People Share The Most Eerie Experience They've Ever Had
29. Getting Ice Cream With Deceased Grandpa
“Maybe not as spookily creepy as some of the other stories in here, but I remember it so vividly. My grandpa on my mom’s side died when I was 5. I was the only one of “the kids” (sister and 4 cousins) to have known him. I remember going to bed one night, about a week after he had died, and a few minutes later, I was woken up to see my grandpa sitting at my bedside.
He gave me a nudge and told me to get changed. He told me to be quiet, so I didn’t wake my parents up, and we left out the front door and walked over to the park. I remember him wearing a green linen shirt and dress pants with a pair of bed slippers.
We played on the swings and threw a ball around before going to the Hasty Market down the road for ice creams.
While we were eating on the bench, he was telling me that he was going to be gone for a while and that I would have to help my mom and grandma out because he wouldn’t be able to. I remember thinking that it made a lot of sense, and I wasn’t sad. He told me how much he loved me, and we walked back home.
We snuck back upstairs, and he tucked me back into bed, gave me a kiss on the forehead, and left my bedroom.
When I woke up in the morning, I told my mom that grandpa came by last night and that we had gone to the park and had ice cream. My mom played along and asked me what we talked about. The more I talked about him, the more serious my mom got.
She asked what else I had remembered, and I told her about his outfit. She burst out in tears – my grandpa was house-ridden with pneumonia before dying and, on the day he died, was wearing a green linen shirt, with dress pants, and my grandma’s slippers to keep warm.
To this day, my mom will tell that story when we have guests over, positive that I was visited by my dead grandpa before he left for good.”
28. Seeing And Hearing Things In A Mental Hospital
“3 years ago, I admitted myself into the mental wing of the hospital and was put on 48-hour suicide watch. It was about 3 am when I finally finished giving them all of my belongings and had a temporary cot to sleep on while waiting for a room to open up.
Mind you, these cots are only separated by a sheet, and there are several unpredictable people around me who were also being admitted.
One of these people was a guy my age, about half a foot taller than me, and had this wild look to him.
He reminded me a lot of Gary Busey, which scared the sh*t out of me. Apparently, he’d taken a ton of psilocybin and other psychedelics, and went on an everclear drinking binge before the cops were called and brought him in.
About an hour after falling asleep from a Valium the nurse gave me, I start waking up out of this semi-lucid, groggy, blurred state, to see the dim light above me eclipsed by a figure.
I assumed it was a doctor or nurse, but as my vision became clearer, my heart began to pound. The wildly pulled hair, wide-open manic eyes, and full-toothed smile was inches above my face. I felt as if I were paralyzed, hoping I could sink deeper into the cot while he raised his hand, crooked, and wretched like a claw closer to me.
Within seconds, two utterly massive security guards sprinted over, one running so fast that he inadvertently tackled the guy to the floor from having too much momentum to stop himself.
That was by far the most terrifying experience I’d ever had.
The rest of my time there, however, something else disturbing happened.
Our actual rooms had double doors with small glass panes on each one. At night, the doors would close, and security would patrol the hallway.
For those two nights, I would hear the routine footsteps of the guard as he walked past in his heavy boots. But I also heard and saw something entirely different.
I began to notice light, rapid, tiptoeing in between each round the guard made in my section of the wing’s square layout.
The guard’s boots would pass…
But a minute later, I would hear
Shuffle…light steps…shuffle…faster and faster…and stop.
I still wish I didn’t look. I wish I would have kept my head buried under the covers in that room.
I slowly turned my head and raised the sheet until I could just barely see out of my one eye. As I looked at the door, I noticed nothing but the shine of two eyes staring at me.
It was so dark, I couldn’t see the face behind them, just eyes.
After a minute, horrified, they would swiftly go away, giggling and laughing under their breath until I heard the click of their door closing down the hall.
Yeah, that creeped me the f*ck out alright. That was more than enough motivation to seek out a therapist, and thankfully, I’ve been depression- and anxiety-free ever since.”
27. The Shadow People That Everyone Has Witnessed
I used to see a “shadow person” in the hallway of my parents’ house as a kid, but maybe it was just my imagination…
“When I was 12, I went to a friend’s house for the day. This was in the UK. My friend’s parents were very rich and had this mansion-type place way out in the countryside (North Wales). She had 6 siblings, and her parents were hippy artist types who just let the kids run wild, and we basically never saw them the whole day.
Anyway… We were really into acting, so we decided to practice the play we were in, in our drama group. We went into what was really a ballroom: massive room, hardly any furniture, lots of paintings, and big windows/french doors.
As she was doing her thing, and I was watching, I saw a shadow person walk into the room through the big, folding doors behind her. But the “person” walked sideways like a crab, so they were actually sidling towards me.
She seemed to see nothing and was acting her socks off whilst this thing came across the room.
I saw that it was male, quite tall, and moving in a way as if it didn’t want to be seen, like I might not see it if it went sideways.
But I did, and I sat there with it getting closer and closer until I jumped up and ran towards my friend yelling to get out.
We did, and she was all, “Oh that… Yes, people have seen it before. We just ignore it.”
What the f*ck.”
26. Finding A Boarded-Up Bedroom In Our Old Home
“When I was about 11, we moved to this really old, pre-war house and my room was in the attic. Great at first because it was really big.
Each night I lied down, my eyes were drawn to the opposite corner of the room. I would just stare at the wall and become really freaked out. It took me a couple of weeks to tell anyone because nothing had really happened.
One night, I explained to my dad what was wrong. He goes over to the wall and bangs on it to show there’s nothing weird about it. One of his bangs on the wall sounded very different, like it was just board instead of brick. He investigated and found a small square board, papered over flush with the wall around. We pulled it off, pulled out some debris, and found a secret room with a bed so old that the mattress had crumbled away, old papers, and a tin with a football program and stuff from the 40s. Someone wanted the room forgotten about.
I don’t believe in ghosts or the supernatural, but that freaked us all the f*ck out, and we moved a few months later.”
25. A Peculiar Picture Drawn Just For Them
“When I was in elementary school, my best friend’s house was basically a straight shot down the road from the school except it was a couple of streets over. So in order to get there quickly, we had to cut through a few yards on the way. Although we walked to her house frequently, we never really developed a routine for which yards we would cut through.
We’d just walk a bit, cut through, and then walk the rest of the way home.
On this particular day, it was raining. We’re running home and decide at random which yard to cut through. My friend is galloping in front of me, drops of mud slush ricocheting onto me from her shoes. I notice a piece of paper stuck in the bushes. For some unknown reason, I decide to investigate.
This memory is very surreal to me because there was nothing striking about the paper at all, and I was in a hurry to get home (it was pouring out), but for some reason, I felt compelled to check it out.
So I go to the paper and uncrumple it. It’s a hand-drawn picture of a huge, veiny eyeball with my first and last name written underneath. Needless to say, it scared the living bejeezus out of me.
I’ve told many, many people this story, and most don’t really believe me. The only people who truly believe me are my friend and her father, a horror movie buff. He thought it was the most spectacular thing to ever happen. I still wonder about it to this day.”
24. Experiencing So-Called Sleep Paralysis Only At Great Grandparents' House
“In 2012, I fell asleep on my couch, lights on and all.
I woke up to seeing a little girl in my house. Her skin as pale as her dress, long black hair, deep dark eyes (almost as if she didn’t have them. They were so pitch dark). She just stood there watching me.
I couldn’t move. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t move. Then I felt like hands were all over me, tickling and punching me.
She just stood there, calmly walked to the door, and walked through it.
Almost immediately, I could move again, and I checked my door, and it was unlocked. I was covered in sweat and wanted to cry, but for some reason, I didn’t.
Interestingly, that was my first sleep paralysis, and it would happen every night until mid-2014 when I moved out. The first night of me not being in that house, it didn’t happen; it was a good night’s rest.
My brother eventually got the house.
It was our great-grandparents. My brother has been complaining recently about not sleeping right and seeing things.
So, back in September 2015, I went over to my brothers to hang out and spent the night since it was getting late. The next thing I know, I wake up and can’t move and see a bunch of shadows moving. Then the girl walks across my view. She walks through the wall and as soon as she is gone I can move.
About 15 seconds later, I hear a scream.
I run into my brother’s room, and he’s sitting on the edge of his bed sweating and having a panic attack.
In the morning, he told me he wasn’t asleep. He was laying there just thinking. Then a girl walked through the wall, and he became frozen and couldn’t move. She walked over to him, got up into his face, and just gazed deep into his eyes before walking away.
As soon as she was gone, he could move, and he screamed. He told me he’s had weird things happen before but has never seen this girl.
What I thought was just a figment of my sleep paralysis may very well have been a ghost or something.
My brother has since moved out and hasn’t had any problems.”
23. Dead Grandma Warned Him Of His Fate In His Dream
“My grandmother died in 2008, and I still miss her quite a bit. After she died, I used to have a sh*tload of dreams about her. Some were good, and some were not so good. The good ones were just of her and I spending time together. The bad ones were always fairly disturbing. But I have always had fairly disturbing dreams. Not every night but at least a couple of times a week.
One night, I had a dream about her that was a bad one. I was in my basement and my grandmother was in the basement with me, hanging on the wall. She had been disemboweled, and her guts were hanging. She was covered in blood. I can’t remember exactly what was keeping her hanging on the wall, but I think she was nailed to it. She was just talking to me like normal.
I don’t remember what she said for the most part, but one thing stands out. She looked down at me at one point and said, “Don’t spill the salt.”
The next day, I was cooking dinner. It was Hamburger Helper, and I was salting it as I cooked it. I dropped the salt, and it landed in such a way that when I grabbed it, I burned the sh*t out of my wrist as I didn’t realize how close to the burner I got.
Anyway, this story is probably far from unexplainable.
It can be explained: it was just a coincidence. But holy sh*t, it doesn’t feel like a coincidence. And I definitely find it creepy.
Interesting postscript: about a year ago I was dreaming about my grandmother, and at one point, I realized I was dreaming, and I looked her straight in the eye and said, “You’re dead.” I woke myself up when I did that.
Before then, I dreamed about her ALL THE TIME. Haven’t dreamed about her since.”
22. A Hidden Silhouette Of Grandpa
“Okay, this is going to sound ridiculous; I know, but I’ll never forget it.
Long story short, my grandfather lived alone from the age of maybe 40 until he passed away at age 67 four years ago. He had himself a partner, but they liked living separately.
Well, a year and a half before my grampa passed, my dad faced huge financial problems living alone, and my grandpa offered for him to move in with him.
My father felt very uncomfortable and imposing at the idea but very grateful. Soon, my dad settled in, and my very stubborn and independent gramp started to relax at the idea of my dad and us kids intertwining more into his life, bringing new life into him.
He slowly became more outgoing and began to enjoy our company, and it felt wonderful. Well, anyway. He had his habits, which included mainly sitting on his carved, wooden chair, facing the TV whilst he had a smoke.
He always did this, and from the settee we’d sit on, I’d always see his side profile.
His short, white hair, his nose, and his round beer belly, then down to his thick boots, and always a cigarette hanging by his side. That’s how I remember him so well – his little idiosyncrasies that made him our grandpa.
So, here’s the completely strange thing that’s burned into my mind.
A year or so after my dad moved in, my grandpa began to weaken, and his health suddenly worsened. All those years of living alone, in a smoke-filled house, and many years of drinking behind him.
I feel as if he began to resist and relax once we’d began to help him. He passed away rather suddenly, and it broke our hearts. Around a month or so after his passing, my dad and I decided we should decorate the living room to give it a new life.
He started by stripping the wallpaper.
He pulled down a huge strip of wallpaper above the fireplace first, and some of the wall itself came off with it, the plaster crumbling slightly.
I will never forget this. Left behind on the wall, from the different indents of the plaster, was a perfect silhouette of my grandpa. It was massive, too, looming over the whole room. The one I’d described, his body from a side-profile.
His tuft of hair, his nose, his belly, his boots.
My father is not religious, nor is he into paranormal things. He’s a very objective person, and yet we both stood in silence, staring at this wall. Neither of us said anything for five minutes, both thinking the same.
I remember having instant goosebumps as this wasn’t something that looked vaguely like him, and we’d contorted it in our minds to suit our thoughts.
It was uncanny.
It was so uncanny, in fact, that we decided to take the rest of the plaster off due to my gramp’s brother coming around. We knew he would see it and instantly get upset at the likeliness of it.
It was a moment I loved. It confused me, and a small part of me felt like he stayed in the house for longer than his body did.”
21. Creepy Things Going On In An Old Mayor's House
Even the cat knew something was going on.
“When I was in high school, I lived in a 100+-year-old house that belonged to the first mayor of my town (Lyon, MS) The house has had many occupants over the years and has been added onto and renovated many times as well. There was an exceptional amount of creepy sh*t that went on when I lived there, but this by far stands out in my goosebumps.
I was home alone on a regular school night. My mom worked two jobs to help support us, so she wasn’t at home. It was just me and my cat Kringle. About an hour I’d say before this event occurred, I had been in the back dining room walking around, talking on the phone to my partner and then another friend of mine. My mom and I barely went back to the dining room because it was really just a nice room for the show, so the room (especially the dining room table/chairs) was always untouched.
Fast forward.
I was down in our den doing homework. The house was really quiet. All of a sudden out of pure silence, I heard the sound of what sounded like furniture being moved. The house had old hardwood floors, so you could easily hear the screeching. It kept going on for 2 minutes or so. I froze. My first two thoughts were that A. someone was breaking in the house, or B.
the cat was back there f*cking around. I realized however that B wasn’t an option because I looked down next to my feet, and the cat was standing up wide-eyed looking down the hallway that connected my living room to my dining room.
I got up slowly, grabbed my pocket knife, and slowly walked towards the back. My heart was pounding. I don’t recall being able to breathe.
The air got cold, and I got weird chills all over my body. I wanted to turn back and run so much, but something just kept propelling me forward. I turned the corner. What I saw I will never forget. When you turned the corner in my old house, you immediately see the dining room table facing you longways. Need mind you, I had just been back there, so everything was untouched originally. Well, when I turned that corner, ALL OF THE GODD*MN CHAIRS HAD BEEN TURNED AROUND, PULLED FORWARD TO MY DIRECTION, ORGANIZED INTO A SINGLE FILED GODD*MN LINE.
So I bolted. Kringle in hand. Ran outside. I called mom and told her I wasn’t going back in there until she got home.
Tell me ghosts aren’t real. I freaking dare you.”
20. A Creepy Voicemail And Then A Smoke Alarm Going Off
“When I was a junior in high school, I had one of the most bizarre nights of my life. I went to bed and woke up to my cell phone going off. When I looked at the clock, it was 3:33 am. At the time, I had a flip phone, and the front screen was lit up blue. When I opened the phone, it continues ringing, and the inside screen was also bright blue.
I stared at the phone for awhile completely exhausted. Then it vibrated and said I had one new voicemail. I dialed my voicemail and listened figuring that my phone was malfunctioning, and one of my friends needed to talk. What I heard still sends shivers down my spine.
I heard what sounded like a train. It was difficult to make out because it sounded so far away, almost as if I was listening through a tunnel.
Someone was screaming desperately in the background, and at the very end, a faint female voice said my name in a sob.
I shut my phone in fear, and then my smoke alarms began going off. I exited my room, and I couldn’t see through the smoke in my house. I assumed that my house was on fire. I walked across the hallway to my parents’ room, felt the doorknob with the back of my hand, and then opened it.
I woke up my parents, and my dad found the source of the smoke. Black smoke was billing out of our ducts. Something happened to the furnace. Once everything was clear, I somehow went back to bed, completely forgetting the phone call.
The next morning when I woke up, I remembered what I thought was a strange dream. I checked my calls received and saw nothing there, thus I chalked it up to a vivid nightmare.
Later, in TV production class, I told my night and nightmare to a fellow student.
I was explaining to them how real it felt and how much it was bothering me. They suggested I check my voicemail if I still didn’t believe it was a dream. When I did the message played again, freaking me out more than the first time because this time I could hear someone sobbing in the background along with the screams, prior to the female whisper crying my name. I played it for my classmate, and they too were pretty freaked out.
It took me almost a month to delete the message. I was too afraid to go near my voicemail.”
19. Fresh Footprints That Were Ours... But They Couldn't Be Ours
Maybe something was symbolically trying to tell them to turn around and leave to avoid potential danger.
“I’ve had a lot of weird stuff happen to me, but one of the creepiest happened when I was a kid, around 8 or 9. We lived in Iceland at the time, and my mom loved to drag me to this one beach after school a lot. I don’t know what it was really called, but we called it Seal Beach because there was a large colony of seals that lived there, and we got to see them up close and personal every time we went there.
We would “talk” to them, they would chatter back and sometimes come right up to us if we were patient enough. It was pretty cool!
It was usually fairly deserted, especially on weekdays, and we were often the only ones there. There was a lighthouse that was well maintained, but we never saw anyone there inside it. There was a long heap of boulders between the grassy parking area and the white sand of the beach, so you couldn’t see the parking lot from the beach.
So mom and I go to this beach one day (I think it was springtime, so the sun was finally coming back for the season).
It’s a gorgeous day. Even the wind was calm (a true rarity there). We stop, “talk” to the seals for a bit, then decide to walk along the beach, away from the lighthouse. The beach curved off to the left ahead of us, and we couldn’t see around the turn, but the closer we got to the turn, the more the hair on the back of my neck stood up.
It was this heavy, creepy feeling that got stronger with each step we took. Even the sound of the ocean waves hitting the sand got quieter the closer we walked to the curve ahead.
Then, I looked down. “Mom, look, footprints!” Remember, we were the only ones on the beach and the only car in the parking lot. We stopped and looked more closely at the footprints that were headed back the way we came.
There were two sets of fresh footprints, one adult-sized and one kid-sized, right next to each other, coming from the bend up ahead of us and going back the way we came, towards the parking lot.
We examined them more closely and realized that they were our footprints. The sizes, treads, depth in the sand, the distance between the kid set and the adult set, even the stride lengths, matched the footprints we had been leaving behind.
I remember we just looked at each other in shock for a minute because there was no way that these fresh footprints, going back the way we had just come, could be ours. Yet, here they were.
We decided to continue going forward until we could see around the curve, but we only managed a few more steps before we both, without a word, turned and ran back to the car.
Those few more steps were like walking through molasses; the air itself got super thick, and there was this terrible feeling of wrongness that intensified with each step we managed to take.
It was so strange. My mom was shaking the whole ride back to the base. We still talk about it, and I still get chills remembering it. Especially that weird, thick, wrongness in the air the closer we got to the curve.”
18. Hiking Miles While Avoiding A Hiding Man
Creepy for sure, but still, there could be many explanations.
“This happened to me about a month ago in rural Michigan.
I was out in a rural area on a big (5,000 acre) patch of state land doing some rabbit hunting by myself. I had been walking for 2-3 hours and hadn’t seen a d*mn thing, so I decided to turn back and start making my way back to where I’d parked my car.
When I got back to the main trail, I basically had to walk about a mile East then take a left and head another 2ish miles north to get to my car.
As I’m walking east, I start to get this really, really uneasy feeling. Everything is a bit quieter than usual, quiet even for a day with a decent amount of snow on the ground. The eastbound trail before the turn is a lot of small fields off to the side and hills up until a flat final stretch.
As I get up, one of the last hills I looked to my left at a field for a second in case I saw any rabbits or coyotes.
By the time I turned my head back straight, there was a guy straight in front of me about 100 yards walking away from me. Something about him didn’t settle right with me. He had no hiking, hunting, or camping gear, just a long sleeve shirt and dirty jeans with a beanie hat on. He was walking really strange, not really picking his feet up, just sort of dragging them along kicking up snow like how a kid would if he was bored, but this was a large grown man.
On top of all of this, this was later in the day, almost sundown, and there were no other cars in the area I’d parked when I got there, which was the only reasonable way into the trail, so no way this guy had driven there suddenly to take a quick hike.
I keep walking a little slower, and all of a sudden, the guy stops, turns his head halfway, and I can tell he’s looking at me.
He turns his head back and just bolts running. This startled the sh*t out of me, and I stopped walking. Now I know there’s something seriously wrong with this guy, so I stopped and swapped out the birdshot in my shotgun to a few buckshot shells I always carried in my backpack just in case. I kept walking forward cautiously, and once I got to the turn in the trail, I looked down the trail, and the guy was nowhere to be seen.
This final stretch of the trail goes about 2 miles and is completely flat.
There is absolutely no way he could’ve made it all the way down the trail by the time I got to that spot, even if he was Usain Bolt. And I could see in the snow that he was wearing heavy boots. It’s a nice trail, but the sides are covered with thick brush and deep forest. So, basically, now I knew that this guy was hiding off to the side in the brush somewhere.
That had to have been the absolute longest, most unsettling walk I have made in my entire life.
I tried to stay with his boot trail in the snow to try and get an idea of where he was but it was lost in old prints from whatever group had hunted the trail that morning. I racked a shell in the shotgun as loud as I possibly could in hopes that he’d hear it, but that didn’t really comfort me that much when I was walking near extra heavy thickets or on the side of tall burns where he could’ve been.
Plus, with the snow, it’s hard to hear anything moving around. Even once I got back to my car, I was really in the middle of nowhere surrounded by more forest, so I kept the gun loaded with me as I got into the car, so I didn’t have to unload it in my trunk and be exposed before I got in the car and locked it.
That whole walk, I just kept repeating the old biblical passage, “As I walk through the valley in the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil” in my head pretty uncontrollably. Something just felt very, very wrong, and I’m never going hunting there again alone.”
Another User Comments:
“I am reading through this thread in hopes of finding that guy’s point of view. Something along the lines of, “I ran into a guy with a shotgun on my property.”” IWantToBeARedditor
17. A Scary Man Who Wants To Give A Full-Body Massage
“I was seventeen and working at my first job stocking items at a grocery store – very mundane, but it allowed for some freedom. I’d had a few run-ins with random odd people, but nothing I couldn’t handle. About two months in, I’m shelving on the lowest level in the canned food aisle, and a very tall man comes to hover over me, so close his knees are touching my back.
I told myself it was a coincidence and say, “Excuse me” and try to slide sideways out of his way, but he steps around me, trapping me. I tried a few more times to the same result when he crouches down and asks if I’d ever had a full body massage. My heart was racing, and I was panicked, but like an idiot, I froze up while the guy proceeds to roughly rub my shoulders.
At that moment, a co-worker popped her head around the corner to see how I was getting along and surprised him, and he waved a hand and goes, “Hi” like it was normal. I booked it to the back and told my manager who in turn told security who saw him out.
I wish it had ended there, but me being me which obviously means stupid (and I was going through a major “grown-up”/independent streak) had myself a good cry and then refused all offers to go home for the day.
I also wanted to talk to the police when they got there.
A little over an hour later, still no police, and I hear a bunch of ruckus and shouting. Then someone yelled my name, I went to investigate. It was a co-worker trying to tell me to get to the back, but he’d come back with a baseball bat and a Rottweiler looking for me. The pair of them quickly march over to me all the while the dog is snarling, and he’s saying how the dog likes me, he knew it would, I must be good with animals, and he would finish that massage back at his place.
I got pinned but my manager, one of the best women I’ve ever met somehow gets herself between me and the dog this guy’s keeps, not asking, not telling, but commanding me to pet.
She stayed there holding onto me behind her back until, finally, the police get there. After a brief but tense standoff, he’s arrested the dog taken to the pound. I sensibly went home.
Several months later, long enough for me to all but have forgotten everything my manager calls me into her office. She says she wanted to be there when I found out and handed me a newspaper, it took me way too long to register what was so important, the man had been arrested for murder and kidnapping. We both started crying, and I went home for the day, I couldn’t handle it and wound up leaving shortly after.
I think the creepiest/scariest part was how calm he was during the whole thing, even after the officers got there, and his dog started losing its sh*t he was just so very, very calm, and normal looking like this was a normal thing.”
16. He Was On My Scooter One Minute, And Then He Completely Disappeared
“About 15 or so years ago, when I was 16, I went to visit my aunt and uncle during my summer vacations – they used to live with my family when I was growing up but had moved to a small hill station when I was 12. Their house, along with others in the community, was at the foothills of the mountain, while the downtown was about six miles away, reachable from their house by crossing a bridge over a river.
Downtown is where all the shops were, including my uncle’s small chemist shop that he operated with help of a young guy named Kiran, about 23 years old or so. I used to hang out with him whenever I was at the shop – pretty talkative and friendly guy and lived close to my uncle’s house.
One afternoon, my aunt asked me to go downtown to grab a few things from the local shops there – she asked me to take the spare scooter that was at their house.
Thrilled with the idea of driving, I took the scooter, crossed the bridge, got to downtown, went to a couple of shops, and got the stuff. On the way back, I see Kiran walking towards the direction of the bridge – it would have been about 5 pm or so at that time, and I assumed that he had left early to go home that day (my uncle would shut his shop by 7:30 pm).
I stop the scooter next to him, say hi, and make small talk, except that he barely talks – just very basic yes or no answers.
After 10 minutes or so, I eventually ask him if he is heading home, and he says yes, so I offer to give him a ride to his place, and he accepts. He sits behind me on the scooter, and off we go.
It’s about 5:30 pm by now, and light had faded fast – the street lamps were on by the time I reached the bridge.
Around the middle of the bridge, I start feeling extreme cold – teeth shattering cold – but by the time I get to the other end, I am all ok.
So, I look back asking Kiran if he felt that cold as well – except, well, except he is not there. I stop the scooter right away and look back – he simply is not there – vanished in the thin air! I know he couldn’t have gotten off the scooter when we were crossing the bridge – just not physically possible to get off the scooter, while it is being driven, sitting at the back seat.
My mind could not comprehend what had happened, and in a daze, I drove the scooter back home but didn’t tell my aunt about the incident. I wasn’t sure what had happened.
Later that evening, after my uncle came back home, I asked him about Kiran. Found out no one had seen Kiran for 2 days – he hadn’t come to the shop or gone back to his home.
It’s been 15 years, and Kiran has not been found.
I do not know who I met that evening, who sat behind me on the scooter, who drove with me halfway through to the bridge to simply disappear.”
Another User Comments:
“Just a question: couldn’t he have fallen off the scooter? Maybe rolled off the bridge? If you felt the cold, it would be because he wasn’t there to block the cold from your body.
I am not doubting you one bit; I just want to clarify.” Wandering_thru
Another User Comments:
“Do you think he suicided off that bridge? (Was the water deep enough that that would have been feasible?)” Straelbora
15. A Touchy-Feely Ghost
“Went to my partner’s house to sleep after working overnight. I’m under the covers to avoid the sunlight that was coming through the blinds. I felt something tugging on my toe and tickling my foot. I laughed and told him to leave me alone, so I could sleep. It stopped. I felt a hand grab my butt, and I dozed off back to sleep, assuming that he came home early from work and was messing with me as usual.
Hours later, I woke up to find that I was alone, so I texted my partner and asked him where did he go. He responds that he’s still at work and has been there since 5 am.”
Another User Comments:
“Maybe the tickling of your foot was actually you being injected with an anesthetic, and the numbing effect worked its way into your blood stream. You dozed off as it took its effects. Long story short, you are actually a clone of your original self.” krazykanuck
14. Time Lost That He'll Never Get Back
“So, I lost time one night.
I had just gotten off work and at the time I was working the swing shift, which is 2 pm to 11pm. So I have to clock out right at 11, not a minute before or after, so I do, and right after, I go to the same gas station I go to sometimes and grab some crap to eat when I get home.
The drive from work to home is about 10 minutes usually. With the gas station stop, it’s about 15. So I get home and take my work clothes off and jump in the shower to wash the work grime off. I take quick showers. Like seriously, no more than five minutes. I know this because I used to keep a CD player in the bathroom with a mix cd to listen to while I shower/get ready or whatever, and I usually finish the shower before the first song even ends.
Anyway, I get done and go put on some trunks or sweats, grab my food from the counter, and go sit down in the living room to watch tv/cruise the internet until Conan came on at 11:35, back when he still had his show on NBC. I usually turned on Jay Leno as background noise until Conan came on. So I sit down and turn on the tv, turn it to the channel Jay Leno should just be finishing up, and it’s some early morning farm report show.
I check the channel to make sure I had the right one, and yep, right one. I do a quick run-through of the channels to make sure NBC didn’t go to another channel, and that’s when I realize it was just about 6 am. When I get home, it’s dark out, but when I looked out, it’s blue outside. The sun was going to be coming up soon.
I sat there for a bit thinking what the hell is going on.
Then I got the idea to call work and talk to the guy who relieved me about what time I left. I called, and he was like, “What the hell you still doing up?” So I asked him how long ago I left, and sure as sh*t, he says at the end of my shift.
So I told him what happened, and he just thought I was f*cking with him, drunk or something.
So yea, I could never figure that out. But it made me think of that movie with Robert Di Niro, Awakenings. Like, maybe I just f*cking frozen in my room or some sh*t, hahaha. Glitch in the matrix or some sort of craziness.”
Another User Comments:
“I read someone’s story very similar to this on a similar thread maybe a year ago.
Basically, the guy had some sort of a morning routine, showering and brushing teeth, etc. And he had this timed out exactly: let’s say 12 minutes for intents and purposes. Then he would leave and have exactly a set amount of time to get to his bus. Let’s call it three minutes. The bus was uphill from his house, and it was steep enough to be winded normally by the time he reaches his bus.
So one day, he wakes up and was really pushing his time, likely going to miss the bus. So, basically, he had 15 minutes from the time he started his routine to the time he needed to reach his bus. The bus would leave at specifically 7:45 every day, and this particular day, he’d started the morning routine at 7:35, shortening his span by 5 minutes.
He’d been standing at the counter brushing his teeth, and the next thing he knows, he’s on the bus and it’s 7:44. Not winded from running up the hill and had somehow compressed his already very rushed 15-minute routine into 9 minutes and did not remember any of it.
Somebody had commented about how the brain will “program” itself for frequent menial tasks and can sometimes go on autopilot and usually at a much more efficient rate. Perhaps this is the same thing you’ve experienced.” damon_dolo
13. A Mystery Surrounding What Happened To Our Friend's Lips
I mean, everyone knows it’s easy to forget things when you’re intoxicated, right…?
“In college, I lived with three roommates. Well, it was Thursday night of midterms, and my one roommate and I were up late in our rooms studying while the third one went out to drink because he was all done for the week.
Around 3 in the morning, I’m still in my room at my desk studying away when out of the corner of my eye I saw a figure in my doorway.
Up to this point, I had headphones on, so I couldn’t hear anything, so I quickly ripped them off and turned towards the door only to see my one roommate who was in his room studying all night. You think my nerves would be calmed at this point, but he just had this half confused / half scared look in his eyes. I ask him what’s up, and he just responds with, “Look who is in our kitchen.”
So my nerves are still on full alert as I step out of my room into the kitchen (which was dimly lit due to college students not replacing the other 5 light bulbs that burnt out) and see someone facing away from us and leaning over our table.
Initially, I thought it was our third roommate just getting drunk and coming home from a long night out, but when I placed my hand on their shoulder and turned them around, I realized I was wrong. Instead, it was an older friend of ours, and right away, I noticed the blood. Not only was there a pool of blood on the table, but also it was pouring out where his lip was once attached.
I say that because it looked as if someone took his bottom lip, cut it from one side to the other, and basically flipped it inside out. Seeing the way it dangled there was horrifying, and I immediately told the other roommate to grab some towels.
At this point, our friend has yet to say anything other than a few mumbles about falling and is clearly out of it.
When my roommate comes back with the towels and helps the friend cover the bleeding is when I actually had a chance to step back and observe the kitchen. There was no blood anywhere but on the kitchen table, and when I glanced at the kitchen table again, that’s when I noticed it. A pair of our scissors was on the table, broken in half, and soaked in blood.
I nudge my roommate and nod to the kitchen table, and that look of confusion comes right back to his face.
I try asking the friend again what happened, and this time, he just mumbles about being jumped by some kids. I further inspect our house, the concrete porch outside, and any other signs that the bleeding started before the kitchen table, but there were no signs.
So I tell my roommate that we clearly need to get him to the ER, and we take my car and lay down about a dozen more towels to help with the bleeding.
To add more mystery to this story, as we were walking into the ER waiting room, a group of four kids or so were nudging each other and pointing over to our friend while chuckling. At first, I just waved it off to some random kids gawking at a kid with his lip hanging by a thread. Then, they got up to leave. and as they were leaving, they look over and say, “Hey (friend’s name), you have a rough night?” The way they said it gave me that sick feeling that they knew exactly what was wrong with him, and as they left, all I could think to do was ask them if they saw him earlier.
They all looked at each other for a moment before replying, “No, we’ve never seen that kid before in our lives” before turning around and quickly hopping in their friend’s car that was parked outside.
Seeing that it was four in the morning at this point, my brain didn’t comprehend how weird of an encounter that was before they left. Anyway, we finally get him into a room, and an officer comes in and tries interviewing him.
After a few moments of refusing to talk, our friend asks my roommate and I to leave the room. After about 15 minutes, the officer comes out and asks us for the details of the story. After going over everything, he confirms to us that our friend told him the same alternating stories as well and has no clue what happened. I mention the kids, but he doesn’t seem interested and eventually leaves the hospital.
The nurse informed us that our friend was on painkillers and there would be no point in staying around, so we left.
The next night my roommate and I, along with a dozen more friends, go on Spring Break and just didn’t really talk about it or hear from our friend other than a mutual friend saying he had to get plastic surgery on his lips, and he would be fine.
Fast forward a few weeks, he comes over and thanks us for helping him out but was really hesitant to talk about that night other than to offer his gratitude. To this day, we still have no idea what happened and every possible scenario creeps me out to think about.”
12. Aliens Must Be To Blame For These Incidences
“I grew up in the outskirts of Oregon, deep in Clatsop County on the logging roads. Out in this part of the land, you do not suffer from light pollution. On a clear night, you can really take in the Cosmos. As a family, we would spend nights outside on our house’s rooftop and stargaze, watching shooting stars, satellites, and constellations.
My stepfather would have my brother and I go back inside when the “satellites would start to dance.” Now we had to been around 7-13 years old at the time and never really understood what he meant by that.
As I grew older and more rebellious, I would sneak out at night and wait for these “satellites” to start dancing with no avail.
Skip ahead a little bit. When I was ten years old, I witnessed a “plane” flying overhead of a hill that our house overlooked. Thinking it was strange, I asked my stepdad, “Should there be a plane out here?” and his response was, “No, there is never any air traffic over here.
The airport is more in the city,” so I kept watching, curious about what this plane was doing out here. After a few seconds of watching, it seemed to just stop. Once again, I asked my stepdad, “Should a plane just stop in the air?” He once again gave me a quick response, “No, planes can’t just stop mid-air,” and it was left at that. I stayed watching this plane sit there for what seemed about 15 seconds, and then the light just vanished.
A week later, my older brother left to do some camping with friends On the second night, something really terrifying happened.
I used to sleep in a sleeping bag, not anymore. I went to sleep in my PJ’s and zipped up in my sleeping bag, warm and tight. Now understand this: my mother was working at a military surplus store at the time and had gotten me this sleeping bag, so it was one of those ones that come all the way up to the head and cover it like a hoodie.
Anyway, at some point during the night, I woke up in an absolute panic and sweat. I felt dizzy and disoriented. Without being able to see, I started to thrash around. Finding a wall, I started pounding on it as hard as I could until my mother came down and unzipped the bag. I was upside down in my bag, naked, covered in sweat and freezing cold.
She told me that my brother must have done it and then quickly remembered that he was away camping and then tried to say I did it my self, but I know it’s impossible to undress myself in that bag and also place my self upside down in my own bag with it fully zipped up. I never sleep in sleeping bags to this day.
Skip ahead even further, I am now 22 years old and living in Beaverton, Oregon.
This is a warm, clear summer day in August, and my friends and I are standing outside while they smoke and I get some sun. The area that we were hanging out at was in a semi-industrial area where a lot of big rig trucks would drive through. This is important because we all knew what it “felt” like when one of these eighteen-wheelers would drive by, and we kind of made a game out of guessing when they would come or go.
I started to feel the ground shake and could “hear” it coming, I was wrong.
The clear blue sky formed a sort of cloud, and that cloud opened, and a giant fireball came flying down out of it. Judging by the size and speed of it, I thought my friends and I were about to die. I seriously thought that it was the end of Portland/Beaverton as I knew it.
I turned to my friends and said, “We are about to die.” People across from us at the Max stop started pointing and yelling, and the owner of the building dropped his cigarette and just stood in awe. As this now roaring fireball flew towards the ground, we could now FEEL the heat, the air had pressure and the ground was really starting to shake (maybe my legs too), and then all of a sudden it performed a 180-degree rapid turn and shot back up into the sky FASTER then it was falling and completely vanished.
My friend turned to me and said, “That was a weird firework.” We argued for a good 3 hours about it until I gave up and drove home, phoning my dad on the way home asking him to turn on the news because something groundbreaking just happened, and I told him everything. I got home and… Nothing. No news was covering it, the internet had nothing on it, and that was that.
It was over.
To this day I have no idea what happens or what I saw.”
Another User Comments:
“We went camping a lot when I was growing up, I don’t remember there ever being any snow, but we definitely went when it was quite cold. One time it was really cold so I was using a military mummy bag that had a canvas cover that laced up that went around it. I remember waking up in the morning freaking out because I had somehow turned around and my feet were sticking out the head hole and my head was down at the other end. No explanation for how it happened.” businessowl
11. Ex Still Playing Pranks After Death?
“When I was 20 years old, my very first “serious” partner committed suicide. We had been together on and off for over a year (when I was 16).
When we were together, he used to always try to scare me and play not funny jokes on me. Like, I stayed home alone overnight a lot as a teenager, and he once popped up outside the window after dark when I was on the phone.
My friend I was talking to thought I was being murdered, and he thought it was hilarious.
Anyway, after we broke up, I started getting with one of his friends (which he accepted but wasn’t real happy about), so I still saw him occasionally. He would always make inappropriate comments to me when he knew I was the only one who could hear (mostly about the s*x we had had), so I tried to avoid him as often as possible.
When I look back now, I can see that he was a jerk (I was his “good enough” until something better came along for a good part of our relationship).
He had killed himself in front of his current partner. When he was talking about breaking up with him, he shot himself in the stomach in her front yard (I don’t think he was really trying to kill himself; he wanted her sympathy as he was a good manipulator).
His current partner was the only “steady” partner he had since me. She and I weren’t really friends, but we were friendly.
We had talked several times about him and how he treated her (and me) and all the similarities between their relationship and the one he had with me.
Anyway, his friend and I ended up very serious. We were still together when we got the call that he had died. We were living together and had an infant. We visited my ex’s parents the next day (he still lived with them).
His other friends were there visiting too. It was weird being there, but it wasn’t; I had been there so often.
At his visitation, his mom took me and another of his friend’s partners up to the casket to see him. He looked like he was sleeping, and she told him to wake up. I cried and cried. It was just terrible. I took his death very hard.
He was my first “love.” The funeral was the next morning.
Nothing weird had happened at all up to this point; it was just a sad occasion.
The morning of the funeral, I am getting ready in the bathroom, and my partner is getting dressed in the bedroom, and the baby is still in his crib.
There is a loud knocking at the door. My partner opens it, and there is a state trooper standing at the door (we live on a busy 4 lane highway outside of town, so state troopers are the more visible law enforcement in our area).
He talks to him a minute and then insists on seeing me and talking to me alone.
Asks if I am OK and is anyone else in the house. It was just weird. Finally, I guess after determining that I am ok, he says that someone called 911 from our house several times and kept hanging up (this was when everyone still had landlines). When they called back, it was always busy. He was nearby, so he volunteered to check it out.
It was the weirdest thing.
I checked the phone, and it was working fine. There was no way the baby could have done it. We didn’t do it; it was just weird. There was just no explanation.
It never happened again (we are still living in the same house today, 16 years later), and we still don’t know why it happened in the first place. I always say that it was my ex and one of his “not funny” practical jokes and that he was telling us he was OK in his own way.”
Another Users Comments:
“When I was a 9-1-1 dispatcher working overnights almost 10 years ago, we received a number of 9-1-1 hang-up calls one night. The address was on the screen, of course, and we called back with no answer. An officer was sent out to the address after the third call or so. It turned out to be an abandoned trailer on an overgrown lot in the middle of nowhere with absolutely no phone service. Very, very creepy.” AriadneHaze
10. Ghost Hunting Gone Wrong
“My friends and I used to go ghost hunting and legend tripping quite a bit in our late teens and twenties. None of us are or were “true believers” – except one guy who was a total New Age flake – in any sense, but it was something to do other than become an alcoholic, h*roin addict, or petty criminal like our peers. I enjoyed it mostly because I love a good ghost story and believe that local folklore is how you really get taste of what a place is about.
There is this one area of the state that has a few allegedly haunted cemeteries clustered close together. We had visited these places before but nothing happened. On one visit that I didn’t accompany, the New Age flake had claimed that he saw moving shadows along the perimeter of one and full-body apparitions at the other. The people he was with on both occasions told me in private that he was full of sh*t and spent both evenings acting like a TV medium on one of those corny ghost shows.
We decided one night to visit one of these cemeteries for sh*ts and giggles.
The flake, myself, and about 3 or 4 other people were present. The flake immediately starts putting on his show, and we’re all humorist him or ignoring him. I walk off with another person towards a tombstone that is supposedly the grave of a boy who was shot and killed by his father during a murderous rampage that also claimed the rest of his family. The story is bullsh*t, but the weird thing about the stone is that it has a hole in it that looks like a gun shoot wound complete with blood stains.
So I’m standing there with the person I walked off with, and we’re talking sh*t about the flake and how his act is cringey and d*uchey at the same time and how the stories about the place where complete bullsh*t or easily explained.
We’re both sweating balls and miserable since it’s mid-August, and every night is f*cking 80 degrees and swampy around here during summer. But as we’re talking the air around us, drastically drops a perceptible ten degrees or so. We both look at each other the minute we feel it and simultaneously ask, “Do you f*cking feel that?”
I would have welcomed the relief if not for what happened next.
F*cking footsteps in the grass like a little kid running circles around us. First in one direction, then another, and then it would be behind us. I’m f*cking dumbstruck while the guy next to me is losing his sh*t about how cool this is. Then the footsteps end with a resounding thump from the ground below us. Thump, thump, thump. I can feel it through my shoes, and it’s getting more and more violent.
I f*cking beeline it for my car and chain smoke cigarettes until the flake is done putting on his show, and we head home.
I can’t explain what happened in rational terms. It was just that guy, and I standing near the grave. Everyone else was spread out and the cemetery is set in a fashion where it would have been impossible for anyone to f*ck with us without being seen. I’m still not a believer, but I can’t help but think we p*ssed off that kid with our sh*t talking, and he decided to do something about it.”
9. "Get In The Car"
“When I was 15, I was visiting some friends in a nearby town. Just 4 high school bros, hanging out. What do we do when the parents go to sleep? Smoke w**d! This was my first time getting high, which only made the following even more terrifying. Note also that this was before the days of ubiquitous cell phone ownership – none of us owned one at the time.
So, what do you do when you’re 15 and stoned? Go to the park and set off fireworks! We were having a blast for 10-15 minutes, ran out of fireworks, and figured the cops were probably on the way. So we start heading back – but wait. We’re starving! There’s only one solution… go to Taco Bell (just a couple blocks away)! So we get our Crunchwrap Supremes on.
They’re delicious.
We’re walking back to the house, full and happy, still pretty stoned. It’s the middle of the night in Oregon winter, so chilly, raining slightly, and kinda foggy. A car drives up from behind us, pulls over right next to us, rolls down the passenger window. The driver – a middle-aged guy – says ‘Get in.’ We giggle, keep walking. He drives off.
Next block, the same car.
He pulls into a driveway just ahead of us, so he’s blocking the sidewalk, reaches over, and opens the passenger door. “Get. In. The. Car.”
F*ck that. We take off running, and the guy starts chasing us in his car. One of my friends yells, “Split up, and meet at the house!” so at the next corner, we all head in different directions. Terrified, I just kept running straight.
A couple of blocks later, I look back, and I am alone.
I slow to a walk and try to get my bearings. There’s nobody around – just then I see headlights coming from a side street. I dive into a driveway and hide under a car just as the lights pan over the sidewalk where I was just standing. Yup, it’s the same guy. He slowly drives down the street, turns, and heads away. I’m pretty f*cking freaked out at this point, but I’m only a couple of blocks from the house.
I think I can make it back.
So I wait a couple of minutes while I try to calm down, then I start to crawl out from under the car. What’s that? I heard a sound. I freeze. It’s the same car, driving very slowly back from the way he came. With his f*cking headlights off. He goes past the driveway where I’m still hiding and stops at the next house.
He just waits there, lights off, engine running, for what felt like hours; meanwhile, I’m petrified, laying under a car and breathing into my elbow because I thought for sure he could hear my panting otherwise. Eventually, he turns his lights on and drives away.
I’ve never run as fast before or since as I did then. I sprinted back to the house and made it there just as my friends were getting ready to come look for me.
They had all made it back without seeing the car again and were really freaked out when I didn’t show up for over half an hour. None of us could sleep that night.
That’s the end of the story – we still sometimes talk about that night when we see each other and are no closer to an explanation now than we were back then. The scariest night of my life.”
8. Weird Things Going On Native American Grounds
This wouldn’t be the first time something creepy happened on Native American land.
“Alright, I usually avoid the subject because everyone thinks I’m nuts, but here we go. This will be a compound of a couple of different stories from the same property. I used to be around some creepy sh*t. I worked as a local vendor for a now-abandoned renaissance fair, and everyone there was more there to hang out rather than run a fair.
The land was over Native American burial grounds; we were all in a large clearing a couple of acres wide, and there was tons of forest surrounding us that we all knew the paths through. Supposedly, there was a girl who drowned in the bog/pond on the property (I never looked into it though). We always heard drumming sounds at night, and everyone saw shadows both humanoid and not, etc., etc., etc.
By everyone, to clarify, I mean two separate groups of 10-15 people living on the same land. We all had our separate living spaces.
There was one creature we all dubbed “The Watcher” which was a humanoid with elongated limbs and a stretched face that liked to perch and watch the horses, especially when one of them fell sick. The girl who had the horse, while it was sick, she would sleep out with the horse to make sure she had water and everything.
She’d just put up a chair and keep a blanket around her. This ‘watcher’ creature would often touch her face and try to communicate with her. It helped her nurse her horse back to health, and they talked regularly. Very friendly creature. Everyone was aware of it; we just accepted it and moved on.
The first full night, I stayed out there alone in my tower (my dad was usually with me but had to work early the next morning).
I woke up in the middle of the night, turned the lamp on because I felt something in the corner, and the Watcher was next to the door leading down the stairs. I talked to it for a little while and asked it why it was watching over me tonight. It gestured to the balcony door where the outside light was flickering like shadows were passing in front of it rapidly.
I felt sick looking outside, so I just went back to talking to the Watcher. I felt safe around him, so I said thank you and went back to sleep. I awoke in the morning with the blankets tucked around me. (I kick blankets off a lot, and they’re never neat. I never make the effort.)
Another story involves those shadows. My dad took my car to head to work, and I was staying out there on my own more regularly because of his schedule changes at work; paranormal things like the watcher and other shadows became so normal that you pretty much always expected it; it didn’t matter the time of day or night.
I felt uneasy this particular day but brushed it off and piddled about my shop until most everyone got back from work and started up the campfire. I joined in. Everyone hung out for a while, and night was falling.
Everyone decided to go on to sleep early that night because no one seemed to feel well that night, and I wasn’t feeling well myself that night.
Nauseous, uneasy. I went back to my tower, and everyone went back to their places. I kept hearing knocking on my door. Not like someone asking to come in but trying to get in. I run downstairs. The porch light is on. All the lights are on, and nothing seems to be outside. In the way that, I couldn’t even see my porch light it was so dark.
I walk upstairs, close the door to the stairs and look out the balcony door’s window – I can see the moon perfectly; it’s a full-blood moon coming up over the treeline.
Oh. That’s a little creepy. I steadily through the night felt more, and more dread and fear creeping into me, and I’ve tried just ignoring it and going to sleep twice, but the knocking is getting louder, and I can hear things skittering around on the building through the thin wood. I call my mom and ask her to come pick me up, so I can stay there (still didn’t have my car).
I ask her to hurry – my parents live about 45 minutes away from this fair.
The skittering, the knocking, it all gets worse and worse. The balcony porch light is not visible at this point, and I’m upstairs in the corner on my bed, calling my best friend and partner at the time trying to get someone to pick up to distract me. I’m texting my mom to let me know when she gets here because I would have to venture outside to open the gate for her to come onto fairgrounds.
The balcony door is being hit harder and harder as well as the downstairs door, and nearly 45 minutes has elapsed.
I can visibly see the door moving with each hit. It’s only around 11:30 pm at this point. I expected any second that they would get through the door. I took to sitting against the door. and I was physically moved with every hit just as if someone was standing on the other side hitting the (locked) door open. Wood is creaking and scratching, and lights outside still weren’t visible, not even the moon now – but that part could have been due to cloud cover that might have come in.
My mom texts me with, “I’m here,” and I hear the car drive up nearby.
As soon as that happens, I see the car lights hit the glass reflection of the door’s window, and all of the banging and skittering stops, and the air lightens up. I hauled a** out of there, left all the lights on. I get to the car, ask her to leave, and explain the situation on the ride back.
THIS ONE is the one I actually came here to tell:
The fair ran a Halloween-themed maze through the tavern area and a “haunted trail” that went through the woods and past the bog/pond area.
We didn’t have it set up, but me, my dad and two other close friends were running it and trying to get it set up. We knew this trail and literally could navigate it in the dark no problem, we had been around it enough. People were still OK’d to come through the trail even though we didn’t have any sort of lighting on the way for some reason, so we just did our jobs and dressed up in our costumes and waited to scare the patrons as they went through.
This footpath varies incredibly with exposed tree roots and drops and small hills (did I mention no light yet?), so it wasn’t safe yet, but okay.
I’m at the front, basically alone. The only other people working the trail at that time was my dad and two of our friends which, the three of them were all back in the back part of it. The entire trail loops around and then comes back through the entrance where I’m at.
I run to the middle of the trail, scare the patrons, run back to the beginning and wait for them. Everything is pitch black. I can’t see anything. No one can see anything; it’s a cloudy night – the only light source is the patrons have cell phone lights pointed at the ground.
I start to feel like I’m being suffocated and closed in on, and my fight-or-flight reflex is kicking on full force into flight-the-f*ck-out and I run towards where I knew the only exit was, but for some reason, that suffocating feeling tightened around my chest, and I could not step past the treeline to get out no matter how much I tried.
Flight reflexes still going off, I run back into the trail area, and I’m just freaking out running in circles for a second until I get ahold of my surroundings. I hear the patrons coming around, and I tell them in whatever it was I had worked up to say. They ran out. My mind is still whirling, trying to figure out what’s going on, but the feeling of terror and suffocation is leaving so I’m getting back to being perfectly calm.
My dad and the two other guys come walking up and they’re all talking about how they scared the patrons this way and that way, and my dad turns to me and says, “Oh yeah! That was really cool what you did back there, by the way.” I look at him oddly and explain that I was in the front of the trail the entire time, and he says, “Are you sure? Because it really scared the patrons; it was really cool.”
My dad was posted in the back of the trail.
I never touched the back of the trail. He explained to me that he saw me clear as day on the side of the path with a spotlight type light shining directly on top of me, and I was in my black tank top I usually wore, rocking back and forth saying, “There’s no way out, there’s no way out, there’s no way out…” and staring into the distance.
Not only had I not gone to the back of the trail, but I wasn’t wearing that tank top. I had chills and refused to work the trail the rest of that weekend. We went back in the morning, and he took me to where he saw the figure, and he stopped and said, “It was right here.” The path was a straight drop-off for a good 8 feet on the side he saw “me” there for a good bit of the trail. None of us had spotlights, either.”
7. A Ghost That Visits On Command
“Okay. I haven’t told anyone this story since I was a child because when I told my cousins what was happening, it scared them really bad, and I got my second-only whooping with a belt by my dad. As an adult, I don’t mention it because… I just don’t know what it was, and I don’t want other adults to think I’m nuts.
When I was in second grade, I woke up one summer night, dead of night, to a woman floating through my window into my bedroom.
Oddly, I wasn’t scared. I just sat up and asked, “What are you doing here?” I remember she answered me, but oddly enough, the next morning, I couldn’t remember what she said or even what her voice sounded like. I couldn’t even remember what she looked like. So next I said to her, in true 8-year old fashion, “Well, you better get going because my dad might wake up, and then he’ll be mad.” She slipped out of my already cracked open bedroom door, and I went back to sleep.
Sounds like sleep paralysis, right? Wrong.
The next day, I was really excited that I had my own fairy godmother, and I named her Crystal. And I thought in my head – Please come back! Come back, and wake me up at dawn, so we can talk!
I sh*t you not, the next morning, just as it was getting light outside, I hear someone whispering my name. I realized that this sh*t was real, and she was a ghost, and I froze.
I stayed as still as I could, not even able to breathe, and just prayed as hard as I could, ‘Go away, go away, go away.” I could FEEL her right by my head. As I’m typing this, tears are coming to my eyes.
Okay, happened once, coincidence, right? Nope. Every time, I would get brave and say out loud to her, before going to bed in my room, “Okay, come this time.
I swear, I won’t get scared.” She would come, whispering my name, and I would almost sh*t my pants in fear and never open my eyes.
So at this point, I’m thinking, still could be night terrors, right? I mean, our eyes have receptors sensitive to light that wake us up, thus causing me to wake up at dawn and hallucinate this sh*t.
Here’s where sh*t gets real.
Next summer, I tell a friend that this is going on while we were camping together. She doesn’t believe me, says to me, “Okay, ask her to come tonight.” We’re sleeping in the same tent, and my friend wants to see for herself. So I do. And at dawn, I hear her, calling my name AND MY FRIEND’S NAME. We don’t move, she leaves, and we both sit up, and my FRIEND HEARD HER TOO.
She freaks out, tells her parents later that day sobbing, I get in trouble for scaring the sh*t out of kids with ghost stories.
Later that summer, I told my cousin this story, and before that night, she freaks out, tells her mom, and I get my a** beat for telling ghost stories.
I got p*ssed about said beating, and angrily said out loud – “I got in trouble because of you, and I never want to see you ever again!”
And I haven’t. Ever.
Thank f*cking God. And I just don’t think about it anymore and never when I’m alone at night.”
6. The Universe Told Me To Pursue A Girl
“I was a senior in high school and fell in love with my friend’s sister, but she was a freshman in college and had a partner, so eventually, I got to a point of whether or not to continue pursuing her. I was pretty torn.
One night, I was in my dad’s hot tub and was doing my usual thinking. I then sort of “asked the universe” if I should really keep pursuing her, specifically….”hold a place in my heart for her,” then I sat back and relaxed for about 10 minutes.
Pretty much every time I got in that hot tub, I’d go under and hold my breath for as long as I could at least once, just for the hell of it.
So I do it that night. About 30 seconds after I go under, everything is completely still. I’m still, water is still, not a single sound (actually pretty relaxing). This is where sh*t got weird.
I heard a flick on the surface of the water, literally the sound you hear if you flick it with your fingers. Internally, I immediately think, “Oh, must have been a bug, whatever,” then right after that, I heard a voice, a deep man’s voice, right over the water.
Couldn’t make it out at first. Initially, I wasn’t weirded out, figured it’s my dad coming outside to be like, “What are you doing?”
Then I realized, “My parents are never up this late, so why would Dad be all the way….”
“Yes, Ben” clear as f*cking day, right next to me in the water, but completely clear and deep. As soon as I heard it, I couldn’t move.
I was frozen, a mixture of complete bewilderment and fear. Eventually, I got up out of the water and looked around, legitimately creeped the f*ck out.
Nothing. No cars, no wind, not one thing that could explain it.
Long story short, since that night, I really went after her, I got her, and we had an amazing relationship together for a couple of years. Unfortunately, she ended things with me.
I wouldn’t be who I am today had we never been together, and the way my life is right now, it was for the better. I wouldn’t have had it happen any other way. So that weird voice had a huge impact on my life whether or not it was real because I was close to losing all hope of getting her.
I still don’t know what to think.”
5. Getting Locked In A Closet By A Ghost
“I don’t really believe in ghost and supernatural stuff, but this, I can never explain this.
My family and I used to live in this house with 3 bedrooms. 1 was for my sister, 1 for my parents, and the other I shared with my younger sister. My bedroom had a closet that you can walk in and walk through to the other side where the main hallway was.
From there, my parents’ room was right next to it.
I would wake up most mornings in the morning and go to my parents’ room since they were the only ones that had a TV.
I’m not sure of the age, but I was probably around 6-7.
One day, I woke up from a nightmare. I still remember the dream. In my dream, there was this ball floating at the foot of my bed.
It wasn’t tangible. It was made up of the white noise screen you see on a TV. There was a face on it but very hard to make out, and I just sensed it being bad. I woke up from this dream, and it was really dark, so I decided to go to my parents’ room because I was a scared kid.
So I got up and walked into the closet to exit on the other side.
The light bulb inside was the kind you pull the string on, and my mom had tied a fat shoestring on it, so we could find it easier. The other door was kept open as well, so it would never be closed.
I walked into the closet and hit a wall. Ouch. Why is the door closed? It was so dark inside, but I felt around, and it was solid all the way through.
I couldn’t find the opening that was there all the time.
I reached back for the fat shoestring, but couldn’t find it. At this point, panic set in, and I started yelling. I was yelling and began pounding on the walls to try and get out. Through the panic, I decided to turn around and head back. I was briskly walking back when I hit my face against another wall.
The open door I had just walked in through was closed and locked.
I broke down at that point.
My mom had a bunch of extra blankets in there, so I threw one on the ground and about 5 on top of me. I laid in the fetal position crying myself to sleep.
I woke up in darkness under the blankets. It was quiet, and I slowly peeked outside.
Amazingly, I was greeted by light.
The lightbulb in the closet was on, and both doors were open.
I went to my parents and saw they were dead asleep. I went into my sisters’ rooms, and they were also asleep.
I was so confused.
To this day, I have no explanation for this.
I will add that many weird things happened in that home: handprints on mirror appearing during steamy showers, doors randomly shutting, footsteps in the hallway, and the other crazy one was having the pots and pans thrown in the kitchen while we were all in the room watching a movie.”
4. A Haunted First Apartment
“Ghosts. First apartment. Ugh, sounds so cliche. That’s what p*sses me off most about it.
I was on the second story of a converted house; there was an attic apartment above me that was unoccupied. The landlord’s apartment was the entire downstairs floor.
I frequently heard thumping up there but always assumed it was typical “old house” creaks.
One day, I was sleeping in my bed. It was facing the doorway into another room.
I saw what I thought were window curtains flowing in the breeze of an open window, but then I remembered that A: that window isn’t open, and B: it doesn’t have curtains. Then a woman’s floating figure in a nightgown starts floating across that other room towards my doorway. I was frozen in place in fear. Then she does the typical “fly at you with a scary look on her face” thing, and I freaked out and woke up.
Inspected the place and saw it was empty. I chalked it up to sleep paralysis and ignored it.
Cue a couple of months later – I moved my bed in the room. It was now next to the heating duct which connected all three floors – old school style cast iron vent cover was on the wall about knee height. Probably 12″ by 12″. I start to hear my name being called out in the night.
I thought it was someone out front at first. I even went out the front door once at 3 am to let the person in the house (thought it was the new guy at work looking for a place to crash), but there was nobody there. This continued for several nights until I realized it was coming from the vent, and it was definitely someone whispering my name.
As things progressed, I started hearing bumping around upstairs.
I investigated that apartment several times, and it was wholly unoccupied with no means of getting in (fire code violation, yay) except through the communal hallway (which oddly enough had a door to my bedroom – old converted houses are weird sometimes). One night, I had my partner sleeping over, and she heard the whispering too. We investigated upstairs together and saw nothing. Come down to my room again, and now I’m p*ssed and freaked out.
The bumping resumes upstairs, so clearly someone walking around. I grabbed a knife in case it was a hobo or a “friend” f*cking with me or something. I sat on my bedroom floor for the rest of the night listening to someone walk around upstairs. My partner heard it too and was freaked right out with me.
I’m not sh*tting you, I heard the footsteps go across the ceiling towards the stairs.
They came down the f*cking stairs to the door that led to the upstairs apartment – which again, was in the communal hallway and was right outside my f*cking bedroom door. I never heard the apartment door open/close, but I heard the footsteps continue all the way down the stairs and then down the hallway towards the stairs that led out front. I’m f*cking p*ssed and full of early 20’s rage and adrenaline that someone dared to f*ck with me (as immature, angry post-teens won’t do), so I opened the door all p*ssed and ready to stab a f*cker and… there was nobody there.
Me and my girl investigated thoroughly and found nobody. The footsteps upstairs stopped. The whispering stopped. Never heard anything or saw anything again.
I moved out a few months later. That place f*cked me up man…”
3. Finding Evidence Of A Family Living In An Abandoned House
“About 3 years ago, I was taking a year off from college and was back in my tiny hometown in the Midwest. I had a lot of friends in the area and we used to love to go out in groves, abandoned buildings, and anywhere else to shoot coons, skunks, possums, and the occasional coyote. Yes, it was a pretty redneck pastime, but we also go paid for it!
One night, I think it was about late March or early April like spring was right around the corner, but there was still snow on the ground.
About 6 of us went to an old abandoned house a decent way from town, and as we drove up to it, it looked like your average abandoned house: tall grass all over the yard, including the driveway, broken windows, etc., etc.
As we all got out of the truck, we noticed there was a female mannequin head tied by her hair on a window sill on the 2nd story.
We ignored it and started moving to the front door, which we quickly discovered was locked.
Now, this is where I usually like to call it and find somewhere else to go, but one of my friends just crawled through a broken window and let us in.
Right off the bat, something was wrong. Although there was no furniture or anything else that would show a living person was occupying the house, there was also no dust.
I pointed that out and was just told to stop being a b*tch by my friends. We walked through the main floor and didn’t find anything and then we checked out the basement.
The basement was FULL of mason jars. Like, easily 1,000 of them, probably more. I said something was definitely up, and we needed to get the f*ck out, but once again, my friends told me to man up.
They smashed a few of them before I convinced them to go upstairs and check that out.
We climbed up back to the main floor and then to the 2nd story. When we got up to the top level, I split off from the rest of the group, pulled out a knife, and cut the mannequin head down. I was looking at it in my hand when my friends called out to me and told me to check out what they found.
I ran to them and found about 3 sleeping bags, some old bikes, lots of shoes, and lots of Mountain Dew bottles.
Some of these bottles were frozen, some were not. This is where we all decided it was time to get out of this house.
Once out of the house, we waited up our pickup while we decided where to go next. But, we figured no one was at the house at the time, so we would do a quick sweep of the barn and corn crib and then leave.
We went to a shed quick and shined a light in it, didn’t see anything, and headed for the corn crib.
I’m not sure why, but I was walking alone to the crib, with one friend following me by about 15 feet, and the 6 others stayed at the shed for some reason.
I was getting close to the crib, but I had my eyes on my gun. I was just checking it over to make sure everything was right when my friend shouted, “Holy sh*t, I just saw something move through the window on the 2nd story!” He then ran up to me, and I took out a flashlight and shined it at the window.
I didn’t see anything but a glimmer of light caught my eye on the main story.
I shined my light into the main floor of the crib, and there was blood, everywhere. Just typing this, I’m getting goosebumps all over. There was blood coming down the wall from the 2nd story, all over the wall, and starting to drip onto the floor; it wasn’t even starting to coagulate.
We got the f*ck out of there ASAP as my friends saw it from the shed they were still at.
Later that year in June or so, I told that story to a girl I liked, and she didn’t believe me. We ended up getting into my truck, driving to the house in the middle of the day, and I put my high beams on the crib without ever getting out of the truck, and the dried blood was there, but it didn’t look like any more ever came from the 2nd story.
The summer after, the barn next to the corn crib burned down. The sheriff department said a moonshine installment went wrong, and people operating it fled the area. I still have no idea why there was so much blood; it wasn’t mentioned in the report at all.”
2. Evil In The Hills
“Paramedic here. We were called at 2 am to a little town in the hills away from our area. Someone had called with chest pain and needed an ambulance. It took us a while to get up there because the road was unsealed and weaved around the mountainside. We drove into the town and there were no lights on at all except for a phone box lit up on the street.
The address was actually a little way out of the other side of town (about 3 km or so), but when we got to the street, we found no street numbers. It was very hard to see where we were going, but we soon found a shack hidden behind some trees where we think the address was, so we pulled up and knocked on the door.
No answer, so I knocked again. After about a minute, a woman stepped in from the edge of the door all dressed in white, not saying a word, and standing with her nose pressed against the screen and wide-eyed. I asked if she had called for an ambulance, and she just shook her head. I asked if anyone else had, and I could see another figure in white standing further back in the house.
No lights were turned on, and no one said a word, so we got back into the ambulance and kept searching.
We drove to the end of the road which ended in a property with a huge house that had about 30 windows and a yard full of old cars. No lights were on in the house. We tried to call and radio our communications center, but we were unable to get to them in any way due to the location.
We drove back into the town and decided to use the phone booth to call communications about the job. We found a few coins and feeling a little creeped out, we got a hold of them. They told us they had no further information for us, and to have another look around. As directed, we drove back down to the road and had another look.
We couldn’t find anything matching the house description we were given, and even had trouble finding driveways.
Finally, we got all the way to the end of the street and looked up into the huge house at the end of the road. This time, a single light was on in the front room and standing looking out away from us into darkness was a figure all dressed in black with a huge pointed hood. We waited, terrified, to see if this was the called, and he didn’t move despite us doing everything to get his attention.
After what seemed like forever, my partner started to scream, and we drove as fast as we could away from the house, up the road, through town, and back down the curling road till we got to the highway. Both of us were shaken by the experience and didn’t know what to make of it.
Once we arrived back into the mobile phone range, we called the communications center to explain that we couldn’t find the patient despite further searches.
The lady on the other end of the phone explained that they were unable to reach the caller again despite trying and ended up tracing the call to the phone booth we had called them from in town. I hung up the phone, and we both sat silently for the ride home before my partner asked me if I believed in the devil. I told her I don’t know.”
1. Time Went Missing
“My friend and I experienced “missing time,” so to speak, while on a canoe trip.
About 10 years ago, my friend and I went on a trip to Quetico Provincial Park in Ontario. Quetico is a wilderness park, so there’s no car camping or any sort of facilities like that. You get your permit and put it in at your entry point. The amount of permits given out is limited to preserve the park, so it’s unlikely that you will run into any other people during your trip, maybe a ranger.
We put in at Beaverhouse, and our route took us south into the Boundary Waters, a wilderness park in Minnesota.
We chose our route poorly and ended up having to take a grueling 5-mile portage. We weren’t properly packed or light enough to make this portage in one go, which was a big mistake. We also overestimated ourselves and started it too late in the afternoon. I’ve done many portages before, but this was something else; it had it all. Canadian Shield gnarled roots rocks and moss, flooded marshland, huge smooth granite saddles, dense humus soil that sucked your boots in, the works.
I don’t know how long it took exactly, but I’d say at least an hour and a half, each way.
It didn’t help that our canoe was fairly heavy – we tried to save a few bucks by not renting a kevlar one and used my friend’s rubberized canoe that’s meant for running rapids. Thankfully, it was tough because I must’ve dropped it at least 50 times, but you can just kick the dents out. Anyway, we’re on the way back to get the rest of our stuff and make the second trip, practically on the verge of tears from exhaustion…
And it’s starting to get dark. Not good – we have flashlights, but setting up in the dark sucks, don’t even mention trying to find a campsite.
We load up the food and get moving. 10 minutes later, we round a bend, and I see some packs and a green canoe. I think, sh*t, we must have taken a wrong turn and ended up at someone’s campsite.
But there were no branching trails and no campsites nearby. I take a closer look and realize it’s our stuff. But how!? We had passed none of the landmarks we had before, like the granite saddles. We were certainly exhausted, but I find it hard to believe that I could “zone out” for that many kilometers – and what about my friend? He also acknowledged that we finished the portage in an impossibly short time.
I looked at the maps, thinking maybe we had accidentally taken some alternate trail or loopback before, but there was nothing. Just 5 miles of land between the two lakes.
Now that I’ve typed this out, it feels anti-climatic. But there’s just simply no explanation for traveling 5 miles in 10 minutes. I’m looking at my old maps now to try and find where this occurred exactly.”
Metaspoon Slow or Crashing?
If Metaspoon is causing your browser to crash or run slowly, please try viewing the article in Lite Mode and it should run more smoothly!