesn't just happen, there's a motivation and an actor involved) -and- a creepy dude nearby being excessively creepy? I'd stay the fark out of those woods man. Even if there's absolutely nothing paranormal going on, that creepy guy wants to use your guts for garters because the tree-fairy he was communing with told him it'd be a good idea. He didn't acknowledge your presence the first time, but he may actually notice you the second time (and be pissed you interrupted whatever the fark crazy shiat he was doing).

The fact this is in the woods behind your house just makes it soooo much worse. I am truly sorry for your lots.

farkrgal: .Until it began to happen over and over..I stayed frozen with fear on my bed, kept my friend on the phone until the sun came up..which is when the door finally stopped moving.


You should probably figure out how to close that particular gateway you opened by bleeding all over an unfinished homemade ouija board. Or at least contact the current owners and find out if any crazy stuff's been going on.
 
2012-10-31 1:41:39 PM  
2 votes:
The same thing that happened to echo5juliet happened to me 18 years ago in Italy. My stepdad was driving at night through dense woods when we saw a car on the side of the road, scattered clothes and a woman lying against the car. He freaked out, sped up and told my mom and me to lower our heads in case we were shot at. As soon as they saw the car speeding by, a lot of people appeared from between the trees and run after us. I couldn't see them very well because I was keeping my head down, but I thougth I heard shots. They didn't hit the car in any case. Apparently it was very common because my stepdad knew exactly what was going on and how to act. So, not an urban legend.

Now, for the creepy histories...

9 years ago I moved to my then-boyfriend's apartment. It was in a very old (1909), very creepy building, with 4 floors and 8 apartments total, and some tenants are very old people who have been renting there forever because the flats are huge (ours is 1300sqft) and dirt cheap. So one day I got home before my boyfriend and decided to wait for him sitting on the stairs outside the building, reading, because it was a beautiful sunny day. i spent about 40 minutes just sitting there and during this time no one got in the building. Then I got bored of waiting and got inside, and there at the foot of the stairwell was an old lady as if she'd just gotten inside.
I don't know why, but just the sight of her scared me silly and for some reason I didn't want to go up the stairwell while she was on it, so I went back outside and waited for a good ten minutes to give her time to get to her apartment or wherever she was going. After that i went back in again and there was no one on the stairs, so I went up, and when I got to the first floor landing, there she was, just standing there and staring at me. Again I felt this unexplainable fear (it was just an old lady after all), I blustered "good morning", run upstairs past her and locked myself in my apartment.
When my boyfriend got home I told him about it and she asked me how did she look like. I described her as well as I could, and he told me "Oh, that's the lady who lived next door to us". I said "Is she? I've never seen her before" and he, totally unfazed, replied "Of course you haven't, she died last Christmas". When he saw I was freaking out he added "But don't worry, she was a very nice lady!". At first I thought he was kidding, but nope, he was dead serious. Apparently he just had no problem with having a ghost in the building as long as it was a "nice old lady" ghost.

Fast forward five years, we've gotten married, moved to Madrid, lived there for 4 years and now we're moving back to our hometown. So we call our old landlord of the dirt-cheap huge ghost-ridden apartments and he just happens to have one available! And for an even lower price than we used to pay 5 years before! Ghosts or no ghosts, it's too good an opportunity to pass. So we take the apt., in the same building we used to live, only this one is in the first floor and we used to live in the third.

We move in, we already know some of the neighbors, we gossip with them about the new tenants who have moved in while we've been away. Turns out the apartment where the dead old lady used to live has been rented by a very scary crazy-looking woman who is the talk of the neighbors because... well, she doesn't just look crazy, she does weird stuff as well. For starters, where her door used to have a small figurine of a saint embedded in the wood (this is very common in Spain) now the figurine has been tore off and there are deel scratches all over the door. And when her downstairs neighbor had to go one night to ask her to turn the tv volume dows and stop jumping up and down and hitting the walls with a broom, the crazy neighbor told her that she had to make all that noise to keep the ghosts away. Oooook... whatever tickles your fancy. Only I know she didn't get her ideas about ghosts in the building from me because i never told anyone my own ghost story. but at this point I'm opening a restaurant and I'm just too busy to worry about ghosts, crazy neighbors and stuff like that.

In our new apartment, we chose the biggest room as a bedroom. I started having insomnia and being afraid at night because I felt someone in the room with me. About three months after moving in, I started hearing voices in my head, sometimes talking to me, sometimes just fragments of conversations... it only happened in the bedroom. I didn't talk about it with my husband, because, honestly, I was afraid I was going crazy. But then one night as I was falling asleep I heard two voices, one starting to talk and the other telling him angryly to shut up because "she's still awake, she can hear us!". At this point I told my husband everything, and I guess you can see this one coming, he had been hearing voices in the bedroom as well.

So we changed rooms and left the creepy room as a guest room. Now the door is always closed and I only go in there alone during the day. We haven't heard any more voices since we sleep in another room, About two years ago Crazy Neighbor Lady tried to catnap one of our cats, but that's a whole different horror story. And the only weird thing that's happened since is this:

Exactly one year and a day ago, the night before Halloween, I went shopping while my husband worked. When I got back home, there was a big puddle of fresh blood in our bathroom, and bloody cat pawprints going from the bathroom to under my bed. I freaked out and checked all my cats for wounds or bloodstains, but they were all clean and healthy, if only mildly annoyed because they all were sleeping and I had woken them up. I looked around for a mice corpses or something, but... there shouldn't be any small animals in the apartment, we keep all the windows closed so out cats won't jump out, and as far as I know there's no way for mice to get inside and we've never seen any signs of rodents living in our apartment. The next day we checked under every piece of furniture, but we couldn't find any bones, tufts of fur, feathers... nothing at all. To this day I don't know whose blood was that.
 
2012-10-31 12:54:53 PM  
2 votes:

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 11:21:21 AM  
2 votes:

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 11:10:11 AM  
2 votes:
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.
 
2012-10-31 11:00:50 AM  
2 votes:
Aside from my usual sleeping paralysis which I cannot convey how terrifying it is even though I know what is happening time and time again, my mom told me this story of me when I was 5:

She walked by my bedroom around 10:00 (was asleep for an hour) and heard me crying. She said I had a normal day so she peaked in just to ask me what was wrong. I was sitting up balling my eyes out and when she sat down at my side and asked "what's wrong" I exclaimed "IT'S GOING TO HAPPEN AGAIN."

'What is?"

"I'm going to grow up, I'm going to marry someone. I'm going to have kids and grow old. THEN I'M GOING TO LOSE IT ALL, AGAIN. EVERYONE. I'm going to lose everyone I love and not see them ever again. I'm going to lose you, dad, (brother's name), (pet's name), granny, EVERYONE. WHY? It's so unfair."

"Everything is going to be fine"

"NO IT WON'T BE"


I didn't say anything else after that and kept crying until I went asleep silently. Next day I was good as new, and I can only remember the incident faintly. I just remember crying uncontrollably one night, which crying as a whole was rare for me because I was a really happy kid who played with lego until I fell asleep. The only reason she brought it up was because there was an episode of Oprah or Dr. Phil were they interviewed people who experienced something like this with their young children.

I didn't pluck this one off the internet and I'm not making it up. There is no value in creepy stories to me unless they come from a sincere teller who speaks of an experience. I think previous lives is a cool concept, but all that being said I'm not sure I believe it. Still, I wouldn't have just said all of that stuff. The only things that scared me or provoked my imagination when I was a kid were aliens and spiders.
 
2012-10-31 10:50:55 AM  
2 votes:
I have two stories, one from my mom and one from myself.
Note: Mom is a no BS child of German immigrants and my father is Croatian. They did not raise me to believe in fantastical stuff. Mom's is from an e-mail forever ago.

1. We were recently married and broke. Your dad was a dispatcher at the PD and worked at a funeral home too. We lived in the apartment behind the funeral home. One night, your dad went to work and I was alone. Only six of us had keys to the building. I was in the living room when I heard someone knocking on the back door of the apartment. I went to the door and asked "who is it?" No one answered, so I figured it was someone being cute.

A bit later, it happened again, but as I'm going to the door, it stops. It immediately started up at the other end of the funeral home. This time it's louder and panicky. I got to the bay and saw the metal door bending like a gorilla was trying to get in. I ran back to the apartment and called your dad.

He was trying to calm me down when the apartment door starts being hit like the other door. I don't think he believed me until he heard it himself. It seemed like every cop on duty showed up and they looked EVERYWHERE but found nothing. Tommy, your dad's friend on the job, took Polaroids of the door when he got there. He showed them to us after we'd moved into our house. There was no damage to the door: no dents or marks where the door had been hit. To this day, I can't explain it.

After they left, I stayed up and waited on your dad. He and Tommy called the rest of the staff to ask if they had done it, but the director was out of town, the secretary was a little old lady and the two other staff members were at dinner with their families when it happened. We never had anything happen like that again, but I heard noises and sounds there during the day and night that I cannot explain.

2. I was in grad school, living in another town. I had recently learned my downstairs neighbor was a drug dealer who had rednecks looking for him. I saw two of them almost kicking his door in, yelling "Yuuu cain't hide fur-eva!! Yuuu owe Big Tim BIG TIME muthafarka!" Needless to say, I was late for my class that day.

I had to work the next day (Saturday). About 9:30pm or so, I'm sitting on the couch when I hear our front door rattling. I look over and see the doorknob shaking like someone wants in. I looked through the peep hole, assuming I would find the rednecks from earlier. Nothing.

I sit back down and I hear a kazoo sound off in the apartment. It was deafening. Cat heard it too; she took off and hid. I had this feeling like I was underwater (panic attack?) and I'm getting pretty freaked out as I'm alone. Finally, the Slavic/Teutonic rage kicks in and I yell, "What the fark?! If you want the farking drug dealer, he's down farking stairs!!! In the name of God, leave me the FARK ALONE!!!!!" I followed up with some Croatian insults.

The underwater sensation slowly fades and I think WTF? Maybe 30 seconds after I start feeling normal, I hear a BOOM like a damn bomb went off downstairs. Across-the-breezeway neighbor calls asking "What was that?!" We go downstairs, expecting chaos, but find a dark apartment. Breezeway neighbor points to the bedroom window and says "What the..?" The blinds were pulled back from the bedroom window like someone wanted a better look outside, but we couldn't see anything. I haul back upstairs and lock the door. I have no idea what they came back to, and frankly I don't want to know.

I found out later the girlfriend claimed to be a witch and opened a "door" she didn't close. I asked a Wiccan friend what was up. Friend says people who are new often do that and don't know how to "fix it." Friend asks, "did you believe yelling would help?" I said, "I was uber-pissed." She smiles. Drug dealer got busted not long after and girlfriend was committed (seriously, I watched them take her away from my kitchen window). Never heard any weird noises again.

Wow. That was a Tolstoy. Happy Halloween to all!
 
2012-10-31 10:47:23 AM  
2 votes:
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.
 
2012-10-31 10:06:35 AM  
2 votes:
Reposting from previous year's threads:

I saw it (him?) three times in my old Florida house.

I was lying in my bed wide awake. I had finished reading, my coffee was empty, and my girlfriend was asleep next to me. It was dark, but I saw something move in the shadows off to the left of my bed. It was as if a patch of darkness had just suddenly 'stood up'. I saw something about the size of a small boy, but seemed to be composed entirely of shadow. A chill immediately ran over me.

The shadow walked around to the foot of the bed,then turned it's head and looked at me. I saw two glimmering points of red light where eyes would be. I briefly got the image of a small child, lost and confused, and a little angry. It just stood there and looked at me for a moment. The head seemed to tilt a little, as if it didn't understand what it was seeing. Then it walked ahead around a corner, and into the master bathroom. The shower doors rattled.

When my girlfriend woke up hours later, I was still awake. She got up to use the restroom, and then wanted to know why I had showered in the middle of the night, and left the bathroom such a mess. There was water everywhere. I couldn't answer her, and I didn't tell her anything about what I had seen.

That was the first time I saw him.

***

Years passed before I saw him again. I was living alone now, same house, same bedroom. I had been happy before, but then she left me, and I was alone in bed this time. I guess I never completely felt alone though, because I still remembered that dark shape, and the red eyes.

One night I woke up and heard my next door neighbors fighting. I couldn't sleep because of them, so I just lay there, waiting for sleep to come to me again. I was looking at my stereo and listening to the CD I had put in to distract me (The soundtrack to the anime 'Akira'), when I saw him again. He rose up from the foot of my bed and looked around, almost curiously, as if he had been suddenly brought to a strange new place. The same chill hit me, as it had the time before, and just as I did before, I froze.

It appeared then that he noticed me, and he seemed more scared of me than I was of him. He moved quickly away (I hesitate to use the term 'ran' - he just ... moved), off out of my field of vision. I heard my door open. A minute later, my door creaked again, and he was back at the foot of my bed. He looked at me one more time, then dropped from view. He seemed sad, and confused.

I saw him one more time after that.

***

Years passed this time. I'm still in the same house, but now have a new woman living with me, my future wife. It had been so long since I had seen him that I had almost thought he was gone, but then one winter night I saw him again. This time he walked into view on my side of the bed, appearing from the corner of the room.

He stood there watching me. He looked at me, then at my fiancé, and back to me again. He seemed sad and alone, but he didn't vanish like he had in the past. It was as if he wanted something. I moved closer to my fiancé, and waved him towards us, and patted the open spot in the bed. I murmured sleepily "It's ok. You don't have to be alone". He seemed hesitant "Don't be afraid. It'll be alright". I felt him curl up there. He seemed happy, comforted - and then he was gone.

I never saw him again after that. I like to think he's happy now, moved on to where ever it is we go. I'm also not making up a word of this. Think of it what you will.

Dream? Hallucination? Accepting my Inner Child? Could be. It still freaked me out to no end.
 
2012-10-31 9:58:36 AM  
2 votes:
 
2012-10-31 9:31:30 AM  
2 votes:
One of the few times I've ever been spooked: I was getting ready for work one morning and had the TV going in the bedroom while I was putting on makeup in the bathroom. A news story comes on about a young woman who was found murdered the day before. There was no purse or ID on the poor thing, but she had some rings on her fingers that were distinctive. The camera focuses on the rings as I poke my head out of the bathroom to look. At one glance, I said out loud "It's Jill.". I immediately thought "Why did I just say that out loud?", and then realized that the only Jill I knew was a neighbor and I had seen her just last night - well after they had found the body. I just shook my head at myself and went about my day without thinking about it again.

When I got home from work, I turned on the news, as I usually do. Lead story: The murdered young woman has been identified. Her name is Jill ..........

You know how people say their knees just give way when they get a shock? Yeah, I did that.
 
2012-10-31 9:21:46 AM  
2 votes:
Mamaw couldn't live by herself anymore so she moved in with my aunt. Mamaw's house was in SE Kentucky, my aunt's house was in SE Indiana. A few years go by and Mamaw died in my aunt's house, right in the living room about lunch time. That night my cousin freaked right the fark right out. Like freaked out enough to go to the emergency room with a panic attack. She said that she could hear Mamaw packing her stuff. We thought it was just her being overly emotional and wrote it off as emotional overload. At the funeral in SE Kentucky, we stayed in the house that Mamaw and Papaw had lived in forever. It had been closed up for a couple of years, but the electric and heating/cooling was left on so it wasn't in too bad of shape, just a little musty smell. The night of the visitation, another cousin and I left the church early to go to that house, get something to eat and crash. Another relative and her husband were getting ready to go to the church and warned us to keep the doors locked and watch out for people who might break in and steal stuff. My cousin and I laughed at them. We ate dinner and cleaned up the kitchen then went to bed. The house was old and designed funny, you had to walk through bedrooms to get to other bedrooms. My cousin took the couch in the living room by the front door and I took the first bedroom. The kitchen was to his back and it was on my right. I had to go through Mamaw and Papaw's bedroom to get to the living room. Five minutes after we turned off the lights, it was clear someone was in the kitchen. Refrigerator door opening, shuffling footsteps, silverware drawer opening and closing, aluminum foil crinkling. I called out to my cousin asking what he was doing eating again so soon. He immediately responded with urgency in his voice that it wasn't him and he thought it was me. I dashed out of bed and made it to the living room light switch 20 feet away in about three jumps. I never saw anything, just heard the commotion in the kitchen. Growing up visiting, Mamaw was always the last one to go to bed. She would always be fiddling around in the kitchen doing something. After my experience, I believe Mamaw did pack her "stuff" in Indiana and returned home to Kentucky and tidied the kitchen one more time. Her funeral was the next day. The house was torn down and replaced and I haven't heard of anything else happening.
 
2012-10-31 5:16:10 AM  
2 votes:
Growing up in my parent's house, they left me alone for two weeks while they went on vacation in Florida. Everything is normal the first week. Had a little party, had fun. No worries. Just me and my beagle. At the beginning of the second week my dog and I are in my room in the basement. The hallway to my room has these long decorative beads covering it. You can hear anyone coming in, even if they are being sneaky. The beads will rattle. So the mutt and I are watching TV and all of a sudden his hair stands up and he starts flipping out at something at the open doorway. I've never seen him this upset. He dives under the bed and I hear the beads going crazy like someone has wrapped themselves up in them and is thrashing back and forth. I grab one of my dad's guns out of the closet and get to the hallway to see the beads still moving with some strong momentum. Then I hear a giant thud from further in the basement. I go out through the beads and see that the pool table has just been moved completely sideways, cue ball still rolling. This is a pretty big marble table that I would guestimate weighs around 500 lbs. Then I hear someone scream "NOOOOOOO" in a very deep voice from upstairs and the loud thudding of footsteps back and forth. I start to go upstairs, gun in hand and halfway up the stairs a voice in my head said "do NOT go upstairs". I went back to my room, dog still hiding under the bed, locked the door and sat there all night gun in hand until the sun came up.

When I got up the next morning, all the doors upstairs were still locked from the inside and nothing upstairs had fallen or been disturbed. Unless my parents came home 5 days early, decided to fark with me, lock the doors behind them and drive back to Florida in 5 hours (from IL), I can't explain what happened that night. I even thought earthquake for a bit until I talked to all my neighbors/friends who felt nothing. Especially nothing that could toss around a 500lb pool table without me feeling anything in the other room.

Nothing has happened since. I bought the house from my folks and it's been quiet, although I still occasionally suffer from a night terror/sleep paralysis bout.
 
2012-10-31 3:23:00 AM  
2 votes:
Ugh, several incidents, some can be partially explained by sleep paralysis and a really messed up mind. The other... not so much.

In college years ago I had a girlfriend who shared an apartment with her close friend from home. We were all asleep, me and my girlfriend, and earlier in the week her and her roommate had been telling me about feeling creeped out in their apartment. I thought nothing of it, as I had noticed that they had just in general been really irritated with each other over conflicting schedules for things, so thought they were just expressing the tension in another way.

I woke up around 3 am on my side, facing away from the middle of the bed. In the corner of the room, near an antique mirror I had recently bought my girlfriend that was still not yet hung on a wall, was a darker shadow than what was elsewhere in the room. I remember it having one foot disappearing into the leaning mirror. As I watched, it came over to me, still just a black person shaped thing, and held me down, while trying to pour something into my ear. At this point I was doing my best to call out my girlfriends name, thinking that if she could just touch me everything would be fine: I would be able to move, the image would go away, and I'd wake up from my sleep/creepy dream.

At some point she hears me stuttering part of her name and rolls over and touches me just as the shadow tips whatever it had towards my ear. I shoot upright in bed and yell "get out of here" in what her and her friend said over and over was not anything like my own voice or any tone I've ever used before when mimicking someone. After I scare the crap out of everyone else we notice the mirror has fallen over, which shouldn't happen as it was firmly leaning up against the wall. Needless to say we were all a bit freaked out, so gather in the living room on the couch and futon to try and get some more sleep.

An hour or so after we all fell asleep, we all woke up to the sound of someone stomping down the hallway from the far bedroom, and then my gf and I hear a voice whisper behind us that said "you need to get out, he's after (my name)". Her friend was across the room from us, so it couldn't have been her not to mention the fact the voice was rather different from hers, so we all up and rush from the apt out into the hallway, and eventually back to my dorm. The apt. was on the top floor, so the sound of the stomping couldn't have been someone above walking heavily.

We all refused to go back in there alone until we had someone come and take the mirror. I don't know why, but everything in the apartment seemed to get better once the mirror was gone. Looking back, I would like to believe it was just a very disturbing episode of sleep paralysis (my first ever bout of it nonetheless) and some sort of shared hysteria brought on by lack of sleep.
------------
Episode two of sleep paralysis came when I was working as an expediter and having just delivered a shipment late one night, drove off to a corner of the factory property and set up for some sleep in the cargo van. I had a pretty decent setup, as it was a dodge sprinter van, so I had a rather nice fold down bed with memory foam,heated/cooled cab, power inverter and all that good stuff. Well, on this trip I was showing a younger relative the ropes so we were working as a driving team. He had a cot in the back, and there was plenty of room for us. Once again, I wake up around 3am, as I can see the little digital clock stuck to the wall near my head. Once again, I can't move, hurray sleep paralysis, as I had learned it was called by that point. I wasn't to worried, and just tried to go back to sleep, but my eyes caught movement at the back windows of the van. I saw another shadow walk through the back doors,and slightly ruffle the blackout curtains covering the windows, but the shadow looked like it was still standing on the ground and not on the elevated floor of the van. On its way to me it seemed to step up into/onto the flooring, and came to the side of my bed. Once again it reached out towards my ear with something in its hand. At this point I was doing my best to call out to my cousin while trying to close my eyes. What ended up waking me up/ bringing me out of the sleep paralysis was my best friend from college calling me on my cell phone. Just before I am able to move I see the shadow bend down closer to me and whisper "one day, you will be ours", then it disappears out the side of the van. I answer the phone, and my friend starts asking if I'm alright, and he called because he had an overwhelming sense to check on me.

Once again, I want to write this off as sleep paralysis, but my friend calling me at that exact moment is still wierd as all heck.
-----------------
Last one, I swear!
Back to college days. I was driving over to my previously mentioned gf's apartment really late one night, and it was extremely densely foggy that night. Driving across the south side of campus, which opened out onto farm and animal research fields,so the fog along the road was really really thick there. Had just gotten off the cell phone telling her where I was at and would be there in 5-10 minutes. After I hang up I'm driving towards a stoplight and a set of railroad tracks. As I go past the intersection, I notice I can't see the stoplight in my mirrors. I figure maybe the power went out for some odd reason and think nothing of it. Then I notice the next set of lights up ahead of me are dark as well, and all the streetlights past that. As I keep driving, I feel the road get rougher, which wasn't right as the intersection I was coming upon was recently repaved earlier that year. I keep driving.

After a few minutes I realize I should come up on,and even passed, the apt. complex. I slow down, hit the brights, and can't see anything other than ditches and tallish grass on either side of the road. This isn't right. I pull slowly over to the side of the road, leave the car running, and get out. I'm on a dirt road, in the middle of nowhere, with ditches on either side when I should be on a paved road with curbs and in a suburban area. I try calling my friend, my gf, my folks, no signal no bars on the cell. I get back in the car and keep driving... and driving... and driving. Eventually I realize I've been driving for better than half an hour, with no bend in the road and no intersections. I slowdown and stop again and try the cell phone again. Nothing. I look up and in my rearview mirror I see someone standing just inside the light from my brakelights, wearing a white dressing gown. Looks like a woman, but at this point I was not willing to wait and find out. I slam on the gas and take off like a bat out of hell. Ten minutes later or so I come flying out of the dense fog and through the intersection just before the apartment complex I was heading to doing 90mph . My cell phone starts going off, and after I pull into the complex I answer it and it was my gf wondering where the hell I've been and what I was doing, as I should have been there 45 minutes ago.

When I go to shut off my car after pulling into a parking space, with my gf waiting on the sidewalk and coming to the car looking mad and worried at the same time, she notices that the clock on my dash is off, slow by nearly 45 minutes, and the same goes for my phone (this was before the age of the always set by network time), and that's when I notice my full tank of gas from when I left had dropped by a quarter of a tank for what should have been a 5 mile drive. The time being off like that stood out to her because I'm normally the one setting everything to the same, as correct as I can get it, time.

That one I can't explain, and really don't ever want to try to. I did, however, learn in doing some research later on that the stretch of road there on the south side of campus has had all kinds of ghost stories and lost time stories relating to it over the years.Those are my experiences, take em as you see fit.
 
2012-10-31 3:13:11 AM  
2 votes:
I've been separated from my highschool friends for more than a decade. Still, one of them used to send me letters all the time, not e-mail take note. In every letter, my classmate named Sarah, would talk about her life and spray it with her perfume.

During our highschool reunion around 10 years after graduation, I met up with my old friends. Some of them already have families while others changed drastically. I couldn't find my dear friend Sarah so I asked around if they forgot to send her the invitation. Suddenly, the organizer of the reunion pulled me aside. He asked me if I was making a horrible joke. Of course I wondered what he meant. He realized I had no idea what was going on.

Apparently, Sarah's been dead for 3 years before our reunion. She became very ill and died alone. I thought my former teacher was joking but he wasn't. I asked some of the girls whom I weren't really close with about Sarah, and they did confirm that she's been dead for 3 years. Only her closest friends knew.

Who's been sending me the letters all those years? When I googled the address on the envelope, I found out that the address belonged to an old abandoned condominium. Was someone playing a trick on me? Why would they go to such lengths to use Sarah as a joke on me? Why keep it up all those years?

The letters have stopped coming and it's already been 2 years since the reunion when I found out the truth about Sarah.
 
2012-10-31 3:12:45 AM  
2 votes:
my friend and i escaped nyc one weekend in autumn upstate to visit his hometown of wappingers falls, creepy in itself, esp this one black and maybe yellow house that looked evil. we visited the sleepy hollow cemetary, total storybook looking, fog everywhere, i discovered an urn by a tree wrapped in a scarf, so of course i opened it to discover bone fragments and ash.

later that night, we went for a walk deep in the woods, blazed, i was 10ft walking in front of him on this trail, quiet woods, dark and no one around. dont remember what we were talking about, but spooky shiat, when, out of the blue, a rock comes sailing thru the treetops and lands perfectly in between us. we decided to head back.

nother time, i was camping on my other friend's property, isolated in the woods. daytime, and i was setting up my tent towards the perimeter where the lawn met the tree line, suddenly heard an isolated bang, like metal on metal, coming from 100 ft away from me in the woods, like it wanted my attention. no other sounds.

my thoughts went: "did that just happen? that couldn't have happened. im just gonna pretend that didn't happen. but dude, that really happened"

also felt an unseen unwelcoming presence as a kid at xmas in my aunt and uncle's old victorian they just moved into . months later, they confessed to us tales of hauntings, objects flying, smells, voices, shadows sitting on beds, etc.

minor mundane spooky shiat, yeah, but these really things happen. i got chills remembering them
 
2012-10-31 2:59:10 AM  
2 votes:
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 remembering that night.
 
2012-10-31 2:07:33 AM  
2 votes:

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...


This is a really old urban legend, have heard it plenty of times. Still creepy though and could have origins in truth, I suppose.
 
2012-10-31 1:55:39 AM  
2 votes:
The worst part is when you realize you have woke up and you are out of pancake mix.

/That's when i head to the blessed IHOP and all the world is right again.
 
2012-10-31 1:09:30 AM  
2 votes:
When I was in middle school I moved into a new house and when I went to bed I heard a tapping on the wall right above my head. I tried to think of what it could be as I stayed there silently freaking out. I thought that it would be a one time thing but then it happened the next night and the next. Eventually I moved my bed but the tapping happened again in the new location right above my head. It was very loud so I could hear it wherever .. it wasn't a noise that I could only near next to the wall. I moved my bed a third time and it happened again. One night I woke up because I felt a finger tap the top of my head. After a while though I stopped being afraid because I was just so annoyed. I tapped back and then just slept through it without saying up worrying. It went away after that.
 
2012-10-31 1:06:02 AM  
2 votes:

nmemkha: One of our resident GOP bots: and then .... Obama was re-elected! *scary music*


Herp vs. Derp. May the most herpiest derpiest win!
 
2012-10-31 1:02:25 AM  
2 votes:
THEN WHO WAS PHONE???
 
2012-10-31 12:35:01 AM  
2 votes:
Happy Halloween from Down Under. The story I have is not mine, but belongs to a guy I know here.

At the mouth of the Swan River, just southwest of Perth, Western Australia, lies Fremantle. It's a somewhat touristy, somewhat bohemian enclave; it's been Perth's port since the 1830s. Before European settlement, for 40,000 years or so, Fremantle was a river crossing considered sacred by the Whadjuk group of Nyungar Aborigines. In addition to being Perth's port, Fremantle was, between 1850 and 1991, the home to Western Australia's largest jail: Fremantle Prison. It's now a tourist attraction, where you can go on night tours and they'll have some cheap scares, like actors dressing up as crazed prisoners. Other notable sites in the prison include a window which supposedly contains an image of Martha Rendell (the only woman to be hanged in WA) and the gallows where Perth serial killer Eric Edgar Cooke, the "Night Caller" was hanged on in 1964 (he was the last person hanged in WA; interestingly, he was buried in the same grave as Rendell). Freo Jail has a long, dark history.

Anyway, this guy I know is responsible for shepherding groups of foreigners around the Perth area and one of the most common places he'll take people to is Fremantle Prison. He's been maybe 10 or 12 times. A few years ago, he began having dreams, dreams which haunted him. He and his family lived in an old house (early 20th century---a lot of Perth's not that old). Soon, things started getting weird at the house: strange noises in the night mainly. It turns out that his family were also having dreams as well. It perturbed him, perhaps because he lacked any explanation. One day, he was chatting with a friend of his, an Aborigine. When he told his friend about the strange things going on at his house, the friend asked, out of the blue, if his family were having strange dreams. In the Australian Aboriginal culture, dreams are sort of like messages, they are something to be taken seriously. The Aboriginal man then explained: Fremantle Prison is haunted, quite possibly one of the most haunted places in WA. This guy I know had visited it many times. According to the Aboriginal man, the ghosts were recognizing him, and were following him home, thinking he was one of them. The Aboriginal gentleman then warned him: "you must not go back to Fremantle Prison, unless you wish for the ghosts to follow you around permanently."

To this day, he refuses to go inside the prison itself (he'll lead groups in to the courtyard, but he won't take the tour). And this story is his explanation. That, or he got tired of the same tour year, after year, after year...
 
2012-11-02 1:00:54 AM  
1 vote:
Day late, but this is one of my favorite stories from another site. The site has true and made up tales mixed together, but doesn't say which is which. Long but good.


There was an old farmhouse that, until it was torn down a few years ago, stood in the middle of a three-acre plot of land in Afton, Wyoming. At the time, the land belonged to my wife's grandparents, who had purchased the otherwise barren expanse in the spring of 1982 with the intent of building a home on the northwest edge of the property closest to the main road. The home was built, the perimeter fenced, and the rest of the land kept for the horses they owned. After toying with the idea of renovating the sixty- year-old farmhouse and turning it into a guest cottage, they decided against it and now only used it for additional storage space.

In the summer of 1997, my wife and I received an invitation from her grandparents to spend a few days at their home, and so we packed our overnight bags and made the three-hour drive from our home in Utah, looking forward to a weekend spent taking in the rustic scenery and relaxing.

For the record, I have always had a fascination with the paranormal, but my interests have been rooted in its more mundane aspects: horror movies, scary novels, and the occasional worthwhile TV documentary. My wife Jane, on the other hand, has always been a more willing participant in the pursuit of such topics and, as a result of her forays into the world of "ghost hunting", boasts a collection of self-taken spirit photographs to complement her library archives of EVP (Electronic Voice Phenomenon) audio recordings. The phenomena of ghost photography--a pursuit that's been around since the invention of the camera itself- -is something that, to my practical and reasoning mind, can often be dismissed as nothing more than double-exposure, the reflection of light, or water spots on a camera lens. What really captured my imagination, however, were the audio recordings. Some of the anomalies that I have heard on these tapes could easily be written off using more earthbound than otherworldly explanations, yet there are some that even a rational mind must admit are beyond the scope of common experience and understanding. In any case, beyond having heard or read about such occurrences, I had never had a personal experience with the paranormal. Not until the weekend that we spent at my wife's grandparents' home, in July of 1997.

We arrived in Afton late on a Friday evening, and after a few cups of coffee and conversation with the grandparents, we decided to turn in. Laying awake in bed talking, not quite able to sleep just yet, our conversation turned to the old farmhouse that stood about fifty yards off the south side of the house. This was my first visit here, and I was as much enticed by the farmhouse's seemingly ancient, decrepit beauty as I was impressed by its subtle yet unmistakable air of foreboding. I mentioned to Jane how creepy it had looked to me under the light of the full moon as we approached the house, and how perfect a setting it seemed for the types of hauntings I was ever so fond of reading about on dark wintry nights. I asked her what it was like inside. She responded by telling me she didn't know, she had never been inside. I found this strange, what with my wife's seemingly voracious appetite for all things frightening, not to mention the inner fortitude she'd always displayed in braving cemeteries at night armed only with flashlight, tape recorder, and loaded Nikon. Her answer was simple: "Grandpa's never let me inside. He's afraid the roof might cave in on me." With that, my curiosity was assuaged. But at breakfast the next morning, the germ of a notion that I'd planted in her head was alive and kicking and she broached the subject with her grandfather.

"It's a dangerous place, there's bats in the attic and I don't want you poking around in there," was all he would say when asked about it, attempting to turn the conversation from the subject at hand by asking if we wanted to ride the horses after breakfast. You have to know my wife the way I know her to understand that this would not satiate her curiosity, and you also have to know how persistent she can be to understand my mild shock when she simply let the subject lie.

An hour after breakfast, strolling out toward the horse stable for a midmorning ride, she turned to me with a mischievous gleam and informed me that we would be "investigating the old farmhouse" just as soon as Grandpa headed into town for groceries. I took this about as well as someone who's been informed of impending oral surgery, but I also knew better than to resist her will or let her go alone. The last thing I wanted on this quiet weekend was an upset wife or--far less--an injured one, so I acquiesced.

The sun was straight overhead and beating down hot as we approached the doorway of the old farmhouse with nothing but our wits in tow. I hesitated at the entrance, casting a glance over my shoulder to ensure no lectures about venturing into unsound structures would be delivered over dinner that night, but Jane walked straight in like a woman with a mission. I followed her inside, nearly tripping over a horse saddle that had been left just inside the doorway. The doorless entryway opened up to a fairly large room crowded with old cardboard boxes, and a large worktable stacked with bridles and old horse saddles. To the right, there was yet another doorway that led into a much smaller room (a bedroom, I supposed). The way into this room was made impenetrable by more stacks of boxes and crates. Off to the left, I saw an even smaller doorway that exposed a rickety flight of stairs leading, presumably, to the attic above.

The interior was fairly well-lit by the large cracked picture window that had at some point (and for reasons I never discovered) been painted over but was now badly peeling. The first thing I noticed was how the previous occupants had apparently plastered draft-holes in the walls with what appeared to be old newspaper. Closer inspection proved my initial assumption to be true, and I discovered the dates on the newspapers went as far back as the early 1930s.

Jane, now also having discovered the aged newspaper that crammed the draft-holes in the walls, was attempting to flatten out a large torn portion of a strip of newspaper that announced the destruction of the Hindenburg in Lakehurst in 1937. She called me over and we stood there marveling at it. I was mid-sentence, decrying the use of such a historical headline as hole-fodder, when we heard the thump overhead. In retrospect I wish we'd had a video- camera to record my reaction to this sound, because I nearly jumped out of my skin and my motions, although betrayed by my desire to remain cool in the situation, displayed a willingness to race headlong out the entryway of that place. But my legs and feet, loyal to my inner workings, took only a single step before falling into compliance.

Heads now turned upward to the blackened wood overhead, I started to mutter "Did you hear that" when Jane cut me off with a swatting of her arm and a sharp "Shhhhh!" Dead silence ensued for the next thirty seconds as we stood there, frozen, until I finally spoke again in a whisper. "Could be the bats your grandfather warned us about, let's go." But she would not be moved, her will would not be shaken. I was about to fire off some crack about the woes of having a ghostbuster for a wife when it came again, this time more distinct, not directly overhead but further toward the back of the structure, as of something in the far corner of the attic above our heads. Bats fly, I thought to myself, they don't walk and they certainly don't lay heavy footfalls in their wake. Immediately our heads turned toward the doorway to our left, the doorway leading to the short flight of steps into the attic. I asked her if she thought it could be a cat, or a bat finally given up the ghost of hanging upside down from a rafter in 100 degree temperature, but the silence of her response only served to shake me up all the more when it came a third time, actually loosening dirt from the rafters and punctuated by what I can only describe as a dragging shuffle on the floorboards overhead.

That was enough for me. I took hold of Jane's arm and gave a firm tug. "Let's go." But I know my wife, and I ought to have known better than that. Eyes still fixed on the first three steps leading up to the attic, head cocked sideways in an almost comical manner straining to hear, she whispered: "It sounds like there's someone up there." Now, I don't know about most people, but I don't do well with declarations such as those, under circumstances such as these. Anything bearing an even remote similarity to the typical fright-fest dialogue of "They're coming to get you" or (heaven forbid) "They're here" and I'm a running fool with feet flying out ahead of me like a leaper over hot coals. But I suppose that I would willingly trade bearing sole witness to any of those proclamations in exchange for what we heard next, which is something that my rational mind still grapples with, something that if I live to be 100 I will never, ever forget. The voice was soft, and low, muffled by the rafters and the overhead floorboards that separated us from the attic, and it called the words: "David, is that you?"

One moment we were in that dark, stuffy farmhouse, the next we were out in the bright sunlight with the breeze blowing in our faces as we stepped lively through the tall grass back toward the main house. It was that quick, that synchronous. At a moment when I must have realized that whatever courage I had would hold up no further and decided it was better to run than stand, Jane had also reached her threshold of tolerance and we both got the hell out of there. One very important fact--and I state this for the record--my name is not David, nor is her grandfather named David, nor do either of us know anyone by that name; strange as it may seem, the name being such a common one. What's even stranger is that you might think, once away from whatever danger we may have been in or imagined we were in, within the safety of sunlight and the dependabilities of the concrete world, we would have felt a rush of exhilaration or adrenaline--but it was quite the opposite. You'd think that we would have found ourselves a safe space somewhere and sat talking about what we had heard, or what we thought we had heard, but we didn't. We simply turned heels quickly, left, and not another mention of the experience was had that day until we found ourselves in bed again late that night, unable to sleep and unable to forget.

She brought up the topic gently, almost as if expecting me to stammer out a request to close the subject and leave it that way, but I found that once removed from the situation I was able to confront it with a little more ease. I told her what I thought I'd heard, and danced around a million different possible explanations for what it could have been- -everything from fillings in our teeth picking up a nearby radio station, to an old phonograph player that could have been stored up there and could have fallen over after fifty years and scratched out a snippet of song whose lyrics we mistakenly took to be some ghostly voice from beyond. I figured it was much easier to believe either of those scenarios than to consider any otherworldly possibility, but the explanation that occurred to Jane as we lay there in bed, sleepless, was a bit more frightening than any. "Maybe there's someone living up there that my grandparents don't know about," she said, and a look of startled concern came over her face.

The idea sent shivers up and down my spine, offering up images of escaped mental patients creeping onto unsuspecting people's properties in the dead of night clad in flowing hospital gowns, and it alarmed me to the point where I actually got out of bed, stood at the window looking out onto the property offering a clear view of the moonwashed farmhouse, and actually considered either going out there with a baseball bat in hand or calling the local police to check it out. But we could have been mistaken in what we heard, there could have been a rational explanation, and the last thing I wanted to do (apart from admitting to her grandfather that we had betrayed his wishes to keep out) was call the police to investigate the overactive imaginings of a young married couple. They'd probably ask us to provide urine samples for our troubles, and that was one place I didn't want to go.

So we determined that at daybreak, we would go out to investigate yet again. This time as we approached the farmhouse--not having mentioned our concerns to her grandparents for fear of causing probable undue worry--I was armed with a short-handled shovel I'd found lying on the grass and Jane, not entirely convinced the sounds had come from any earthly emanations, with a long-handled flashlight and the mini-cassette recorder she rarely left home without.

Our second entrance in as many days through the doorway of the farmhouse proved to be a lot more ordinary than my imagination had fancied it might be, and the notion that someone may have actually taken up residence in that ramshackle pile of sticks was quickly put to rest on second look at the conditions of the old house, and the likeliness that anyone attempting to climb up the flight of stairs leading to the attic would most likely crash through the rotted wood and break a leg, or worse. We stood listening in silence for what seemed like an eternity but what was most likely a few minutes. Nothing, no sounds except for the occasional crack of the old blackened wood settling. We decided that since we had come this far, we were damned if we were going to leave without a good and thorough search and so we set about the task of figuring out a way to ascend the steps leading to the attic.

I'd spotted a fairly fresh plank of wood about six feet long, two feet wide, and three inches thick, lying in the yard of the farmhouse as we approached, so I came up with the idea that perhaps we could lay the plank lengthwise across the top of the steps and crawl our way up. Jane's first attempt at laying any weight on the board caused a groan of the old woodwork underneath so severe that I insisted on attempting to reinforce it from below with several odd-length two-by-fours I'd also spotted in the yard outside. (We worked quietly in the light of early dawn, aware that to be caught rooting around like children in the old farmhouse against her grandfather's wishes would earn us a severe talking-to.)

Finally, after about half an hour, we had constructed our ascension ramp and, after another five minutes quietly arguing over who should be the first to go, I was shuffling up the length of the plank on my hands and knees, shovel at the ready. Jane's insistence that she should be the first to go was quietly overruled by my proclamations that if there actually were some crazy person living in the attic, the person with a weapon of defense ought to be the first to check it out. She finally consented--grudgingly so, for I have married a woman with the courage of two men--and with only a fleeting hesitation I was up and on my way. By this time the sun had emerged and the sunlight cast through the holes in the roof was good enough so that I could see everything before me. As I stood on the floorboards of the attic, determining if they were in well enough shape to sustain my body weight, I scanned the large area before me, shovel at the ready, probably looking like some deranged baseball player or a character in an old Sam Raimi flick. Strange how the fear which had gripped me the day before had now been swept away, and in its place something much stronger, borne most likely from the instinct to fight rather than flee, or the inexplicable instinct of territoriality over a place I'd never even been before.

When I look back on it I honestly don't know what I was expecting to see up there in the attic--but whatever it may have been, whether flesh and bone or otherwise, there was nothing to be found. Only the time-ravaged, weather-worn leftovers of the previous tenants' storage, which amounted to nothing more than a severely rusted bedspring, an equally old mattress leaning askew against the near wall, a scattering of empty crates, and a decrepit rocking chair that sat in the farthest corner of the attic facing the wall.

I stood there staring at the back of that chair until Jane's voice, directly behind me, startled me out of my daze. "So much for your phonograph theory." I turned around to find that as I'd stood there taking an inventory of the space before me, she had made her way up the plank and into the attic with me. She was aiming the beam of her flashlight and scanning every inch of the attic space before us. I followed its movements and acknowledged the absence of any overturned phonograph player I dreamt may have been responsible for what we'd heard. "So much for our stranger in the attic theory," I added, motioning to the inch-thick layer of dust that covered every visible square foot of the floorboards. If anyone had been in the attic, it was a long, long time before we had ever arrived. I'm not sure how long we stood there, but it was long enough for the two of us to determine that our notions (my notions) of homeless squatters or escaped mental patients seeking shelter--or bats, for that matter-- were completely unfounded.

As we turned to begin our descent back down our makeshift ramp, Jane stopped and fished a blank cassette out of her pocket and inserted it into the recorder. I said something like "Hey, don't bother, we're leaving" but she informed me that she was going to leave the micro-cassette behind in RECORD mode. She set it down on one of the floorboards just inside the attic entryway. "Just to satisfy my curiosity," she said. And we left.

We never did fess up to what we had been up to that day, or the day previous, when having dinner with Jane's grandparents later that evening. Nor did we tell them about the sounds we'd heard, or the voice we thought we had heard. We were set to head back home early the following morning and we both agreed it was far better to exchange pleasantries on the final evening of our visit rather than to choke the air with questions about previous tenants, the history of the land, or the possibility of spirits that linger after death. According to Jane, things like that didn't go over too well with her grandfather, who was, she said--in his youth as well as in all the time that she had known him--more practical-minded and rational than I ever was. Coming from Jane, I took this as a compliment.

We realized that in order to retrieve the cassette recorder Jane had left behind, we would not only have to brave the rickety ramp of our invention once again, but we'd also have to make it out there early enough so that her grandparents wouldn't see us. We also decided that it would be best to take apart the makeshift ramp, lest proof of our actions be discovered. So we resolved to wake up half an hour before dawn and sneak out to the old farmhouse one last time.

When we got there, this time stepping our way through the dark with the aid of Jane's flashlight, everything was just as we'd left it. No signs of any ghostly disturbance, no violently overturned boxes, no footprints in the dust other than those we'd created ourselves. I cautiously but hurriedly crawled my way up the wooden plank, reached a hand into the darkness, and retrieved the cassette recorder which was in the exact place Jane had left it the day before. We quietly removed the reinforcement two-by-fours and set them on the wooden floor in a neat pile, followed by the six-foot plank itself, which came easily enough and which we leaned against the inside wall.

I was just setting about the task of patting the dust and dirt from my pants legs when it came again. The same sudden, sharp thump that we had heard two days prior. My first thought was that Jane must have heard something moving up there before the thump sounded, because when I looked at her, her head was already turned upwards and her eyes were fixed on the attic entrance directly above us. My eyes followed her stare and I looked up, but there was nothing discernible in the darkness beyond the threshold. This time it was Jane's turn to speak first, and she began to ask me if I'd heard it too but her words broke off when another thud, this time more jarring than the first, almost violent in its force, sent a fistful of dust shooting from the rafters. The horrible, sickening shuffling sound came next, and the image that entered my mind then was that of someone, or something, dragging itself across the floor almost directly over our heads, approaching the attic entry. This time there was no resistance, no arguments to be put up against turning tail and leaving that place behind us for good. In an instant the two of us were stumbling through the dark toward the front entrance and within five seconds we were back out into the cool predawn air. But in the cage of memory, instants can sometimes stretch the length of an eternity, and impressions can sometimes last a lifetime--for as we passed through the doorway of the old farmhouse for the last time, we heard the voice again, this time much closer, coming from atop the attic stairs where we had stood only seconds ago, this time much clearer-- raspy, nearly gravelly, calling after us. And the words it said were "David... I saw you!"

In the time it took to clear half the distance between the old farmhouse and the grandparents' home--a mere fifty yards--I had managed to regain most of my composure and had slowed my trot to a brisk walk, though still casting furtive glances over my shoulder, ensuring my rational self that all was good, all was well in the world, and that nothing had taken up chase. Crazy thought, I know, but it was one that occurred to me and I wouldn't be surprised if it had occurred to Jane as well, despite her outward calm demeanor.

Jane had stopped about ten feet short of her grandparents' back porch and was studying the micro-cassette recorder closely. "It was turned off," she said, "halfway through the tape. As if someone shut it off on purpose." I tried to reason that maybe the batteries had run out, but she quickly dispelled that notion when she pressed the REWIND button and it kicked immediately into life. It only took a few seconds for the tape to reach the start of the spool, and just as she was about to press the PLAY button, the back door of her grandparents' home swung open and Grandma Perkins was standing there in her morning robe. "What are you two doing up so early?" she asked. "Just saying goodbye to the horses," Jane replied in a calm fashion, and within seconds we were back inside the house where the smell of brewing coffee awaited us.

It wasn't until we had packed our bags, said our farewells, and hit the road once again--all the while eyeing the old farmhouse as we made our way down the long gravel driveway headed for the main road--that we were finally alone and able to listen to what it was that may have been recorded. I wasn't certain that anything would have come through on the tape, but I wanted to be able to listen without having to strain to hear over sound of the engine so as soon as we'd gone about a mile, I pulled the car off to the side of the road under the shade of a tree and shut the engine off. The first sound head on the tape were Jane's own words ("Just to satisfy my curiosity"), then the creaking and groaning of the floorboards and the racket of our footfalls as we made our way down the plank and exited the farmhouse. Five minutes of silence ensued, only the occasional sound of the old structure settling in on itself, then another five or six minutes, the rumble of a truck driving by in the distance, then more silence. Just as the tape was about to reach the point where it had mysteriously stopped on itself, I heard something.

On first impression it sounded like someone breathing in short, shallow breaths. I was opening my mouth to tell Jane to stop the tape, rewind it, I may have heard something, when I realized the sound was only getting louder. I could tell by the expression on Jane's face that I was not, in fact, hearing things. She was hearing it too. What came next, though, sent shivers down my spine and made the sounds we'd heard in the farmhouse--frightening and inexplicable though they were--seem like nothing more than a precursor. The breaths seemed to be getting louder, and although no sound of movement could be heard, I got the distinct impression that something was drawing nearer to the microphone. It frightened me to the core to think that the very cassette recorder Jane now held in trembling hands could have come so close to, or may even have been touched by, whatever it was that was causing that horrible sound. The breathing faded, almost abruptly, followed by approximately ten seconds of absolute silence (not even the sound of the wood settling or a car driving by in the distance). Then the singing began. It was quite unmistakably, and most distinctly, the voice of an old woman--perhaps in her eighties, perhaps older--and although I could not make out the words, she was singing something. A lullabye, perhaps? To this day I am not sure, even though we've listened to the tape hundreds of times since and have tried amplifying the sound through various means. It is certainly not a melody I, or Jane, or anyone else we've shared the recording with, are familiar with, but by the very nature of its ambiguity, it has become an oft- controversial conversation piece among friends with similar interests.

But it isn't that horrible breathing or the faint yet undeniable strain of song delivered by that mysterious voice that still, to this day, years after the experience, years after the old farmhouse was finally torn down, years after the grandparents sold the property and moved away, haunts my mind in the quiet dark before sleep overtakes me. Rather, it is the final two seconds of that recording that will always stay with me, and will always serve as proof to my mind that despite our best efforts to argue to the contrary, there are things that happen in this life that are beyond the bounds of rational explanation.

The singing voice stopped abruptly, as though perhaps startled by itself, and was replaced by a dry, hoarse giggle--a hideous, insane laughter--that erupted into a cackle just as an invisible finger reached out, brushed against the microphone, and pressed STOP.
 
2012-11-01 10:28:13 PM  
1 vote:

Tharkin: namegoeshere: Was he very tall and thin? Because Slenderman. Who, yes, is a recent made-up urban legend whose origins are modern and traceable. Except tulpa.

I don't know anything about Slenderman. I had never heard of Tulpa either, but I read part of the article you linked. Are you implying that I had somehow created a Tulpa or thoughtform?


It takes a heck of a lot of energy and time for a single person to create a tulpa. But with the collective power of the internet and all the people believing in Slendy and not realizing he was created in a SomethingAwful thread, there is more than enough energy to create something nasty.Plus with the collective energy of many people used to create it, no one person is in control. That makes for something very dangerous.
 
2012-11-01 12:41:10 PM  
1 vote:

Coelacanth: echo5juliet: urbanexotic: That's a fantastic story, but absolutely fake. There have been different versions of it floating around Reddit, 4Chan, etc. for years.

Absolutely 100% true.

Like I said earlier, other websites have been reposting stories from here, INCLUDING urbanexotic This evening I've found several of mine. Some of them didn't credit me as the author.

Some of you copyright experts want to step in on this?


I am not a lawyer, but I suspect that "anonymous Internet handle telling vaguely verfiable tales in a public forum' will not be a strong case.
 
2012-10-31 11:41:41 PM  
1 vote:
And there was the one morning, some time when I was in high school... I was just waking up, and I moved my head a little, and could feel something underneath my pillow. Still more or less half-asleep, I slid my hand up under the pillow and found something that to my groggy mind felt kind of like a flashlight, or something about that size and shape. I grabbed ahold of it and pulled out a cold, dead human hand and forearm. I snapped awake of course, and let out a GAAHAAAHH JEEEHEEZZ, and had a bit of a personal freakout during the few horrible seconds it took me to realize that it was my own arm, which I'd slept on in such a way that it had gone to sleep. I freaked a little more for a minute or so after that while I frantically rubbed and shook and flopped my unresponsive appendage, because while this sort of thing had happened before on occasion, it has never resulted in such complete cold, numb paralysis before, and I wasn't sure my arm hadn't actually died. The devoured-by-ants sensation as my arm finally came back to life was not pleasant, but was more welcome than anything I could imagine.

So, the closet monster, and finding a dead human arm under my pillow.
 
2012-10-31 9:24:18 PM  
1 vote:

Coelacanth: When Ed finally came out and got into the car, my father slapped him and told him that hunting deer was cruel.


THIS is the story I look for every year. The things living people are capable of doing to each other frightens me more than any ghostly tale.
 
2012-10-31 9:19:41 PM  
1 vote:
I'm catching up on questions now that I'm out of work. Damn lab is a black hole.

machoprogrammer: Did you call the police?


No. This was 1989 and a Marine Corporal couldn't afford a cell phone in those days. Also made it more scary. I was truly isolated. No pay phones until Kingman, AZ and by that time I just drove through to ABQ with stops in Flag and Gallup.

Galileo's Daughter: Reading this over, is it possible they were making a movie? And you happened to get in the way of their filming?


Nope. It was real. No equipment. No trucks. No light panels or star wagons. You had to be there.

StaceyNC:
Were you driving on Kelbaker Road or the National Trails Highway?


It happened on Kelbaker Rd part way between Nat Trails and I-40. When you get up in the highest elevation part of Kelbaker Rd before dropping down to meet I-40. One reason why I want to go back (with a bazooka) is to find the exact spot. Didn't have GPS back then. Didn't have a cellphone either.

SnoopDOhDubbaGee: echo5juliet - That's quite a tale. I know it was years ago and happened rather quickly, but how were the roadside bandits dressed? What race(s) were they? Did they generally have trimmed or wild hair? Did they have weapons?

It sounds like you didn't slow down much. Why would they break cover if you weren't going to stop - wouldn't it have made more sense for them to just let you pass and not reveal themselves? Just curious.


Mostly whiteys from what I saw. I was doing lots of quick looking as the situation unfolded. Quite the "holy farking shiat" moment as you could imagine. I had to stop when I saw what was in the road ahead. I stopped the car but much farther away from the people and car than they anticipated. I stopped about 50 yards before the first person. I think they expected someone to pull right up and stop. I assessed the path to drive and then drove it without stopping. They broke cover as I went through and I could see them all out on the road in my review mirror after I passed. My view of them in the rearview was once I was 50+ yards past so I didn't have great detail. I know they weren't there to sell me lemonade. The genreal gist I got was hippies or scrubby looking people.


I think I got everyone's outstanding questions. I am off to a business dinner (lame on Halloween) but I'll answer more if there any any questions later on..

Happy Halloween everyone!
 
2012-10-31 8:31:01 PM  
1 vote:

echo5juliet: FraggleStickCar: 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...

This is a really old urban legend, have heard it plenty of times. Still creepy though and could have origins in truth, I suppose.

That is funny since I am the OP and it really happened. I was driving a maroon 1978 280Z. The 9mm was a Ruger P85. The Fiero was red. The woman in the road was wearing faded blue jeans and a pale pink shirt. The suitcase in the road closest to me was tan in color. The oddest thing about the picture in front of me was that the suitcases were open and the contents were scattered around far more evenly that you would think would happen in a real accident. That is what stood out, everything was too spread, that and there were no skid marks to explain why the Fiero was sideways in the street.

If it is a really old urban legend it must be because the same group pulled it on lots of people before they pulled it on me.


Or maybe they were copy-cats? I've seen similar ambushes in movies/TV and I'd bet *those* were based on real-life incidents. It would not surprise me at all if those people you encountered thought "hey, this worked in that one movie, let's try it!"
 
2012-10-31 7:59:46 PM  
1 vote:

LandOfChocolate: No one has posted the Fishy story? That one still gives me the creeps.

---

Original post by Quexy:

When I was little, probably about four or five years old, I had an imaginary "friend" (I think.) It was yellow and about four feet tall (taller than me at the time), bipedal, and had oversized eyes that always looked straight ahead otherwise, relatively human and naked. I called the thing "Fishy." The wierdest thing, though, was it scared the hell out of me. I didn't want anything to do with it, and I couldn't imagine, as a child, that it was coming from inside my head.

It finally vanished when my sister was born in 1992. I was almost 8 years old by then, and I'd been ignoring Fishy for about a year, ...

 

imageshack.usView Full Size
 
2012-10-31 7:09:47 PM  
1 vote:

Kyndig: 2) I remember once, years ago, hearing an album that was Poe's work set to 80's style rock...spooky as hell, that version buried behind a wall still sticks with me, but I have never been able to find it. Anyone else have a clue where that might be from? My dad had it, but has totally forgotten the album...though for all I know maybe I dreamed it up...


Sounds like

progarchives.comView Full Size
 
2012-10-31 6:11:52 PM  
1 vote:

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.


Seconded. One of the best things about Halloween.
 
2012-10-31 5:22:06 PM  
1 vote:

farkrgal: We are the current owners..we just moved into a new house a few blocks away. Once my stepfathers estate finalizes we`ll be moving back in. As much as I try to force a scientific outlook of skepticism..sharing all these stories with you has gotten me sufficiently freaked out.. once we move back in I`m tearing up the yard to try to find it and dispose of it properly..


You should do it while hopped up on liquid Percocet and without your underwear.

You know, for science.
 
2012-10-31 5:19:47 PM  
1 vote:
My absolute favorite thing about Fark
 
2012-10-31 5:15:46 PM  
1 vote:
I like reading these in the dark on Halloween night. I'll be reading a really creepy, really scary story in the dark then there will be a BANG BANG BANG on the front door from trick-or-treaters and I'll scream and jump 4 feet out of my chair. Good times, good times.
 
2012-10-31 5:15:11 PM  
1 vote:

Yuri Futanari: This ones a little long but I first read it in one of the previous Fark years Halloween threads and really liked it.

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

Russian researchers in the late 1940s kept five people awake for fifteen days using an experimental gas based stimulant. They were kept in a sealed environment to carefully monitor their oxygen intake so the gas didn't kill them, since it was toxic in high concentrations. This was before closed circuit cameras so they had only microphones and 5 inch thick glass porthole sized windows into the chamber to monitor them. The chamber was stocked with books, cots to sleep on but no bedding, running water and toilet, and enough dried food to last all five for over a month.
The test subjects were political prisoners deemed enemies of the state during World War II.

Everything was fine for the first five days; the subjects hardly complained having been promised (falsely) that they would be freed if they submitted to the test and did not sleep for 30 days. Their conversations and activities were monitored and it was noted that they continued to talk about increasingly traumatic incidents in their past, and the general tone of their conversations took on a darker aspect after the 4 day mark.
After five days they started to complain about the circumstances and events that lead them to where they were and started to demonstrate severe paranoia. They stopped talking to each other and began alternately whispering to the microphones and one way mirrored portholes. Oddly they all seemed to think they could win the trust of the experimenters by turning over their comrades, the other subjects in captivity with them. At first the researchers suspected this was an effect of the gas itself...
After nine days the first of them started screaming. He ran the length of the chamber repeatedly yelling at the top of his lungs for 3 hours straight, he continued attempting to scream but was only able to produce occasional squeaks. The researchers postulated that ...


Reavers.
 
2012-10-31 4:23:12 PM  
1 vote:
 
2012-10-31 4:00:03 PM  
1 vote:
In July of last year, one of my best friends, his wife and nephew and my wife and son went on a beach vacation together for a week. My friend was sort of ill and weak, but nothing we thought some salt air couldn't fix. We had a wonderful time that week and on the Saturday morning we were packing to leave, he sat down on the couch and died.

My wife tried CPR, paramedics came, but they couldn't save him. Sudden heart attack at 43 years old. We contacted his wife's family and they met us at the hospital at the beach five hours from our home. Once they arrived to take care of her, my family headed back to our town.

That evening my wife and I were trying to just do something to maybe take our minds off what had happened. I put in a DVD of How I Met Your Mother episodes and we sat on the couch to watch. When a commercial break came on and the screen dipped to black I saw my friend sitting on the couch in the reflection of the TV screen. Then the show started back up. She didn't see him, but I know I did.
 
2012-10-31 3:56:40 PM  
1 vote:
okay, here's mine...because my mom's murder is still so painful, i seldom speak of it, but, after reading the thread i'll post my story- absolutely true.

My mother was brutally raped and murdered on May 14 1969, when I was eight years old. Coincidentally, it was her birthday. She had been in town shopping, and was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was in the third grade. She used to pack my lunch everyday- baloney sandwich, chips and a small thermos of some kind of fruit juice. And, every day there would be a "Love you, have a great day! note- it always said the same thing; and it always had a drawing of a goofy face, smiling.

Fast forward to 2009. I moved back to the area after being out of state for many years. I moved in with my dad for a few months, and would pack my lunch. One of my co-workers, a real smartass, (but I love him dearly), would say,"oh, living with your parents, did your mommy pack your lunch?" (i never spoke about the fact that my mom was dead, brutally murdered) I'd just smile, and say,"yep!" Well, him being a perpetual smartass, he would write a note that said,"enjoy your lunch, love mom", and put it in my lunch bag when I was down in mri or out of the department somewhere.

I started this job in January of '09..

Well, May of that year...May 14th...to be exact...my mom's birthday and the 40th anniversary of her rape/murder, I had packed my lunch as usual. I was also down in MRI all morning. When I came up to eat, I grabbed my lunch bag and went to the lunchroom. I opened it up, and sure, enough, there was my co-workers smart-ass note. I threw it away without looking at it, then thought better of it...went over to the garbage can and fished out the crumpled note. It looked old...very old. There, in my mother's handwriting was a note that read,"Love you, have a great day! And underneath was a goofy face.....with a smile.
 
2012-10-31 3:44:59 PM  
1 vote:

Paris1127: Continuing the dogs and single, young women theme:
A young woman returns home after a late night out with friends. Her Doberman runs up to see her, wagging his tail. However, he's choking. She doesn't know what to do; is there even such a thing as a canine Heimlich Maneuver?


I've heard that story like 3 times only every time it's a different breed and the dog is actually dead from having choked to death. Also those stories are usually very specific about the race of the burglar depending on the geography of where it's told.
 
2012-10-31 3:32:06 PM  
1 vote:
Continuing the dogs and single, young women theme:
A young woman returns home after a late night out with friends. Her Doberman runs up to see her, wagging his tail. However, he's choking. She doesn't know what to do; is there even such a thing as a canine Heimlich Maneuver? She picks him up, takes him to the car, and drives him to the local emergency vet. There, the vet takes him in and says that something is blocking the dog's trachea, and it requires emergency surgery to remove. She leaves her beloved pet in the Dr.'s care and returns home. As she's getting ready for bed, the phone rings: it's the vet. "Get out of the house now!" he screams. "What? Why?" she asks. "I opened your dog's trachea... he swallowed several fingers!" Terrified, she runs out of the house and calls 911. The police arrive and search the residence. In an upstairs closet, they find a man, slumped over, unconscious due to blood loss. In one of his hands is a knife. His other hand is missing 3 fingers.
 
2012-10-31 3:27:35 PM  
1 vote:
A young woman is home alone. It's a dark night, and there's a terrible thunderstorm outside. Her parents are out of town for the weekend, and it's just her and her golden retriever. As storm worsens, she goes to bed, every so often calling her dog over to lick her hand to comfort her. When she wakes up in the morning, the dog isn't in the bedroom. She walks into the bathroom and sees her dog, lying motionless and bloodied in the bathtub. On the mirror, written in her dog's blood: "Humans can lick hands too."
 
2012-10-31 3:02:52 PM  
1 vote:
Robert the Doll is a creepy story. Visit him if you ever visit Key West. Remember to bring peppermint candies for him and don't take any photos without asking him first.

Wikipedia entry about him
 
2012-10-31 3:02:11 PM  
1 vote:

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."


Der Kommisar was in town?

discomuseum.netView Full Size
 
2012-10-31 2:48:48 PM  
1 vote:
I had a migraine yesterday so am a bit migrained-hungover so please excuse me if this lacks any cohesiveness.

My family owns a little cottage out in the Uwharrie Mountains that my great-uncle and great aunt built back in the 1940's when the family moved here from Norway. The property is set on ~200 acres of forest abutting right next to the National Forest. Now, this land is OLD. The Uwharries themselves used to rival the Himalayans way back when Pangaea was in existence and has since dropped off to mere foothills from erosion with a few actual mountainous peeks about. On part of the property is a large creek that runs through the majority of the Forest itself, with clay perfect for pottery; very attractive area for the Native Americans before western settlement. Almost every time I venture throughout the property I find old pottery pieces, arrowheads, etc.

My great aunt and uncle had been together since they were 15, true love in the truest sense. They never spent a night apart from each other and never had children. They both put their heart and soul into this little house in the Uwharries, even building a large pond on the property and stocking it up with bass and catfish since they both loved fishing so much. My great aunt was very particular about how things were to be. She was a wonderful and beautiful person (as was my great uncle), and she'd never get angry with us children when we went for a visit and accidentally moved something; she'd just quietly come behind us and move whatever it was back to its place without a word, just a smile.

In the early-90's when they started to age a bit more rapidly they bought a townhouse in the city, about 2 hours away but still went to the house in the Uwharries every chance they got. Around 94 my great uncle fell ill out of nowhere at 93 and died two days later at the hospital. Nothing was wrong with him, it was just old age. The day after the funeral, my great aunt, who was always a very tall and strong woman who never hunched, became ill herself. She was put into the hospital for tests. Then her brain went; she just fell off the deep end and was talking as if she were 16 again; telling us that her Love was picking her up today to take her to the beach. She's asking if her bathing suit looks okay, where is her sun hat? Two days later she passed. Nothing was wrong with her, no illness; she just passed; talking about fishing with her Love in the Uwharries.

About ten years ago my family gained control of the property and were about to start renovating it, it had the same 'carpet' since the 40's. My sister and I went down there for a long weekend just to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city, drink some wine, smoke some green, hike through the woods... the first night there we start to cook dinner. She moves a few things around in the kitchen and places things on a table in the adjoining sunroom because we had a feast planned and needed the extra room. So I go into the living room and move some knick knacks off of the coffee table for a place for us to sit and eat. We get everything prepared and in the oven or simmering on the stove and decide to blaze one while we wait, walking out outside to the porch together. We had a good 30 minutes until the food would be done so we took our drinks and cigarettes with us and chilled.

Once the 30 minutes was passed we walk inside together and go straight to the kitchen. Everything that my sister had moved around on the kitchen cabinets and placed on the table in the sunroom was moved back to its original location. The pots on the stove had been moved around to different burners with the heat level changed on all of the burners. The oven temp had been moved to 325 from 350. We obviously both notice this at the same time and just stood there mouths agape. We turn and look at each other and as a unit walk into the living room; everything that I had moved from the coffee table and had placed on other little tables around the room had been moved back to their original location as well. I walk into the kitchen, turn all of the burners and stove off while my sister walks to the bar and grabs a bottle of whiskey and we, as a unit, march right back outside and shared the bottle.
 
2012-10-31 2:47:15 PM  
1 vote:
Something my dad told me: the night my sister died and during the two nights before, their dog started acting really odd in the middle of the night. She (the dog) was awake, panting heavily, pacing around and in general acting really restless and wouldn't calm down. Totally out of character; she's never done that before and hasn't done it since. I've heard amazing stories of animal intuition so I'm inclined to believe she sensed *something* was up but didn't understand what.
 
2012-10-31 2:06:36 PM  
1 vote:

Dr. Picklebacon: I picked up a hitchhiker many years ago, which I didn't typically do. The guy looked lost, and poorly dressed in and overcoat and I thought shorts, so I took pity. As he got in I realize he's wearing blue tights. Weirdo alert. But it felt harsh to kick him out. So we get to driving and after a few minutes he asks if I wanted to meet his friends. He produces two figurines and proceeds to introduce me. OK then. I wait a bit then indicate I need to drop him off and be on my way. He hasn't indicated where he wanted to go, just up the freeway he was standing near the entrance to. He asks if I want to split a pack of cigarettes. I decline. I take an exit I know there is a busy restaurant off of and pull into their parking lot and persuade him to get out of the car. Staying calm and friendly when things grow disturbing can work wonders with the violent and or deranged, I've found. So, thankfully, and perhaps by not freaking out, I drove away from that experience.

A few days later I heard on the news that a man very much matching his description had killed a person that had picked him up hitchhiking.


wow. in 1992 i drove betweein twin falls, idaho and great falls, montana at least once a month. and i never picked up hitchhikers. however, one fall day it was pouring, and i took pity on this guy. i passed him, then went back and pulled over. before i could say hello he had thrown his back pack in the back seat and was in the passenger's seat. i knew immediately i had farked up.....and bad. not a minute later he asked me where i was going, and why...i told him the truth- i was going to great falls to see my two little girls. i kept talking about them. to this day i'm convinced that i'm alive because this guy took pity on me...because of my two little girls.
 
2012-10-31 2:05:08 PM  
1 vote:
Election day, 2012. Two candidates. ONE OF THEM WINS!

/Scariest thing I can think of.
 
2012-10-31 1:09:29 PM  
1 vote:
Happy Halloween to all my fellow bronys!

img203.imageshack.usView Full Size
 
2012-10-31 1:01:56 PM  
1 vote:
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 12:48:42 PM  
1 vote:
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 11:46:23 AM  
1 vote:
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 11:25:05 AM  
1 vote:
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 11:02:39 AM  
1 vote:
Beer 'fridge

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2012-10-31 10:39:56 AM  
1 vote:
This happened when my Dad was building our house 30-odd years ago.

Mom and Dad bought a chunk of land and Dad was building the house on it. He did much of the work himself, often sleeping there on weekends in a little camper parked off to the side.

The noises started soon after the walls went up and the doors were installed. Dad and some of the crew were in the kitchen talking when they heard the front door open and close, and footsteps walking briskly across the wooden floor. Dad called for whoever it was to come in--but no-one came. The front door was firmly closed.

The disturbances continued and Dad lost 2 crews; not one of them would work in the house day or night, for any amount of money. Finally the only ones left were Dad, his brother and friend, and Ralph. Ralph was an alcoholic, but mostly functional. He'd bought a house from Dad and was helping with the construction to help pay for it. Ralph would often stay over in the camper, where, Dad says, no matter that it was summer, no matter if he pulled the covers over his head, there was always a cold draft on the back of his neck.

The last time my uncle and his friend worked on the house they were in the laundry room, working on the floor, The door to the garage kept slamming open and closed, though it never moved, and they finally went upstairs to work on the hallway when they couldn't stand it anymore. The front door opened and closed and the brisk footsteps walked across the living room. They ignored it since it was a daily occurrence by that point. This time, however, the steps stopped at the foot of the stairway. There was a creak on the bottom step, then the next.

They stopped running when they reached the church a mile away.

Now it was just Dad and Ralph. One night just after sunset they were walking to the camper when they heard a horrible scream from the woods out back of the house. Dad's a hunter and has been all over the US and he says he'd never heard anything like that and never wants to again, thank you very much. He and Ralph tore ass to the camper where they locked the doors and windows and lay awake all night with their guns at the ready. They didn't hear it again.

About a month later Ralph was taking a bath and drinking in his new house about 4 hours away. He passed out and drowned in the tub.

The disturbances stopped from that moment on. We moved in in 1980, and my parent still live there. We've had dogs, cats, and gerbils and there's never been a sign of anything odd.

Dad swears it all happened and so does my uncle when he's still talking to us.
 
2012-10-31 10:24:51 AM  
1 vote:
Well seeing as its Halloween and elections are around the corner here is a story that just came to me:

Once there was a politician. He was a simple man who came from simple beginnings. Wasn't the tallest of men, or the most hansom, hadn't gone to the best of schools, but he had that voice... He always spoke smooth as silk, always engaging and comforting at the same time. He could win arguments easily, sway people to his ideas, leave challengers looking like fools as he spoke forcefully and compassionately about his cause.

He never spoke about it to his friends, even his most trusted. He didn't speak about it to his wife. He didn't even think about himself when he could avoid it. His voice wasn't his...It was his voice he knew, but the words always just came to him. Always at the tip of his tongue, always ready to give a speech, or fight an argument. Always the right words, always delivered perfectly. Always.

He rose quickly, first as a mayor, then state representative, finally a Senator in congress. Talking heads and other people of important positions began to talk about him running for president. He came to the day he needed to decide if he should run. He stared at himself in bathroom mirror for a long time, wrestling with the decision. He continued to stare for a long time, until he whispered..."Should I ?" He answered himself at once..."Yes!" And his course was set and he set about his biggest campaign yet.

He campaigned thru the primaries and won. A hard fight, but he had his voice and the right words. Now he had but one fight left and he was brimming with confidence. His opponent could give a good speech too, but not like him. But the other party had money and powerful connections at their disposal, so it had been a close race. Now it came down to a public debate and he and his supporters could smile smugly knowing they would have the upper hand.

The debate started and he rose to speak, but the words would not come, his voice coming out as a squeak. He stammered, he tripped over his own words. He refocused and concentrated on the words he so often gave before. He spoke but it was not like the times before. He wasn't the powerful orator, instead speaking like a nervous student giving his first speech in front of a crowd.

His supporters defended him, it was a fluke, they said. Surely everyone has an off day. But his enemies smelled blood and were quick to set upon him. He was all style over substance, they said. When it came to a real challenger he simply folded.

After the speech he got away from them all, leaving them behind as he took a few minutes to himself. He stood in front of a mirror in his private quarters and stared at himself in disbelief. "What happened?" he asked no one in particular.

He was completely astonished when he answered himself, "I gave you the words". He fell back, slapping his hand over his mouth. But the words just kept coming, his mouth just moving on it own.

"I gave you the words" he repeated to himself, "the words to inspire, to win arguments"
"I gave you the voice to deliver them, to sway people to you"

He tried to speak out, but his voice spoke on without his control or consent.

"I built you up, made you what you are today"

He finally managed to get control of his mouth. "Why??" he squeaked out.

He voice spoke back, but there was something else in it now, something sinister. "Built you up so high, but what of the man to bring you down?"

"A man who could do that would go on to do great things"

"Great and terrible things..."
 
2012-10-31 10:21:15 AM  
1 vote:
Mine is a story with three characters. Myself, Jessica, and the Other Thing.

I'm an Electrical Engineer. I don't believe in ghosts, goblins, devils, spirits, etc. Science.

Jessica is my bike. She's had... some upgrades from stock. I've been biking to work for more than 15 years and I teach spin. I'm not exactly "stock" myself, and as someone told me the other day, I have as many Tour de France wins as Lance Armstrong.

Last Hallowe'en I was biking home from work and it was dark. I have a lot of lights, so the darkness doesn't really bother me. In truth, I spend more on lights than most people spend on their bikes. (I actually carry spare lights to give out to people and jokingly say I'm the light fairy.) I avoid the roads whenever possible, and on Drunk-O-Ween that's an even more prudent idea. Part of my route takes me on a trail where the lighting is minimal. It was overcast, and some of the lights were out, so it was even darker than normal.

I listen to music when I bike too, on a speaker so I can hear what's going on around me. It bothers me when people wear earbuds. How can you not hear the cars coming up behind you? All that biking has given me pretty good situational awareness, I can hear the pitch of the cars' tires change when they're about to turn (so you brake); the slight increase in engine pitch when they're about to accelerate past you (so you shift right a little); always give the bigger guy the right of way.

So I'm biking along and something just felt... off. I could hear (but that's not quite right. Feel?) that there was something behind me. I checked my rear view but nothing was there. My rear light bathed the area in a soft red glow but that was it. I kept biking. The feeling was still there. My song got to the end as I turned around.

and saw It.

It wasn't in my mirror but it was there. It was made of smoke and darkness and a tendril was reaching out towards me. It pulled back when I looked at it, the strobe of my helmet lamp lighting up flash movements of some hideous darkness. It _wanted_ me.

Primus started playing. Appropriate.

Adrenaline boost on the bio-drive kicked in. I had to beat it home. I don't know how I knew I had to get to my house, but some part of me knew that. And damn it, I was going to get there with all the speed I had. Fast as my legs could go, I _flew_. Up to 40km, up to 50km, up to 65 kilometers an hour. On Jessica, an armoured commuter bike not built for racing.

All this time I couldn't check behind me. I couldn't see it in my mirror and I sure couldn't turn around at these speeds. Still, I could see where it kind of was because as we flew, the lights near it kept winking out. I got a surprising head start, but it was gaining. Home was still six minutes away.

Past intersections, mercifully devoid of cars as they crossed the trail, onto the main road back to my house, and now a downhill section. My legs were screaming, but all that spin. This is what it was all about.

Primus was ending.

One last intersection, I'd got a break on the downhill, but now it was uphill and across the highway. I couldn't just blast across; I'd be killed and what would the point be?

As soon as I stopped, it caught me, struck me down in the darkness. Judas Priest's "Hell Bent for Leather" came on. Appropriate.

I was lying there face down, exhausted, my legs were burnt. I wanted to see it, see what was going on. The darkness was overwhleming. No stars, no lights, just the flash of my front light. The main light was face down in the dirt. Ugh, I turned around to face what it was that was going to kill me, kill me right now. My helmet strobe hit it and it stopped.

One chance.

I dove for Jessica, grabbed the front light, and shone it at It. I burned a hole right through It's... chest and It fell to the ground. I spent a good five minutes shining my light around, making sure there were no hidden tendrils of smoke anywhere. The light fairy won.

That's when I realized why we don't hear stories about things that go bump in the night anymore. Our new lights destroy them. They can shake the incandescents and burn them out. A candle or a lantern can be blown out. But the sealed LED bulbs? They're powerless against them.

Three days later, I realized that's why it wanted me specifically. Back in school, most people took the few classes you have to take on lattice structure, but I really thought the quantum physics behind semiconductors was fascinating. I was never one for studying for the exam, and it reflected in my GPA. Not great, but I really understood all the material. Sure, I can't derive as well as some of the people I went to school with, but I still remember it all, all these years later. In other words, I know how to make an LED, and importantly how to make them stop working.

I carry a flashlight at all times and sleep with the lights on. Every light in my house is an LED bulb.

I've just realized that I loaned my helmet light to someone I barely know because her lights broke and they had to get sent to Germany for repair.
 
2012-10-31 10:19:07 AM  
1 vote:
I was on a film crew shooting an action movie on a desolate stretch of road between Albuquerque, NM and Amboy, CA. Out of nowhere, a car pulled up to the set, sat still for about a minute, then screeched around our set like a bat out of hell. Then the car sat still again for about a minute. When the crew started to approach the car, it disappeared into thin air!
 
2012-10-31 10:17:32 AM  
1 vote:
I was 17 years old, my parents were out of town and my younger brother was asleep a few rooms over. It was maybe 1am and I was laying in bed drifting to sleep when I heard noises in the closet. I heard someone DISTINCTLY cough and creaking from footsteps. At first, I thought maybe it was just the house, but went to go look anyways because let's face it, I couldn't go back to bed. I opened my closet and noticed that the small compartment door leading into the attic (I was on the second floor) had the shoe rack moved out from in front of it, allowing someone to use that door. Ok, that was weird, but maybe my Dad moved it to get to the water heater or something. Still, kind of freaked me out so I called my older brother and me and my younger brother went to his apartment to stay the night. Before we left, I put a whole bunch of shiat in front of the attic door and my closet door. Well, next day after school we all went over and I checked the closet door. Everything that was there had been moved. I would also like to mention that their house had an alarm system that was not deactivated. After that, we grabbed bats and searched the entire house and (with reluctance) opened the attic door - nothing.

Fast forward a month later, my mom and I were watching CSI (bonding time) and my dad was still at work and brothers were both gone. We (BOTH) heard sneezing and someone walking. We immediately looked at each other and go "What was that? Is dad here?" We heard some muffled sound like TALKING. We turned the TV off and listened. The moment we did this, the sound stopped as if it knew it (they) were being monitored. I locked the door we were in and grabbed a gun. The alarm was set, all doors were locked. My dad arrived at home soon after from work and we checked the house. Nothing, except the attic door was slightly ajar and everything in front of it was moved again.

Freaked me the hell out. I forgot about all of that and wasn't really concerned but I am 100% positive there is no way the stuff could have moved from the door and that what I (and my mom heard) were footsteps, coughing/sneezing and muffled voices.

WEIRDER TERRITORY:

The neighborhood we were in wasn't fully developed and there were still some open lots. On the back side of some of the lots are huge fields separating our neighborhood from the opposing one. The field has dense tree growth too. My friend from across the street and I were hitting golf balls and it would hit the fence or end up in one of the vacant lots. Well, we hit a couple a little too hard and they went sailing over the fence. Out of golf balls, we decided to hop the fence to get them and ventured into this field/forest thingy. Well, found the golf balls and something else. There was a flipped over car (older car windows busted out it had been there a while) and a couple of human remains (bones). WHAT THE FARK? So we looked around a little more and there was a little metal shack there also. Yeah, didn't want to go in there so we went home and called cops to report it. Turns out, that spot had been used for some heavy drug deals in the past and one must have gone wrong. Both skeletons appeared to have been bound. They found another body in the shack with a bullet through the head execution style.

After this event, we never heard anymore coughing/voices/footsteps and furniture was never moved from the attic door.
 
2012-10-31 10:08:42 AM  
1 vote:
In all seriousness, I think I have seen 2 ghosts in my life. I'm an atheist, scientist, and general skeptic but I don't know how else to explain it. I saw them with my own eyes, granted the mind can play tricks on the senses. The first one was when I was around 13 years old. It was a Sunday morning (I know, not the creepiest time, but I'm not creating a story, I'm retelling events). I was awake away laying on my bed playing Sega Genesis. I look over beside me and there is the fuzzy, transparent figure of a woman screaming. She wasn't making a sound, it just looked like she was in agony. I could tell she was wearing lingerie and seemed to be in a lot of pain. She faded after about 5-10 seconds. I'm not really sure how long. It was such a shock, I froze. I ran into my living room in horror and wasn't able to sleep in my bed for almost a year after that. I found out later, that the bed frame we had bought used, was where some husband found out his wife was having an affair and shot her while she slept before church on a Sunday morning, There were still holes in the bed frame where the shotgun pellets had chipped the wood. Had I heard knew this beforehand, I would chalk the whole thing up to a child's mind but I had no idea the history of the bed until after I saw the apparition.

The second ghost was when I was 19. My room at the time had an attached bathroom. I would leave that light on so I could see to move around my cluttered room. I woke up one night early in the morning but before daylight. When I opened my eyes I saw the outline of someone standing in the bathroom doorway, but it didn't make sense because there was no shadow. As my eyes focused I saw that it was the transparent figure of a little girl. Maybe 9 or 10, she was clutching a teddy bear and reaching out to me. I don't remember what she was wearing, what I do remember is the look in her eyes. Sheer terror, it was like she was reaching out to me for help. There was no sound, but the expression on her face was screaming. I should have been scared out my mind but I found myself getting out of bed, and walking toward her instinctually, like when you see someone in danger and even though it puts you in danger you feel like you have to help them. I took a couple of steps out of bed and she faded away, still clutching the teddy bear with one hand and reaching out to me with the other. I felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness after, like I have failed to save someone who needed help. I actually have a drawing of her tattooed on my thigh, in a cemetary clutching a flower instead of a bear. It's my way of letting her know that I still think about her, whatever she was.

Those are the two weirdest things that I have ever perceived. Whether they were ghosts, demons, or something my mind had conjured I'll never know. If people ask I tell them I don't believe in ghosts. I don't believe in an afterlife so how could there be spirits hanging around? But I do know that twice in my life, I have seen ghostly apparitions that I can't explain and in light of no other evidence, I can't say what they were.
 
2012-10-31 9:57:35 AM  
1 vote:
Some years ago, I drove up to New Orleans, Louisiana for The Warped Tour, a rock concert of tens of thousands, like Lollapalooza. I remember while Garbage sang Only Happy When it Rains, it rained.
The time I was there I visited Bourbon Street book stores, looking for a particular book for a friend. The book was banned in all stores. Some black magic store had a newspaper article why it was banned. I was trying to take a picture of the article when some woman confronted me about it. She was not happy and started saying all kinds of BS to which I just left the store. I think she literally cursing me -I just forgot about it.
On my 12 hour drive back home the next day, I switched places with my friend from the passenger seat. I may have been very road lagged, but I had a very euphoric feeling while he was driving. I felt we were going extremely fast and I just kept wanting to tell him to slow down. Anyway I did make it home that night, flopped on the bed, and while I stared at a wall where a light from the open door was cast, I fell into a weird state. Perhaps a dream while my eyes were open.
In a dreamy way, I saw a carousel of stages rotating with different acts quickly performing for my entertainment. The last was a guy with a guitar not happy the curtains were dropping and the carousel turning away from me. He was getting every last curse word in before his time was up, peeking from below the dropping curtain. His curse words with, "wait you Sobs!" were echoing in my head. Then the "final act" as I felt, came in with a faint snare drum roll like a snake's rattle. This "dream" was somewhat gone, and I was looking at the wall again.
The light shrunk into a round spotlight focused on the wall I was staring at. Then a forward facing silhouette slowly faded in. The shadow had a cocked wrist and in it, a huge gleaming hand gun slowly faded in -Much like a brand new desert eagle .50 cal. Only the gun was not a shadow, I could see color and reflection. The creature went from looking forward, at the same spot of the wall I was looking, to slowly looking down at where I was lying. This revealed a side profile of his head. It was not human, it had a long nose. Best description is it looked almost like Chester Cheetah, the Cheetohs chips mascot or whatever it is. It stared at me for a bit. His wrist with the gun slowly started following the same angle, pointing it towards me. I could still hear the snake rattle.
I woke up in the most terrified state I'd ever been in. I only attribute it to being a dream from road lag. I then remembered the incident from the "witch"
I freaked the fark out.
 
2012-10-31 9:52:56 AM  
1 vote:
On weekends during the high school years in the 1980s, my brother and his friends would go for very long drives on every country road or dirt track he could find in southern Illinois and Missouri to listen to road music and kill time. One afternoon, they were more than a half hour away from the nearest small town, driving down a single lane dirt road owned by the county, with tall corn stalks on either side of the road. A man in a dark black suit and dark sunglasses suddenly stepped out of the corn on the side of the road about 100 yards in front of them and just stood into the middle of the road, facing them. As they got closer, they saw that he held a shotgun in front of him pointing at the sky. Freaked out, but curious teens, they quickly slowed to a stop in front of him. The man looked closely at the car, then walked around to the open driver side window. He looked toward the back of the car and the teens looked in the rearview mirror to see two similarly dressed and armed men step out from corn fields on either side of the road just behind the car and just stood there behind the car. The man at the window leaned over and looked in the car and asked in a casual tone, "Do you kids know where you are?" The teen driver quickly said, "No, sir." The man instructed, "Then why don't you just turn around and drive away. Pretend you never saw us here." The man nodded to the other men, who then stepped back on either side of the road and the car backed up and turned around. The driver floored it and went back the way they came. In the rearview mirror they watched as the men stepped back onto the road until the car was nearly out of sight and then they stepped back into the cornfields. Over the next few weeks, the teens asked around about the area from the locals, but everyone else who had driven the road had no idea what they were talking about. To this day they have no idea what was going on.
 
2012-10-31 9:48:59 AM  
1 vote:
Never told anyone about this - always felt uncomfortable when I tried to, but reading about the sleep paralysis stories really struck a chord...

When I was about 21, I woke up in the middle of the night - a little before 3am - and was unable to move or make a sound. The feeling of dread was quite strong... it felt like I was getting the life sucked right out of me; but it lasted only a few seconds. I sat up like I was launched by a giant spring, full sweat, heart pounding. Not pleasant. I got up, went to the bathroom, calmed down, went back to sleep, nothing; other than I felt kinda tired the next day which I wrote off as a bad night's sleep.

The following night, I woke up again - it was almost to the minute from the night before - and again unable to move or make a sound, feeling like my life is being drained from me, only much stronger. This time it lasted longer, I'd say almost double the time. I distinctly remember fighting to yell and only near the end was I able to make these pitiful whimpering grunts. Then boom: released sat up full sweat.... same deal; only this time it took me quite a bit longer to get back to sleep, and the following day I felt like crap.

The third night... I woke again; same time, pinned to the bed and that feeling I'm being drained is incredibly strong, like it's killing me. I remember trying to scream - really scream - my back is arched: my shoulders are on the bed, with my butt in the air and I. can't. move.

Now for the weird(er) part. I have absolutely no idea why I said or did the following - I am soooo not a believer/dabbler in any of this 'stuff'. But for whatever reason, I sat up and shouted. Shouted: "In the name of the Light I command you to leave!" and it felt like this giant surge of energy flowed back into my body and I crashed limply to the bed.

Never experienced anything like it ever again. 
/Don't want to.
 
2012-10-31 9:36:27 AM  
1 vote:
My father died when I was 3 1/2. He was a WW2 veteran. My parents met, married, and had me in their forties. Not long after he died, once my mother got all the VA, social security, and insurance money, she did one of the smartest things she ever did -- she made a down payment on a small house in a good neighborhood, in a good school district, in town. It was the first house she'd ever lived in that had "city water," and a shower. She furnished the whole place with stuff she bought on credit.

When I was 4 or 5 years old, I had a really bizarre thing happen. One of the end tables she'd bought was big and square, and had doors on it. That's where I kept all my books, coloring books, comic books, crayons, etc. I came in the back door and took an immediate left toward the living room and "my" table. The table had a lamp on it, and over the lamp, something was hovering. I couldn't make out any features, it was just "some thing" hovering over the lamp, calling to me. Two distinct voices were running through my head -- one saying, "It's Daddy! It's Daddy!" and the other saying, "Devil! Devil!" I ran the hell away. I never saw it again.

Of course, nobody believed me, but God's truth, it happened.
 
2012-10-31 9:34:56 AM  
1 vote:
Last year, on 4/11/2011, a couple of days before my birthday (which has fallen on 4/13 for 33 years now), I was sitting at my desk here at work talking with some coworkers about the history of the land our business sits on. Our land is right next to a busy expressway which, in the mid-late 1950s, was the location of a black cemetery that stretched from across the highway at an angle all the way to just behind our building where part of the cemetery still remains (approximately 1/4 mile).

You see, this town was very racially divided back then and the whites had their burial part of town, as did the blacks and other minorities. I've been here for about 8 years and never knew the cemetery existed behind us. Turns out that, when the expressway was built, construction crews came in the middle of the night and bulldozed the graves of those poor souls in order to build the expressway. The families of those deceased were told that the bodies were moved to another cemetery here in town, but they weren't.

Because I had never known of the cemetery on the hill behind us, I wanted to go up there to take a peek at it, just to satisfy my curiosity. I saw a few gravesites and headstones there mostly from the mid-late 70s. Apparently the church with the graveyard still owned the land on this side of the expressway and continued to bury their dead there even after the road was built. I came across one grave of Cora Lee Perry, but could only make out her name - the rest was weathered and covered with overgrowth. I came back to work, sat at my desk, and started doing a little research about the history of our town. I came across a photo of a very familiar gravestone, that of Ms. Cora Lee Perry and thought that was a little strange, so I researched a little more.

Turns out, in 1978, the Blue Oyster Cult was scheduled to play a concert in town. Their equipment truck driver came from a show in Arkansas, which was a 2-day drive, but he had to make it in time to setup for the show. One morning in April, the driver, Joel Barry Fields, came across the Chattahoochee River, crossed lanes into oncoming traffic, and smashed into a car sending them both off the Oglethorpe bridge, killing both the truck driver, and Ms. Cora Lee Perry, a school teacher from Phenix City, AL. It was a horrible accident and equipment was being fished out of the river for weeks after.

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The date of this tragedy? 4/11/1978
The date I came across Ms. Cora Lee Perry's grave? 4/11/2011 

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Actual newspaper headline.
 
2012-10-31 9:31:18 AM  
1 vote:
There's not much to this story, but I suspect some of you will identify with it.
When I first got married, we moved into a basic townhouse in a quiet neighborhood. Over time, we met several of the neighbors, and became friendly with them in the typical, "Hey, how's it going?" kind of way.
They'd invite us for the occasional BBQ and such, which we'd attend, but whenever we extended a similar invitation, we'd get non-committal responses and none of them would show up. I never wanted to press the issue, but it became clear that none of them wanted to set foot in our home.
As we settled into the home, I began to notice something odd. Once you've lived in a place for a while, you can usually sense if someone else is in your house. Even if you can't hear them, there tends to be a feeling when someone else is home.
In this particular townhouse, that feeling was always there. I would be in the living room, and have the certain feeling that someone was upstairs. Or, if I were walking downstairs, I'd realize that I expected to see someone standing at the bottom, looking up at me. Of course, I would never see anyone actually there, but the feeling was always there.
It was strongest in the basement. A basic, unfinished cement basement, nothing particularly creepy about it. But I could never shake the feeling that there was someone standing in one particular corner, just out of sight. I even caught myself changing the way I walked in the basement. I realized I was making sure that my back was never turned to that corner, even if I couldn't put my finger on why.
I thought it was just me at first, until my son, who was about 3 at the time, followed me into the basement while I was doing laundry. He was playing with a ball, and while I emptied the dryer, I saw it slip away from him and roll into that corner. The basement was fairly well lit, and we could both see the ball, just sitting there. He took a few steps toward the ball, then stopped, and walked back to me.
"Get my ball," he said. I told him that I was busy, and he could get the ball himself. He just shook his head. "I can't," he told me. It wasn't his cranky, stubborn voice, the voice he used when he was feeling bratty. He was scared, plain and simple. I asked him why he couldn't, and he just shook his head again, and ran upstairs.
In the time that we lived there, I would sometimes take people down in the basement and try a little experiment. I wouldn't tell them about my weird feeling in advance; I'd just take them down and say one thing.
"Close your eyes. With your eyes closed, can you point and tell me if there is any part of this room that gives you a strange feeling?"
I tried this at least half a dozen times. Without fail, everyone of them would point to the exact same corner of the basement.
 
2012-10-31 9:15:17 AM  
1 vote:
2 Stories. One from my mom, one from me

Mom told me this one, dont know how true, but she swears by it:

When I was little, maybe 3 or 4, she was on the run from my dad because he was abusive. She didnt have a lot of money and wanted to keep low key, so we moved around a lot. One of the places we stayed was a barn that was converted into a house type thing. wood heat, no running water.

The first night there, we dont really have furniture or anything, just whats in the barn which consisted of a wood stove, rocking chair, and a table. My mom used a couple of garbage bags to make a bed from me and pulled out a blanket to cover me up.

The next morning, she woke up to find an additional blanket on me. She says she didnt really recognize the blanket, but it could have been one of ours. Fact is though, she didnt put the second one on. When she asked about it, I told her I was cold, grandpa gave it to me.

Later that night, she was cooking dinner and she heard me talking, and it sounded like I was having a conversation. When she looked into the room I was in, She said it looked like I was walking hand-in-hand with someone, walked to the chair, and then stood in front of it while it started rocking.

She started to get a little freaked at this point. That night, she said she had a dream about an old man, telling her to wake up. It was time to go. She said he shook her to wake her up in the dream, and when she awoke, she was freaked out enough to grab me and leave the house.

So, we walk nextdoor to the guys house who owns it, and my mom tells the guy about what happened, and he says "ya, thats grandpa, he likes to hang out there from time to time". MEANWHILE, we see a car pull up to the barn (theres about 100 yrds separating the barn from the house). It was my dad, looking for my mom. Had she not been woken up, he may have found us...

(Dad was later sent to prison)

My Story:
I lived in a house when I was 12 years old that the previous owners were murdered by their son. They had the same last name as my mom and step-dad, and the dad had the same first name as my step-dad. That, in itself, is a little creepy.

So, my friends never wanted to come over, but I eventually convinced one that nothing ever weird happened there. It was like 4am, and we were both sound asleep after playing like, 5 straight hours of video games.

We were sleeping on the floor in front of my TV when out of no where, we both sat up, and started talking about how it was time to go to bed, we should turn off the games for the night, mind you TV was off. When we realized the TV was off, we both kinda looked at each other weird and were like... uhh weird. Right at that moment, we heard 2 loud thuds on the porch outside my bedroom window, and our dogs went absolutely ballistic.

We both shot up and went for my door. Occasionally, my knob wouldnt turn, so you had to jiggle it a little before it would. In our panic, neither of us could turn it, and we were stuck in the room screaming. My mom came running down and opened the door and let us out.

My guess is that it was just a random occurence of events, but it freaked us the hell out, and he wouldnt ever stay at my house again.
 
2012-10-31 9:06:25 AM  
1 vote:
Mine's pretty lame compared to most others here, but it's only thing that's ever happened to me that I really can't explain.

My reserve unit, a USMC tank company, was activated and sent to the first Gulf War in 1991. We ended up rolling through the town of al-Kafji about a week after a major battle had taken place there, and the civilians were still evacuated, and tons of people's belongings were scattered in the street after their homes had been looted by Iraqi soldiers. I found this little glass, about the size of a shot glass, but shaped like a beer mug, with a little handle and everything. It was pretty thick glass, and I wouldn't describe it as delicate at all. So I pocketed it and took it home.

Fast forward about three years, and I'm living in a converted garage in Burbank Ca. I had one of those classic little brown dorm refrigerators that doubled as my nightstand, about two feet tall, tops. One morning I was startled awake by the sound of glass breaking right near my head, and I found the remains of the little mug, which had been sitting on top of the fridge, shattered on the carpeted floor. The glass was way too thick to have shattered like that from falling two feet onto the carpet; it looked and sounded like someone had picked it up and spiked it like a football.

I know ghosts don't like people stealing their shiat, but to haunt me halfway around the world over a little shot glass shaped like a beer mug? Imagine!

Another odd thing that happened in al-Kafji: I saw a deck of cards scattered in the street, and for no reason whatsoever, I zeroed in on one card that was facing down and thought "Ace of spades", picked it up, and sure enough, the ace of spades. I still have it.

Also, having gone through radio school at 29 Stumps in 1987/88, I don't doubt echo5juliet's Amboy story for a second. We were strongly advised not to go that way to get to the I-40, even though that meant going all the way down to the I-10 and up the I-15, a few hours out of the way at least. We were told that remnants of the Manson family lived around there.
 
2012-10-31 9:05:04 AM  
1 vote:
 
2012-10-31 8:57:55 AM  
1 vote:

7th Son of a 7th Son: RomneyObama is elected. That should scare the bejesus out of some people.


FTFM. It's a scary season, for the whole country. Each is scared of the other half.
 
2012-10-31 8:55:15 AM  
1 vote:

gunga galunga: This is something that is easier for me to write about that talk about. Probably the only thing that kept me from going completely batshiat insane is that it was nothing supernatural and my mind could eventually process it. It was Halloween and I was ten I think. My parents got invited to a party and the baby sitter they would usually hire couldn't make it for some reason and my big brother was at another Halloween party with his friends. I assured them that I was a "big boy" so that they would trust me to be fine by myself. I was just hoping to have the place to myself so that I could watch a bunch of R-rated horror movies on HBO that night. They were going to be showing The Shining which I had never seen before. Also the first Friday the 13th but I can't remember what else. Anyway, it was halfway through Friday the 13th when the phone rang. Knowing it was my parents checking up on me, I answered it. The only thing on the other end was somebody laughing and then they hung up. Thinking it was probably one of my friends I tried to ignore it and got back to the movie. About an hour into The Shining, I was so into the movie I forgot all about the phone call and was just enjoying it. Then the phone rang again. I answered it. There was a voice in a little sing-song voice saying "little boy, all alone". Obviously by this point I was freaked the fark out. Now something I need to point out that the house I was living in at the time didn't have solid doors. They had glass panes so that anybosy standing outside could look in. And with the lights on inside and everything dark outside, I saw more of a reflection in the glass panes than the outside. And by this time I was so freaked out, turning the lights off was the last thing I wanted to do. I got a phone book and tried looking up the people who was having the party my parents were at. Out of the corner of my eye, I could swear I saw something move past the window going up. Again, with the lights on inside, it made it harder ...


Well played, you rotten bastard.
 
2012-10-31 8:34:52 AM  
1 vote:
Found it.

In 1983, a team of deeply pious scientists conducted a radical experiment in an undisclosed facility. The scientists had theorized that a human without access to any senses or ways to perceive stimuli would be able to perceive the presence of God. They believed that the five senses clouded our awareness of eternity, and without them, a human could actually establish contact with God by thought.

An elderly man who claimed to have "nothing to left to live for" was the only test subject to volunteer. To purge him of all his senses, the scientists performed a complex operation in which every sensory nerve connection to the brain was surgically severed. Although the test subject retained full muscular function, he could not see, hear, taste, smell, or feel. With no possible way to communicate with or even sense the outside world, he was alone with his thoughts.Scientists monitored him as he spoke aloud about his state of mind in jumbled, slurred sentences that he couldn't even hear.

After four days, the man claimed to be hearing hushed, unintelligible voices in his head. Assuming it was an onset of psychosis, the scientists paid little attention to the man's concerns.Two days later, the man cried that he could hear his dead wife speaking with him, and even more, he could communicate back. The scientists were intrigued, but were not convinced until the subject started naming dead relatives of the scientists. He repeated personal information to the scientists that only their dead spouses and parents would have known. At this point, a sizable portion of scientists left the study.After a week of conversing with the deceased through his thoughts, the subject became distressed, saying the voices were overwhelming. In every waking moment, his consciousness was bombarded by hundreds of voices that refused to leave him alone. He frequently threw himself against the wall, trying to elicit a pain response. He begged the scientists for sedatives, so he could escape the voices by sleeping. This tactic worked for three days, until he started having severe night terrors. The subject repeatedly said that he could see and hear the deceased in his dreams.

Only a day later, the subject began to scream and claw at his nonfunctional eyes, hoping to sense something in the physical world. The hysterical subject now said the voices of the dead were deafening and hostile, speaking of hell and the end of the world. At one point, he yelled "No heaven, no forgiveness" for five hours straight. He continually begged to be killed, but the scientists were convinced that he was close to establishing contact with God.After another day, the subject could no longer form coherent sentences. Seemingly mad, he started to bite off chunks of flesh from his arm. The scientists rushed into the test chamber and restrained him to a table so he could not kill himself. After a few hours of being tied down, the subject halted his struggling and screaming. He stared blankly at the ceiling as teardrops silently streaked across his face. For two weeks, the subject had to be manually rehydrated due to the constant crying. Eventually, he turned his head and, despite his blindness, made focused eye contact with a scientist for the first time in the study.

He whispered "I have spoken with God, and he has abandoned us" and his vital signs stopped. There was no apparent cause of death.
 
2012-10-31 8:33:51 AM  
1 vote:
My own csb:

As a single man, I lived in an old apartment block in central Edniburgh, Scotland. I lived there 10 years and only twice did something weird happen to me. Freaked me out.

1) I was sitting watching TV and a half empty soda bottle, a 2 liter, sitting on the worktop behind me, falls over. As if that wasn't scary enough, 2 other bottles in a different part of my kitchen, in succession, do the same thing. No tremors, no shaking, place was quiet and still. I literally did not know what to do other than stare for a moment and then turn around and pretend like it never happened.

2) Just a few months before I left which would be late 2000, I woke up one Sunday morning to find my bed was at an angle. My head was 18 inches above me feet. The bed sank, rose and then very slowly sank again back to the floor. I lay there looking at myself in the mirrored closet, wondering if I imagined the whole thing. I don't believe I did.
 
2012-10-31 8:32:50 AM  
1 vote:
Harry Freakstorm

solokumba

Star Wars 7 from DISNEY!

Coming soon! Disney's Star Wars on Ice! Can Princess Leia save her magical Hoth Ice kingdom from the mean and mysterious snow beasts on skates? She'll have to use the force of niceness to overcome their meanie dark sides!

3x "Nooooo!"
 
2012-10-31 8:27:38 AM  
1 vote:
A former girlfriend was staying over for the weekend at the house I rented the third floor of.

We had a great time, as usual, and went to bed after watching some TV.

Around 3AM she awoke to me sitting straight up in bed and talking to figures she couldn't see.

Evidently I sat there, and calmly explained to two children that unfortunately, they've died, and were lost until they could figure out their way. I told them how sorry I was that they'd passed, and explained who the woman was beside me, and why we were without clothes.

She says the whole event took more than fifteen minutes. The whole time I was sitting up, eyes open, looking at the foot of the bed.

She says it ended with me saying, 'Goodbye, I hope you find your way' and then I lay back down and cuddled her.
 
2012-10-31 8:21:48 AM  
1 vote:
True story:

Back in May the wife and I decide to take a long weekend and go to Florida for a little R&R. She found this really nice looking hotel that was older (built in the late 1800's or early 1900's, but it looked elegant and got good reviews so we booked it.

The first night there I went for ice around midnight and half way down the hall I heard what sounded like a muffled scream. I didn't think much of it, just thought someone was being overly enthusiastic on the rented bed. When I got back to the room, however, my wife was very creeped out. She hadn't heard the scream, but was dozing and she just got a really creepy feeling. I calmed her and went to bed for the night.

The next night, again around midnight, I was fast asleep when she woke me, once again freaked out. The first thing I noticed was that the room had gotten unusually cold and the AC was off. She told me that she had woken to see what looked like a woman in the room that had quickly darted into the shadows. She was so spooked that all the lights in the room were left on for the rest of the night.

The next morning we went down to the sea wall to do a little fishing. As we were sitting there another couple came and sat at a nearby bench and struck up a conversation. They asked where we were staying and looked shocked when I told them. "Did you do any research before you booked??? Or are you there for the ghost tour?"
 
2012-10-31 8:19:08 AM  
1 vote:
...and then.. only seven days after Halloween...

THEY RE-ELECTED THE BLACK GUY!!! BOOGA BOOGA!!!

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i.imgur.comView Full Size


i.imgur.comView Full Size
 
2012-10-31 8:09:46 AM  
1 vote:
Yeay!! This is my favorite thread of the year. I have to go do some important morning things like put on pants, but I'll be back. Ready to get spooooooooooky.
 
2012-10-31 8:07:20 AM  
1 vote:
About a year back, my wife, my son and I were visiting an 18th century mud fort (now converted into a hotel) for the weekend. We were accompanied by another couple and were staying in two rooms at the end of the fort. The fort is a vast, sprawling place, and pretty sparsely populated all round; the descendants of the original owners still stay in one side and other than them, all the other rooms were empty. Our room was on the battlements, open on all sides to empty fields. We walked on the battlements after dinner, enjoying the stars in the clear night sky and imagining that we were sentrys patrolling the walls.

Late at night, both my wife and I get up at the same time- maybe it was the atmosphere, but both of us were fairly clear that we were not alone. My son was still asleep (he was only 5). It wasn't particularly scary, but we could definitely sense a presence. After looking at each other, in silence, we lifted the curtain and looked outside; it was pitch black. But then we both heard a sigh, like a man's sigh, when he settles down to sleep. Funnily enough, at that time of night, it wasn't scary; it was as if an invisible sentry outside was settling down for a well-deserved break. However, when we woke up the next morning and remembered what happened the night before, it was a different thing altogether.
 
2012-10-31 8:05:22 AM  
1 vote:
STAR WARS 7

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2012-10-31 8:04:11 AM  
1 vote:
While reading these stories I heard a scraping noise on my desk and I turned to look at a gum wrapper that was moving. Then I realized a fan behind me was blowing it.

Ghost stories aren't real.

iron_city_ap: 11 more years till Honey Boo Boo poses for Playboy. The End.


This is truly scary.
 
2012-10-31 7:56:10 AM  
1 vote:
My wife spent part of her internship in Murray, KY. She rented an apartment, sight unseen, before she got there. She told me the old lady that owned the place and showed her around was really nice but, for some reason, completely missed out one room during the viewing. My wife thought nothing of it and, once the old lady had gone, she looked in that room. Nothing special, a bedroom w/ ensuite bathroom.

She said the only semi-freaky thing that happened the whole time was that one of the chairs in that room had moved. She got home and found it was blocking the access to the ensuite when she knew it was tucked in under the dresser the last time she was in there.

My wife isn't the sort of person who picks up on these sorts of things so it wasn't until she got back home after her internship that both her parents, brother and friend, independently, told her what had happened when they were staying with her there when visiting. Her dad was literally hopping around saying 'Can I tell her? Can I tell her?

Anyways, turns out her mom was sleeping on the sofa in the living room and couldn't sleep properly the whole time she was there because she kept hearing someone whispering into her ear. Her friend, standing outside, saw someone at the window and thought it was my wife's brother, but he was already in the car. My wife's dad claims he heard a fairly loud conversation (but not shouting) in the room that wasn't used.

It freaked my wife out totally, even though she was back home. A couple of years later we went down there and stopped outside. It looked kinda spooky but really was just an old, dirty, house. It does, though, still give her the chills to think about the place, especially the 'figure' that her friend saw.

/ssb
 
2012-10-31 7:53:11 AM  
1 vote:

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

I was about 18, a girl I knew in college introduced me to Ouija board one night, it was your store-bought parker bros. version...we played with it, it wasn't that weird because everyone was suspicious of each other about who was moving the planchette. Just a TOY I thought...but interesting at the least. Maybe even a little spooky.

I did a little reading and found out that if you make your own, it's more powerful, better connection to the spirit world, blah blah blah, I wasn't taking this thing seriously, but I was excited by the creepy factor, and how many other people DID take it seriously.

So, one night in October (couple of weeks before Halloween) I called an old girlfriend, "Jenny", and we got to talking (We were reduced to good friends at the time. She was dating some guy named "Patrick" and I had other girls on my mind). We were both a bit bored, so I invited her over. I was living in the apartment above my parents garage, it wasn't much, but it was my "own" place. I told her about my new found knowledge and said I'd make a ouija board to keep us entertained. She was reluctant, but I assured her it was "just a toy" and parker brothers makes these things. "Nothing to worry about, it can't hurt you, it'll be fun"

She had a 20 mile span to cover so I had some time. The board was easy to make, just a piece of 18" x 24" drywall, and I drew the letters and symbols on it with a sharpie. To make the planchette I cut a corner off a pine board and drilled a hole in the middle. Oila~ we had board and were ready to contact Elvis.

A couple of things i told her that I read about these things...(from the box in the store or a movie, I don't know.)

Don't take your hands off the board once you've started. If you do, you could open a "door"
Don't stop the "session" without saying "goodbye", if you do, you could open a "door"
Spirits Lie, can't spell, don't use it alone, and don't burn it near your house.

Now, on to the ...


I believe you. Creepy stuff.

Ouija boards are NOT toys and now you know.
 
2012-10-31 7:07:01 AM  
1 vote:
Back when I lived in Boise, ID, a friend of mine and I were both rabid insomniacs and would spend countless nights tearing his Jeep through the mountains just outside of the city.

One night we decided to take another one of our late night excursions into Rocky Canyon with his girlfriend and my wife. It was uneventful for the first hour or so, but then we came across a collapsed cabin. It was in a clearing at the peak of one of the higher mountains. Just a regular road, you turn a corner and there's a huge clearing with a giant pile of what used to be a cabin. We started exploring the wreckage and doing the typical splitting off as various things caught our eye. We were incredibly excited by our various finds; old timey photos and 50s-era cooking ware and the like.

My wife first noticed the rustling in the bushes just beyond the clearing. She did one of those slight inward gasps. Now, my wife is pretty easily spooked and she really shuts down when she's scared enough. Most people have a fight-or-flight response? She has a curl-up-and-accept-the-inevitable response. She was clearly uneasy so I took her back to the Jeep before I had to carry her. While I was there, my friend asked for a flashlight from his glove box. I told my wife that I would be right back to her and grabbed the flashlight. While I turned the flashlight on and headed toward my friend, he started calling out to where the rustling came from. We could clearly see the shape, almost like a shadow, of a person in the distance.

"Hey," he shouted, "is this private property? We didn't see any signs. Sorry if we're trespassing. We'll leave if..." he trailed off. I had shined the flashlight on the shape. It was gone where the light was. I directed the light away again. The shape was still there.

My friend had me shine the light back on the shape. Same thing. When I turned the light away, it was gone.

The three of us stayed where we were for a long moment, not really acknowledging the occurrence. Just stunned silence. After what felt like a full few minutes of looking around and trying to figure out where the shape went, we decided to leave in the same way you would if you just got bored with a particular exhibit in the zoo. We weren't really willing to admit that we were scared shiatless.

We quickly piled back into the Jeep with my wife, who wasn't hiding her fear well. I was sitting in the back passenger seat of this '67 Jeep Wagoneer, over on the right side. The window was down and I decided to have a cigarette. I lit up as my friend started the truck and we started back out around the corner. As I blew out my drag, I turned my head out the window. The moonlight shone through the clearing so brightly that I had full view of the fallen cabin and everything around it. I could especially see right in front of me. That's why is made me jump out of my skin when *BAM* there was a huge slam into my door. Thing is, there was nothing there. Not next to, below, or above us. Not, "I couldn't see anything," but there was nothing. The hit was hard enough that it rattled the window glass inside the door. My arm was resting in the window and the hit was so hard that it nearly rattled the cigarette out of my hand. It was also all my friend needed to finally drop the bullshiat facade of machismo and slam on the gas. He was in a panic, asking over and over if I did that, and me repeating the the negative.

We got the fark out of there.

For any Boise Farkers, the 7-11 at the corner of Broadway and East Warm Springs (I think it's a Jacksons now) was a great place to stop when coming down from Shaw Mountain Road. We stopped after having barely spoken the whole way back into the city. When we got out, the first thing we looked at was my door. The roads are all loose powdered dirt around the summer, making it incredibly easy for markings to be left behind. There was one group of marks in the dirt: four long ovals with markings that betrayed the obvious placement of knuckles. It was the right jab imprint of a hand that was easily twice the size of any of our hands. Even discounting the size, the placement meant there was no way that any of us could possibly have made that mark.

We never really spoke about it after. We still went up into the mountains, but we made sure we never went anywhere near that cabin again.
 
2012-10-31 6:01:31 AM  
1 vote:
When I was 8 years old, my family moved into a house that had been previously owned (and abandoned) by a funeral director. It is an amazing house - very old with all the features an upper middle class family of the late 1800's could afford to make it a "jewel" in that small community. Over the years, previous occupants made changes to both the exterior and interior of the home; a staircase which lead from the second floor to the servant's quarters on the third floor was boarded up and a closet built over it; an area in the basement was enclosed with a lock on the door.

There's no One Story to tell about the house, nor did things happen to just one or two people. It was a continuous series of events that stretched over a 20 year period - and may still occur - until my father died and my sister and I sold the home.

It began with little things; hearing one's name being called when there was no one in the house, water turning on and off, the sound of footsteps on the third floor. Then there were "white mists" that seemed to float up the stairs that had enough bulk that you couldn't see the wall behind it. Once, when my mother and I were sitting watching TV, my glass flew off the table and across the room - about 15 feet. Lights would turn on and off, things would just fall from the air ( usually - of all things - hair pins). Toys and books, which had been on shelves or in baskets, would be on the floor arranged in patterns. A few notes would be played on the piano (and later, when my great niece was staying over, her the sound of flute music could be heard playing upstairs one night - the flute was found on the staircase going to the old servant's quarters on the third floor).

When my father died, my sister and I would check on the house several times a week. One night, my daughter, her boyfriend and I were passing by and I noticed lights were on in the basement. We stopped, all three of us went to the basement to turn the lights off,, When we went outside, the lights were on - again. The outside lights over the porches also came on - although they were not motion sensitive and could only be turned on/off from the inside.

Lots of weird stuff, but you get the picture.
 
2012-10-31 6:01:13 AM  
1 vote:
Here's my contribution from a close friend, who says it's true. Apologies in advance if I use the wrong terminology, since I was never in the military.

Anyway, my friend works at the Naval Shipyards in Bremerton, WA. They happened to have a ship in port that they were in the process of dismantling and were taking everything off of the ship that could be recycled. My friend was part of a three man crew working the graveyard shift and were supposed to be the only people on the ship at that time. After boarding the ship and working their way down below deck, my friend and one of the other guys realized that they had left some needed equipment back in their vehicle. Leaving the third guy behind, they went back to get what they needed and returned to where they had left the other worker, who was sitting motionless, staring hard at a hatchway about 30 feet away from them. When he realized that my friend and the other worker were back, he jumped up and raced towards the hatch and began searching for somebody. When my friend asked him what was up, the guy told my friend that he had seen somebody dressed in early 90's naval shipwear walk right in front of the hatch and stop, turn to look at him for a few seconds, then move out of sight.

My friend and the other guy thought the third guy was trying to play a joke on them and started to rib him a little, but the guy kept insisting on what he had seen to the point that my friend and his co-worker started to think that maybe it wasn't a joke. After a few hours, they wrapped up their work and left the ship. After putting away their equipment, the guy that had seen the figure went up to the watchman who was guarding the boarding ramp to the ship and asked who else was on board at the time. The watchman replied that my friend's group were the only ones that had come aboard the ship since the last group had left a few hours before. My friend's co-worker objected, saying that somebody else was on the ship and told the watchman what had happened. The watchman repeated that he had been there since early in the evening and that nobody but my friends group and the previous group had been aboard. As my friends co-worker walked away, the guard called out to him, "You know, you're not the first person to see somebody on that ship that wasn't supposed to be there".
 
2012-10-31 5:52:02 AM  
1 vote:

atomsmoosher: MagSeven: He walked into the bathroom and gagged. The room was spotless yet the odor nearly took him to his knees. He tried to breathe through his mouth and became more dizzy than nauseous, as if he were being deprived of oxygen. Trying to catch a breath 10 steps ahead of him. And he pulled back the shower curtain and it was KELLY CLARKSON!!!!! The smell of feces still stung his nostrils. So acrid that he thought "no human being could have done this! 5 humans couldn't have done this!" but then, where was the evidence of her inhuman activity.......? His eyes rolled downward to the shower drain with a feeling of soul crushing dread...........BEEF!!!

I was about to say, its not even 6am ET, and the thread is already much better than last year's. Then I saw your post.

Why can't we have nice things.


Sorry. I hate that inexplicable meme too, but I'm drunk and have that "drunken creativity" that never seems all that creative the morning after. All apologies! At least I'm not drunk texting exes!
 
2012-10-31 5:51:26 AM  
1 vote:
Not scary for me, but it certainly was for my traveling companions:

A group of four of us girls made a trip to Eureka Springs, Arkansas. We decided to stay at a "haunted" hotel there, that was quite old. Very Victorian era with antique furniture and the lot. We get a large room with french doors onto a balcony. Later in the evening we hear a group of people outside our door. Looking through the peephole we discover a tour group being informed that this is one of the haunted rooms. I couldn't resist and sort of through my weight against the door, and it causes muffled screams and laughter from the tour group. We all kind of heard what the tour guide was saying, about some awful death scene in the room or something.

At any rate, after an uneventful night, I wake early and slip out of bed to go onto the balcony to have a smoke. It is foggy and chilly out, so I grab a blanket off the end of the bed and wrap myself in it. As I reenter from the balcony, I hear the most blood curdling scream coming from the other side of the room. I freeze dead in my tracks and try to make out just what is going on, but it is dark. Everyone is jumping out of bed from a dead sleep and I am standing like a statue trying to figure out what is going on. More screams. But they are looking at ME and screaming. I finally yell "What's wrong, what is it?"

The screaming stops immediately and laughter starts. I guess, in the half light of the morning, with the fog whisping behind me, and wrapped in the blanket ... well, you guessed it: I had become the ghost of the haunted room.

I really need to give up smoking. It scares the shiat out my friends.
 
2012-10-31 5:48:52 AM  
1 vote:

MagSeven: He walked into the bathroom and gagged. The room was spotless yet the odor nearly took him to his knees. He tried to breathe through his mouth and became more dizzy than nauseous, as if he were being deprived of oxygen. Trying to catch a breath 10 steps ahead of him. And he pulled back the shower curtain and it was KELLY CLARKSON!!!!! The smell of feces still stung his nostrils. So acrid that he thought "no human being could have done this! 5 humans couldn't have done this!" but then, where was the evidence of her inhuman activity.......? His eyes rolled downward to the shower drain with a feeling of soul crushing dread...........BEEF!!!


I was about to say, its not even 6am ET, and the thread is already much better than last year's. Then I saw your post.

Why can't we have nice things.
 
2012-10-31 5:15:14 AM  
1 vote:
About 10 years ago, my boyfriend bought a house and we moved in with our four children (one was mine and three was his). It was a very nice house and it I was so happy that it was ours and I worked hard to make it nice for everyone. After a little while, the kids started telling me of strange noises and stuff but I would just tell them it was their imagination. I started hearing things like footsteps running in the house and down the stairs when I would be on the lower level - I would go upstairs to fuss at them for running through the house and I would still be alone. I also heard steps coming down the hallway several times and everyone was still in bed when I went to fuss at them. The kids were always talking about stuff being moved around and hearing footsteps, too when no one else was in the house. Sometimes, I would see, out of the corner of my eye, a dark shadow going down a separate hall and into the stairwell leading down to the lower level. It would disappear when I would turn my head.

I was really happy when we moved in but within about 6 months, I became so overwhelmingly depressed that I had to start taking antidepressants. I basically cut myself off from my friends for quite awhile and was just morose. I just felt so sad and I really could not explain why. It was really strange...

My daughter was about 15 when we moved in - she was always complaining about hearing a music box playing although I never heard it. I looked at our neighbor's houses for a wind chime but neither house had one out that I could see.

The kids and I always joked about our "ghost" but really just assumed there was an explanation for it all that I had not figured out yet. One night, my neighbor (who had lived there for 20 years and knew the family that moved out well) told me that the former owner's 16 year old son had gotten upset when his girlfriend had broken up with him and went out on the lower level patio and shot himself in the head. She also remarked that my daughter looked alot like the girlfriend - so much so that she thought it might be her younger sister when she first met us. The son's bedroom was in the lower level and he always spent alot of time down there in the den.

I don't know what was going on but the noises and stuff died down quite a bit after she left for college. The people who built the house we bought moved down the street and we became friends but I never told them about what happened since it was so tragic what happened to the son. My boyfriend and I broke up about a year after I found out what had happened so I don't know if anything has happened to the new owners.
 
2012-10-31 5:09:06 AM  
1 vote:
i saw your mommy and your mommy's dead
 
2012-10-31 5:01:27 AM  
1 vote:
I saw Mitt Romney
 
2012-10-31 4:46:38 AM  
1 vote:
I've had plenty of experiences where I hear or feel things, but I have several weird things that I simply can't explain. All of these are true, some are not really that scary, but weird.

First, when I was a kid at my first year of summer camp, we slept in tents on platforms (kind of half cabin half tent). Anyway, one night I woke up in the middle of the night in pitch black darkness in the middle of the woods. I panicked and started crying and screaming as I fumbled my way back to my tent. I don't know how I got out there, it's a pretty steep drop from the platform and I have never sleepwalked in my life, but perhaps that's all it was. It was still one of the most terrifying moments of my life.

**************************************

I've always been a light sleeper, but one night when I was a kid I got into a horrendous fight with my parents. I don't even remember what it was about, but after our fight they went out for the night and I went to bed early. The next morning I went to open my bedroom door (which I locked), but I couldn't open it. I started to panic and banged on the door repeatedly. My dad ended up having to break open the door. Apparently they went to check on me when they got home the night before and I didn't respond. They had banged for hours and even tried to take the door off the hinges (which is why it wouldn't open). They went outside and looked through the blinds to see I was in there at least, but couldn't tell if I was moving. They didn't call the police only because they called the house and I answered the phone in my sleep I guess so they knew I was alive at least. I've always been a really light sleeper and have no recollection of any of this other than going to bed angry that night. Not exactly too weird for a heavy sleeper maybe but weird for me I guess.

*************************************

After my sister and I were both in college one weekend we stayed at my parents' apartment while they were out of town for the night. We both slept in separate bedrooms with the doors closed. Around 3am I started to hear banging in the kitchen. It was super loud. It sounded like someone was making a full on meal. It went on for what felt like forever until I finally opened the door to find out why my sister was cooking food in the middle of the night. There was no one out there. The kitchen was clean, no pots and pans were out, and my sister's door was closed. The next day she asks me "Why were you cooking in the middle of the night?"

************************************

I went to see 1408 in the theater. If you haven't seen it, essentially once the room closes behind you, this Carpenters song plays on the radio during the hour of horror. It's a really creepy movie if you haven't seen it. Anyway, I saw it in the theater and when we got home that night we heard music coming from upstairs. We go upstairs and the farking Carpenters are playing on the clock radio in our spare bedroom. We never used that clock radio. In all fairness it was a different song than the one in the movie, but still, it was creepy. I swear that this is 100% true.

**************************************
In that same house for about a year or so I used to get woken up constantly. It was like as soon as I'd fall asleep something would shake me awake. One night my husband and I got into a really big fight and he went to sleep in the spare bedroom. I ended up going into the room to apologize/talk, but I couldn't tell if he was awake. I stood in the doorway quietly saying his name. All of a sudden he jumps up screaming. I turned on the light and he was really scared in a way I've never seen before or since. He said he saw some weird wavy feathered floating thing above him. He saw me in the doorway, but there was this thing there between us that poofed when I turned on the lights. Anyway, a couple years later I started to hear a woman crying from time to time. I would also get the sensation that there was an earthquake happening quite often. And then I started to hear voices as soon as I'd start to fall asleep at night even though I wore earplugs to sleep. They would stop as soon as I sat up and then continue once I laid back down. We had a friend move in with us at some point and then he started to tell us that he was hearing a woman crying at night in his room. He was really freaked out by it. We never had these experiences after we moved.
 
2012-10-31 4:45:08 AM  
1 vote:

wookiee cookie: ArcadianRefugee: Oh, and this is why we chose Sweet Hollow.

i grew up in huntington. north side off west neck rd.

my creepy suggestion is a drive into lloyd harbor and beyond the causeway into lloyd neck. even during the day.


Ever seen the "devil house" in Massapequa? My favorite thing about it was that it was so very, very "1313 Mockingbird Lane".

If you've never seen it, check out this Google Maps link of a typical, quiet suburban Long Island neighborhood. Then rotate the image so you can see the house "behind you" from your initial vantage.
 
2012-10-31 4:36:35 AM  
1 vote:
 
2012-10-31 4:13:07 AM  
1 vote:
Tweakers can be scary things.

So it's back in 2006, and I'm visiting my Uncle up around Stanislaus national forest. I'm not on 49, taking a side road. It's early evening. Anyways, I'd been driving a long long way (from the Bay Area), and I stopped for a pee break near a convenient grove.

I'm zipping up, and on a nearby hill I can make out a figure. Looks like a guy in light clothing, tshirt, jeans. He wasn't walking towards me. He was walking backwards. As in facing me, but moving in the other direction. Pretty fast and in a real jerky fashion. The speed of his movement was the weirdest thing- out on a hill, but moving like he had no fear of tripping even though he wasn't looking where he was going

I bolted back to the car and took off. I don't know what that man was on to make him move and act the way he was acting, and I don't have a lot of experience with high people, but he wasn't moving like people do.

People who are not in their right state of minds can be pretty scary. I stick to taking Hwy 120 when i go to see relatives now.
 
2012-10-31 3:59:52 AM  
1 vote:
Not mine, an old Creepypasta called "Candle Cove":

NetNostalgia Forum - Television (local)
Skyshale033
Subject: Candle Cove local kid's show?
Does anyone remember this kid's show? It was called Candle Cove and I must have been 6 or 7. I never found reference to it anywhere so I think it was on a local station around 1971 or 1972. I lived in Ironton at the time. I don't remember which station, but I do remember it was on at a weird time, like 4:00 PM.

mike_painter65
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show?
it seems really familiar to me.....i grew up outside of ashland and was 9 yrs old in 72. candle cove...was it about pirates? i remember a pirate marionete at the mouth of a cave talking to a little girl


Skyshale033 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show?
YES! Okay I'm not crazy! I remember Pirate Percy. I was always kind of scared of him. He looked like he was built from parts of other dolls, real low-budget. His head was an old porcelain baby doll, looked like an antique that didn't belong on the body. I don't remember what station this was! I don't think it was WTSF though.

Jaren_2005
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show?
Sorry to ressurect this old thread but I know exactly what show you mean, Skyshale. I think Candle Cove ran for only a couple months in '71, not '72. I was 12 and I watched it a few times with my brother. It was channel 58, whatever station that was. My mom would let me switch to it after the news. Let me see what I remember.

It took place in Candle cove, and it was about a little girl who imagined herself to be friends with pirates. The pirate ship was called the Laughingstock, and Pirate Percy wasn't a very good pirate because he got scared too easily. And there was calliope music constantly playing. Don't remember the girl's name. Janice or Jade or something. Think it was Janice.


Skyshale033
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show?
Thank you Jaren!!! Memories flooded back when you mentioned the Laughingstock and channel 58. I remember the bow of the ship was a wooden smiling face, with the lower jaw submerged. It looked like it was swallowing the sea and it had that awful Ed Wynn voice and laugh. I especially remember how jarring it was when they switched from the wooden/plastic model, to the foam puppet version of the head that talked.


mike_painter65
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show?
ha ha i remember now too. ;) do you remember this part skyshale: "you have...to go...INSIDE."


Skyshale033
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show?
Ugh mike, I got a chill reading that. Yes I remember. That's what the ship always told Percy when there was a spooky place he had to go in, like a cave or a dark room where the treasure was. And the camera would push in on Laughingstock's face with each pause. YOU HAVE... TO GO... INSIDE. With his two eyes askew and that flopping foam jaw and the fishing line that opened and closed it. Ugh. It just looked so cheap and awful.

You guys remember the villain? He had a face that was just a handlebar mustache above really tall, narrow teeth.


kevin_hart
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show?
i honestly, honestly thought the villain was pirate percy. i was about 5 when this show was on. nightmare fuel.


Jaren_2005
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show?
That wasn't the villain, the puppet with the mustache. That was the villain's sidekick, Horace Horrible. He had a monocle too, but it was on top of the mustache. I used to think that meant he had only one eye.

But yeah, the villain was another marionette. The Skin-Taker. I can't believe what they let us watch back then.


kevin_hart
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show?
jesus h. christ, the skin taker. what kind of a kids show were we watching? i seriously could not look at the screen when the skin taker showed up. he just descended out of nowhere on his strings, just a dirty skeleton wearing that brown top hat and cape. and his glass eyes that were too big for his skull. christ almighty.


Skyshale033
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show?
Wasn't his top hat and cloak all sewn up crazily? Was that supposed to be children's skin??


mike_painter65
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show?
yeah i think so. rememer his mouth didn't open and close, his jaw just slid back and foth. i remember the little girl said "why does your mouth move like that" and the skin-taker didn't look at the girl but at the camera and said "TO GRIND YOUR SKIN"


Skyshale033
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show?
I'm so relieved that other people remember this terrible show!

I used to have this awful memory, a bad dream I had where the opening jingle ended, the show faded in from black, and all the characters were there, but the camera was just cutting to each of their faces, and they were just screaming, and the puppets and marionettes were flailing spastically, and just all screaming, screaming. The girl was just moaning and crying like she had been through hours of this. I woke up many times from that nightmare. I used to wet the bed when I had it.


kevin_hart
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show?
i don't think that was a dream. i remember that. i remember that was an episode.


Skyshale033
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show?
No no no, not possible. There was no plot or anything, I mean literally just standing in place crying and screaming for the whole show.


kevin_hart
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show?
maybe i'm manufacturing the memory because you said that, but i swear to god i remember seeing what you described. they just screamed.


Candle Cove Intro (1970 Children's Show)(00:28)
5,027 views
This is the intro that played at the beginning of most episodes
Added by WikiaBot

Jaren_2005
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show?
Oh God. Yes. The little girl, Janice, I remember seeing her shake. And the Skin-Taker screaming through his gnashing teeth, his jaw careening so wildly I thought it would come off its wire hinges. I turned it off and it was the last time I watched. I ran to tell my brother and we didn't have the courage to turn it back on.

mike_painter65
Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show?
i visited my mom today at the nursing home. i asked her about when i was littel in the early 70s, when i was 8 or 9 and if she remebered a kid's show, candle cove. she said she was suprised i could remember that and i asked why, and she said "because i used to think it was so strange that you said 'i'm gona go watch candle cove now mom' and then you would tune the tv to static and juts watch dead air for 30 minutes. you had a big imagination with your little pirate show."
 
2012-10-31 3:31:46 AM  
1 vote:
Another one, from my husband yet again. I've had a few experiences like fugeeface, where I've experienced that slithering, burrowing feeling in your gut where you know something is just indescribably wrong, only to find out that you've narrowly escaped something or you've been in a place with lots of death and mayhem. The hubby's actually seen these things.

He and a few friends went to a place in Hays, KS called "Blue Light Lady", a locale by the hospital where a nurse would purportedly take her breaks to escape the despair and death that was her job. However, when she died, they found a will requesting that she be buried on the hill where she would take her break. The city, and church, complied. On a winter night, they all decided to go check out her tombstone, and my husband brought his new Maglite flashlight. They get out to the tombstone, after synching their watches, as my husband and his buddies were going to play Cat and Mouse that evening and they needed to be sure that everyone was set up.

A friend of theirs decided to get a closer look, and placed her hand on the tombstone to view the inscription. All the flashlights, even my husband's Maglite, went dark. He had new batteries, as well. He tried shifting the batteries around as his friends did the same to the two other flashlights they have. And then they heard the sound of a radio playing as though it were traveling closer and closer, but they were out in an isolated area by themselves, away from the highway and traffic. They told their friend to take her hand off the headstone, which she did, and, with the flashlights surging back on, they hightailed it back to the car. When they reached the vehicle, there was a dreamcatcher, hanging from the rearview mirror, suspended as though it were being buffetted by the wind, but both windows were up and the sound of a radio playing. Their watches were all off, as well, when they went to play Cat and Mouse, some by only a minute, others by as much as ten.
 
2012-10-31 3:26:51 AM  
1 vote:
I'll have to read the thread later, maybe post again if it isn't dead by the time I get home later tonight...meanwhile I'll repost this one from the 2010 thread. I could have sworn I posted another story in an even earlier thread but I can't find it right now.

"A couple of years ago on July 4th, my brother and I went out to the lake to see fireworks, and we got to a spot just in time. Nice show. Then...we went to find Newcomer Cemetery out there. It's named after the Newcomer family that lived on that side of the city around the turn of the last century, and the cemetery is very tiny and sort of 'appears' without warning when you come around the curve of the road. We were just poking about in near-pitch darkness with a fading flashlight - sometimes cars would drive past, but their headlights didn't really illuminate much because of the aforementioned curve, and the nearest streetlight was hidden by trees.

I'd knelt down by a headstone, trying in vain to read the incription, when I saw something walk through my flashlight's beam not three feet away. And that wasn't there when I moved to follow it. I swear it was someone's feet, I have the clear impression it was a white sneaker with a red stripe or something, but when I called for my brother he was over on the opposite side of the cemetery, too far to have gone in about three seconds...and no one else was in the cemetery that we could find. I never even heard the nearby brush rustling.

We kinda decided it was time to go."
 
2012-10-31 3:17:59 AM  
1 vote:

GreenSun: I've been separated from my highschool friends for more than a decade. Still, one of them used to send me letters all the time, not e-mail take note. In every letter, my classmate named Sarah, would talk about her life and spray it with her perfume.

During our highschool reunion around 10 years after graduation, I met up with my old friends. Some of them already have families while others changed drastically. I couldn't find my dear friend Sarah so I asked around if they forgot to send her the invitation. Suddenly, the organizer of the reunion pulled me aside. He asked me if I was making a horrible joke. Of course I wondered what he meant. He realized I had no idea what was going on.

Apparently, Sarah's been dead for 3 years before our reunion. She became very ill and died alone. I thought my former teacher was joking but he wasn't. I asked some of the girls whom I weren't really close with about Sarah, and they did confirm that she's been dead for 3 years. Only her closest friends knew.

Who's been sending me the letters all those years? When I googled the address on the envelope, I found out that the address belonged to an old abandoned condominium. Was someone playing a trick on me? Why would they go to such lengths to use Sarah as a joke on me? Why keep it up all those years?

The letters have stopped coming and it's already been 2 years since the reunion when I found out the truth about Sarah.


It would be creepier if you still got the letters.
 
2012-10-31 3:16:47 AM  
1 vote:
I was about 26 when I moved in with my then partner and their parents. Prior to moving in, at times I had gotten feelings of being watched. The house was well over 150 years old; maybe more. It had been used back in the colonial days as a safe house for the Underground Railroad. There is a secret room in it and the only way to get to it was to climb on the roof and climb down the chimney. The chimney had footholds going down the inside of it. From what I understand the room was as a safe room, in case the Indians attacked and tried to burn the house down. The family would be able to get to the room from inside the house; the house would burn around them but, they would be safe. Afterwards they could then climb up the chimney to escape. It is believed, that at the beginning of the stairway on the first floor is where the original access to the secret room is located though no one was really sure.

The house has gone through several renovations over the years and the original design is no longer known. The house while I was there was divided in to two halves. One side my partner and I lived on it had: a living room, bedroom, and a back room/ kitchenette of sorts. There were two ways to enter our side. One way, was near the front door. As soon as someone entered, take a left and go through the double doors that lead into the living room. The other way was through a small hallway between the parent's dining room and our room. The hallway was set up more like a closet with doors on each end, that space use to be where the stoves were located when the house was first built.

The first thing to happen to me was an innocent teasing. I was sitting at my partner's computer, which is in the living room, playing a video game and listening to my cd player. The computer desk had an L shaped return; where I was resting my arm. While I was playing the game, I felt and heard a slight taping on the return. At first I didn't think anything of it, but then thought maybe my partner was trying to be subtle about wanting my attention. I turned my chair around and I asked, "Did you want something?", but nobody was there. So I turned back around and started playing the game again. A few minutes the taping started again I turned and no one was there. This went on for about ten minutes so I thought maybe my partner was playing a trick and moving out my line of sight; each time I turned the chair around. The next time the taping started; I whirled completely around. No one was there and my partner had just walked into the living room from our room, in time to see me spinning in the chair. I explained what happened and my partner told me that it was just one of the ghosts that playing with me.

I guess overtime I had become the target. Occasionally I would place something down and it would disappear; end up in a different room. At first I thought it was me not remembering where I put things. Then one night my partner had placed a new wallet on the dresser in our room and went in the living room to read a book. There is a doorway between the bedroom and the living room; but no door. My partner was sitting on the couch and watched the wallet lift up off the dresser float in mid- air and place itself on the other dresser, across the room. My partner went into the room and confirmed that the wallet was now indeed on the other dresser; not where it was original placed.

There would be other odd occurrences that would go on. The toilet flushing by itself, every once in a while I would see a dark shape near the heater in the kitchenette. The one thing that was most interesting is that I would be sitting in the living watching TV and I would see a black and white cat run across the doorway between the living room and bedroom. I once told my partner's older sister about the cat and she then told me that they use to have a black and white cat named Patches.

I only lived there for about a year because we broke up. We got back together but, that is where things changed. There were nights that I would stay over and my partner would have to go to work earlier than I did. After my partner left, some mornings I would be half in and out of sleep but, I would feel the weight of someone curled up on my back lying next to me. The first time I thought that my partner and come back home feeling ill or something; I turned over and nothing was there and the weighted feeling was gone. The same thing happened but this time; I felt the slight weight of someone's hand caressing my side. I got out of the bed. This went on for a few weeks to the point that I no longer wanted to stay in the house without my partner there. It kept happening until one morning, I bolted up and yelled, "Stop it!" It stopped for a time, but then I changed jobs and didn't have to go in until a later time and something else started to happen.

The first time I stayed over after changing jobs, my partner left at the usual time. I was lying awake in bed trying to get back to sleep. My partner had left the hallway doors open so I could see down the hall way and into the parent's dining room. I was facing the hallway when suddenly I saw the shape of someone holding a lantern up. The figure crossed the doorway on the dining room side and went into the parent's kitchen. I was alone in the house; the parents were away. My initial thought was that someone had broken in, but I had not heard any sounds. I remained still my heart pounding; I saw the light cross the doorway again. It came from the kitchen and crossed the dining room; like someone was looking for something. I decided to mustard up the courage to go out there and see what was going on. My partner keeps a dagger under the bed, so I grabbed the dagger and walked out the room. I was shaking; I thought for sure someone else was in the house and trying to rob it. I turned on the closet light switch to me. But found nothing. I checked all the doors; they were locked. Shaken and quite awake, I dressed, left the house and hung out at the local coffee shop until I had to go to work. When I told my partner about it I got the response, "Oh that's the caretaker, he may have just been wondering what you were doing still in bed." Until that day I had never encountered that ghost, and it terrified me.

After that day things escalated with that ghost. My partner's parents headed down south for the winter and left us in charge of the house. I would still stay over at times but after my partner left for work, I would migrate to the couch in the living room; in hopes of avoiding the caretaker. A series of incidents caused me to finally break and get mad. I was sleeping on the couch; I would hear and feel the vibrations of pounding footsteps. They would start from the dining room, go through my partner's room and end at the doorway of the living room. I had it and yelled, "I don't have to be up at that ing time anymore so leave me alone." But that didn't stop the pounding. I ended up not staying over anymore and eventually we stopped dating. The house has since been sold and I can only imagine what the new owners are experiencing.
 
2012-10-31 3:07:29 AM  
1 vote:
I picked up a hitchhiker many years ago, which I didn't typically do. The guy looked lost, and poorly dressed in and overcoat and I thought shorts, so I took pity. As he got in I realize he's wearing blue tights. Weirdo alert. But it felt harsh to kick him out. So we get to driving and after a few minutes he asks if I wanted to meet his friends. He produces two figurines and proceeds to introduce me. OK then. I wait a bit then indicate I need to drop him off and be on my way. He hasn't indicated where he wanted to go, just up the freeway he was standing near the entrance to. He asks if I want to split a pack of cigarettes. I decline. I take an exit I know there is a busy restaurant off of and pull into their parking lot and persuade him to get out of the car. Staying calm and friendly when things grow disturbing can work wonders with the violent and or deranged, I've found. So, thankfully, and perhaps by not freaking out, I drove away from that experience.

A few days later I heard on the news that a man very much matching his description had killed a person that had picked him up hitchhiking.
 
2012-10-31 3:07:17 AM  
1 vote:
This isn't my own, rather from my husband, who used to work out at Six Flags Over Texas on the midnight shift when he was out of high school. He worked the midnight shift, hosing down rides and cleaning the park, and he was used to seeing and hearing all sorts of strange things in the dead of night. He'd hear people behind him, someone calling his name that wasn't there...he learned to tune it out and ignore it.

One night, however, he was hosing down the area by the Texas Giant, and he heard crying. He turned around, but thought he was hearing things again, in the hiss of the water from the hose or the nocturnal animals or the traffic on the highway on 30. And then he came face to face with this little girl in a white dress with mud on her hem, she looked to be about eight, and she said, "Can you help me find my family?" She appeared to be looking off in the distance, and he too looked that way, and when he turned back, she was gone.

He was skeptical, but talked to one of the crew members the following morning, an older guy that he thought would tell him the usual, "oh, you just hear/see weird things out there" and reassure him, but, instead, when he beat around the bush, without describing her, the crewman said, "You saw her, too?" They called her "Annie" and the lore among the crew was that, since Six Flags was originally built on a swamp bed, her family owned a home there and she drowned, and she never left.
 
2012-10-31 2:42:03 AM  
1 vote:

muck4doo: Better sample of Disney Halloween


Fark, yeah. Perfect for the trick-or-treaters.
 
2012-10-31 2:37:37 AM  
1 vote:
 
2012-10-31 2:35:17 AM  
1 vote:
Did anyone else ever grow up having this Disney Halloween album?:

Link

Was trying to find more tracks for it, but they are lacking. Think this one might still be at my grandfathers house. He's just about 90, and probably doesn't listen to it much anymore.
 
2012-10-31 2:23:29 AM  
1 vote:
A little something music for you Farkers and this thread:

Monster Mash
 
2012-10-31 2:13:29 AM  
1 vote:
When I was four my mom, dad, two brothers, sister and I moved into a house that my father had had built in Tennessee. The site of the house (in a small farming community called Paris) was the site of a farmhouse from wayyyy back when that had burned according to an older gent I met in my childhood. He did not know if anyone had died in the fire or not. I do know that over the year when we would bury pets that had died we would almost always encounter broken bits of dishes, old hinges etc.
Anyway, from my earliest memories in the house there were the sounds of people walking along the second-floor hallway, and the sound of one of the toilets (in my sister's room) flushing from time to time when we knew there was no one on the second floor.
Among the other things I remember are: sitting in the living room with my mother and my sister when a candelabra about a foot high suddenly slid from the center of a round pub table to the very edge of that table while all three of us watched it. There was no oppressive feeling, cold spot etc.. It just moved. Another time I was sitting in the same living room with my mother. I was sitting in a Lay-Z-Boy beside the fireplace and Mom was sitting in a big armchair diagonally across the room next to the TV. Beside my lazy-boy was a child's rocking chair about two feet high that had been in the family for a while. I was reading and my Mom said "David (my real name) look at the rocking chair." I did and saw that it was tipped forward and standing on the front of its' rockers, as if someone small had leaned it forward to sit down. As we watched, the chair started to rock back and forth calmly but as if there were weight in it. My Mom, having grown accustomed to odd happenings in our house, said "Are you a good spirit?" The chair immediately stopped. It didn't slow down, or coast to a stop, it just stopped. Then, it slowly tipped very far forward again, as if a child may have been getting out of the chair. After staying forward for a few seconds, it rocked freely back and forth as if someone had just bumped it in passing. Another day I was brushing my teeth in the downstairs half-bath. I thought I heard someone call my name from maybe the kitchen or living room. As I turned to look into what is the foyer of the house, I caught a brief glimpse of a girl of maybe 6 years old with long blonde hair wearing a blue and white dress. I saw this same girl another time as I walked out of my second floor bedroom into the upstairs hall; again, just a brief flash. I didn't feel fear when I saw the young girl.... it was more a feeling of sadness, like I wanted to talk to her or help her.
This house has MANY other experiences that happened to me and to other members of my family. Overall though, the feelings were that we wanted to help whatever was there, not a feeling of fear.
 
2012-10-31 2:10:48 AM  
1 vote:
not halloween story. i played on a select soccer team in the years 84-87. whe would always go to charleston sc for a tournament. called the thanksgiving soccer shootout. in 1988 our team had dissolved and my friend and former teammates parents went to the tournament. we decided we would have a party at his house. this was planned many months in advance.

the night before the party about 12 of us decided to eat a bunch of LSD. during the trip, we decided to start jumping off the stairs to the living room of my friends parents house. this happened who knows how many times.

the next night was the party that was planned for almost 6 months in advance. we had a band, iron beagle, and close to 2000 people. my girlfriend had just left and i was standing in front of the band with a girl i had dated the summer prior. the next thing i knew i along with 200 other people, had fallen through the floor to my friends basement. we did like 100k worth of damage to my friends house.

it was probably from the jumping into the living room while tripping, and the amount of people that showed up.

people were in the basement and started hearing and seeing nails popping out of the floor onto the concrete basement floor.

after we fell through the floor to the basement i swear i saw people doing cannonballs into the hole. but i had been drinking PJ for 8 hours. with the ambulances and fire trucks me and a friend got to my car and weeded our way out.

we met up at a fast fare down the street. imagine 400 people in the parking lot of a convinience store. i got to the phone and called my MNF "midnight fark". my friend sean picked her up we went to my parents house, then my friend ainsley showed up.my friend sean drove my "MNF" home.


after that none of us really were friends.
 
2012-10-31 1:49:44 AM  
1 vote:
Ooh, my post from the Sleep Paralysis discussion in the 'Ghost video' thread...

The worst case of SP for me ever was while I was in college and staying with my grandparents. I swear I was wide awake at the time because I was chatting online with some friends. I got that 'someone's in the room' feeling turned and saw this thing standing behind me. It was about 6 feet tall, made of black shadow, and had a head shaped like a tapeworm with almond eyes a shade or two lighter. It 'saw' me, took a leap like it was going to jump me and then vanished. Freaked me out but it was late and I was tired so not surprised I was overlaying reality again.

I saw it again later that night in my bedroom. Just standing there. I rolled over to the other side of my pillow and it was crouched next to my bed at eye level. I stared back for a while, told myself it was a dream, and went back to sleep. I was more angry than surprised this second time.

The tapeworm shaped head stays with me though. I've never seen that hallucination again and I'm happy that way.
 
2012-10-31 1:49:42 AM  
1 vote:
When it got hot in the valley, Thomas and Alfred drove their cows up to a cool, green pasture in the mountains to graze. Usually they stayed there with the cows for two months. Then they brought them down to the valley again. The work was easy enough, but, oh, it was boring. All day the two men tended their cows. At night they went back to the tiny hut where they lived. They ate supper and worked in the garden and went to sleep. It was always the same.

Then Thomas had an idea that changed everything. "Let's make a doll the size of a man." he said. "It would be fun to make, and we could put it in the garden to scare the birds."

"It should look like Harold," Alfred said. Harold was a farmer they both hated. They made a doll out of old sacks stuffed with straw. They gave it a pointy nose like Harold's and tiny eyes like his. Then they added dark hair and a twisted frown. Of course they also gave it Harold's name.

Each morning on their way to the pasture, they tied Harold to a pole in the garden to scare away the birds. Each night they brought him inside so that he wouldn't get ruined if it rained.

When they were feeling playful, they would talk to him. One of them might say, "How are the vegetables growing today, Harold?" Then the other, making believe he was Harold, would answer in a crazy voice, "Very slowly." They both would laugh, but not Harold.

Whenever something went wrong, they took it out on Harold. They would curse at him, even kick or punch him. Sometimes one of them would take the food they were eating (which they both were sick of) and smear it on the doll's face. "How do you like that stew, Harold?" he would ask. "Well, you better eat it - or else." Then the two men would howl with laughter.

One night, after Thomas had wiped Harold's face with food, Harold grunted. "Did you hear that?" Alfred asked.

"It was Harold," Thomas said. "I was watching him when it happened. I can't believe it."

"How could he grunt?" Alfred asked, "He's just a sack of straw. It's not possible."

"Let's throw him in the fire," Thomas said, "and that will be that."

"Let's not do anything stupid," said Alfred. "We don't know what's going on. When we move the cows down, we'll leave him behind. For now, let's just keep an eye on him."

So they left Harold sitting in the corner of the hut. They didn't talk to him or take him outside anymore. Now and then the doll grunted, but that was all. After a few days, they decided there was nothing to be afraid of. Maybe a mouse or some insects had gotten inside Harold and were making those sounds.

So Thomas and Alfred went back to their old ways. Each morning they put Harold out in the garden, and each night they brought him back into the hut. When they felt playful, they joked with him. When they felt mean, they treated him as badly as ever.

Then one night Alfred noticed something that frightened him. "Harold is growing," he said.

"I was thinking the same thing." Thomas said.

"Maybe it's just our imagination," Alfred replied. "We have been up here on this mountain for too long."

The Next morning, while they were eating, Harold stood up and walked out of the hut. He climbed up on the roof and trotted back and forth, like a horse on its hind legs. All day and all night, he trotted like that. In the morning Harold climbed down and stood in a far corner of the pasture. The men had no idea what he would do next. They were afraid.

They decided to take the cows down into the valley that same day. When they left, Harold was nowhere in sight. They felt as if they had escaped a great danger and began joking and singing. But when they had gone only a mile or two, they realized they had forgotten to bring the milking stools.

Neither one wanted to go back for them, but the stools would cost a lot to replace. "There really is nothing to be afraid of," they told one another. "After all, what could a doll do?"

They drew straws to see which one would go back. It was Thomas. "I'll catch up with you." he said, and Alfred walked toward the valley.

When Alfred came to a rise in the path, he looked back for Thomas. He did not see him anywhere. But he did see Harold. The doll was on the roof of the hut again. As Alfred watched, Harold kneeled and stretched out a bloody skin to dry in the sun.
 
Ab3
2012-10-31 1:48:12 AM  
1 vote:
Forever 'Till The End Of Time
___________________________

I must be quick because I am not sure how much time I have left.

It all began the same week that my divorce from Deborah became final. She called me and begged that I come to the house we had shared for over a decade. Just a visit, that was all she wanted. I patiently told her again that there was no hope of a reconciliation.

Reconciliation, however, was the furthest thing from her mind. She told me she had uncovered an original draft of The Zanthu Tablets: A Conjectural Translation. I admit this news surprised and intrigued me. My former wife and I were both academics, experts in the fields of archeology and history; but while I made my living from teaching, Deborah had turned her attention to pure research.

Perhaps that was why she had collected accolades while I had collected dalliances with graduate students.

"Who else but you," she had said, "who else but you could appreciate this?"

Curiosity won out over common sense and the next night I took the hour long drive to Arkham. As each mile passed my excitement faded and my dread grew. My parting with Deborah had been angry and tearful. I knew that even now, despite everything, she still loved me. Every relationship is like that in the end, with one party caring for the other more; the worshipper and the worshipped.

I found that both my former home and former wife had suffered a swift decline. The lawn was overgrown, the mail and newspapers unclaimed. Deborah herself looked tired and light-starved. She had gained weight, yet her face had become gaunt.

She had barely shut the door behind me before she began talking franticly, stumbling over her words in an effort to tell me everything at once. I had seen her in such frenzies before, discoveries like this caused her to succumb to a kind of madness. Regardless of such considerations I will admit I was impressed. Her researches into the connections between Sumerian and Polynesian mythology had led her to a new understanding of the disturbing legends of Ythogtha and his offspring Ubb the father of worms. Her work would force the academic world to reconsider everything it knew about the Xothic legend cycle.

Each room of the house was a chaos of old books and hastily scrawled notes. There were maps of the ancient and modern worlds tacked on the walls, patterns had been drawn along and through the oceans and continents.

Instead of leading me to her study she asked me to follow her down to the basement.

A foul odor assaulted me as I descended the stairs. Deborah had somehow managed to tear up the concrete floor of the basement. The soil she had revealed was black and uneven, it reeked of sewage and rot. Before I could question her about this I saw an object sitting alone on a long metal table in the center of the room.

It was the kind of idol that we had both read descriptions of over the years. The kind of idols that missionaries had taken care to destroy. Nothing like this was supposed to have survived into the modern age. I should have been excited but instead I felt a cold dread settle around me. The effigy was no more than a foot tall and made from a yellowish stone that gleamed like it might be exuding some kind of sickly inner moisture. This Plathelminthe-like image could only be that of Ubb, the father of worms.

"Ubb is immortal among his kind," Deborah explained, "raised up by Ythogtha to live and crawl and know. So if he is immortal why were kings and shamans sacrificed to him?"

I backed away from her, afraid of the way her eyes had lit up when she said the word sacrificed. How irrational had she become?

She drew closer to me, reaching out. Her fingertips were darkly stained. "Can't you see? Ubb ingests but does not digest. He is merciful."

Was it my legs quaking beneath me or something more? Even now I cannot say.

"How could you love someone else when I can give you forever?"

My revulsion turned to violence and I pushed her away. She fell backwards into the damp dirt and in doing so revealed what had been carelessly buried there.

I have no memory of fleeing what had once been my home or of screaming in the streets until I fainted dead away.

The rest of my story is public knowledge. The authorities were alerted and a search of the house revealed nearly a dozen bodies. Deborah and the statue were never found, considering her final words to me I am not at all surprised.

In the weeks since I have kept to myself, answering whatever questions the authorities might have and refusing all visitors- reporters and old friends alike. Each night I drink myself to sleep hoping to quell the dreams which now haunt me. Those dreams of a great flatworm-like thing burrowing purposefully through the Earth's mantle and waiting for the stars to be right.

In that dream I am bodiless and weightless, I float close enough to see every detail of its churning body. It glows with an internal bioluminescence. It is blind yet it sees. It is called the father of worms yet it leaves a trail of young in its wake.

The middle of the thing's body is swollen and translucent. I can see the shapes that crowd there, half-mummified and unmistakably human, generations of lords and wise men.

This is Ubb and he sees me. I have been marked. Despite knowing this I do not have the courage to take my own life, to choose oblivion over the fate I know awaits me.

Someday soon the father of worms will reach out and drag me down through miles of Earth to join Deborah and together we will live forever in the belly of the beast.

Someday soon.
 
2012-10-31 1:46:40 AM  
1 vote:
Nothing über spooky, but I will say I kind of miss sleep paralysis.

Maybe 4 or 5 years ago I had a few episodes over a several month period. Never had it before; ain't had it since. The first time scared the ever-living crap out of me, in the "I'm a seven-year-old trying to scream his fool head off" kind of scared. Only, you can't scream: you're paralyzed.

Apparently, sleep paralysis is when your body decides to wake up your brain without waking up your body. As I understand it, when you sleep, you tend to try to move around a lot, and so your body gets shut down so you don't flail all over the place and injure yourself. Which is great, except for when your body gets things wrong. So you wake up for a few seconds: fully conscious, but completely unable to move. Can't move your arms. Your legs. And your screams (oh, and there will be screams) come out as these pathetic little whines as your vocal chords aren't doing their job either.

And all the things you hear about it are true. You can't move. There is something in the room with you. You can't see it, but you just know it's there. And there isn't a damned thing you can do about it.

Thankfully, it doesn't tend to last long. I guess maybe your body realizes something's wrong and reboots. I dunno.

First time it happened was, to me, the classic 'abduction' scenario. I woke up on my back, and there were these things in the room with me. I couldn't see them, but I knew there were there, watching me dispassionately. I had know idea what was going on, but I was terrified. I tried to scream -- not that anyone would have heard me as I lived alone in a rather secluded area -- but I tried. This pathetically thin, almost wispy whine came out of my mouth and nothing else as I tried in vain to pinpoint what was in my room with me. Next morning, I woke up wondering "WTF?" and, knowing what sleep paralysis was, looked into it more deeply. Didn't happen again for nearly three months.

This time, I knew what was happening, but it was no less scary. Seems the feeling of dread accompanying the episode completely unrelated to the conscious feeling of dread that one might associate with being paralyzed. It's like you're not just falling, but something is also pushing you downward. So there I am, lying on my side, back to the edge of my bed, eyes wide with fright even though I know it's all in my head but still knowing every bit as much that something is behind me, kneeling beside the bed, fingers out-stretched and ever-so almost touching me on my back.

Third time, "there was someone in the house". I knew what was going on (once I realized I couldn't move) but I was still scared shiatless.

For me, it's now like going on a roller-coaster ride that terrifies you and trying to 'just have fun' but only being able to 'enjoy' the scare after the fact, yet you still wanna ride it again.
 
2012-10-31 1:41:00 AM  
1 vote:
Turn your lights out.

dum-dum ... dum-dum ... dum-dum ... dum-dum...

The chicken heart was kept alive in a laboratory in a vat. In a special solution: half blood, half sodium salicylate. ... dum-dum ... dum-dum ... dum-dum ...
One day, a careless janitor knocked the vat over *crash* dum-dum ... dum-dum ...
He went to get a rag to clean it up. ... dum-dum ... dum-dum ...
The chicken heart grew ... dum-dum ... dum-dum....
Six foot, five inches. And in search of human blood! ... dum-dum ... dum-dum ... dum-dum ...
The janitor came back, opened the door *click* - the heart ate him up *WAAAGH!* *munch*slurp* Dum-dum ... Dum-dum ... Dum-dum...
It moved out into the hallway ... Dum-dum ... Dum-dum ... Dum-dum.
Rang for the elevator ... Dum-dum ... Dum-dum ...
"Fourth floor- AAGH! *munch*slurp*" ... Dum-dum ... Dum-dum... Dum-dum ...
Moved out into the street, ate up all the cabs *beep beep *munch*slurp* Dum-dum ... Dum-dum ... Dum-dum ...
The Empire State Building ... Dum-dum *Munch*Slurp* Dum-Dum ... Dum-Dum ... Dum-Dum
Ate up the Jersey Turnpike ... Dum-Dum ... Dum-Dum ... Dum-Dum
It's in your HOME STATE ... DUM-DUM ... DUM-DUM ... DUM-DUM ....
It's out side of YOUR DOOR ... DUM-DUM ... DUM-DUM ... DUM-DUM ....
And it's going to eat YOU up! ... DUM-DUM ... DUM-DUM
 
2012-10-31 1:34:50 AM  
1 vote:
When I was in High School there was this house in the old part of town that was about 100 years old or so, in California this is pretty old for a house. Anyway this crazy older lady lived there and sometimes during the evenings after it got dark she would sit on her porch with like a white bathrobe or towel over her head like a hood, totally obscuring her face. Well being stupid High School kids we would drive up and yell at her. She would jump up and start racing towards our car from about 20 yards up the walkway, scrawny arms stretched out, fingers ready to grab or scratch whatever came in reach and just shrieking. So it became a game or a test to see how close you would let her get before you hit the gas and got away. It made the girls scream and gave us an adrenaline rush because the lady, the house and the situation was just so spooky.

After a month of this going on the school newspaper got wind of this and they went during the day and knocked on this ladies door to "get to bottom of the story". Low and behold her middle aged son was there and he was very upset that kids were doing this and that really she was a nice person who would hurt anyone even though she would run shrieking towards your car. The kid doing the interview then wanted to talk to the old lady and the man basically said "Oh no she isn't here, after the second week of this harassment she had to be put into a facility for her own protection, and I have been staying here to take car of the house alone now for about a week."

When we heard that we about wet our pants. We had been driving to that houses curb to see the crazy lady in white for about a month including that very weekend but the son said after the second week she was in a facility. So who was the lady in white chasing down our car the last couple of times we did that?

Seriously after that I never messed with old people or went by that house after dark again.
 
2012-10-31 1:34:29 AM  
1 vote:
There's an old hot-springs bath house in the town I grew up in called the Chimes. It's no longer in business, but when I was a kid it sold junk under the guise of 'antiques.'. We were restoring a 100 year old Victorian house and would often go there to find original hardware pieces. The house itself had a phantom dog we would see out of the corner of our eyes or hear growling, and one of the pieces of furniture my mother bought also had a ghost attached... but the antique store itself was haunted.

I was only 8 or 9 but I remember having a nice chat with a man in a brown suit in the Clock Room, He was in his 50s or 60s and wore something out of an earlier era. He was very nice and friendly, and looked perfectly normal. It wasn't until I read a news article later that I realized he wasn't alive.

On the alternate end of the spectrum, there was a hallway off the main building which led to the hot-springs baths. Something didn't like me being there. On some occasions I couldn't even enter the hallway. On others, I could only go so far in before it felt like something was pushing me out. I had this intense impression of something being angry with me. Once I made it all the way into the 'doctor's room' and there was the sensation that the angry being was watching me. It looked like a black mass, which my mind translated to a gargoyle. It was perching up in a corner of the room glaring at me with intense hatred. I got out of there quickly.

I took a friend along once and she had the exact same sensations I had, without my ever telling her what I had experienced. And based on this article, I wasn't alone. Ghosts of the Chimes
 
2012-10-31 1:28:24 AM  
1 vote:

sethen320: 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 ...


I'm not sure which is the original story but I heard this one about 5 or 6 years ago except it was a doctor on some back roads and instead of "tall grass" on each side of the road there was just a mountain that the people emerged from.
 
2012-10-31 1:27:11 AM  
1 vote:
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."
 
2012-10-31 1:00:42 AM  
1 vote:
One of our resident GOP bots: and then .... Obama was re-elected! *scary music*
 
2012-10-31 12:57:31 AM  
1 vote:
 
2012-10-31 12:55:41 AM  
1 vote:

baka-san: On March 31st of this year I was in San Angelo TX

GETTING MARRIED!!!!!

DUN
DUN
DUUUUUUNNNN!!!!


We want spooky stories, not life-ending horror stories.
 
2012-10-30 9:41:07 PM  
1 vote:
I posted this in an earlier thread today:

A few years ago, I was playing in a band and we slept in a reportedly haunted music hall. (It was a benefit show in a small town, the proprietor let us spend the night there free.) My bandmates all went to bed before midnight, but I spent the night wandering the streets aimlessly. When I returned, they were all sleeping, and had been sleeping for several hours. I think it was around 3:30 AM when I finally knocked off.

Sometime around daybreak, I heard what sounds like a band setting up - carts hauling around, bleachers being pulled out, things like that. Nothing really electrical, more nondescript, like heavy objects being dragged across the floor. I assumed it was my bandmates shuffling around, and after just four hours of sleep I wanted no part of it, so I pulled the pillow over my head and tried to sleep more. Eventually the noise subsided.

When I eventually woke up for real, I found that my bandmates had all slept in too. Nobody had woken up yet. Nobody else heard the noise I heard. We were in there alone.
 
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