I live in a condominium and we own two apartments on the 7th and 8th floor. The only way to move in between them is to step out of the apartment, take the elevator or the staircase and enter the other one.
One night, we ran out of ice-cream upstairs and my mom told me to go get some from the downstairs freezer, so I took the keys to the 7th floor’s apartment and since it was dinner time, no one was there. I walked into the pitch dark and realized that someone was sitting on the sofa so i flipped the switch to see my dad just sitting there. It was kinda weird, but i just went to get the ice-cream and asked if he had a key to lock up. No answer. I shrugged and thought ‘Well if he came in and locked the door behind him, he must have one.’ Went back upstairs and my dad was sitting there eating dinner. I freaked out and asked how the heck did he get up here so fast and everyone told me that he’s been here all this time. Told them it wasn’t possible cause I just saw him downstairs but no one believed me. Now I never go down there alone.
To clear up some stuff, each our apartment doors are fitted with 3 types of locks. There’s a gate which has it own keyhole and lock, we put another lock in it so you have to unlock this gate twice. Then there’s the door and its own lock. So you need 3 keys just to enter our house if no one is inside. I did get a good look at and it was 100% my father, he’s kinda fat and has this serious looking face so its kinda hard to mistake him. The apartments are not accessible because not only are they not on the same floor, they aren’t even located on top of each other. There’s an elevator in between them AND they are on different floors. So there is no way for anyone to go up or down without first meeting at the elevator or the staircase.
Writer and editor Doug believes that our love of horror and spooky stories is linked to our desire to find out more about the world around us, what’s hiding just beyond our sense. “So much of horror and speculative fiction grapples with death and what happens after we die that I can’t help but believe much of our interest in such stories is an expression of a longing for experiences and existences beyond our perceptions,” he told Bored Panda.
Doug was kind enough to share what it is that separates merely passable horror stories and the truly great ones. The ones that stick in our minds for years to come (and sometimes keep us awake at night, scared to even get out of bed).
“Great horror stories thread a precarious needle: They maintain a sense of the truly inexplicable while creating a world and a narrative that provides enough answers to ground the story. Over-explanation kills most horror, which is why the shark is scariest when you only see the fin; the alien is most terrifying when it’s lurking in the shadows; the killer is most monstrous when he’s masked,” Doug told Bored Panda that horror needs to be subtle. The monster that we know, the one can see is the monster that we can think about rationally. And that’s far less frightening than the unknown, creeping, crawling in the dark.
In 2002 I lived in the east SF bay area with my husband, and 2 toddlers. I was grieving over the sudden death of my mother a month before. She’d had at major heart attack and died @ 52 yrs of age. On an average day, I left my babies at home with my husband to run a quick errand by myself. I drove a block over through downtown Hayward to hit up the grocery store. I was on my way home and stopped at a red light waiting to make a left turn. The intersection had all blind corners so it was difficult to see oncoming cars. My light turned green I glanced both ways waited the appropriate second and stepped on the gas pedal… It would not move. I tried again, nothing. The car behind me honked. I looked down under my pedals quickly to see if something had possibly rolled under the pedal and found nothing. I looked up and suddenly a huge work truck loaded down with equipment ran (his) red light at what must’ve been 50mph. I was stunned. I gasped, quickly pulled myself together, stepped on the gas pedal and it worked with no hesitation. Suddenly I smelled my mother’s favorite perfume… Really amazing experience.
I was curious to get Doug’s opinion about learning to separate what scary online stories are true and which ones are embellished (or even outright made up) for entertainment purposes alone. However, Doug believes that this might not be the right way to look at things. Instead, it’s best to enjoy the stories in full, whether they’re fact or fiction. A great story is great, regardless if it’s based on true events or sprung up from someone’s imagination.
“My professional expertise is limited to fiction, but I’ll say this: I’ve seen enough real magic and wonder in the world to make me think twice about whether the supernatural is real—and I think that’s a healthy thing. It’s perhaps less important to believe any given tale than it is to remain open to experiences while leaving room in your head and in your heart for belief.”
When I was 6 years old, I had a cat named Buster. Buster was actually my step-dad’s cat, but because I never had a cat before, I claimed him as my own. Suffice it to say, Buster didn’t like being hugged and coddled all the time by a little child, so he hated me. He avoided me at all costs. He was also an outdoor cat, so he would often spend most days outside and then come in for the night.
One night, Buster didn’t come back in the house. We usually fed him at night, so I was worried. Our area was also well-known for an abundance of coyotes. My parents were being a bit hush-hush about Buster’s disappearance, but I didn’t get the hint. That night, when I was drifting off to sleep, Buster jumped onto my bed. He lay down by my head and let me pet him until I fell asleep. Honestly, I was shocked because he had never done this before.
The next morning, I triumphantly walked downstairs and related to my parents that Buster now loved me because he slept in my bed during the night. My parents looked at me inquisitively and sat me down at the breakfast table to let me know that while they were outside the night before, they had found Buster’s body in the alley behind our house. They thought he had been harassed by a coyote. But, he was dead, so he couldn’t have slept in my bed that night.
To this day, I like to think that Buster just wanted to say goodbye and thank me for trying to love him in the only way a child knew how.
My family moved into an old house (200+ years) when I was 10. Uncle (weird guy) was going to help us move in and when we got inside the house he got all weird and left. Always avoided coming for birthdays etc. We always joked he saw a ghost and for some reason, we nicknamed the ghost Billy. When my little sister started talking she would say really weird things, like asking if we can shut her door at night so she doesn’t have to see the boy walking down the hallway. F**king creepy. Anyways we thought she was also just being a big weirdo, so we continued to have this Billy the Ghost joke. Something would get misplaced “must be Billy” yadda yadda. A few years later we ripped up the flooring because we wanted to go back to the original hardwood that had been covered up forever ago by old owners, and if you know anything about old houses you know they used to insulate the floor with newspaper when newspaper just became a thing. Decided to read some articles for fun, some talking about the first ever refrigerators, really cool things like that. Until we got to the creepy part, a mentally challenged boy named Billy who lived in our home, died while playing outside of it.
I saw a lot of s**t growing up in that house but I’m not a huge ghost believer. The newspaper was a f**king creepy coincidence though, given that for years we had an ongoing Billy the Ghost joke. Uncle also ended up telling us years later that when he pulled into the driveway and was outside of the house he just got this awful feeling.
I used to date a girl in college who lived 3 hours away. We would trade weekends – one at her school, one at my school. One day she got upset because she had driven all the way to see me and I was in an all-night study session (which she had known about) and couldn’t be home to see her. She texted me that she was going back to her place and then I never heard anything from her ever again. After 3 days of texting her trying to make sure she was okay, the texts started coming back as “number not found.” I sent her the stuff she’d left at my apartment in the mail and it returned as “no forwarding address.” Her instant messenger account (which I never messaged, but knew the name of) disconnected. And it gets weirder. I called her apartment land line and was told the people who had lived there had moved out (she had 3 roommates) and didn’t leave a number as to where they went. I got really freaked out and asked friends who worked in school admin to pull some strings, just to make sure she was alive. The school she was at didn’t have any records of her as a student. The license plate to her car wasn’t registered to anyone. None of our mutual friends ever saw her again. I called the police, but there were no car accidents involving anyone who fit her description in the stretch of road between our two schools that night, or in the two weeks after (I didn’t ask for a longer time frame because at that point she was already missing). Cops wouldn’t file a missing person because I wasn’t a family member.
To this day I have no idea what happened, why she freaked out on me so bad, or if she’s still alive or in witness protection or was erased from all time by an evil wizard. She literally disappeared without a trace.
It’s not surprising that scary stories, mysterious happenings, and tales about the dark underbelly of the human condition fascinate us, whether they’re fact or fiction. According to psychologist and well-being consultant Lee Chambers, from the UK, there might be an evolutionary explanation for this.
“When considering why the darker side of humanity and entertainment are so compelling, we have to first look at our evolutionary journey as human beings. For the majority of our existence, we were prey and always hyperaware of threats to our safety, which created a negativity bias that we are drawn towards,” the mental health expert went into detail with Bored Panda about why we find real horror stories, like true crime dramas, so compelling.
“In today’s safe and often sanitized world, we are rarely threatened significantly, and the ability to explore evil, frightening and gruesome entertainment is one of the few ways we can visit this part of humanity while remaining safe and comfortable. There is a level of novelty to it, it removes boredom quickly, and it helps us to discover our emotional limits while understanding the minds of those who go beyond social norms and potentially gaining knowledge of how we might avoid being victims ourselves. They also offer closure, with many stories ending with the mystery being solved, and the criminal being brought to a level of justice,” the psychologist told Bored Panda.
My family owns a decent sized horse boarding facility, and when we first had it going we used to do bed check as a family. Bed check is just making sure all the lights and fans were off as well as looking at the horses for injuries and if they had blankets during the winter. Well we had just got back from eating out and it was a moonless night during fall. As we stepped out of the truck this large light gray mass stood up and took off loping towards our pastures. It was about the size of a single cab pick up truck. It made no noises other than it hitting the ground as it ran. The only other proof that it was real to us was the horses that were turned out that night screamed and stampeded across the pasture it had jumped into. We did a double count of all the horses that night and not a single one was missing. I still have yet to see it again, and I hope I never do or at least there is some explanation for it.
When I was in uni I lived by myself, it was a nice little studio unit behind a house in a fairly decent area. I would honestly think nothing of walking places at night, there was a 24 hour MacDonald’s and a 7 eleven that I would walk to, often between 12am to 3am since I was a massive night owl.
Well one day after finishing an essay at about 2 in the morning I decided I was hungry but didn’t really have anything easy to cook so I decided to walk down to the 7 eleven and grab a pie or something. However as soon as I opened my door I was overcome by a suffocating feeling of fear, my heart started pounding, I started shaking, the works. Telling myself that this was ridiculous I walked out to the street with the intent to still go but that was as far as I got. I was terrified for no reason that I could understand, but no less intensely despite that. I ran back inside and ate dry cereal.
Later the next day I heard about a group of drunk guys that were causing havoc down near the intersection at the 7 eleven, they’d beaten up someone from my uni. Even though I can’t explain it, I’m convinced something bad would have happened to me that night if I had ignored that feeling and gone anyway.
My parents had been married for maybe a month. They were in bed sound asleep when all of a sudden, my mom jumps up and wakes up my dad. “Jimmy! Jimmy! There’s blood everywhere! We have to help them! Please!” My dad tried his best to calm her down and figure out what she was talking about. My mom had explained that she saw a car with a German license plate on the side of the road. That there had been an accident and they needed help. My dad tried to console her…to explain that it was all just a bad dream, but she wasn’t having it. So to appease her, they got in the car and drove to the spot my mom thought the accident was. And sure enough, at the exact spot my mom said, there was a car on the side of the road with German plates and emergency flashers on. Upon closer investigation, there was nobody in the car. If they needed help, help had already come.
Psychologist Lee explained that seeing evil things portrayed on screen and the fact that they’re happening to someone else, not us, can even have a bit of a “comforting element” to it.
“It can take us on an emotional rollercoaster, have us trying to solve the puzzle and test our fear in a controlled way. The permission to explore evil is powerful, as we so rarely get the chance elsewhere, and in itself, it is healthy and normal in moderation,” he noted how people can use these stories to explore the boundaries of their fear.
However, like with most things in life, too much can’t be good for you. “The challenge we face is the fact that consuming too much of this can desensitize us, and cause us to become less empathetic to the suffering of others, more fearful of our own environment, and potentially be more likely to use aggression ourselves. It can also cause us to be triggered by our own previous adverse experiences, make it harder to manage our own emotional balance, and increase our stress levels, so moderating our consumption is something we should have front of mind, even when we get embroiled in the latest series that is pulling us in.”
I was working at a hotel in Albuquerque the graveyard shift. I had been talking to the security guard and he asked if he could get a ride home, so instead of waiting for 30 minutes for my shift to end I just left and left a note for my boss that said I left early because my brother was stranded outside of town and needed me to get him.(total lie on my part but I needed a good excuse to leave early) I drop off the security guard at his place then go home and go to sleep. A couple of hours of sleep and I wake up to my phone ringing..it was my brother…he tells me he is stranded outside of town and he needs me to go get him. I tell my brother the lie I told my boss and how much of a coincidence his calling me is. He says that’s not weird he will show me what’s weird when I get there. I get there and ask him what is weird. He puts his phone up to my ear and plays a message that he got when he woke up that morning. It’s a voice that kinda sounded computerized but mostly just creepy sounding. It says: YOUR STUCK Freaked us both out. Never figured out where the call came from. Strangest creepiest thing that’s ever happened to me in my life.
In 1975 I was flying an Army helicopter doing night training in Black-out conditions near Fort Hood Texas. I was flying down a draw with a small seasonal creek in it which was the new paradigm, designed to mask the aircraft from Russian radar. I was at the controls, my co-pilot on the map. We were low and slow tree top to tree top. Suddenly I had the compelling sure knowledge that I must do an emergency climb, which I did climbing almost vertically. As I pulled the guts out of the aircraft and with my nose pointed up to the stars in my chin bubble I observed the leaves of a cottonwood tree being pressed aside by the plexiglass of my chin bubble.. After a couple of seconds and now a few hundred feet above the canopy my co-pilot and I stared at each other with wide eyes and the knowledge we barely avoided death. “How did you see that f**king tree?” he asked me. I never did tell him that I didn’t, because I have never known how to explain it. I went on to fly helicopters for thirty-seven years, accident free and I still can’t explain what happened that night.
After my grandpa died my grandma said she could feel someone getting into bed with her nearly every night, but we didn’t believe her. One night I was watching TV in the living room trying to fall asleep when I heard footsteps in the hallway leading to my grandma’s bedroom. I looked out into the hallway and couldn’t see anyone, and this happened for probably a minute. Immediately after the footsteps stopped the TV turned off. I stayed awake for another hour or so but didn’t hear anything after that.
Psychologist Lee told Bored Panda that modern TV has “a range of psychological hooks” built into it to keep us glued to the screen. Things like cliffhangers at the end of an episode or the autoplay function to seamlessly move from one episode to the next create the conditions that make us want to consume more content. Or rather, they make it easier to do so.
“Watching the latest shows isn’t a bad thing, entertainment can be a great way to relax, often starts great conversations and helps us to explore ourselves in the context of others. It is worth remembering that some TV as an addition to a modern well-lived life is a net positive, but as soon as it starts to invade your sleep, impact what you eat, and how much you move your body, it starts subtracting from the fundamentals that keep us in an optimal place as human beings,” Lee said that we have to be mindful of how much time we spend in front of the screen, no matter how engaging the stories we see there might be.
October 20th, I came home from class at around 11:30 and no one else was home. I hung out at home for a bit and at 2:30 I was overcome with sleepiness. Being the bum that I am, I laid down in my bed and set a timer on my phone for a 20 minute nap.
I fell asleep quickly and after around five minutes I was woken up by my bedroom door opening and had a split second of panic before my dog jumping up onto my bed and laying down next to me. I fell back asleep.
After another 5 minutes of sleep, I instantly jolted awake because I was certain there was someone standing next to my bed, behind me. I assumed it was my mother, who would likely be pissed that I was sleeping in the middle of the day. I woke and turned around in one movement and there was no one there. Weird.
I checked my phone and had another 8 minutes of sleep left. I went back to sleep only to be woken by my phone ringing. It was my mother. She said that my great-aunt, who had been in the hospital after a stroke-like event for a week, had died around one o’clock.
My mom then said she knew my aunt was going to die today because she had seen a wraith (a sort of ghost, usually warning of someone dying) that morning, my mom is Scottish and very superstitious but I don’t believe in any of that. She said that when she woke up that morning to take my brother to school, she went in my room to see if I was still asleep, she saw a wraith standing next to my bed.
My brain s**t itself.
When I was little, I would go over to my grandparent’s house frequently with my sister and cousins. My grandparents have an attached mother-in-law apartment, so we always played in there while the grown-ups would talk in the main house. One day we were playing hot and cold with a little key we found in the apartment. While one person was hiding it, they accidentally dropped it and it fell under the door to the basement. I opened the door to get it and when I did, there was a man standing at the bottom of the stairs that I didn’t recognize. He had a bunch of stuff in his arms, like he had rummaged through my grandparent’s basement. (Keep in mind, my grandparents were hoarders, their basement was full of stuff that they either forgot about or put in storage, some of it being relatively valuable). When he saw me, he yelled at me “GO BACK UPSTAIRS, KID! GO!” I was so freaked out, I bolted and immediately ran into the main house to tell my parents. My dad went into the basement to look, but couldn’t find anyone. To this day they all tell me I imagined it, but my sister and cousins insist it’s real too. About 5 years later, both of my grandparents passed away, so I was helping my dad clean out their basement. Turns out they were missing a ton of stuff. I haven’t gone back in that house since.
Woke up from an unsettling dream because my wrists were really sore. Turns out my boyfriend-at-the-time had his hands clamped tightly around my wrists because I had full on tried to strangle him in his sleep, and he was trying to get me off his throat. To this day I have no memory or idea why I was strangling him.
TL;DR Tried to strangle past boyfriend in my sleep.
“If you notice yourself starting to delay your sleep, take shortcuts socializing, eating, or keeping fit to keep your TV company, or feel like it’s in control of you, it’s time to take a step back and build a routine that you can control while still enjoying your favorite shows in moderation. It can even be a lot of fun to take it more slowly and build up excitement and anticipation for the next episode!” Of course, this advice fits our love of all types of media and activities, not just TV. No matter how much you love scary stories and entertainment, don’t forget to live your best lives to the fullest, Pandas.
There was a small door that led to attic space in my bedroom (11 yrs old to 13) and it became habit that I would shut the door as I walked into my bedroom a couple times a week. I didn’t think anything of it, just assumed my mom didn’t close it all the way when she left it.
After a while I made the mistake of joking with her when she made a comment about me not picking up after myself, I said something like ‘every night I have to close the attic door behind you, how about you shut it all the way when you’re done?’ She then informed me that she hasn’t been in the attic in months. Asked my brother… nope. Asked my father… nope. So then I started to pay really close attention to it. Making sure it was closed in the morning, checking it after school, checking blaster dinner. Then head up to bed and… open.
After a couple months of wondering, studying, experimenting, I thought I’d see what happens if I just don’t shut it. Opened the door before school and checked it after school, still ooen. Checked it after dinner, still open. Before bed, still open. Now I’m laying in bed, mind going crazy with the open door across the room. Decide to check it out so I roll over and focus on the black space into the attic… to see a face staring back at me. Bolt downstairs, wake parents, get ridiculed by brother, switch bedrooms w brother, move into new house about 6 months later (due to expanding household). New physics teacher and his wife bought our house.
I could’ve forgotten all about that event and chalked it up to me having an over-active mind. But then my senior year I discovered how awesome our physics teacher was. Became my favorite class and by far, my favorite teacher. End of senior year my friend and I took our VHS camcorder around town, doing mostly silly things, but then took it to my old house to see what they’ve done with the place. We got a very fun tour, I got to tell stories about all the projects my dad did that were still part of the house.
Then the wife leads us upstairs to show us the sewing room. I ask (jokingly), ‘Notice anything strange in this room?’ and her face goes blank. On camera, she asks what I mean and I try to shrug it off but end up saying something about the attic door. She confirmed that every time she comes up to sew, the attic door is open. She then tells us that the second day of being in the house, their dog (German Shepherd) had gone into the room but would not go back downstairs. He started barking and could not be consoled, and then jumped through the window, landing on the tin roof over the porch and then running off. The dog did not come back until the next day and has not stepped foot into the hallway that leads upstairs since.
I had the initial thought that I could show my parents and brother the story I had on film but I decided to just let it be.
‘Attic’ is the space in this house that runs parallel (like a cape cod) to the second floor, not above it.
I was 11 and 12 when this was going on so I did not immediately science it all out.
When I told my family that I saw a face, it was just my brother that ridiculed me. My father definitely would’ve checked it out for actual humans because one of the first comments he made was about a family that recently had a coin collection stolen from their house across the street.
This event itself was easy to shrug off because I could chalk it up to a lot of other possibilities, like the ones mentioned below. It wasn’t until 5 years later that it became freaky. The look on the wife’s face before she told us about the dog was very telling. Like something they decided to never put much thought into… now my story added depth to their experience and their story added depth to mine.
This did not make me a believer in paranormal. I told the story as a collection of details, not as a confirmation of ghosts. What it did do was make me never be able to be a nonbeliever.
I was in first grade, hanging out at recess with a friend. He was shooting some hoops outside and I was playing DS, sitting on the pavement. I remember him asking me if he could make a shot from halfway across the court. I told him he could try but he probably wouldn’t make it while looking at my DS. Suddenly, my dad asks me what I mean, and when I look up I’m sitting on my living room carpet, talking to my dad, and it’s dark out. I was sitting in the same position, playing the same game, same level, and same exact spot in the level. Everything continued normally that night, and I didn’t tell anyone at the time, but looking back it is really freaky. I thought it was a dream for the longest time, but thinking about it it didn’t really feel like a dream, and I don’t really remember dreams that well.
TL;DR: Teleported through space and time once
When I was younger my mom was dating this guy (who we will call JB) and after a few months he invited my mom, me, and my brother to go with him and his son (about my age) out to his lake house for the weekend. It was right on Lake Michigan but up in a more secluded area which was pretty awesome. Well we got up there and for one I already felt really creeped out. It was a smaller two (maybe 3 if you count the really big attic) story house that had the living room/dining room/kitchen on the first floor and had 2 bedrooms on the second floor.
His grandfather had helped to build the place with his (the grandfathers) dad and then he lived there for most of his life working as a tailor in the nearby town. We went up to the attic to get some beach toys because that’s where JB kept all of that stuff so he didn’t have to haul it every time he went out there. Well when we went up to the attic I noticed in the corner covered in some dust and cobwebs about 8 mannequins, some just upper torsos, and some full body. Not too out of the ordinary considering a tailor had lived there.
Me and JB’s son slept down in the living room on the couch since there were no more beds, and near midnightish I heard on of the stairs squeak a few times. Figuring it was my mom coming to check to make sure we were asleep I told his son to be quiet and quickly turned the TV off and hid under the covers. After not hearing any noise for a few minutes I looked out from under the covers and saw three of the mannequins moving around in the kitchen. Like their body parts weren’t moving but they were sliding around the kitchen.
I swore I was dreaming but was so terribly frightened I hid back under the covers with a small yelp and then heard the dragging on the floor coming closer and peaked out seeing one of them just a few feet from the couch. I hid back under the covers and shut my eyes tight hoping it would go away.
The next morning I got up and tried not to think about it, really really hoping it was just a bad dream but when we went back up to the attic to put the beach stuff back the mannequins were in different spots and weren’t covered in cobwebs any more….. Don’t believe me if you don’t want to but it happened and I’ve been scared s**tless of mannequins ever since.
In my childhood home I would often hear touch typing coming from the computer downstairs early in the mornings. I didn’t think much of it at first – my parents worked from home and it wouldn’t be uncommon to wake up in the morning to hear Mum typing away at the computer.
One day I got up and called out to Mum assuming she was down there working as I could hear typing. No answer. No one was down there at all. I was sure I heard typing. This began happening regularly. I figured I was so used to hearing typing from downstairs that I was hearing things that weren’t there, so I didn’t mention anything to anyone figuring I was going a bit crazy.
This happened on and off over a period of 6 months. The sound of fast typing and fast, furious clicking of a mouse as if someone was frustrated.
One morning I was eating my breakfast when I heard Mum at the top of the stairs call out to me, “You’re not down there on that computer already?!” I froze and ran out to her. I was amazed she had heard it too; she was convinced she could hear typing, yet no one was down there. I told her about all the times I’d been hearing it and then my sister opened up about hearing it regularly too when no one was down there. I wasn’t crazy after all.
I set out to try catch whatever was causing it and to try discover a rational explanation for it. I’d sprint out of my bedroom, to the top of the stairs where I was able to look down into the room to see if anyone was at the computer. No such luck; every time I got there it stopped.
I think it went on for a couple of years and we learnt just to kind of live with it as it wasn’t every day.
I was down there once when the ceiling light globe in the center of the room began flashing very fast, strobe-like. It then exploded and glass went shattering all across the room. I was lucky I ran out of the room when it started happening because I was scared (the whole mysterious typing, you know). If I hadn’t ran I would’ve been hit with bits of light bulb.
Around that same time I was on the computer at home by myself when something happened that resulted in me never being alone in that room again. I felt and heard this really sharp intake of breath directly behind my right shoulder near my ear. I’ve never ran so fast in my life and was hesitant going in that room ever again. Prior to that, the whole typing thing had just been something weird and a bit spooky – not scary. Still makes my heart race when I think about it today.
Have never really encountered anything like this before or since all those events. I don’t particularly believe ghosts either but I’m open to the possibilities of “something” in which scientists don’t have a proper explanation for yet.
TL;DR Ghost was a proficient touch-typer who had a breathing problem.
A friend of mine’s house burnt to the ground when I was younger, and his family moved across the street in a house that they rented for a bit.
The basement in said rented house was unfinished, so being middle schoolers we decided we would use the basement to ride skateboards and scooters.
So after one night of skateboarding, we head upstairs to watch scary movies and pass out. Neither of his parents nor his sister was home (went to his grandparents for the night if I remember correctly)
As we were getting close to sleep, we hear something hit the ground really hard on the concrete of the basement, so being dumb teenagers we decide to investigate.
As we open the door to the basement and peer down, we just see a skateboard floating mid air. We sit and watch for a few seconds and then it drops suddenly, and very violently.
Needless to say, we packed our s**t up and sprinted back to my house. Not much sleeping happened that night. His family moved out soon after and we tend to avoid that house as much as possible.
I was home alone for a weekend a few years ago while I was still in highschool. After school one day I was driving home, and when I passed in front of my house I thought I saw some old lady in white clothes in my sisters room looking through the window. I thought it was stupid, so I went in the room to check out what it actually was, but I couldn’t find anything. I pretty much forgot about it until later that night I got a call from a very panicked and scared neighbor saying there was some old lady pacing back and forth in my sister’s room. I still have no idea what it was, and I’ve never seen anything like it since.
Sometimes when I go to bed, I wake up with deep line cuts on my body. Each time on different spots: on my neck, leg, arm. See dried blood around the wound and on my sheets.
Still don’t know what the hell happened. It’s only my bed and my sheets…and my nails are cut short mostly. I don’t sleepwalk.
Several years back I was with some friends of mine taking care of a neighbor’s cat. Friend 1 (call her N) was the person who was actually in charge of this, but asked Friend 2 (A) and I to come with her. We didn’t really understand why, but she said that the place just gave her weird vibes, and that was good enough for us to come with her.
We get into the house and it’s an old place, really creaky and already kind of… off, I guess. N shows us where the cat’s food dish is and she asks A to get the food from the other room. N then asks me to find the cat. I go off, looking around the house for this cat. I’m not exactly a cat person, so I really wasn’t looking so much for the cat but looking around the place. There’s all the things you’d expect in an elderly lady’s house, knitting stuff, old pictures, paintings, etc. Nothing really that out of the ordinary.
By this time A had gotten the cat food and the two of them were waiting for me to come back with the cat. The lady had given us specific instructions about feeding the cat, making sure it was there and stuff. I go back to the kitchen where the food dishes were and tell them that I’ve checked the entire first floor and upstairs, but I can’t find the cat. A then asks if I’ve checked the basement, to which I say no. N leads us over to the basement, opens the door and turns on the light. It already looked sketchy as hell, and I wasn’t gonna go down there. I say this, and N agrees. A shrugs her shoulders and starts going down the stairs. This is when s**t goes down.
To the day, N and I swear we saw the same thing. People have tried to convince me it must have been something else, but I know what I saw.
A’s walking down the stairs and this lady appears in the doorway N and I are standing in. She’s dressed in a long white dress and is extremely pale, and she seems to have this glow around her. She takes a step down towards A and looks back up at N and I. She brings her finger up to her lips like she’s telling us to be quiet, then turns around and pushes A down the stairs. Hard. A goes flying down the stairs, screaming. N and I are frozen in place, chills going through our body. A lands at the bottom and turns around and sees the lady. The lady smiles and walks past N and I and disappears. A gets up slowly, clearly in pain. She gets up and turns around, asking if she has any bruises on her back.
There were two dark handprints on her back.
N and I nodded our heads and said we’d show her after we got the hell out of there. We decided f**k the cat, we’re not coming in this god damn house ever again.
To this day I have no explanation for that. N and I swear we saw the same thing.
TL;DR- Taking care of an elderly lady’s cat leads to a friend being pushed down the basement stairs by a ghost lady.
One winter night, I took a walk to a park in my town and saw a guy sleeping on the ground. Even though it was very cold out, I didn’t think to call an ambulance. Never saw him before so I just kinda stood there and watched the guy sleep for a moment and moved on.
A week later, I read in the papers that he died from the cold that night. The paper said his name and that he was homeless for a while. I felt really guilty but eventually forgot about him.
A few months later, I get a letter in the mail from a local hospital ADDRESSED TO HIM. It turns out that he used MY address when he was at the hospital for some reason. I turned white.
My wife and I were asleep one night and I woke up suddenly and felt like someone was at the foot of our bed. I opened my eyes and saw a woman standing there who looked just like this at the foot of my bed. She slowly turned towards me and just stared. Not being fully awake yet, my brain couldn’t get fully afraid, but was instead curious and confused as to why there was another person in the room. I sat up and reached toward the woman, trying to figure out if she was real or not. When my hand reached her face, she disappeared. My wife woke up at this point and asked me what I was doing. All I could say was that I thought I saw something. We both laid back down facing each other and closed our eyes. Not a minute later, we both heard this guttural roar/growl that sounded like a mix between a bear, lion, and howler monkey, emanating from behind our headboard. There’s nothing behind that wall since it’s an outside 2nd story wall. She immediately began screaming and I searched the house from top to bottom. We never found out what made that noise. Took us a while to sleep in our bedroom again.
When I was a kid, my brother and I would get stuck with babysitting the neighbors kid; his name was Alex. Alex was really fond of my lego set that I had in the corner of my room–facing the window, he would play for hours (staying preoccupied) while my brother and I would play videogames in the living room.
So one night, when I fell asleep on the couch (while babysitting), my brother came to me and said, “Alex is under your bed and shaking..” I asked, “What’s wrong with him?” My brother told me to follow him into the room and try to talk him back out from under the bed.
I go inside to find him on the verge of tears as he was trembling profusely under my bed. I asked Alex, “What’s wrong? Why are you under there?” Alex whimpered, “Him…” while looking at the my sliding closet. As I walked toward the bed in order to help him out, he ran; he ran all the way back over to his house and waited on his front steps until his parents got home.
Now, my parents were out to dinner with his, and he explained the whole story in detail to both his parents and mine; his explanation sent shivers down my spine when my brother and I left the house to meet up with his parents and find out what happened.
My mom told me me that Alex was playing with my legos and hear a slight murmur from my closet, something that resembled a faint vocalization of, “come here.” He said that he looked behind him and noticed the closet had a slight opening with light peering in from my lamp. He stared at the crack until he saw an eyelid open. He told us that there was a man in my closet. Alex then hid under my bed after he gave out a slight yelp (which attracted my brothers attention).
My family rushes back into my house and into my room. In horror, we find my closet door rocked open and a few things missing. My window had been left open, when it was previously closed, and a few things knocked over which had not been touched previously.
We still don’t know what force we were reckoning after that evening. Thank god nothing more severe happened.
This is ongoing, and only happens when I’m home alone.
About five months ago I got home from work at about 10pm, and to enter the living room you have to walk past the basement stairs. I did so without actually looking straight down them, but had full vision of them- there was a huge brown head at the bottom of the stairs, opening and closing its mouth. I took about five steps past the stairs before it caught up with me, and then I was scared that it was a person in my basement. I called a friend of mine to come over, she did, and we didn’t find anything down there. All the doors were locked, nothing had been moved.
A few months after that I was watching tv upstairs before work. I heard a noise like something had been thrown across the room in the basement. I froze for a sec, looked around, and saw that all my pets were in the same room as me. I called my friend again, told her to stay on the line as I checked out the basement.
All the doors were locked, nothing was moved. I’ve heard that noise (it sounds like someone is throwing something large and heavy at the wall) about five more times, and still haven’t figured out what it is. Haven’t seen the face again, but I always feel someone watching me when I’m in the kitchen (which is at the top of the stairs).
when me and my sister were 10 and 12 respectively,we shared a room.A stranger came at night and put his arm through the window and cut my hair.In our country, people use hair to bewitch others people.
This happened 3 times with 3 different people.
I grew up in 2-story house in the Philippines. Upstairs, there was a huge playroom, and 4 bedrooms. When I was around 11 years old, me and my babysitter were hanging out in the playroom. She went to the bathroom, and I got bored so I went downstairs to check out the fridge. I heard her come out of the bathroom, and she started screaming my name. After the 3rd time, she stopped. I thought she figured out that I was downstairs. After a few minutes, I saw her coming down the stairs. As she looked at me, she froze and just stared at me. I asked her what’s wrong, and she said she just saw me in the playroom before she went downstairs. She was really freaked out about it, and I don’t know–I used to not believe in these things so I just laughed at her.
The second time it happened, I was probably 16. I was hanging out at my brother’s room cause it’s the room with the fastest internet. And thenI heard my 6-year old brother (I have 2 brothers) calling me and looking around for me, I didn’t answer back and just waited for him to find me. I saw him go in my room, and then he got quiet. I thought he was looking for something and just found it. As he was walking out of my room, he saw me in my brother’s room, and he just froze and stared like my babysitter. I asked him what’s wrong and he said, “Why are there 2 of you?” And that’s when I freaked out and ran to my mom’s room. She laughed at us, but I remember sleeping in her room that night.
The last time it happened was when I was 20. My parents went on vacation with my youngest brother, so me and my other siblings had to stay at my grandparents night. The first night they were away, me and my sister decided to go home and get more clothes. We were both in my room, cause she likes to borrow some of my clothes, and I told her that I’m going to take a shower. That’s when she left and went to her room to pack more clothes. I went to the bathroom, and started brushing my teeth. As I was about to get in the shower, my sister walked in the bathroom, and she looked at me so weirdly. And her face turned pale, so I asked her what’s wrong. She said she went back to my room and she was talking to me, but then she had to pee so she went to the bathroom and found me there. We both looked at each other, grabbed our stuff, and left.
I still don’t know why or what it is, but it still creeps me out when I think about it.
Used to be a security guard on a campus that was a military fort since the Revolution. It was updated throughout the years and was last used in WWII, which by then the campus was bristling with artillery and earth/concrete bunkers, as well as many brick and mortar buildings.
When it became a college campus, the barracks, hospital, officer’s house, everything was converted to classrooms and dorms.
There was one building on campus, a hotel where students learned bartending and hotel services, that was infamous for being haunted.
My shift was 11PM to 7AM, starting at midnight the last coworker left and I had the entire campus to myself. My job was to make sure everything was locked and lights were off, and to scare off any drunks or potheads trying to get into the old concrete bunkers.
But that hotel. It rarely had living guests.
I would go through the building and turn off all the lights, only to turn around an hour later and see a light on again.
I would stand in the hotel lobby – after patrolling and confirming I was alone – and hear things moving on the floor above me.
I heard a chain dragging across the room above me, then a distant scream.
One night I had another officer with me for once, and as we were talking in the lobby the temperature dropped and we heard a little girl giggling.
In the basement, I would see shadows dart across the conference room.
However, the biggest thing that made me “nope out” was when I was in the lobby and looked up the staircase. I saw a woman’s legs with black shoes walk from the right to left on the next floor up… And straight through a wall.
Keep in mind that’s just the hotel. It used to be the officer’s quarters; stories say an officer died if the flu around WWII, and before that a man was executed during the Revolution for being accused of being a spy. Like most hauntings, however, I do not know how much truth the stories hold.
I didn’t even talk about the voices I heard in the basement of the old hospital, or the shadow people wandering the colonial graveyard in the middle of the campus.
Footsteps following me in the darkness faces staring at me from the bunker ruins (all of which I would check and make sure it wasn’t just kids trying to hide from me)…
Ah, I miss that place.
When I was a younger kid I had a really hard time getting to sleep and I normally got to bed really late at night. My mom has always been that way too. So, my mom mentioned that she heard something at night and wanted me to stay up a little longer to hear it. I did, it was summer anyway.
Fast forward to that night, it’s about 1 in the morning. My mom said it usually happens during her night time routine, so she told me to sit in the living room and listen while she went to brush her teeth.
That’s when I heard it. There were footsteps upstairs. You could hear the footsteps start at the window in my parents room then walk away towards the other bedroom (baby sister). It sounded muffled until the footsteps arrived to the landing of the stairs, then it got louder because the landing was hardwood floor. After a few steps then you would hear the footsteps on the carpet again when they arrived at my sisters room. But this time, they didn’t go all the way to the window. They went to my sister’s crib and paused for a moment, before continuing back to the window in my parents room.
I listened to this for about 5 to 10 minutes, with the footsteps taking about a minute to go from the window, to the crib, and back. My mom then came out of the bathroom and said “I told you I heard something.”
Well, we then opened the door and it stopped completely for the night (as far as we know at least).
The next night I do the same thing and hear it again. So I open up the door as send our dogs up (a German Shepherd and a Border Collie), who get to the top of the stairs and immediately turn around and bolt down the stairs.
My stepdad was there that night and quickly ran upstairs after the dogs came down and looked everywhere. There was not a single place he didn’t look, there was nothing to be found and the windows were still locked.
Couldn’t explain it for years, and the neighbors that moved in after us apparently heard the same footsteps.
This happened years ago when I was around 17. One night I was up late watching TV and fell asleep on the couch. I woke up at around 4:30AM and went to bed, everything seemed normal.
The next morning, my mom asked where I had gone the night before. I was real confused.
The night before, she and my dad had been woken up by the sound of the front door of the house closing. They went downstairs at 2:00AM and looked outside. My car was not in the driveway. They figured that I’d gone to give a drunk friend a ride home or something so they weren’t worried about it. My dad sat on the couch (the same one I had fallen asleep and woken up on) and ate a midnight snack, watched some TV, and went back to bed around 2:30AM.
We figured out that I had fallen asleep sometime between 12:30AM and 1:30AM because that’s when the TV show I remember watching as I drifted off was on. The soles of my feet were extremely dirty, as though I’d been walking around outside with no shoes on.
So, I disappeared, with my car, for a few hours that night. I have absolutely no memory of what happened, and if mom hadn’t said anything that morning I wouldn’t have even known it happened.
Sharing my mom’s two stories that always gave me the chills:
1: When she was younger, her grandmother was staring out the window and the gates to the house were swinging back and forth (it was a hot summer day with no breeze). My mom asked her what she was looking at, and she replied that it was angels moving the gate and that they had come for her. She (grandmother) died that night.
2 involves my grandfather, who died from a brain tumor before I was born. After he died, my grandmother would hear a loud knocking at the front door every night around the same time, but when she would get up to check, no one was there. She thought it might just be neighborhood kids and didn’t think much of it, until one night around the same time she heard the knocking, and then every framed picture on her walls came crashing down at the same time. She went to see her priest the next day, and after some talking, she realized her husband, who was blind as a bat, was buried without his glasses. Per the priest’s suggestion, she went and buried the glasses next to his grave, and all the knocking stopped after that.
Make of those what you will!
I had just moved back to my home town after attending an art school for two years. The only apartment I could find was a really dumpy loft over a warehouse for 50 dollars a month. This was in 1971, way before these kind of apartments were cool. This was cheap even for back then and though I wondered a bit about that it wasn’t totally out of the norm. It did have tall windows and skylights, so it worked great for a studio.
Since it was a loft it was a big wide open space with the bathroom being the only room. There were two other doors, one to the stairs down to the street and the fire escape door that had one of those fire alarms on it if you go out of it. The bathroom was like a box/cubicle with a shower and sink and toilet.
I had been living there for about a month when one night I woke up and went to use the bathroom. The door had a small slide lock on it and I always locked it out of habit. Just as I was about to leave I heard heavy footsteps walk up to the bathroom door and I watched in horror as the doorknob turned and rattled, shaking the whole door.
It was the first time in my life where I was so scared that I actually felt my body go completely numb. I thought for sure that someone had gotten in and I was now going to be raped and killed. The lock was a little whimpy thing a granny could have broken. The doorknob rattled several more times then something hit the door really hard. I then heard the footsteps walk away and go down the steps. I heard the door to the street open and close, then silence.
I think it took me nearly 30 minutes to get the courage to leave that little bathroom. When I finally did I turned on every light in the place and went to inspect the door to the street. There were three locks on that door, two of them could only be locked from the inside and those were locked. Nothing could have come in or gone out that way. I even checked the fire escape but it was locked in a similar way.
I couldn’t sleep the rest of that night.
As it turned out that was the scariest thing to happen in that loft. After that, I would hear footsteps and doors open and close all the time, and a few other not so scary things. That place convinced me and quite a few others that these things were real. I ended up living there for three years and would have stayed longer but the place got sold and the new owners wanted to move into the loft themselves.
They only lived there 2 months before moving out….the pu**ies
My parents had just had their first child, my oldest sister, Cathy. They had been living in Italy at the time (my dad was in the Air Force) and had brought her back to the US to introduce her to the grandparents (my dad’s parents). So their first night there, my mom was asleep in the front bedroom, jet-lagged. My dad had gone out to hang out with his brothers. And in the middle of the night, this woman walks into my mom’s room, waking her up. She sit’s down on the bed and says, “Shh, it’s ok! I just wanted to welcome you to the family.” My mom was scared, obviously, but figured this was some relative or family friend or something that came over. The woman walks over to the bassinet where my baby sister was sleeping. “Is this your daughter?” My mom nodded. “She’s beautiful! It’s lovely to meet you both.” And then she leaves. My mom wakes up the next day and is having breakfast with my grandmother when she brings it up. “Who was the woman that came over last night?” My grandmother had no idea what she was talking about. My mom told her the whole story and my grandmother asked what she looked like. My mom said, “She was tall, had long white hair and was wearing a blue dress.” My grandmother’s face went as white as a sheet. She rummaged through some old pictures and pulled one out. “Is this her?” she asked my mom who nodded in return. “That’s MY mother! She’s been dead for 20 years and we buried her in a blue dress.”
I used to work doing maintenance at historic properties. There was a historic house museum I worked at when it wasn’t open to the public. It was part of a whole landmark site, there was a visitor’s center with offices and then the house was about half a mile up a dirt road in a wooded area. Sometimes I worked with a crew, but there were a lot of times I was there alone. One winter day, when it was really cloudy and dark, I was working alone to get ready to replace some electric work on the exterior of the house. I went inside and turned off the circuit to the whole property, and I tested it. It was off. I locked the doors and went outside to work. After about an hour, I got down from my ladder and started walking around the house and then one of the lights inside the house TURNED ON. I started to freak out, but thought that maybe someone was playing a joke on me… I called the visitor’s center on my walkie-talkie, and confirmed that the only other person who was working that day was still there and hadn’t left, and that all the keys to the house were present and accounted for. That’s when I freaked out and ran the half mile up to the office. I made my coworker come back with me to check out what was going on, but when we got to the house, the light was off again- but the bulb was still warm. All the doors were still locked and the circuit was still off. Still gives me shivers to this day.
tl;dr: light turns on by itself in old house when the electricity is off, which is literally impossible and super spooky
So a few years back, probably 6-7 years, my family was living in our previous home. This was our second house in we had in Ohio, the first house was about to streets over from our second house. Well one night my mom woke me up and was acting really panicked. She grabbed my brother, who was probably 5 at the time, and told me to go outside. It was about 4 in the morning, and once we all got outside my dad tried to calm my mom down. He asked her what was wrong, and she had explained that she had a dream that we were all gonna die from carbon monoxide poisoning if we stayed in the house. Then my dad told her that all the detectors were working perfectly fine and we decided to go back inside. We didn’t smell anything nor did the detectors go off, so we went to bed.
The next day my mom was watching the morning news before we went to school. The first story for the day was that a local family was rushed out of their home because of a carbon monoxide leak in their home. Which could have been just coincidence, but then the news station showed the house. It was our old house that we just moved out of.
There is actually a few stories that are pretty supernatural that I have about my family, but this is the shortest one to be honest.
Seven years ago I lived in a two story farmhouse. It was built in 1908 and was both large and old. I was packing clothes and putting them in a small unused bedroom. I was wearing my MP3 player and [the last time I checked] it showed three fourths battery life.
I was on my fourth [or so] trip and was hauling a load of shirts on hangers. It occurred to me the closet was empty too, “Perfect, I’ll just hang ’em back up in there”. This closet was almost a second room. It had a short glossy wooden door. The area of was thrice as long as wide, with hardwood floors. The lacquer still smelled, even though I’m sure it was fresh a hundred years ago. I ducked fully inside and thought, “This is a weird little place to be.” Suddenly, the music doubled in volume and changed to something that WASN’T music. It was like … I don’t even know … rapid nonsense. Fast electronic babbling. It scared the entire F**K out of me. I flew straight out, looked at my player and it was dead.
I’m a pretty rational guy, that mp3 player would sometimes show more battery life than it actually had, it’s done that before. And maybe the sounds were some sort of malfunction before shutting down. I don’t really believe in ghosts, but I’m telling you… it shocked and frightened me to the core. My skin felt electric for an hour after. I never felt comfortable in that room again.
TL;DR: Entered a creepy closet, MP3 player screamed gibberish and died.
The house I grew up in was about 100 years old by the time my parents bought it. I lived there until I was 16. For as long as I can remember, I saw what I described as “a girl that was pink and see through”. I always called her Pam. It’s been 10 years since I lived in that house and I still remember her vividly. My dad got a bit weirded out when I would talk about Pam and finally when I was 13, my mom put me in therapy because Pam was still something I brought up regularly. In order to stop my parents from thinking I was crazy, I just stopped talking about Pam completely and went on with life. That was until my parents decided to put the house up for sale when I was 16.
Just two weeks before moving into our new house, I was sleeping, but was woken up by Pam standing in my doorway and pointing into the bathroom that was directly across the hall. All Pam said was “look, my mom.” And when I looked to see who she was pointing at, I saw a woman hanging by a cord from the light fixture in the bathroom. I remember the woman looked as though she had been hanging there for a while, when all of a sudden the woman’s boot fell off and I abruptly woke up. I ran into my parents room to tell them what happened, and my mom looked at me disappointed because I was taking about Pam again after having kept quiet about her for years. I concluded that it was just a bad dream and went back to bed with no other incidences.
Until a few days later. I was once again asleep, and dreaming that I was woken up by crying coming from the bathroom across the hall. I got out of bed and walked over to see what was going on. At that point, I saw the same woman that was hanging from the bathroom light fixture, sobbing and holding a very real little girl under the water in the bathtub. It was then that I realized that the little girl was the little pink see through girl I had seen my entire life. It was Pam. And she was not moving.
I immediately woke up and I was crying uncontrollably. I was 16 years old, and I ran into my parents room like a 5 year old, and jumped into bed with my mom (my dad was working at the time). I told my mom what had happened and my mom could see how upset I was and was trying to calm me down. At that same moment, the pink and transparent version of Pam walked through the door. I looked at my mom and just whispered “oh my god mom. She’s in here” and I pulled the covers up to my neck and just looked at my mom terrified. My mom was speechless. At that point, Pam slowly walked up the side of the bed and began shoving me into my mom. I had never been touched by Pam before. I was screaming and crying and kept yelling “STOP TOUCHING ME!” And all that my mom could reply was “I’m not touching you!” As she was being pushed out of the other side of the bed. After what seemed like forever, Pam stopped and slowly walked out of the room. I cried myself to sleep, and my mom stayed awake to see what else would happen.
I never spent another night in that house. But, two weeks after we moved out completely, the house caught fire. The entire back side as well as the entire garage burnt. The official cause was “spontaneous combustion”. The house that my family lived in for 25 years has since been bought and sold 8 times within 10 years. No one wants to stay in that house, and I really think that Pam is the reason why.
TL;DR- that sinking feeling you get when you think someone unseen is watching you, isn’t always wrong.
Hunter/mountaineer here. It was a chilly December morning. I hiked in, pre-dawn, taking about an hour and a half to go 3 miles off the beaten trails. Got to my “nest” about half an hour before sunrise and started to settle in. The wind kicked up and a fog rolled in that was thicker than milk. Within a few minutes, my visibility was 5′. I’m sitting tight, huddled up against the freezing wind when I start to hear twigs snapping close to me. For no apparent reason, what is normally a rapturous sound indicative of an imminently successful hunt, sent a frosty chill down my spine. I chambered a round in my lever action 30-30 as quietly as I could, and lay flat on my back tucked against a fallen tree. The rustling was moving closer through the fog, but I couldn’t see anything.
The sun was starting to peek over the mountains to my east and visibility was starting to increase. The rustling of twigs and leaves was sporadic, sometimes directly in front of me, sometimes behind or beside me. I remember laying there, rifle across my chest, thinking to myself how silly it was to react like such a coward. I rationed with myself that bears and mountain lions are a rarity where I was, and I had likely stumbled into a herd of white-tail that had bedded down. I decided to sit up. The rustling stopped immediately. As it was fully dawn by now, I was looking through the fog for the outline of my prey, which I had assured myself was literally all around me. It wasn’t. Seemingly, nothing was. By now, the fog had faded away and it was apparent to me that I was alone in those woods.
I hunted all that day without seeing so much as a squirrel. Around 3 in the afternoon, after fighting the wind and an abnormally cold day, and not wanting to hike out by flashlight, I decided it was time to start back to the truck. Walking out of those woods was the most uneasy I have ever felt. Lawfully, once you make it back to the trail, you’re supposed to clear the chamber of your rifle. Not that day. What is normally a stroll through the woods, I undertook with the seriousness of an animal being stalked. I would walk, then stop and listen. I never heard or saw anything during my retreat, but I could feel eyes on me.
I was about 100 feet away from my truck, when I rounded the last corner and saw, hanging at eye level from a tree by a noose, a stuffed bear in a blaze orange jacket. I’m a giant, broad shouldered outdoorsman, but that one shook me something fierce.
I was once sitting on the couch with my boyfriend, and heard the words “I love you.” And then my boyfriend goes: “I love you too.” I was so utterly confused, I wasn’t the one who said “I love you.” My mouth was shut. I remember hearing and feeling the vibrations of words and sound being produced, but I wasn’t the one who did it, and he wasn’t either. It sounded like a feminine voice. It sounded like it came from right in front of my face, but no one was outside the window or in the room with us. It was creepy as hell. I still think about it.
My ex wife and I bought an older house, 1930’s. We were renovating and had put some baseboards into the basement, painted them and left them to dry overnight. We looked at them the next morning and it looked like someone had taken a sharp knife and dug it in down the entire length of two of the baseboards, almost 8 feet each. The “blade” had gouged through the new paint, old paint, primer and right down to the wood. It was just the two of us in the house.
Pretty sure I lived in a haunted house for a while. Strange things.
For one I always felt like I was being watched in my room, and if I had the door open to the hallway I would SWEAR I’d see someone walk by out of the corner of my eye.
We had two cats and someones they’d be in my room sleeping and then all of a sudden they would sit bolt up and stare at the door, and nothing I did could move them for a long time. This happened often.
One day in my bathroom the shelf that had my sister’s beauty stuff randomly lost hold of all of the items. The thing was the shelf wasn’t loose or hanging and all the stuff had to bounce out of a two inch high lip into the sink.
One time in the middle of the night my sister’s 100+ year old dresser she got as a gift from our grandma just “fell” over. This thing weighed a ton and it was built like a tank. Sister said she heard the sound of someone pushing.
Mom and sister used to yell at me for sneaking around the house…only I wasn’t home or I was in my room. They said they saw a man in shadows that was about my height.
One day we also ran into the old owner and my Mom casually asked the lady if she had ever experienced anything in the house. The lady started crying and said no one believed her but yes, she experienced a lot of stuff.
I moved out around that time. I do not miss that place.
This wasn’t me, but I saw it happen and it made me question my non-belief of the supernatural.
Last time I was in New Orleans, I took a couple friends to the Marie Laveau Voodoo Museum, which my friend Jessica was not too impressed by. Later that day we were walking back to the airBNB apartment we had rented and wandered past a house that had one of those historic location plaques on it. Turns out that house had been Marie Laveau’s father’s house. As we’re all standing out front of this house, Jessica is complaining about how s**tty she thought the museum was and her brand new Galaxy S5 went flying out of her hands and landed a good 5 feet away, totally destroyed. I was looking right at her when it happened – she didn’t trip, she wasn’t wildly throwing her arms around. There was no explanation for why her phone would have taken a leap like that. Also, it wasn’t just a little scratched up like it had been dropped. It looked like it had exploded from within.
A couple weeks ago I was driving between Roswell, NM and Albuquerque, NM about an hour out of Roswell at like 2 AM. I remember thinking “I’m so tired if something doesn’t wake my a** up I’m pulling over and sleeping in my car until morning.” Next thing I know, everything is green. This giant green fireball just shoots right over my car showering sparks everywhere. I panic and almost swerve off the road but I saw it hit the ground about a mile away. So I think “holy f**k, a meteorite! That was huge too! How did I not notice it behind me?” The next day after I was rested, I was thinking about it and remembering how green it was, and so u decided to Google “green meteor” and this was the first result https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Green_fireballs
So, I was staying at my aunt’s house in Mexico. My cousin’s room had two beds so I slept in there. I remember not being able to sleep well and I had a bit of pain coming from my thighs. I had sweatpants on and somehow had scratches on my inner thighs. Almost like a bunch of cat scratches. My aunt came in and searched the bed for anything but never found anything that could’ve scratched me. She also noticed that I had a bit of bruising on my neck, as if someone had tried to choke me. It was just me and my cousin…definitely freaked me out and I rarely ever go visit my aunt anymore. If I do, I stay for a few minutes only.
I was reading the book Think and Grow Rich. In the book it says something along the lines of how you might notice something weird as you read it.
Anyways, I decided to bring the book to read it at a coffee shop downtown. I was reading a paragraph about a parent with a deaf child. At that very moment a child sat down near me. I didn’t think much about it until his mother came over and started doing sign language with him.
Mine story was more like a glitch in the matrix but still was pretty creepy. Im really sceptical when it comes to various paranormal activities, but one thing happened couple of years ago that I can’t rationally explain. So my father was picking me up from airport, we got into car, we started driving home. Then I remembered I left my small bag in airport toilet so we went back, parked our car at guarded multi-level parking, we locked it obviously(even if we didnt, it locks itself after 30 sec.) When we came back, we found a tiny basket with raspberries in it, on a driver seat. My father was seating there 4 minutes ago, obviously, we had no idea how the hell did they appear there. He didnt buy them, i didnt bring them with me. There was only one entrance to the parking(guarded by parking guard) and he said nobody entered or left when we were gone. This story is now legendary among my family and nobody can explain it. Sorry for my english, not my first language obviously.
When I was a little girl, my grandma frequently would take me to antique shops with her. Usually we just looked and learned about the items, but one of the times she bought me a pair of twin dolls that I fell in love with. One was a boy and one was a girl. They were extremely old, and their skin was made of what the shop keeper called “The first plastic ever made”. I’m not sure on the accuracy of that statement, but anyway, I loved them and played with them daily- always taking care to be gentle so they would stay in decent condition.
One evening I was playing with them and my mom called me down to dinner. I tucked the little boy doll underneath my covers to put him to bed, kissed him, and ran downstairs. I loved him especially because I never had a “boy” doll before. After dinner, I went back upstairs to play in my room.
Forgetting that he was tucked under my covers, I took a running leap and belly flopped on my bed. Underneath the covers came a loud, long, mechanical sounding voice that yelped painfully “Maamaaaaaaa!”
I pulled the covers back to find my boy doll, and I was perplexed because I had never known him to have a voice box. I squeezed him again several times in varying degrees to get him to say it again, and nothing happened. I calmly asked my mom if she could get his voice box to work and explained what happened. She and my dad both tried and nothing worked. He stayed quiet. As an adult I haven’t been able to get him to work again.
I posted this picture on an antique subreddit under a different account asking if it would have a voice box and was told that they were too old to have that feature. (http://i.imgur.com/nVxrKeB.jpg) Does anyone else know differently? I’ve always wondered about this. Also, the dolls skin has deteriorated now, leaving them mostly armless.
On a side note that is probably unrelated, when I was sixteen my best friend and I played a Ouji board at her house. I had long forgotten about my doll and the sound it made, and had only told my parents on the day it happened.
We made “contact” with a young spirit who said he was eight years old. When we asked him how he died he said he drowned. Suddenly, he moved the planchette to “Goodbye”.
We asked him why he was leaving and he spelled out “Rusty”. Rusty was the name of my best friend’s dog, who had just been let inside by her mom. We told him that it was okay, Rusty was nice and that he could stay. We asked him a few more questions and he answered them, but then Rusty walked in the room.
The planchette started moving quickly to “M” then “A”, back and forth. Spelling “Mama Mama Mama Mama.” It wouldn’t stop until we lifted our fingers away.
This incident happened with my friend. He was once visiting his relatives in a semi-rural town in India. During summers, the people usually preferred to sleep on the roofs of their houses on a cot. So that’s what he did. All was normal, he spread his coat on the roof and fell asleep. Then in the middle of the night, he wakes up to see five women, wearing white sarees ( a type of Indian clothing), hair untied, and dancing in circles on the neighboring house’s rooftop. He was scared s**t less and spent the rest of the night awake under the sheets with his face hidden.
PS: A white saree like this is a sort of symbol of female ghosts in Indian urban legends.
I worked at a small town pizza shop during my winter breaks in college. I was good friends with a married couple who picked up occasional shifts to supplement the income from their regular jobs. One time we were swapping spooky stories and they told me about one that had happened just a week earlier. The wife had been spending the evening visiting her sister way out in the country when a heavy snow storm rolled in. The roads were slippery and visibility was terrible as she was driving home. At one point it was so bad she didn’t even see the railroad crossing until the lights started flashing and the gate almost crashed onto her hood. Luckily she managed to skid to a stop barely in front of the tracks right before the train came roaring by.
When she got home she was still shaken up and told her husband about the close call with the train and how the gate had almost crashed on the hood of her car.
The next morning her husband told her he wanted to show her something and they went driving out back towards her sister’s house until they got to the railroad crossing.
All that was there was an old fashioned crossing sign. There were no lights and no gates.
When I was young, I figured out a ‘trick’ to stop nightmares. Once I realized I was really scared, I’d stop and start screaming as loud as possible. This worked wonders.
But one night, I was being chased by a humanoid monster, black robes with a white skeleton-esque face. I realized I was scared, stopped, started screaming, and felt myself wake up. But I almost immediately fell back asleep, and he was there staring at me and said ‘That won’t work this time’.
Promptly s**t myself and woke up. I don’t use that technique anymore. Brains are a**holes.
There’s really only one thing I really have that I can’t fully explain (other than sheer coincidence). Probably close to a decade ago, when I was 18-19 or somewhere around there, I woke up in the middle of the night with this crazy pain in my side, near my hip. It stuck around for about 20-25 minutes before finally going away. I managed to get back to sleep and all was well. I found out a couple days afterwards that my grandmother had recently fell and broke her hip on that same night, not long before the time I woke up with my pain. That was definitely a “huh, that’s weird” moment.
When I was about 5-6, we were living in a rented house that seemed normal enough, but strange things started to happen shortly after we moved in.
My older brother liked doing these huge 500 piece puzzles and he would put them together on the floor of our bedroom and they started getting messed up during the night. Everyone naturally assumed it was me but it wasn’t. Not long after that began, I started to have really bad nightmares about a woman in her early 20’s. She was in a white cotton nightgown with violet flowers on it, she had long, wavy, tangled black hair and was swaying from the ceiling light and she would stare at me with a look of pure hatred. It got so bad that my parents took me to a therapist who said I was having night terrors.
About a month after the night terrors started, we moved to another house suddenly, my parents claimed it was because they found a house closer to my dads work, and just like that, the night terrors stopped and my brothers puzzles were being left intact.
It wasn’t until 15 years later, visiting the family, that I found out the truth. My mother was talking to one of our neighbors about my night terrors and she said that another family with a little girl rented the place a few years before us and she had the exact same nightmares, right down to the nightgown with the “pretty purple flowers.” The neighbor also mentioned that no one seemed to stay in that house for more than a year. My mom thought that was too much of a coincidence so she started asking around and found out from an older couple in the neighborhood that a young woman had killed herself in the house in the early 60’s. (my experience took place in the mid 80’s)
My mother went to the library and looked through the microfiche and found the news articles. It turns out that the girl (in her early 20’s) had mental health issues and was being cared for by her parents had gone into that room in the middle of the night and hung herself by the ceiling light! I never got to see the picture they had of the girl in the paper, but my mom said she had long, wavy black hair. I’ll never forget her eyes burning through me and her face distorted in silent rage.
I dreamed that a candle or something tipped over and lit me on fire. The fire began to cover my arm and back, so I rolled and eventually woke up really freaked out. I woke my wife up and told her about it, then went back to sleep. The next morning I got a phone call telling me that my father was in the hospital after his shirt caught fire and burned his arm and back rather badly. He was in a different time zone, so he was awake cooking when it happened, which was around the same time I dreamed myself catching fire.
Not so scary, but those are some long odds that my father would catch fire and I dream about it at the same time.
I was about 12 years old and staying at my grandparents house after my aunts wedding. The house itself wasn’t very big, and was the same house that my mother and her brothers/sisters lived in growing up. After the wedding reception was over, my mom wanted to take me back to my grandparents for the night so all of the adults could go out and get a couple more drinks. When we arrived at the house, my mother and I both could very faintly hear a baby crying with a woman trying to comfort the baby. Now the house isn’t very big, so you could hear pretty much any noise in any point of the house. Our initial thoughts were that someone forgot to turn off one of the TVs in the house, so we both walked around the house trying to find the tv that was left on. To our surprise not a single tv or radio was left on, but the volume of the woman and the baby remained constant. It didn’t matter which room we were in, if we were in the basement or the the landing, the volume of the lady and the baby was always the same. This of course scared the s**t out of me as I never believed in ghosts before this happened, but there was no other explanation for it.
Now my mother was a little freaked out as well, but she had a bar to get to. She then just told me that it was nothing and got in her car and left me alone in the ghost house. I immediately turned the tv on with the volume set as high as possible without busting my ear drums. I was exhausted but drank pop to not let my body fall asleep and give this thing an opportunity to attack me. My parents showed up a couple hours later to a kid all wired on sugar just staring at the TV screen.
I later told my aunt, who grew up in that house, the story and she was ecstatic. She has always claimed that she heard a woman and baby in that house growing up but nobody believed her.
Ever since that day, I believe that something like ghosts exists to some degree. It doesn’t matter how much evidence or data that people show me claiming ghosts don’t exist, I know what I heard and it gives me chills just thinking about it. At least mine was pretty nice and didn’t break glass and other s**t like some of these stories.