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(Fark)   Like a floating red balloon, the 2017 "Fark Scary Stories" thread is waiting for you. Top 10 voted Smart or Funny stories get a sponsored month of TotalFark. We all float down here   (fark.com) divider line
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5144 clicks; posted to Main » and Discussion » on 31 Oct 2017 at 11:57 PM (3 years ago)   |   Favorite    |   share:  Share on Twitter share via Email Share on Facebook



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2017-10-31 8:56:07 AM  
CORNELISZ HOUSE

Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, is the sort of average urban neighborhood that could be anywhere, or nowhere.

It's old Brooklyn.  It's away from the teeming hipster bars of Williamsburg, the slums of Brownsville and Bed-Stuy, and the Manhattan-light of downtown.   It's residential, with a decent mix of good delis, Lebanese tavernas, bars, and the requisite pizza places claiming to be "New York's best."

Most of the buildings in the area date from the 1920s, with some 19th century holdouts in the older parts of the neighborhood.  Here, where the British landed in 1776 and chased Washington out of the city, next to nothing remains of anything prior to 1865.

On 82nd Street, between 5th and 6th Avenues, there is an exception.  It's a Dutch colonial, in the literal meanings of those words, and not that of modern day real estate agents.  One of three buildings in the entirety of the city, and the only one in the borough of Brooklyn, that dates to the time when the area was called Geel Hoek, Breukelen, Nieu Nederland.

A town house that was once a farm house, the red brick home stands jammed in a row of three story walk-ups and is a blend of Baroque touches capped with a later Victorian mansard roof.  White paint flakes from the window sills and stone curlicues, lending to the sturdy Dutch masonry a strange sense of both solidity and quiet decay.

Should you want to visit the Cornelisz House, you'd take the R Train to Bay Ridge, and get off at either 77th or 86th Street, almost the end of the line. You may ask locals directions to the house, and their responses will range from "what?" to "why?"  Eventually, you'll make your way to 82nd Street, and over to 5th Avenue after having walked a block in the wrong direction.  You'll pass the house once and on the second pass wonder why you didn't see the Baroque pile the first time around.

The façade is impressive enough, what with the combination of crumbling Baroque touches with later Victorian updates, the heaviness of age oozing out onto the street.  You're sure to wonder why someone would build such a fine home in what was, in the days of old New Netherland, the boondocks.  The windows are dark, and make the imagination soar.  Perhaps to a macabre dream or nightmare you'd had recently.  To murder mysteries, cults, and the poetry of Edgar Allan Poe.

Then you'll notice that this stretch of 82nd Street is peculiarly quiet.  There will be few people around, perhaps one or two watching you from across the street.  No children at play.  You'll cross the far side of the street from the Cornelisz House and take out your smart phone or camera to take a picture.  A neighbor will warn you, "Don't take pictures."

It's a common enough warning in museums to not take pictures, as flashes will damage sensitive works of art, but the outside of a house?

"Why?" you'll ask.

If you're lucky, the neighbor will have been around long enough to give you a reasonable framework why.

"It sounds like a lot of haunted house stuff," she'll begin, "but the Old Dutchman, that's what we called the house as kids, we were just warned by our folks.  My grandmother told me it was built by a fella named Cornelisz, and that he was an artist back in Holland.  He was chased out and came to Bay Ridge when the Dutch still owned it.  I think he was in a cult or something.  Like he had real weird ideas about God and stuff.  I was told to never take pictures, and never to stare.  I think the last family to live there was back in the 1940s or something."

You'll ask for more but just she'll shrug.  She'll glance at the house for a brief moment, before saying that anytime she looks at the house for too long, she has nightmares and doesn't sleep well for a week.  Putting away the camera, you might grab some lunch and google Cornelisz over a sandwich.

Jeronimus Cornelisz was an artist of some renown in his day and mostly forgotten today.  His specialty was the still life.   His paintings were so lifelike that they would fool insects.  He once painted a ham that looked so real, that the glistening from the glaze appeared to shimmer as one walked past.  His paintings were unreal.  I say this in the past-tense as many of his paintings were lost or destroyed, through any number of the upheavals that have swept through northern Europe during the last four hundred years.

One verified painting remains and only gives a hint to the legends surrounding the man's works.  It's a silver flagon on a dark field, sitting atop a broadsheet.  The wear and tear on the canvas gives the impression one is looking at the flagon through a screened window and not at a centuries-old painting.

Cornelisz, despite his profound talent, grew to be a pariah and was convicted and fined for blasphemy, a rarity in the religiously tolerant Netherlands, in 1629.  The court papers from Cornelisz's hometown of Haarlem state that he boasted that his works were "divinely inspired" and that he could "make a better flower than God himself."  Subsequent historians hint at Satanism or Paganism and the usage of unorthodox pigments in his oils.  In 1633, the year he fled to New Netherland, Cornelisz was accused of murdering his fourteen-year-old house maid.  The details of the murder are gruesome, but how Cornelisz escaped Holland, and how he escaped the noose are unknown.  Those records have since been lost or destroyed.

So you'll return to 82nd Street and look into the darkened interior of the house.  It won't be open the day you're there, and part of you will be glad.  Not that the local historic society has the home open very often.   You're sure to notice that the hinges and the lock on the front door haven't been opened in quite some time and have been painted shut by an almost unknowable number of coats.  Perhaps they enter through the alley to do maintenance?

The interior, as viewed from the outside, doesn't look sinister, but a knot will form in your stomach as if you're about to walk past a large dog of questionable friendliness

Out with the camera again.  A man walking down the far side of the street might say something to the effect of, "it doesn't like its picture taken."  He's gone before you can ask what he meant.

You might ponder that for a moment.  A house doesn't want its picture taken?  Pretty ironic for a house built by an artist.  "It doesn't like its picture taken"?

You'll think it's silly, but that knot in your stomach urges caution.  But you're adventurous.  You're here to photograph one of the oldest houses in the city, and the home of a man who was convinced that his work was perfect.

You snap your first picture.  Looking down at your phone, you see it's blurry.  No good.  You frame up a second shot.  Again, blurry.  Looking at the result of your third try, this time instead of a blurry picture, you see a still life of a skull and three overturned glasses.  You attempt to frame up another picture but now your phone shows another still life, in near photographic realism, of a skull sitting atop a Persian rug with a vase of spilled tulips beside it, rendered in the glow of a sunset through a window.  Then, bones among discarded books with pages pulled out.  An overturned chair.  Dried blood spattered on a wall.  A candlestick bent out of shape.  Chaos, bones, and dread.

Attempting to turn the phone off, you look up, but the house is no longer there.  There is a deep shaft, lined with brick that descends into the sort of dark void you only hear about in caves.  A hot humid air comes up out of the pit, like a large animal is breathing on you.  You will be overcome by the feelings you only get in nightmares.  The feeling that you can't get away, that it's too late, and the dread will overcome you.  Screams, moans of despair and loathing will invade you, robbing you of your balance.  The frantic cries of a girl mixed with what sounds like a domineering lecture by a man in Dutch.  The repeated smacks of a blunt object against flesh.

Go and visit, if you wish, but take only memories when you leave.
 
2017-10-31 9:47:26 AM  
Wish this had been done on Halloween, it's one of my favorites, too.
 
2017-10-31 9:47:44 AM  

Fox10456: This is a prologue to a novella I did a few years back.



Can we get ahold of the novella? I really enjoyed this.
 
2017-10-31 9:49:31 AM  
toraque:

This is brilliant. Also reminds me how much I've missed the writers' thread... gotta get myself back in there and maybe help with the next anthology...

Particularly scary since I am a Dan with a young daughter...
 
2017-10-31 10:02:06 AM  
Most of my ghost stories aren't really scary, they're kind of nice.  Most recently:

My mom's best friend died of cancer in December of last year.  We grew up with her family, she and my mom have been friends for 35 years.  My mom doesn't make friends very easily so it's been rough.  My dad and I both had the same dream-we were in her house for a holiday meal (we did thanksgiving and xmas with them) and she was busting around. The dreams were exactly the same.  We both asked her what she was doing there, because she was dead.  She kind of waved her hands dismissively at us and said "I was dead, but I went away and now I'm fine.  Don't worry about it."

My dad is a very practical guy, an engineer, and he was completely freaked out that we'd had the same dream.

A month or so after her death I was sitting at a red light near my job.  The light turns green, and I go to hit the gas.  Right then I feel someone's arm hit me across the chest-it's a move my mom pulls all the time when she thinks there's going to be a car accident, she'd hit the brakes and throw an arm over whoever was in the passenger seat.

But I was in the drivers seat, and I was by myself.  I feel this arm hit my chest, and I hit the brakes.  Right then a car screams through the intersection, running the red light at about 60 mph.  If they'd hit me, it would have been on my side, and I'm sure I'd be dead.  Sue's still looking out.
 
2017-10-31 10:02:47 AM  
Did you hear that?  Old houses creak.  And groan.  Not like a piece of wood under pressure.  More like a living thing...an old thing...a malevolent thing.  Its just readjusting itself.  Like a troll or ogre rolling over in its sleep.  But a house is not a troll or ogre.

Do you think the house likes to be lived in?  Maybe it does.  Maybe it doesn't.  Maybe like the old people at the rest home it just finds it easier to not get mad about it.  But not all old people are the same.  Some hadn out butterscotch candies.  Some go after kids with their cane.  Others scream all the time.

What if the house is like one of the cranky old people?  What if it is in pain and can't stand it?  What if the house could act on it?  And what if its creaking wasn't it readjusting itself or going back to sleep.  No.  What if the noises you hear are the house getting ready to pounce...to attack.  Maybe even trying to reach you.  It could do it, and shuffle you off underneath the foundation and no one would ever know.

Remember the family that used to live down the street and don't anymore?  Hmmm...

I mean, who would suspect a house?
 
2017-10-31 10:04:48 AM  
A few weird things, the house I grew up in was built in the 1820's. I was found out when I was older that at least two people died in the room I slept in as a child. Knowing that as a kid would have freaked me out.
The other was that the house, as old as it was, was owned by one family until my Great Grandparents bought it. The previous owners started a family crypt. One of their children died early, 15 months, 15 days according to the stone. This top stone on the crypt had just the child's name "Carrie" and the age. Once more people were entombed, the head stone was changed to the family name. This "Carrie" piece was just put in the barn on the property and left there. For me to find.... it was a little unnerving at first

/CSB
 
2017-10-31 10:11:58 AM  
My son's grandfather, who died a few months before I got pregnant, has also been around over the years.  We used to hear our son go from crying in his crib to laughing and "talking" to someone, with the pauses like he was listening.  He'd throw stuffed animals and pacifiers out of his crib, and we'd come in and find them back in there with him.  Things we'd thought he'd lost would turn back up in the crib.

One day I'd been home all day with the baby and my then-husband came home from work.  I asked him to take our son so I could shower, and he asked me to let him get something to eat first.  I said fine, and took the baby into the office, where we had a chair that rocked.  I was sitting there, rocking him, as he fell asleep, and I had my eyes closed. I heard my husband walk in, and put his hand on the back of the chair.  I thought "Oh, I bet he's going to think I'm asleep and he's going to leave us here and not take his turn with the baby!" so I pretended to be asleep til I felt him take his hand away, then I opened my eyes and spun around quickly to "catch" him.  But no one was there.  There's no way he'd have had time to get out of the room.  I stand up and walk to the living room, and he's stretched out on the couch eating. I ask him if he'd just been in there, and he said no.  Then I realized the person behind me had smelled like cigarettes.  Neither of us smoke, but my FIL had.

This stuff happened all the time, and one day my son was in his little exersaucer fussing, and he started to look up, laugh, and wave, to someone who would have been adult height, but there's no one there.   I smell cigarette smoke, and hear a cough.  I just said "Wayne, we miss you, and you're welcome to come see Henry anytime, please just don't scare him." I  heard his chuckle (he had a very distinctive laugh) and then the smell was gone.
 
2017-10-31 10:22:48 AM  

Harlee: ...


I love a good construction/ghost story!
 
2017-10-31 10:24:55 AM  
You ever been scared so much you can't move?  Of course you have.  We all have.  It lasts a second or two then fight or flight kicks in and you are free.  Some people though get stuck in it.  Some people feel it while slepping.  Doctors call it sleep paralysis.  You can't move.  You can't talk.  You can't do anything but see and hear.  Sometimes you imagine things.  That's what the doctors say...you imagine things.  Like a hallucination.

And some people that have this, have seen things.  Maybe a shadow or a scary creature.  But the worst is the "Dark Man" at the foot of the bed.  Imagine those stories of people waking up in surgery.  They can't move, but they can feel, and they can see, and hear.  And then imagine it isn't a mistake.  Imagine that the surgeon is actually the Dark Man.  And the Dark Man feeds off your paralysis...your fear.

I have experienced sleep paralysis.  I have seen the Dark Man.  I have woken up at midnight, with the house all quiet.  Its cold, so cold...even under the covers.  I know something woke me, but I hear nothing.  See nothing.   Then I focus on the shape at the bottom of the bed.  A dark figure staring back at me.  The doctors say it's a hallucination.  My subconscious creating a fearsome apparition.

He seems real.  I can't breathe.  I can't move.  I can feel his malevolence.  I know he wants to...I don't know...absorb me.  Destroy my life.  And live off of my...soul maybe.  Whatever it is, I know I won't survive if I don't move.  And I can't move.  He reaches out...he touches you.  So cold.

This Dark Man has been seen by many people over many years in many places.  He could be a hallucination.  He could be some collective group hallucination.  But I don't think so.  There is more on Earth than is dreamed of in our religion or science.

And so far, I've always defeated him.   I have won the battle of wills and woken up.  It gets harder each time though.  Some day I won't wake up.

How do I know he is real?  I can feel it.  I can never forget him.  I close my eyes and I see him.  I lay down to sleep and my heart races not knowing if I'll wake.  I know he is real because I feel him...there, on my rib cage on the right...where his arm touched me.  It is cold.  Always cold.  And every time I see him, the cold spot gets bigger.  Maybe I'm lucky.  Maybe this is death slowly bleeding my life away and I am lucky enough to know the countdown.  Maybe he does this with everyone...and they never wake up.  Maybe he does it to you.
 
2017-10-31 10:27:48 AM  
sleep paralysis is the worst.  Thanks for the sponsor, Ween!
 
2017-10-31 10:42:35 AM  
DoBeDoBeLurk:

Wow, beautifully written. I love it. You should definitely write more.
 
2017-10-31 10:46:25 AM  

meg12279: sleep paralysis is the worst.  Thanks for the sponsor, Ween!


YW.

And I'm just copying from last year.  I may try to edit my newer story but it sucked.  I'm no writer.
 
2017-10-31 10:49:46 AM  
What's the deadline for submissions today?
 
2017-10-31 10:50:34 AM  
This thread is one I look forward to every single year, and I was sad to have missed it last year. We were scheduled to welcome our second daughter on October 31 last year so I was unable to carve out some time to read the thread from the delivery room. It's no matter, since that day scared me more than any story ever could.

Like her older sister, she was going to be a C-section baby. The first one was smooth as silk (as far as major surgery goes), so we expected the same for the second. And it was smooth sailing, the doctors and nurses going through the prep work, bringing me into the delivery room to join my wife for the big arrival. The doctors announced she was just about there, when we heard the sound of a scream from under 2 feet of water erupt into the delivery room. We got a quick glimpse of our dark green baby before she was whisked to the other side of the room, the doctors saying it was nothing to worry about.

But the nurses calm voices hid their growing concern, and it was hard not to be alarmed as more doctors and nurses rushed into the room. I lost count at eight people rushing into the room before my head started to spin and the room buckled. Soon I was whisked out of the room, left to wait in the hallway. The door burst open and I was given a far-too-brief chance to say hello to my baby girl (a chance her mom wasn't even given) before she was rushed off down the hall. The next hour felt like a lifetime as I waited for my wife to come out, and then waited for word on our baby. Those minutes were the scariest of my life, and it was only appropriate that it be Halloween, I suppose.

The end of the story comes quick, she was just fine and had a minor lung infection from inhaling meconium, a relatively small problem compared to the other babies I saw in the NICU those next couple days. As scary as it was for us, I cannot imagine how terrifying it was for the other parents up there. But I have a feeling these stories just won't be quite as scary this year, but I'm still going to enjoy them with a slice of "first birthday" cake from my little girl.
 
2017-10-31 10:51:59 AM  

meg12279: sleep paralysis is the worst.  Thanks for the sponsor, Ween!


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

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

My brain just can't even.
My mouth opens to scream and, try as I might, I can't. The sound just isn't coming and I'm frozen in place, sitting upright, staring at this ... mist which is, for all intents and purposes, staring back at me. Without warning, the mist disappears, the window slams shut, the curtains fall limp, my lamp suddenly is on and the scream that I had tried so hard to summon before is now full force, as if I had been screaming the entire time. My dad comes running in, asking me what is wrong and I babbled for a time before telling him the story. I got a hug and a "it was just a dream, go back to sleep."

Years later, I told the story again to my family. My grandmother insisted it was my guardian angel but frankly, after discovering sleep paralysis (thanks, Farkers!), my money is on that.
....... I've never had any sleep paralysis events since then.
 
2017-10-31 11:00:09 AM  
I'm a very level-headed, skeptical person who always seems to be able to come up with an reasonable explanation of whatever weird phenomenon that others, or myself has experienced.  That is why this night really scared the crap out of me.

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

Rewind to about 4 years ago:

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

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

WHAM!!

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

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

WHAM!

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

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

...I wiggle a finger...

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

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

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

WHAM!!

The bed slams to the ground again.

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

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

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

I have to man up and face the beast.

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

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

WHAM!!

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

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

I have never been so relieved in my life.  ...and never felt so silly.
 
2017-10-31 11:01:32 AM  
Monster Defense


The last thing you do before going to sleep is check under the bed and in the closet, right?  I get it.  I was like you once too.  But I have some news for you.  That isn't good enough.

Monsters exist, okay?  But we never get proof of them because they are multi-dimensional beings.  So, to say they hide in the closet or under the bed is a misstatement.  That might be where you first spot them.  But they actually are entering your room by an inter-dimensional portal.  Think about it.  If monsters were from our world, we'd have found some bodies.  We don't even have Bigfoot bones.  No one says "Hey, I found some monster poop."  We haven't found bodies or poop because they come, they hunt, they go home.

What this means is that your room isn't safe just because you checked under the bed or in the closet.  They aren't there yet.  They will be. But not yet.  So, kids, how do you make sure you are safe if these creatures, these monsters can just pop in through a hole in the fabric of reality?

You could wall off the closet.  Or put out traps on the floor to catch the monsters.   You could maybe keep a night light on...if you want to see them come for you.  No, the best way to handle this is to think outside the box.  Have you ever heard of the bogeyman stealing a dog?  No.  Of course not.  Dogs bark and cause a scene.  And no one ever blames a missing dog on monsters.  We can conclude that the bogeyman is afraid of dogs.

So, if you want to stay safe from the monsters, tell mom and dad you need a puppy.  Trust me.  You will thank me later.
 
2017-10-31 11:11:52 AM  
Not sure if I'd told this last year but here goes anyway. In my last house, in my boys' bedroom there were three doors. One door led to a small hallway. One opened to the dining room. And the other to a bathroom. One night not long after bedtime, my oldest came out (he was 7 or 8 at the time). His mom and I were watching a movie on the couch with the sound down low. He asked if we were trying to get into his bedroom because he had heard the door knob jiggle a few times.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But I had fun for a while imagining that it was something extraordinary.
 
2017-10-31 11:18:09 AM  
what freaks me out about sleep paralysis is that some of what you're seeing is real, and the NOT real stuff is just as real.  Like if the TV is on, I can tell you what episode of what show was playing while I was paralyzed.  The people I see at the same time seem just as real.
 
2017-10-31 11:27:03 AM  
A true story. The house was built in 1880. We'd kept it as original as possible with antiques, even down to an old cast iron stove (then a new one beside it).  One evening, as a child, I had heard the most soulful moan of a 'ghost'... it was a textbook moan, right out of a horror movie; my parents did not believe me, naturally.
One evening as we returned from the store, we walking in with bags and the moaning starts; we all freeze.  I tell them I told you so and they tell me to shut up.
My father thinks the sound it coming from upstairs, my mother believes it is coming from 'the library' (what it was called when we bought it, but we took out the old bookshelves that needed refinished and made it into a TV room), and I honestly had no idea where it was coming from.
When it started in again, I thought the sound was coming from upstairs with my parents each saying it came from a new direction.
I started up the stairs to see if the sound grew louder.
As I climbed the stairs, ever so slowly, the moaning hit again and it was the loudest yet, and it was definitely coming from the kitchen; the doorway was right beside the stairway!
My father went into the kitchen and stood there, waiting...  finally the moaning started in and he headed towards the corner and looked down in amazement.  My mother and I could tell he could see something, but what the hell could it be?!
It was a demonically possessed coffee pot going bad that someone had left on, again, and was trying to pump water when there was no water to be pumped up!
My mother tossed the damned thing in the trash that night and went back out to buy a new one before the stores closed lol

(been 30 years since this happened and it has never happened with another coffee pot.  My mother checks that coffee pots are off like she has OCD and literally has 3 more new ones, in bags, in case one goes bad)
 
2017-10-31 11:31:49 AM  
This is my favorite thread of the year, I always look forward to it.  Hopefully we get plenty more additions!  And here's a classic that hasn't been posted yet.
Ted's Caving Page - http://www.angelfire.com/trek/caver​/
 
2017-10-31 11:32:16 AM  
I swear we watched that stupid red balloon movie several times per year in primary school when I was a kid (late 70s-early 80s). I don't think I ever got the point of that movie. I guess my small town school could only afford one movie for their projector.
 
2017-10-31 11:38:14 AM  
Donald Trump. What more needs to be said?
 
2017-10-31 11:43:30 AM  

jjwars1: Donald Trump. What more needs to be said?


img.fark.netView Full Size
 
2017-10-31 11:50:07 AM  

meg12279: what freaks me out about sleep paralysis is that some of what you're seeing is real, and the NOT real stuff is just as real.  Like if the TV is on, I can tell you what episode of what show was playing while I was paralyzed.  The people I see at the same time seem just as real.


When I was in grad school, I began a nightly project to attempt lucid dreaming.  I tried a bunch of different strategies people had tried to "wake themselves up" or create some reminder in a dream to wake themselves up.  None of these worked.

I also suffered from serious sleep paralysis at the time, something I haven't experienced for about a decade now.  It was always frightening no matter how many times it happened, because you can't turn to look around and it's so easy to psyche yourself out about a sound you maybe heard across the apartment.  Then you start listening for closer sounds in case the sound is someone getting closer, and you easily convince yourself that it could be someone creeping in.  That's on top of the hallucinations you can experience on account of being so near to sleep.

One night I woke up paralyzed, and I figured I'd just skip the freaky part and try to go right back to sleep.  Should be easy, right, since I'm already physically down?  So I'm trying to go back to sleep in my already sleeping body and I think, "wait.  This is as close to being asleep, and dreaming, as I ever am while awake.  Maybe I can try to start dreaming while remaining conscious, stepping into it gently."

So I tuned out, tried to be dreaming, and everything was just dark.  I tried to conjure up some kind of dream setting or picture, and nothing happened.  Finally I hit upon the idea of thinking of a road so I could be standing on something:  my brain could easily imagine a road, and there it was.  It was a dream!  I was incredibly stoked that I was able to make this simple scene and be conscious in it.

I didn't, however, go any further with the experiment because I got this really urgent, disturbing feeling that I really wasn't supposed to be there.  Like a sense that something was watching me, and pressing on my mind that I have done something I was not permitted to do, that people like me were not supposed to be in places like this, and that something really terrible was about to happen if I didn't GTFO.  So I woke up.

You can try this yourself if you suffer from paralysis; I'd actually do it again if I could reliably trigger it.  Maybe when it gets hot and humid again I'll put on too many blankets, that seems to make it more likely.
 
2017-10-31 11:52:42 AM  
After years and years of reading the Annual Scary Story Thread, here's mine.

I was, to borrow a phrase, an excitable child. Terrified of the dark, I saw ghosts and monsters in every corner and under every bed. One night in particular I woke up and swore I saw something lurking in the shadows of my closet and, too terrified to sleep, stayed awake until the morning revealed the monster to be some crumpled up clothes. Heroic, I know. Most of my encounters are almost as easily dismissed as that, but two in particular stand out.

I was probably twelve years old and it was a school day and I needed to, but didn't want to get out of bed. As I'm lying in bed, half asleep, I saw a hand reach out and silently turn on my bedside light. 'Fine, fine,' I thought to myself and after a couple more minutes I got out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen where my parents were. After pouring some cereal I grumpily thanked whichever of them had turned on the light to wake me up. Only for both of them to deny they'd been in my bedroom that morning. So did my mother or father forgot they went in there and turned on my bedside light and the other forgot they had seen the other parent go in there? It's possible. But would both forget it that quickly? And if my parents were waking me up, why wouldn't they say something as well when they turned the light on? How many parents would trust a pre-teen to wake up JUST by turning a light on? Mine never did, before that day or after.

The second incident takes place with some degree of regularity. My dog Simon, a hefty pit bull / retriever mix, defended our home for years. The sole exception to his bravery? The zombie apocalypse. Between The Walking Dead and the Red Dead Redemption add-on, Undead Nightmare, Simon was terrified of zombies. After a couple of seasons of Walking Dead all it took was the theme song and he would leave the room, walk upstairs, and go to bed. Finally it go to the point where all it took was gunfire on TV and he would leave the room, walk upstairs, and go to bed. Sadly, we lost Simon to cancer in 2014. I still miss that big goofy dog. But every once in a while, especially if my wife and I are watching anything action oriented where there's gunfire, we'll hear doggy footsteps go up the stairs and a thump as the dog who left us 3 years ago puts himself to bed.
 
2017-10-31 11:55:51 AM  

Xcott: meg12279: what freaks me out about sleep paralysis is that some of what you're seeing is real, and the NOT real stuff is just as real.  Like if the TV is on, I can tell you what episode of what show was playing while I was paralyzed.  The people I see at the same time seem just as real.

When I was in grad school, I began a nightly project to attempt lucid dreaming.  I tried a bunch of different strategies people had tried to "wake themselves up" or create some reminder in a dream to wake themselves up.  None of these worked.

I also suffered from serious sleep paralysis at the time, something I haven't experienced for about a decade now.  It was always frightening no matter how many times it happened, because you can't turn to look around and it's so easy to psyche yourself out about a sound you maybe heard across the apartment.  Then you start listening for closer sounds in case the sound is someone getting closer, and you easily convince yourself that it could be someone creeping in.  That's on top of the hallucinations you can experience on account of being so near to sleep.

One night I woke up paralyzed, and I figured I'd just skip the freaky part and try to go right back to sleep.  Should be easy, right, since I'm already physically down?  So I'm trying to go back to sleep in my already sleeping body and I think, "wait.  This is as close to being asleep, and dreaming, as I ever am while awake.  Maybe I can try to start dreaming while remaining conscious, stepping into it gently."

So I tuned out, tried to be dreaming, and everything was just dark.  I tried to conjure up some kind of dream setting or picture, and nothing happened.  Finally I hit upon the idea of thinking of a road so I could be standing on something:  my brain could easily imagine a road, and there it was.  It was a dream!  I was incredibly stoked that I was able to make this simple scene and be conscious in it.

I didn't, however, go any further with the experiment because I got this really u ...


.....and that's why you never ever ever use the WILD method of lucid dreaming. Try reality testing. It's not as reliable but much less terrifying.
 
2017-10-31 11:57:41 AM  
I was reading the Fark scary stories...

...and then I ran out of vodak...
 
2017-10-31 12:01:43 PM  
It all started when women became sentient beings. First they demanded 'equal' treatment and to no longer be paid slave wages compared to men. Then they came for our alcohol. Before long they had all turned into ravenous raging Vegans and came for our meat. Now the alcohol is all gone. Now the bacon is but a beautiful memory, crisp and crumbling in the remnants of mankind's sanity.

/based on a true story
 
2017-10-31 12:11:08 PM  
You see, there is always a "way in."

He knows this way in. He sees you. He sees everything about you.

What you drive. What you eat. How much you make. What you buy.

He knows all your secrets. Because you gave them to him. You placed all your life in a box.

It was convenient that way. Everything moves through everyone. It's his job to make the pipes run smoothly.

Every sewer worker has a special key. No one else is allowed in, but he is. He has to fix the pipes. He has to be underground to do this.

But he doesn't fix sewage. It's your life that flows through these pipes, and drains in reservoirs.

Your blood tests. Your kid's grades. What your wife said about you to the therapist. It's all there.
Everything.

And he covets. He sees your perfect life. You don't think it's perfect, but HE does. He sees you go on vacation. He sees where you go to dinner. He sees your happy children winning the little plastic trophy, and what part of China it comes from.

He knows where you live. That parts was the easiest. It's impossible for him not to know.

He drove by last week. Saw you, just to get a real face to the numbers. He doesn't have a face like that, or a wife like that, or a nice house like yours. He spends all day, working on the pipes, seeing everyone that has it better. He knows how much more everyone is paid.

But he has the keys. He knows the how to disable the alarm. What tumblers go to the lock.

He stopped by yesterday. Gave the door a good look. Contemplated. A dog barked at him and he lost his nerve.

He was there this morning. He knew you were away. His want overcame the noise of the dog.He walked on your front porch. He has a key.

Once he hears that click of the lock it'll be just a matter of walking through.

You know nothing of him. He knows everything about you.

You see, there's a "way in." Someone must have one. Every castle has a door. Every system has a controller.

There's always a guy that can get in. He wears a uniform, everyone trusts him. He look like he belongs.

He convinced himself he has.

He wants your life.

Tomorrow evening he'll get to feel how soft your bed is.

You see, there is always a "way in."
 
2017-10-31 12:15:43 PM  
I have a few scary and weird tales from my own past I have shared before, all of which are true. Guess I can share them again for those who haven't seen them before:


The first one dates back to when I was living in Northern California in 1990-92. I am a navy brat, and so spent most of my childhood shuttling from place to place as my parents got assigned to different bases. Well, my Dad got out but my Mom was still in and got assigned to a little hydrophone base in Ferndale California. We moved there and soon settled in at a place up the eel river, around Carlotta. On weekends my Dad liked to "ramble", basically loading us all into the car to drive through the redwoods or go fishing, or just wander back roads.

Anyway, we wound up traveling up the south fork of the eel river one weekend, and we stopped for lunch at this little diner way back up in the hills. We went in and sat at a booth to order lunch and talk about where we were going to go next, when this dude walks into the diner. He was about 6' tall, had dirty long brown hair, and a bulky motorcycle jacket on that looked like it belonged to someone three sizes bigger than him. He gave everyone a weird smile, weird enough that even I, little kid I was at the time, could tell there was something off about the man. He walked up to the counter and asked for a coffee, then sat in a booth next to ours.

The next thing he did was really weird: He kept smiling nervously and kept reaching inside his partly unzipped jacket and fondling something and staring at us. We wolfed our meals down and the guy kept sitting there, staring at us, then at the people working behind the counter, and in particular, the two people (both women) by the register. My Dad suddenly whispered to us that we needed to leave. He went up to the counter with us and paid for our meal, then warned the lady at the register that he was going to call the cops because he thought that the guy who had been next to us was about to try and rob the place. We went out to the car and dad used a pay phone to call the cops and tell them about the guy. We then left and continued our ramble.

Fast forward to the following Monday. We are listing to the local news on the radio, and a bulletin came on announcing that thanks to an anonymous tip, a wanted murderer had been apprehended in the middle of an attempted robbery at a diner on Saturday- the same diner we had been at that day! Turned out the guy had gone nuts and had killed his brother and his sister in law, and he had been carrying a hatchet under that baggy coat the whole time he was in the diner. We left just before he attacked the people in the diner and demanded the contents of the register. From what the news bulletin said, that was about when the cops my Dad called showed up and took the guy in. We all were a bit shocked that we had been that close to a killer, and even more surprised that it was my Dad's call that saved the folks at the diner.

It wasn't too long after this that my Mom got out of her tour in the Navy, and my Dad decided he wanted to move to Tennessee where my grandparents (his parents) lived. I stayed in the place we moved to until about 9 years ago, when I moved to Nashville. During my time on the small farm we moved to I had the second and third bizarre events happen. I started sleepwalking when I was about 7 years old, and haven't ever really quit. I don't do it as much as I used to, but I still wake up standing in my kitchen or in the living room from time to time. I mention this, because it ties to my second tale directly.

When I was 15, I started sleepwalking a LOT more than before. Usually it was just me walking up and down stairs, or getting out of bed and standing staring blankly at the wall for hours on end (yes, with my eyes wide open). But there was one night I woke up chilled to the bone, drenched in dew, standing in the grass in the middle of a pasture in my tighty whities and bare feet while staring up at the full moon. What woke me up I have no idea, only that based on how cold I was and how soaked I was I had been out there for a while. I remember my eyes burned from staring so long without blinking, and that based on the fact that my night vision was shot I had been staring at the moon for a long while, tracking it across the sky. I walked the nearly half mile back to the house and slipped back inside and went to bed. I never again woke up outside like that, but it certainly was weird.

My next weird tale can only be described as scientifically impossible based on current knowledge, and has more than a hint of the supernatural about it. I had just graduated high school at the age of 18, and was looking for secondary schools I could afford. My parents were quite adamant that their eldest son go to some form of secondary school, but couldn't afford to help me financially and ruined my chances to get good grants by claiming me as a dependent on their taxes when I asked them not to. On paper, my Dad made enough that my expected family contribution was high enough to preclude me from getting any good scholarships or grants. But we had just had a house fire that took everything, and since the house was not insured due to being technically under construction, they lost it all. No money could be spared to assist in college plans I might have had, and I was adamant I was not going to rack up an enormous debt. The compromise that we reached was that I would go to (a significantly cheaper) technical school to learn about networking and computer administration (which is what I wanted to learn anyway).

Around the time all this was going on, I started having a recurring nightmare. In the nightmare, I was in an unfamiliar room with drop ceilings (the white acoustic tile sort) and desks everywhere. You know how you don't ever really see the faces of people in dreams distinctly, and you can't really recall them when you wake up? This was different. I saw all the people except one person clearly, and I heard them talking among themselves clearly, and even learned a few of their names. The dream always sort of intensified, and I would realize I was sitting at one of the desks and I would look up just as the faceless guy would attack the teacher and a couple students. The faceless guy would punch a student and his glasses would fly across the room and hit my computer monitor. Then I would wake up. I had this dream every night for two weeks before it finally went away.

Fast forward two months. I have been accepted at a nearby tech school in a neighboring county, and I am supposed to go in on my first day. I step foot through the door, and immediately get hit with a strange sense of deja vu as I recognize the room and a few of the people, despite having never seen them before in my life. I notice a few empty desks around, and after introducing myself the teacher tells me to pick a desk. I find myself drawn to one and I go to sit down and the deja vu sense hits me hard as soon as my butt hits the seat and I find myself frantically trying to remember what I had forgotten and why everything seemed so familiar.

At the end of the day after the lessons are over, I am gathering up my books and stuff still feeling a bit freaked out over the sense that I had been here before. One of the guys steps over to me and introduces himself :" Hi, I'm Skyler. What's your name again?" Another one stepped over kind of interrupting and said "Yeah, I'm Steven. Skyler and I hang out a lot. What do you like to do?" Before I can say anything, I remember the dream. It all comes rushing back, the room, the people, the names, my desk, everything. I notice the only girl in the class standing up to come over, and I know her. I know her name, what her voice sounds like, what her favorite hobbies are, everything. Before she can say anything, I blurt out: "your name is Sabrina."  It is important to note, I had not heard any of their names up til now, and she hadn't even started talking yet.

She gets this weird expression and looks at Skyler and Steven and says "did you tell him?" but they shake their heads. "No, we didn't." "How did you know my name?" she asked, " I know I haven't seen you before, so how did you know my name?" I told her she wouldn't believe me if I told her. She and the guys are intrigued now, and press me a bit until I admit that I saw it in a dream. They think I am full of shiat, but I point out other students around the room and rattle off their names. I had them all exactly right. I was freaking out and so were they, naturally, I thought I would be ostracized because I was "weird", but the opposite happened. I became part of their little group.

Three semesters later, we get a new student, and the guy is unstable and has a penchant for screwing with other people's computers. It being a computer sciences type class, this is encouraged to a point as it helps teach security concepts and networking. But this guy takes it too far and gets warned not to pick on a certain student again. He screwed up and messed with the student again, and the student caught him red-handed and got the teacher involved. The teacher called the new guy over and as soon as he saw he had been made, he socked the other student in the face. The teacher tried to restrain him, along with other students, but he broke free and socked the student again, and his glasses flew across the room and smacked into my computer monitor.  I knew right then that this is what I had dreamed about, and most importantly, that this was the last thing I saw before the dream ended. I hoped this meant that this was the last of the events the dream was warning me about. The student who had committed assault was expelled and we never saw him again. I finished school with full honors, graduating at the head of the class. I lost touch with half the people I used to know from tech school, but I still keep in touch with some of them and we meet occasionally to talk about the old days. I haven't had any further visions or weird events happen since then, but you can bet I pay attention to my dreams now.
 
2017-10-31 12:19:38 PM  
img.fark.netView Full Size


This is what keeps the grown-ups awake and full of dread at night.
 
2017-10-31 12:20:01 PM  
Went with the wife and a couple friends to see "IT" the weekend it opened. One of the friends was on call and couldn't make it (wife's best friend).

So, they went later in the next week.

I couldn't pass the opportunity up, so i waited 30 minutes after they left, and headed out... hit Party City, and got one red balloon.

took the wife's spare key and headed to the theater. then went home and waited patiently. She's got one of those proximity keys... so when she approached the car, the dome lights came on and this was what she saw. apparently, the scream was startling to quite a few folks exiting the theater.
img.fark.netView Full Size

wife calls "Honey, have you been busy tonight?"
with a tremendous amount of effort, i played innocent... but wound up cracking up on the phone.
 
2017-10-31 12:25:06 PM  
Had a delicious pizza for lunch. Ate the whole thing.
img.fark.netView Full Size
 
2017-10-31 12:27:08 PM  
No voting, this is a monologue called Conceptual Art from Chris Morris' Blue Jam

My eyes are watering. There's a lot of dust in the air. I can't see too well anyway, 'cause I pawned my corneas two days ago to buy a pair of shoes. The replacements are cheap and ill-fitting, and the anaesthetic wears off quickly, so fifteen minutes later I'd spent all the money in a chemists on a week's supply of codeine. I ate it outside. I had to lie down on the pavement while the painkillers got round to my eyes. I hung my head over the kerb to make them arrive faster. Before she ran away my wife said this would happen. She even got the date right. I tried to remember the expression on her face when she said it. 

I'd got as far as a large roaring mouth, when a pair of shoes appeared next to my head. I thought they looked familiar. They were familiar, because I'd lost them in a bet to the art dealer Japhet Corncrake. "That's rather good," he said. "Is this a new performance piece, or just a work in progress?" "I sold my eyes," I said. "I can't see." He clapped his hands and jumped up and down, thoroughly impressed. "That's very good. I like it. We must talk about this. Are you very busy this evening, because I've got a new show on at the gallery, if you'd like to come along." I couldn't say no. I couldn't say anything, because I didn't want to, and words don't form in my mouth when that happens. So he hailed a taxi and pushed me into it. 

As we drove through London, he talked fluidly about art. Coincidentally, I felt very sick. When I asked him whether perhaps he could return my shoes, he said "You really will make an excellent installation. Who writes your scripts?" Corncrake's private gallery was full of people. It was also full of water, because it was really a swimming pool with pictures hung round the walls. The guests were swimming round and round and chattering. Corncrake introduced me to a hugely-fitted woman called Hymenoptera, who helped me into the pool and gave me a drink. A man called Howards Znak touched me on the nipple, and asked me what I thought about the Sarajevo school. I was about to say "Please help me," when Helen Collop swam up, popped a cherry in my mouth, kissed my forehead, and asked me how my mother was, and then swam away again without waiting for an answer. Hymenoptera surfaced with a tray of crudités and shot me a greasy wink. It was at this point that the level of codeine in my blood became critical, and the contents of my stomach flew out of my mouth in a surprising yellow jet, which, as my head sank below the surface, acted much like a turbine, propelling me ten feet backwards through the pool. The last thing I heard was Hymenoptera asking timidly, "Was that supposed to happen?"

I'd like to hear some music now. Preferably the Bucharest Symphony Orchestra in chorus, performing Legatti's Requiem, which should be played on a cassette machine with flat batteries. Start the tape now please.

Thanks. Legatti's incorporation of poly-rhythms contrives to produce one of the most difficult and crystalline pieces of music ever written. No piece of music ever summed up death better. No human being ever experienced anything so close to death whilst still being alive. Edward Heath attended the British premier, and asked the conductor whether he had the right music in front of him. That was before inflation. And the three day week. And candles.


More Conceptual Art

Blue Jam Monologue - 03 More Conceptual Art
Youtube e3224lhwbDA
 
2017-10-31 12:28:21 PM  
Chris Morris - Blue Jam - Baby Fights
Youtube XVfqkNfNBVA
 
2017-10-31 12:29:36 PM  

nmrsnr: sxacho: I moved into my dumpy old rental house a year ago today. It was built in 1925 and is settling and mostly all original. I fairly often hear the old doorknobs rattle and squeek at night when I'm trying to sleep. It freaked me out at first and I'd turn on all the lights and investigate every room. Now I can just fall  back asleep and ignore it.

You sure that's what it is, you sure it's not The Rats in the Walls?


When the wolves come out of the walls, it's all over!
 
2017-10-31 12:29:48 PM  
After college, I moved into a fairly ratty apartment complex with a friend who had a second bedroom available. He was running short of the rent, and his roommate had moved out unexpectedly.

And so, immediately after bringing in the old futon and stereo system, I set upon hanging up all of the music posters I had collected over the years. Like 100s of them. Every single space on the wall with late 80s, early 90s music.

Anyway, There was one section of the wall that seemed to have trouble with the blue sticky tack or something. For the first 2 or 3 mornings, I'd wake up and find that the Nirvana Nevermind poster had fallen to the floor, leaving a barren space between Sonic Youth and Rage Against the Machine. This was a used poster from a playbill or something, so it was already fairly beat up, so I didn't mind running some push pins to keep it on the wall.

In the middle of the I wake suddenly, being stirred for some reason. It's pretty dark, but there's some amount of glow through the shades of nearby street lights. There's a low noise in the corner of the room, and even though my eyes are still focusing in the dark, I can see that the corner of the old think pile carpet is being curled up somehow, like someone is rolling it up. Then I hear the ripping noise.

I look up, and the Nirvana poster is "waving" down like a flag back to the wall. I quickly turn on the lights. The carpet in the corner is normal. But the bottom two corners are ripped off ( the corner pieces are still attached to the wall by the pushpins ) and a relatively long tear up the middle. Inspecting the corner of the carpet it was obviously loose, but there was nothing to indicate that a wind or anything could push it up.

The next day, I replaced the poster with a different one. Nothing much happened later for the next 4 months I lived there.

A couple of years later, my old roommate called and said that he had just heard a ( rumored ) story about how the apartment was once lived in by a young single mother in the 1950s who had a baby...and being distraught probably due to port-partum depression or something had drowned her baby in the small pool in the common patio area and then killed herself with sleeping pills later that day.
 
2017-10-31 12:35:34 PM  
True story.  Wish I was joking. Not even sure if it's scary, but hey it's Halloween and now is the time for the weird and unusual. Haven't told anyone except my closest friends and my mother. Pretty sure mom thinks I'm loopy and is just humoring me.

Beyond the fact that our house is haunted (but those are other stories for another time), I've always had random hits of 'second sight', I guess you could call it.  More often, it hits while I'm in a conversation, and I'll realize I know what the other person is about to say, inflections and everything, before they say it - because I heard it before.  I won't remember where I heard it, or when. But I'll KNOW the conversation before it even happens, it's already been played out.

Sometimes I'll meet someone I already 'know', too.

But that's beside the point.  The point is: second sight.  ESP.  Visions.  Whatever you want to call it.  And I can't control when it happens.

Cue to a decade or so ago. I'd fallen asleep right after work, exhausted from fighting off the flu.  And I dream while I'm napping.  I'm dreaming I'm on a plane and people are speaking ... well, I know Spanish well enough and it's not Spanish, but it SOUNDS like it.  And whoever I am, I'm speaking this language.  I know what's being said, even if I can't understand the words themselves. The flight is going smoothly, but a little girl near me turns and says 'that plane is coming toward us" and points out a window.  A few people look, but it's far enough away that no one really is paying much attention.  But a minute or so later, the whole plane shudders and bumps and there's a crunching sound.

And then the plane begins to fall.  And fall.  Out of one of the windows, I can see the other plane flying away, a tiny thing but still jet-looking - and it's damaged but fly-able.  We're not.

There's screaming everywhere.  The ground is rushing up, trees getting bigger and bigger.  I can feel the heat as we slam into the ground, the fire.... and I wake up.

I turn on the TV to calm down, and it's the news.  A short while into the news, this crash comes up on 'breaking news' http://www.greatdreams.com/planes/pla​n​e_crash_2006.htm

I'd dreamt the whole thing.  It was Portuguese I'd heard - the language that sounded like Spanish, but wasn't.  I'd been on the plane in my sleep, as it went down.

To this day, I can't shake the memory. It's the strongest vision I've ever had, and I think my subconscious has clamped down on it since, as even the deja vu feelings have gotten far less frequent. Scarred for life, I swear.
 
2017-10-31 12:37:06 PM  
Not much, but

One summer when I was 19-ish I was sitting in my friend's car in front of my home.  We were parked on the "wrong" wide of the street, so that the passenger (my) side of the car was toward the road.  We'd been hanging out all night, NOT drunk but still kind of running on high from the night's activities, so I didn't want to go in just yet.

It's maybe 1:00a or so and we're just sitting there talking, laughing, when suddenly I jerk my head to look out my window; I scan up and down the street.

"Ted" asks me what's up, and I tell him.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw (what I later determined to be) Dodge Charger: shiny, black, all windows tinted so darkly you couldn't see within. It was just sitting there, on the road next to us, silent, no lights.

At least, that's what I saw.

But there wasn't anything there, hence Ted's confusion.  I chalked it up to the need for sleep (I'm a skeptic, through and through) and we laughed it off, continuing our banter and discussion.

Come about 2am I decide finally it's time to end the night.  I begin to open the door and catch the headlights of an approaching vehicle, so I keep the door partially open but don't swing it wide, waiting for it to pass.  It does.

It was that car.

I glanced over at Ted in disbelief.  He was just staring out the windshield, wide eyed.  All I said was, "Yeah, I'm going in now" and we called it a night.

There's probably a dozen reasons to explain it, but it weirded my out big time that night.
 
2017-10-31 12:56:29 PM  

TheWriteGirl: This is my very favorite thread of the whole year, I've been excited for a month!  The only times I have ever posted in the Scary Story Thread have been to say how much I love it, except for the one time saw the scary Korean webcomic on a laptop rather than a phone (I was not aware that it moved) and described how I fled my house, scaring myself even more as my laptop cord dragged loudly behind me on the floor, and read the rest of the thread on my front porch in a rainstorm (2015?).
"



I first read this one at work. Had my headphones in with the volume up and everything.

While my reaction wasn't quite as severe as yours, I did get a few looks from my coworkers.
 
2017-10-31 1:01:34 PM  

GRCooper: Donovan is four...


I like your writing style and an ample amount of gooseflesh was generated.
 
2017-10-31 1:03:42 PM  

mrshowrules: GRCooper: Donovan is four...

I like your writing style and an ample amount of gooseflesh was generated.


Thanks!
 
2017-10-31 1:14:35 PM  
I spend a lot of time on a bike in rural/semi-rural areas of central Texas. I have had dozens of very strange interactions with motorists, but one stands out for creepiness.

I was heading back in the direction of home still about 12 miles out. I just passed the Cele store near Pflugerville, TX. It is occupied now as a BBQ restaurant, but it was vacant then. There is a short hill just south of the store that I was climbing as a car went pass really slow. It is a blind hill, so the slow speed didn't get my attention at the time. The car went past and as I crested the climb the slow moving car was stopped in the road about 50 yards ahead. The driver of the car had their arm out and seemed to be motioning me to come up to them. It was a very slow, sweeping wave of the arm.

Like I said, odd encounters with drivers happen. Usually someone lost. It has always baffled me how many people are driving around out in the country without know how to get where they are going. But this one just my attention. I slowed down to just a crawl and creepy arm kept up the slow wave. I decided it was just not worth it. I turned around and rolled back down the hill to the vacant store lot. I got out my phone just in case creepy waver decided to come back that way. If they really needed directions, they can come back. At least I'll get a picture of them before they kill me.

I waited about a minute and the car didn't come back, so I climbed the hill again and the car was gone. When I got home I told my wife the story and she just said "why didn't you go see what they wanted?" I just said "I don't care what they wanted and I have seen Texas Chainsaw Massacre."

The Cele Store:

img.fark.netView Full Size
 
2017-10-31 1:15:47 PM  
Creepy thing happened to me and Mrs Blue. We have a cabin up in Springville, CA. on the Tule river. The house was built in the early sixties. It's been in her family since the 70's. Anywho, I read an article last week about the best Ghost Hunter from the App Store. I download the thing and read some of the instructions. I then forget about it because we drive up there Friday after work. Mind you my phone on Verizon gets no service up there. Her AT&T phone does. She tells me on Saturday after I cut some fast growing saplings on the bank of the river that she does not sleep well up there. She had said it before, but this time I'm like hey!
I got this app and lets check it out. I turn it on and we start getting pings on the radar looking thing on the dashboard display. Skeptical at best I think. Then it starts vocalizing some things. Says single word things.
I start to right them down, Said a couple of other things. Among them was "cards" , "Judge" and a couple of other things. Fast forward. I turn if off. Neighbors come by to have a beer. We chat for 20 minutes or so to catch up on the happenings. They leave. We turn it back on and more weird answers. We start asking questions and get spooky very relevant info to said questioins. I turn if off and she says lets go out into the small front yard. Neighbors having beer on their porch. We grab beers and walk next door. Small talk and the Mrs. says we got this App and we heard stuff. Dave the neighbor gets quiet and says he saw a boy out of the corner of his eye just an hour before when they were over at our place. Said he was about 6-7 and dressed in period clothing like the 20's. We are going holy shiat at this point. We tell them that we had heard something saying "Judge" and the like. He says there was a man that used to play cards there with friends and his nickname was the Judge. Weird, I know. Fast forward again. We catch a buzz and make dinner and watch the World Series game with nothing odd. We drive home on Sunday. I start the app up thinking it's all Bull Shiat anyway. Not much activity till I ask some questions and get some relevant answers. It says "Cora" and Cemetery etc. The lady who used to own the house across the street and up 2 houses was named Cora. I Never met nor heard of her till then. Turned it off, and was on to football and left us scratching our heads.

Fast forward. Something or Someone keeps turning on the TV in the office. I turned it off when I got up @4:30. Went to the back bathroom and shaved. TV back on within 10 minutes when I went passed the room. I texted the Mrs this morning about the TV and she said she turned it off 4 times last night. Then it went on again, and she unplugged the thing. Just Weird Halloween stuff right??

Definitely tripping out a little bit.
 
2017-10-31 1:16:58 PM  
img.fark.netView Full Size
 
2017-10-31 1:19:58 PM  
No one has posted this yet, another farker ages ago posted it in a halloween thread so now I'm sharing it with all of you: http://www.infinityplus.co.uk/st​ories/​colderwar.htm
 
2017-10-31 1:20:00 PM  
In my family, we tend to get "visits" from people the night before they die.  They come around and talk to us in our dreams, say goodbye, share memories, all that good stuff.

When I was a sophomore in college, my crazy Gramma Ethel came for a visit one night.  It was special, because she wasn't crazy in the dream.  As a matter of fact, that was pretty much the substance of the dream.  We were sitting in my dorm room, and she told me how sorry she was that she hadn't been the kind of Gramma to me that my other Gramma, Mom's mom, had been, but she had just found our world too scary, so she stayed in her own little world.  But she wanted me to know that she'd loved me.  It was a nice dream, which is part of the reason I remember it over 30 years later.

When I woke up, I was frantic.  Gramma was crazy, but as far as I knew, she'd been in good health.  I called my aunt to make sure Gramma was okay, but Aunt Teenie was already at work, and Gramma didn't like talking on the phone, so she didn't answer it.  (Not that I expected her to, she was dead, right?  That was the whole point of the dream.)  I called my father at work, but he wasn't in the office.  I called a few other relatives, but couldn't get hold of them.  I finally got hold of my step-mom, Kay, who promised to find out for me if Gramma had kicked the bucket or not.  

Kay called me back a few hours later. Gramma was fine, the dream had been a false alarm.  (She went on to live another 15 years.)

A few weeks later, I was at my father's visiting, and we went over to visit Gramma.  She leaned over to me and asked, "Did you get my message?"
 
Ant
2017-10-31 1:20:23 PM  

toejam: A real, 4 word horror story:

"Daddy ate my eyes."

Look it up if you dare.


No! fark, man. I had almost erased that from my brain god damnit!
 
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