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My favorite ghost story I read online was the one about the kid in the American south who had the goatman or whatever pose as one of his friends. Is there anywhere online I can find other stories like this with a similar standard of quality? Creepypasta snd. /nosleep are garbage.
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Oct 22, 2014 07:58
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The_White_Crane posted:Okay, this is pretty drat bland, but it's probably the weirdest/most ghost-y thing that's ever actually happened to me... ummm..a window from another dimension is pretty damned creepy.
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Oct 22, 2014 09:05
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Happy Halloween everyone! Jezebel (yeah, yeah) posted up a bunch of ghost stories that would be right at home in this thread http://jezebel.com/10-of-the-scariest-stories-weve-ever-heard-1652856691 http://jezebel.com/11-more-of-the-scariest-stories-weve-ever-heard-1653038439 I thought this one was really good. Read it right before bed, and it creeped me right the gently caress out Tara Babcock posted:When I was 18, I lived with my (now ex) boyfriend in a basement apartment in a town in Wyoming. It was not a happy time in my life for various reasons (boyfriend was abusive, I was pregnant with his child) but it also didn't help that the apartment was creepy as poo poo. Even for a basement apartment, it was unusually dark and cold all the time. and the winner from last year: Jezebel posted:I lived in a house from hell for four years, from age eleven to almost sixteen. There was constantly something happening. Doors flying open and shut, voices, footsteps. Nothing ever stayed where you put it. I was alone there a lot because both my parents worked and I was constantly terrified. ASMR Yodeling has a new favorite as of 13:43 on Nov 1, 2014 |
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Oct 31, 2014 18:34
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Sorry for any spacing issues I wrote this on my phone. I had found a retro fitted apartment that the owner was willing to lease to me for the school year. The building itself looked old, but was beautiful on the inside. Right after I moved in, I noticed something strange. There was only one other person living in the complex. After I finished unpacking, I went over and introduced myself. Her name was Ashley and as it turns out she had only moved in a few days ago.We made small talk for a while, then I invited her to join me for dinner. She said would love to but she had plans with her cousin already. So I left grabbed some Taco Bell and began a Gi Joe marathon. I had gotten the box set as a graduation present. The next thing I remember is waking up because someone was poking me in the shoulder, the same way my little brother would wake me up. When I opened my eyes I swear I saw a little kid in a hospital gown. Then Zartan and the dreadnaughts attacked Gi Joe Hq, which caused me to actually wake up.I sat up to the intro to a new Gi Joe episode. Still groggy I played the image of the kid to the PSA from the last episode. I walked outside to grab a smoke and went to bed. The next day I woke up and went to find a part time job. I remembered passing a record store when I was moving in, so I headed there to see if they were hiring. As it turns out they were and somehow I b.s.ed my way into a job. I was extatic 24 hours a week in the evening, working with one other person. Getting paid to talk music and movies I was on cloud 9. On the way home I decided that I should to smoke a bowl when I got home to celebrate my new job. As I was opening the door I heard laughter and what sounded like my little brother getting into my stuff again. Out of instinct I began to yell ,"Get out of my.."Halfway through I remembered I was living alone and got worried. As I was beginning to call the police, I heard Ashley scream so I ran knocked on her door to see what was wrong.When she opened the door she looked pale and scared to death. What's wrong I asked? She said " In the bathroom". I ran into the bathroom as I called the police. Someone had written play with us in lipstick on her mirror. I took her outside and offered her a cigarette while we waited for the cops to show up. I told her that I had heard someone in my apartment when I heard her scream. She then tells me that she had just woken up from a night of partying with her cousin. When the cops finally arrived we each explained what happened and what I had heard. They looked around her place and couldn't find any signs of forced entry. They said it might have been her cousins sorority. When I opened my door we found all of my magic the gathering and Pokemon cards strewn throughout the room. It looked like a tornado hit my room. The officer checked my room, and like Ashley's room there was nothing taken or signs of forced entry. I called the landlord to report the breakins, but didn't get an answer so I left a message. Ashley had called her cousin and found out that it wasn't her sorority. But the officer didn't believe her. His response was do you really think that they would admit to breaking into your place in front of a cop ?He left shortly after that. Ashley asked if I would stay at her place because she didn't want to be alone right now. I agreed I told her I would be over as soon as I grabbed some pjs. I went back to my place got my pjs, and decided to eat some shrooms. When I knocked on her door a few minutes later. She greeted me with a beer and a smile. "Thanks", she said as she waved me inside. Shortly after I had arrived the pizza guy showed up. It was some sort of Una style pizza. Pretty good. We talked for abit, watched some bad reality TV. At that point she told me she was ready for bed. As she closed the door to her room I heard the lock click into place. I went into the kitchen to get another beer. When I came back there was the same kid from the other night playing jacks right next to the couch. The kid looked very pale and dressed in a hospital gown. I watched him play for what seemed like hours but when I looked at the clock it had only been a few minutes. My name is Earl had just started. Suddenly he/it looked up at me.A cold chill ran through my body as I realized that I could see through him, as he threw the ball my way and said play. I caught the ball and sat down. I figured a kids a kid dead or alive. If I play with him he might leave us alone. I sat down and took turns playing Jacks with him for a while. The next thing I know I hear Ashley yelling my name and shaking me. What the hell are you doing she asked me. Playing jacks I told her. She looked at me like I was crazy. I must have been in a daze. As soon as she shook me the kid was gone and so where the jacks. To her I was just sitting on the floor going through the motions. I explained to her what happened, which didn't make her feel any better. She said we needed to get the hell out of there. So we went to Denny's to figure out what was going on. After we were seated and ordered some coffee. We tried to collect our thoughts. We did the only thing we could think of at 4 am, start googling. A quick search of our address reveals that our building used to be the administrative building of an old Tb hospital. The large lawn next to our building was the main hospital. In fact this one housed a children's ward. What the gently caress I say. Why the hell didn't they tell us any of this. I jokingly asked if her dad was a lawyer. No she said, but her uncle was. She sent him a text to call her when he woke up. We ate breakfast and waited for her uncle to call. He finally called about 6 am. She told him what was going on, save for the part about me playing jacks with a ghost
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Nov 3, 2014 19:46
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Hey everyone, thought you may be interested in this. It's all fiction, but it seems like it may still be up your alley. Definitely fits in with the spirit of the thread. I've become a producer for a show in NYC called Fireside Mystery Theatre. It's basically scary stories told in an old fashioned radio kind of way, with live music accompaniment and live sound cues. We have a lot of fun doing it and now we have a free podcast! http://www.firesidemysterytheatre.com/#!podcast/c1yi7 You can listen on iTunes, Stitcher or SoundCloud. I'd love to hear what you all think! And I'd also love any ideas you all might have for stories. We're trying to do all original material so ideas are always welcome. I've been reading these Ghost Stories threads since at least 2007, if not longer, so all of your work and all your opinions mean the world to me. Hope you enjoy it! Rick Sanchez has a new favorite as of 20:41 on Nov 4, 2014 |
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Nov 4, 2014 20:37
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joebuddah posted:Sorry for any spacing issues I wrote this on my phone. Yeah, it was totally a ghost and not the shrooms. Unless the ghost brought the shrooms.
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Nov 10, 2014 09:24
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Khazar-khum posted:Yeah, it was totally a ghost and not the shrooms. Unless the ghost brought the shrooms. Not gonna lie, I was kinda thinking the same thing. Interesting story, and interesting that other people seemed wary of the apartment, but it was probably the shrooms. 
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Nov 10, 2014 15:38
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More stories from Roma, Queensland in Australia! Quick update on my previous encounter with the woman in my car; I will be dropping the kids off with my parents next Friday afternoon, and likely will be coming home at approximately the same time as I did last time. I will be keeping an eye out for the woman again. Anywho, this one comes from my wife and her co-worker. To be clear, I have been vaguely aware of her workplace having a reputation, but she's never really spoken of it, and I've never asked. Today, however, she and a workmate opened up about it. My wife works as a medical scientist, in a pathology lab. The co-worker is a phlebotamist (the person who actually stabs you and takes your blood) I was off sick today with this annoying as poo poo cold/flu thing, and my wife wanted me to bring her some lunch. I did, and stayed for lunch because her workplace is temperature controlled, with big-rear end air conditioning that keeps the lab a beautiful 18 to 23 degrees celcius. We don't have good air conditioning at home, just this vented evaporative system that does the entire house, which is great in dry heat but as soon as you get any humidity you may as well not have it. I guess I should mention to all you foreign folks that this is Australia, it's summer here. My wife and I were only this morning talking about getting the house some proper wall mounted air conditioning, and I brought it up because I hoped to maybe get something in the works as soon as possible, seeing as this weekend is expected to get into the mid 40s. Hot as poo poo. We were all talking about different air con setups, when my wife just says something along the lines of "oh, this weekend if it gets too hot just bring the kids up here to work. Bring the ipad, some colouring books, and just sit in the waiting room whle I work (she is on-call this weekend). Ha, maybe I'll kick you guys out to go home and I'll sleep here!" At this point we all make the customary half laugh, half "actually that's a great idea because air con this good is hard to find in this heat" noises, when the co-worker stops, then says "Yeah, but stay here over night? gently caress that." Then my wife agrees. "Yeah, no. No way am I ever staying up here alone." Co-worker: "Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if you had some other people with you..." Wife: "Nope." I asked what they were talking about, but my wife just said "It's creepy here at night." and then the co-worker took a phone call and I decided to go home and pass out on the bed covered in a wet towel with 2 fans blowing on me. It didn't work great, but it made the heat a little easier to deal with. Fast forward to this afternoon. I picked the kids up, returned a DVD, picked up our stupid cat from the vet (got her foot run over somehow; nearly $900 later) and got home after my wife. She's cleaning the kitchen up a bit, and so I run the kids a bath and once they're splashing around, I went out and asked my wife what was up with her lab. So here is what she said. You go in the dark and it's scary. Like that primal fear you see in the movies, it's like there is something in the dark with you. Even when the lights are on, weird poo poo happens, like stuff getting thrown from shelves when you're not looking. You'll go and pick whatever it was up, put it back, go back to what you were doing, and then it'll happen again. Stuff is getting flung a good 5 or 6 feet. The waiting room door has a large clear glass window in it, at the end of a short hallway. When you are standing at the computer they use to enter patient details in, if you look up over the monitor, you are looking staight down the hallway, and through that glass window. This is so it's easy to see patents enter or standing around waiting (there is a bell there now so it doesn't matter so much anymore though). Staff are constantly seeing someone passing that widow, or standing at the window, but when you go to check, or look up, they're gone. The only entrance to the building is directly behind that door, so by looking through the window you can also see the closed front door, so you know that no-one could have just left because you can see the entrance/exit at all times. Stuff goes missing, then reappears moments later, sometimes exactly where you put it, sometimes across the lab away. Weird sounds. When asked what kind of sounds, my wife said "It sounds like the sounds are supposed to be the analyzers, but it isn't the analyzers. I don't know." So I don't have any idea what she means, but it creeps her out plenty. All this stuff happens at all hours of the day, whether you're in there at 3am because someone has decided to have a heart attack, or 11am during morning tea, after a regular boring morning. The only exception is the creepy vibe. That only happens at night, when you're alone. No-one likes being alone in that building, especially with the lights off. The machines and air-con run 24/7, but the last one out is supposed to turn off the lights. Hardly anyone ever turns the lights off though. Back in the day, the building was the matrons quarters, then became the nurses quarters. Built in 1912, it was a matrons quarters, then became nurses quarters. My wife doesn't know what it was after that, or when it became a pathology lab. It's built on the grounds of the "old hospital", which is now just paperwork storage for the "new" (read 1980s, I think) hospital. The lab is situated smack bang in between the two. So... weird. It goes without saying I trust my wife completely, and being a scientist, she's quick to dismiss this kind of poo poo, but hey, the place really freaks her out.
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Nov 14, 2014 10:04
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princecoo posted:More stories from Roma, Queensland in Australia! This was a good read. I briefly worked in a building that was a hospital built around the turn of the century and I wouldn't have been caught dead working there at night.
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Nov 15, 2014 07:04
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RickVoid posted:So a few years back my Wife and I were kind of in a bad place. I'd lost a good paying job almost a year ealier, and while I was working part time, it wasn't enough. I was mentally in a pretty terrible place, we had a kid a bit over a year old, another on the way, and we couldn't really afford rent. Not trying to go E/N here, but it was not good. So uh, an update to this 'cause I kust found out. They next guy to rent the place after us killed himself. I'd link to a news article about it but the owners are family and are already having enough trouble trying to rent the place out.
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Nov 15, 2014 21:37
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I was going to make this a quick update about the woman in my car, but realised I'd need to give some background information about my mother in order for it to make more sense. Please bear with me. Ok. My mother. She is probably worth her own drat thread at this point. She claims to be psychic. I will go on the record and say that I do not believe her, I think she's just very good at that cold reading trick. I do believe that she believes it though, because she takes it very seriously. She doesn't run around offering her services or suddenly stop and be mysterious with the "There is a disturbance in the force" bullshit or anything, she just... knows things. And when she "knows things", she's pretty much always right. Some examples: Years ago I visited my parents and the subject of tarot came up. My mother claims to be able to read palms and read tarot, but never actually does those things, and she once again claimed she could just tell things about people. I decided to be a smart-rear end and asked "Well, when was the last time I had sex?" and without even missing a beat she replied "Last Thursday, around 1pm." That was either an amazing guess, or my mother gets a spirit phone call every time I bone, which is an idea I am super not comfortable with. A few years ago, a friend of hers brought a friend of theirs into my mothers shop. They had never met, but as soon as she entered the store, my mother blurted out "I'm so sorry about your brother." The woman got very upset and left. Turns out her brother had died very recently, but she hadn't told anyone yet. A couple of years ago I hurt my wrist and thumb at work, and had to get some injections and a cast. No big deal, but at like 4:30am the next day after getting the cast, my mother calls me up all panicky asking me what I did to my arm. I explain, a little snarkily because it's 4 in the goddamn morning, then my dad comes on and says that I should be thankful, because she has been going off about it since yesterday and he had to keep talking her out of calling me over nothing all night. Then he was surprised I actually had hurt my arm. She had the correct arm and everything. My mother claims to have a "guardian" ghost, who follows her around, scaring the poo poo out of boyfriends mostly. She hasn't seen this "spanish gypsy" ghost since before she met my father. Actually, quite a few of her stories involve the gypsy, if there is interest I'll post them. Anyway, my mother is a little eccentric, but not crazy. I tell you all this because I travelled out to Mitchell yesterday with my boys to visit. I promised them we'd go swimming, and Mitchells big tourist attraction is the Great Artesian Spa. (http://www.southernqueenslandcountry.com.au/destinations/mitchell/attractions/great-artesian-spa/ if you're interested.) It's these two pools, one of which is naturally heated to around 38 degrees celcius. A lot of people (mostly seniors) claim the spa has healing properties, but I figure when you're old a nice warm bath will do you wonders for your arthritis. I roped my family into coming to the spa with us, and while we were there I told mum about the woman in my car. She was very interested. Once I finished, she said "Oh yes, she lives along that stretch of highway. Well, I say lives..." So I got excited and asked if she knew who it was, but she doesn't know. Apparently occasionally people just get a weird feeling driving that stretch of road, and she herself has experienced a prescence while driving that road. She then turned to my nephew, and said "I told you there was something out there, didn't I? You remember?" and he said "Yes, and then you passed out and nearly killed us." He then gave a very animated recreation of the incident, which boiled down to my mother driving, him in the passenger seat, when she turned to him, said "There is someone here with us." then passed out and drove off the road. He grabbed the wheel and guided the car back onto the road and she came to, lauhed about it and said "That was interesting!" and they continued on home. So that's my update. Driving home yesterday evening I kept an eye out for the woman, but didn't see her again. Though this time I had both the kids with me in their booster seats, so maybe there wasn't room for her?
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Nov 15, 2014 23:59
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princecoo posted:Though this time I had both the kids with me in their booster seats, so maybe there wasn't room for her? Maybe that is a lot better than looking back to see her sitting between your two children :-0!
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Nov 16, 2014 00:13
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This is not quite a ghost story, but I think it fits the thread. Edit: Hell, maybe it is a ghost story. I was homeless from the time I was 18 until I was 20ish. With the help of an amazing woman, I got my poo poo together enough to get off the streets. We moved into an apartment together in the downtown Cleveland area. My girl was still in college, and I had been on the streets, so this was the first grownup apartment for either of us. The apartment building was an old hotel, built in 1901, I think. The door to our apartment was a huge, heavy chunk of wood; the bathtub was an ancient claw-footed job; there was a water pipe running floor-to-ceiling in a corner of the room. The place was heated by an ancient radiator that we had no control over, and which made disturbing creaking noises when it was full of deadly, deadly steam. Next door was an abandoned building that had previously been an art school. The building was gutted, the floors were rotten, and it was so close to our window that we could almost touch it with a long broom handle. That place was creepy as gently caress. From our second floor apartment, we could see right into the windows of the abandoned art school. The floors were more hole than structure, and we could look through the holes to see floors above or below us. The stairs had long ago collapsed, and there was no connection between one floor and the next. There was an old partially disassembled VW Bug on the second or third floor. The building was dusty and wrecked, and generally very creepy. The problems started shortly after we moved in. I will preface all this by saying I have no particular belief in ghosts or supernatural phenomenon. I chalk it all up to the stress of a tough situation, and a being at a scary point in our lives, but the poo poo was weird, anyway. The first thing that started happening was that my lady started waking up in the middle of the night just freaking out, and seeing things. She'd be sleeping peacefully, then she'd start muttering things I couldn't make out, and a few seconds later, she'd be wailing like she was in pain, or really, really frightened. She'd never done anything like that, before. The first time, I thought she was being attacked by rats or spiders or some poo poo. When these incidents happened, I'd wrap her up in my arms and soothe her and try to calm her down. Sometimes it was very hard. Those incidents became more frequent, and weirder. One night, she woke up screaming, "Ow! Ow! Owwww!" She was flailing around like she was fending off an attacker. I rushed over and tried to calm her down, but she just freaked out worse. She scooted back on the bed, pointing and trying to get out words, but they were incomprehensible. I finally made out something about "him" or "he." She started pointing, while still retreating and pushing herself into the corner. I didn't see anyone or anything, but she kept pointing and shouting panic-gibberish. When she finally calmed down - which took a while - she told me she thought someone had been in the room. She saw him when she woke up. The apartment was tiny, with a living room/kitchen on one end just big enough for a small fridge and stove, a bedroom in the middle, and a tiny bathroom on the other side. No one had been in there with us, so I chalked it up to a freak occurrence. Then it happened again. Then it happened again. Then more weird stuff started happening. At about the same time my girl started waking up screaming and speaking in tongues, my dreams started getting weird. I know, everyone's dreams are weird, but mine have always been extraordinary*. At my baseline, my dreams are weirder than those of anyone I know, and the dreams I started having in that apartment were hosed up even by my standards. The main thing that made them weird and a bit scary was that my dreams started getting really violent. My dreams have always been insane, but there wasn't often a lot of overt violence in them. What violence there was was usually kind of cartoony (vampires, extreme Chinese Kung-Fu movie action, stompers coming out of the ceiling to crush me, etc), or it was horror-suspense movie implied violence. The violence in my dreams became frequent, and very realistic, after we moved into the apartment in question. I started getting stabbed, and stabbing people. I started getting into gang fights, and getting beaten and bloodied. Sometimes I beat and bloodied others. My girl's sleep incidents continued to happen, and they started to drift into her waking life. I remember the first time she froze up in the living room and asked, "What's that?" She pointed to the center of the floor, and said she thought she saw a light, maybe from a flashlight. We were up on the second floor, and the floors in the building across from us were almost completely rotted out, plus there were no stairs or any other way up from the ground floor. I didn't see how it could be a flashlight from across the way. Then, she saw it again. Then, she thought she saw people in the building across from us. I don't even think it would have been possible for people to be on our level in the abandoned art school, unless they could float. Yet, she continued to see lights in our apartment, and across the way. I never saw the light, and I never saw the people. Then, the light starting showing up in our bedroom, where there was no window for it to come in. Then, she started seeing it frequently when she woke up in one of her terrors. Finally, she started thinking she was hearing people in or close to our own apartment, even while she was awake. Then, I died in a dream. As outlandish as my dreams have always been, I had never died in a dream. If I fell into water and couldn't get out, I found I could breathe under water. If I was stabbed in the neck, I felt a soft touch on my neck, and then I woke up. If I were being crushed, I woke up just as the crushing happened. There was always an escape. This time I did not escape. The dream involved me being on a small plane, just big enough for three (I think) of us. Something happened, and the plane went down. When we hit the ground, I didn't wake up. Instead, everything was suddenly gone. I felt coldness, then the strangest sense of disembodiment. I was in the middle of blackness, only it wasn't blackness, because it was nothing. I had no senses, and I had no coherent thoughts. I had a sort of feeling of being "over." Then, it became blackness instead of nothing, and I felt like I was drifting in it, then I started to come around and wake up, and I was flooded with the most incredible sense of elation and gratitude to be alive. I cannot explain in words what this all felt like. I don't think the words exist. Four years we lived there, with my girlfriend (later wife) waking up paralyzed in terror, and seeing things that I never saw. Four years I lived with increasingly violent and frightening dreams, and transient feelings of dread with no discernible source. After four years, we were in a position to move on. I went down to speak to the landlady, who lived on the premises. The landlady had always been quite sweet and helpful to us. I think she had taken a shine to us. As I am letting her know that we will be leaving at the end of the lease, she says to me, "Since you're leaving, I guess I can tell you about your apartment." She proceeds to tell me that a man had slaughtered his wife in our apartment. I don't recall the details, now, but I think it happened in a fit of jealousy over something. The landlady said it was quite a mess. What I do remember is that the woman bled out and died in the center of the kitchen/living room, right in the area where my wife always saw the lights that I never saw. This story is true. This is not an exercise in (bad) creative writing. I know it doesn't stack up to some of the other tales in this thread, but it all happened just the way I told it, and it still effects me twenty years later. Do I believe it was supernatural? I do not. Would I bet my life on that? I would not. * One terrifying and disturbing dream I used to have was a recurring nightmare where I was being stalked by a murderous ham. I woke up in cold sweats with adrenaline dumps from that one multiple times. The ham was murdering its way through some building I was in, and every time I had the dream, it got closer to catching me. I remember the ham was particularly fond of hiding in darkened hallways and leaping out to murder its victims as they stepped out of doorways. That is not even close to the craziest dream I've had.
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Nov 16, 2014 02:28
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princecoo posted:More stories from Roma, Queensland in Australia! The house I grew up in, the one featured in Telephone Man? Well, my father was an actual Rocket Scientist. And after living there for over 20 years, with the noises and activities, he went from "that's bull" to "there's something to this, but I'm not sure what." As he put it, there's so much out there in the Universe that we can't even begin to image what we don't know.
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Nov 16, 2014 07:10
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I'm going to tell you about my grandfather, on my mothers side. These are not ghost stories, but I think they won't be out of place here. First off, my grandfather lied about his age, and joined the army to fight in World War 2. He was extremely bright. Like, super smart you don't even know. He used to take column of figures 6 or 7 digits long, and just run his finger along them quite fast and tally it all up neatly faster than you could get the first 2 figues into a calculator. He used his incredible math skills to "hack" the national lottery; he never won it big, but rarely did a week go by without winning at least $20-$50 in one of the lower divisions. My mother recalls one time he was listening to the lottery results on the radio, and he frowned, rechecked his notes, then threw his tickets down with a "They've changed the bloody machine!" When the results were televised later that evening, they had indeed changed the number selection machine. He was pretty annoyed, because he had hundereds of notebooks full of calculations that had gotten him that far, and now he had to start again. He was fluent in French, Japanese, German, Greek, Ancient Hebrew, Italian and a couple of local Papua New Guinea dialects. He was assigned to military intelligence, in Papua New Guinea. He was supposed to be rear support, being intel, but New Guinea became a little bit of a shitfight and he wound up on the front-lines. Now I only have 3 really odd stories involving him, and 2 involve me, although I was literally still in my mothers womb for one, and like 4 years old for the other. First up, when my mother announced she was pregnant with me, he was very excited, and asked the due date. My mother said 16th April. My grandfather then said "No, he will be induced on the 18th, and delivered on the 19th. And he is absolutely a boy." He was right, I was induced on the 18th, and was born just after 3am on the 19th. And I am male, if that isn't clear. Second story. My mother and I were driving along a road when little 4 year old me jumped up in my deat and poined at a random house and started yelling "That's my house! That's my house!" My mother told me to calm down, it wasn't my house, and we were going back to our house right now. I replied "That IS my house. It has walls that move." She told the story to my grandfather, and he asked what road. She told him, and he asked for a description of the house. She gave it, and he said "Well, actually, that's where I lived as a boy, with my sister. She died after falling from a horse, and hitting her head on a rock. She was 4 years old. And that house, it does have walls that move, the rooms are partitioned and you can just pull the walls open to make some of the rooms bigger." So that's the story of how I might be the reincarnation of a long dead great aunt. Third story. This one creeps my mother out, of all people. My grandfather, for all his brilliance, had quite an interest in the occult. I don't believe any of that stuff, as I've said before. I remember as a child he had an enormous library of books, in his private study, it was quite impressive. Anyway, my mother recalls one time she came home from school, and found him dragging all his occult stuff out of his study and into the yard. All of it. The library I remember was massive, but apparently the occult stuff he'd collected was almost as big again, back in the day. He had 1st editions of some stuff, and a lot of quite rare pieces as well. He took the whole lot outside and burned every last one of them. He stood there to make sure this potentially priceless collection was completely destroyed, and when my mother asked him why he had done it, he just turned to her and said "There are some things we are not meant to know. Things we are not to play with." and he refused to talk about it ever again. Whatever he found, it scared the poo poo out of him. He never spoke of the occult again. princecoo has a new favorite as of 06:37 on Dec 8, 2014 |
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Nov 16, 2014 09:13
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Forgive me if this is a bit poorly composed, I've been suffering from a decent fever for the past few days. Upper lung infection or something. So, at the end of August I decided to be an idiot and do a solo-hike through the Stein Divide. 120km of completely untouched wilderness (except for the rough trail) that crosses a mountain range. I packed expecting to be out there for 9 days, take my time, enjoy the solitude and beauty, really find myself. For millenia the Stein was used by the Nlaka’pamux as both a living place and a location for puberty rights; they'd send their sons and daughters into the valley where they would live for several weeks or months and culminate in dancing before a fire until sunrise, at which point they'd pass out, have fever dreams, and paint some pictographs. Hundreds of them still decorate the valley today. From the start poo poo went downhill, rain soaked through my layers and defeated all my waterproof gear. I watched half a mountain collapse while I was practically standing on top of it. On the fourth day, the noises started. I'd become lost in the fog and turned back to the campground at Tundra Lake, an inhospitable site blasted by winds and rain. As I settled in to try and sleep around 7pm, I heard rocks slide down the hill behind me. I wasn't too concerned, since this had been happening all day and the lake was a caldera with sheer walls. I passed out, woke up in the dark to hear it again sometime later, slept till the next day. The fourth day was hell. Blasting winds, heavy rain, and I walked a ridge for 6 hours with a 5000' drop-off on either side of me. I got to Stein Lake near 6, soaked to the bone and hypothermic, set up my tent on the SAR helicopter pad, and seriously believed I was going to die that night. If I hadn't been wearing wool for most of my layers, I would have. At roughly 6:30 pm, as I was shivering into sleep, a tree cracked like a gunshot less than twenty feet from my tent, echoed, and went still. At this point I realize that they'll find my shredded corpse a week later when I'm finally overdue, and there's nothing I can do about it. I slept with a bear banger loaded in one hand and my knife in the other, as if it would do any good. The morning of the fifth day, the weather lifted finally and I resolved to GTFO of this godforsaken valley as fast as possible. It was 75km to the trailhead, through heavy slide alder after a massive forest fire. It was at least five days for a fit person. I did 20km the first day, not stopping to rest. As I reached Logjam camp, I rejoiced. I was warm, my clothes were drying, and I could eat a hot meal for the first time in days instead of just crawling into bed. I enjoyed the evening, and as 7pm rolled around, a tree cracked like a gunshot roughly twenty feet away, and echoed up the river. Now, the rocks I had chalked up to unstable conditions, the tree the night before to a bear trying to get at bugs or something. But the same time, close by, three days in a row? Must be coincidence, it must be. I kept the bear spray nearby, slept like a log regardless. As I'm leaving camp the next morning, I fail to clip the bear spray to my belt properly and don't hear it drop. I don't notice until I'm an hour out of camp, traversing the lush valley bottom where a bear is mostly likely to be. For the next 8 hours, it's still as can be around me. No animal calls, no bird calls. Oh, I can hear them far far out in the distance, but there is a dead zone of like a kilometer around me and I don't even here bugs in this dense woodland. As the day went on, I realized that this had been the case the day before but I'd been so focused on walking that I hadn't noticed. I'd paused above some marmot holes to eat nuts, scattered some about, and nothing came out. WTF, that's uncanny. The only wildlife I see that day is a single, massive, toad. I do over 25km and make the Lower Crossing, the entrance to the valley, just after 6pm. Up until now, all crossings of the river have been done using cable cars, including getting down to Stein Lake from the ridge, hence why I was still chalking my nocturnal visitor up to coincidence. At the lower crossing however, there's a nice big bridge. As I'm drifting off, right at 7pm, a goddamn tree goes off like a gun across the river, followed by another which then tumbles into the water. I shoot out of the tent, peer through the scrub trying to see wtf is over there, can't see anything. Get back into tent, hunker down, have dreams of being stalked all night. I got up a the crack of down and powered my way to the trailhead by 1pm, which resulted in me being half-delusional from hunger by the time I got to the pictographs and breaking down crying like a bitch. So much for nine days, I was out in five.. Now I've told this story to a few close friends, and they can't explain it. Every night at the same time, the same noise? If it was a different bear messing about with trees every night, then that's a mighty big coincidence. Why stop at one tree? Why push one into the river on the last night? At the same time, the cable car system means it couldn't have been something stalking me all the way from the alpine, and the access to the ridge was quite precipitous even for a human. I saw no scat of any sort the entire time I was up there. Not the scariest story that's ever been posted here, but I certainly won't be going through that valley solo ever again Rime has a new favorite as of 22:29 on Nov 16, 2014 |
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Nov 16, 2014 22:21
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I’ve never been a big proponent of belief in the paranormal. Sure, I grew up Protestant Christian and went to parochial school, and our doctrine specifically mentions the existence of ghosts, demons, and whatnot, but I’ve always thought it was ancient people using ancient knowledge and expressions to describe things perfectly explainable today. Legion, the demon exorcised by Christ is described as a crazy-strong man that lived in the graveyard, would howl at night, cut himself with stones, and generally act insane to the point where no one could deal with his bullshit anymore. I kind of attributed the whole thing to a mentally ill guy healed by the Son of God. I got to believe what was taught to me in school and have the peace of mind that there’s nothing evil out there reaping people’s souls. Yep, before this incident I had it all figured out. I spent Thanksgiving weekend this year in Northern Louisiana with my wife’s family at a place we just call The Camp. The family has owned the place since time immemorial, and the family patriarch recently divided the rather large farm/ranch/hunting lease between all their kids and grandkids. That means I own a five acre plot near where this whole thing happened (yay) right next to my in-laws’ place, meaning I probably have to go back there some time in my life. I’m not looking forward to that. Anyway, there are only a few buildings on this place. One is a little doublewide on my in-laws’ plot, right next to the lake. The other is an old farmhouse that was built sometime in the late 1800s or early 1900s with an adjacent barn/tractor shed. The rest of the land is one of two things: flat, grass fields used to make hay, or wild woodland with wicked thorny brush. So, we spent Friday and Saturday doing what we usually do out there, drinking, driving around on ATVs, shooting, fishing… typical redneck weekend activities really. Some time in the evening on Saturday, I notice that my dog, Harvey, is missing. Aw poo poo. You guys that live in rural areas probably don’t get too twisted about a dog going missing for a couple hours. Normally they’re off exploring or sniffing deer piss or rolling in something nasty or whatever, but Harvey is not that kind of dog. First of all he weighs all of six pounds, and he spends his days living in my suburban house where the wildest thing that happens to him is the occasional trip to the duck pond. He is the ultimate pampered city dog with attachment issues. He has no business being out and about with the coyotes, raccoons, alligators, and whatever other horrors they keep in the state of Louisiana. Anyway, I’m a bit concerned, but I’m not worried yet. I tell the rest of our group celebrating the holiday that the dog is missing, and I’m going to go have a look for him. Being tiny, he’s probably like a hundred yards out in the field, and we can’t see each other over the grass. I set out on foot in a likely direction and start calling his name. As I walk, I hear the sounds of engines being fired up and search parties being organized by drunk people that probably shouldn’t be behind the wheel. Looks like we’ll be covering a lot of ground and making a lot of noise. To their credit, the search parties did a good job of fanning out across the place. At least the coyotes won’t be coming near the place, limiting the chance of a chihuahua/coyote encounter. I look off to the west and see the sun is maybe half an hour from setting. Great. After an hour and a half of searching, we slowly trickle back to the doublewide, informing each other that we saw and heard nothing from Harvey. By this time it’s dark, and I’m in full on anxiety mode. Harvey’s been waiting for me to come home for ten years, always ready to go for a walk or play or cuddle. He was there for me through my depression, and he was there to greet me when I came home from Afghanistan. You could say I’m attached, and I would not let my little friend loving die out in the woods of Louisiana. He deserves better from me. I grab my jacket to combat the temperature drop that came with the sunset, and I let everyone know that I’m going back out to look and listen. I’m near tears and reluctant to look anyone in the face (guess I’m a tough-guy), but I can see my own fears in their expressions. From then on, no one really calls Harvey’s name anymore. We’ve gone from searching for a lost dog to searching for a dead or injured one. A couple take my hint that the ATV’s engine noise are a hindrance now instead of a blessing, and they set out on foot with flashlights. I head off without one, not thinking about anything except preserving my night vision for more efficient Harvey spotting. Again, the search parties go opposite ways to cover more ground, and soon I’m alone. I find myself walking over softly sloping bald hill overlooking the old farmhouse. There are no lights visible anywhere but the half moon overhead, which is more than enough for me to navigate by. I can see for a fair piece from atop my hill, and I half-heartedly call for Harvey. I paused for a moment listening. I had been here earlier today, during the daytime, and it was unlikely he would not have come to me if he were alive and uninjured. Now I listened for the whining or whimpering Harvey was wont to do when he needed me. Nothing. I did, however, notice movement in the shadowy area around the farmhouse. No one lives there, so I figure it’s probably an animal, maybe Harvey. I finally have a lead on where to search. “Dear God, please let that be Harvey and not a rabid raccoon. Amen.” I like to keep my prayers short. I keep my eyes on the shadows around the farmhouse as I descend the hill so as to track whatever is moving in there, and in the back of my mind I kind of note that the little compound is the only loving place I might need a flashlight. As a matter of fact, it looks like an island of inky blackness in a ocean of perfectly safe moonlight. Normally, I would not mind venturing into the dark. As a matter of fact it was a big source of safety for me while I was in Afghanistan, since the local insurgents didn’t have night vision goggles. I’ve spent a lot of time in the dark with a rifle and a MRE or a map or whatever. However, I would love to know if the thing I’m reaching for in the dark is my dog or something wild and bitey. Rabies shots aren’t given in the gut anymore, but it’s still an experience I want to avoid. I pat my pockets and come up with my iPhone with ten percent battery. Better than nothing, I suppose, but I’ll have to save the light for when I need it. I’m getting closer to the farmhouse, and I’m using noise to protect myself from potential animal attacks. My steps are loud and I’m calling the dog’s name often so as to spook anything that wasn’t named Harvey. I’m getting to close to an outlying tree next to the house and I shut up for a minute to listen as I walked. Nothing. No whining, no whimpering. Actually, now that I am actively listening, there isn’t any sound but the wind through the structures in front of me. The rattle of a gate, the squeaking of tin on the roof of the equipment shed, that’s the kind of stuff I hear. No crickets or frogs. No engine noises from my fellow search party people. That’s odd. I call Harvey’s name again, unintentionally a bit quieter this time. As I continue toward the farmhouse, I stop calling Harvey’s name and find myself crouching slightly, sneaking. The outlying tree is on my left now, maybe about 25 yards away. My head’s on a swivel, looking from side to side and checking behind me every couple seconds. My eyes brush past the shadow at the foot of the tree at first, continuing on to where I first spotted the motion from the hilltop, but something brings my attention back. My stomach does that thing where it feels like you just went down that first hill of a roller coaster. Is that a person? The outline is vague, but it looks like the silhouette of a man. I freeze. Nothing moves under the tree. Those of you that have navigated by moonlight in the country probably know that the moonlight, while it seems like you see things clearly, is not sufficient to make out detail, especially in the shadows. The wind is shaking the branches of the tree, making its shadow dance and flail around, but the figure remains consistently still. It could be a person, I don’t know. My brain may be interpreting the dark into shapes it recognizes. I feel strange, like the rules governing this place just changed, and I wasn’t paying attention when it happened. I’m exposed. I’m naked. There’s no cover anywhere near me. Where’s my weapon? Where’s my overwatch? gently caress gently caress gently caress I’m dead. Somehow I feel that familiar stress I hadn’t felt since being overseas. Where the gently caress did that come from? I blink and take some deep breaths. Clarity is only a phone click away. I snake my hand down into my jeans pocket and light up the screen. The light from the screen doesn’t penetrate, so I reluctantly take my eyes off the shadow to open the flashlight app. The LED fires up and I hold it out in front of me like I’m trying to ward off dracula with a cross. Nobody. There is some scrap tin stacked up next to the trunk of the oak tree, but no man. My heart is still beating like crazy, but my brain is finally working more rationally. It’s a trick of the light. I take some slow steps toward the tree, trying to prove to myself nothing is there. I stop on the edge of the tree’s shadow, something in my head tells me I should, under no circumstances, take another step toward the that tree. I’m only a couple feet from where I saw my phantom guy, he’s not there, but damnit if I don’t feel any better. My phone’s LED light is no joke. I can see everything. Just some tin sheets and perfectly undisturbed grass. But I cannot shake the feeling that I’m very very close to… something. My hands tremble slightly as my finger hovers over the flightlight app’s kill button. I force myself to press it. ...and everything goes dark. Yay for bright phone screens and the human eye. Everything is an inky blur, and I can’t make out much of anything. I do still feel like a step in the wrong direction would be a very bad idea, so I take some steps back and turn to continue toward the farmhouse. I tell myself I don’t need to look back. I checked that drat tree. I look anyway. There he is again, barely discernable like he very well could be a figment. Just standing there, completely still, unmoved from where he was originally. He is, however, facing me still though my angle has changed. Ok, so this is one consistent optical illusion or... One thing is for certain, I’m not going near that tree. I step onto the gravel driveway leading to the house. It’s at least in the light, and it continues on past the devil tree to where I want to go. As I near the moonlit side of the house to begin my search for Harvey I look back to make sure my friend hasn’t moved or stopped being all creepy. Yep, all is right with the world. I turn back and loving freeze mid stride. My heart jumps into my throat and I throw myself backward onto the gravel with a high-pitched shriek. He’s maybe three feet from me, just standing there in the shadow cast by the awning over the side of the farmhouse. I'm so close, yet I can barely make out his head and shoulders. I can tell he’s looking down at me though I can’t see eyes. Have you ever experienced sound so low in frequency that you are unable able to hear it, but you can feel it? Imagine if you were deaf and stood in front of a really loud concert speaker, next to a huge diesel engine, or close to a series explosions. You can feel that sound in your gut. Your bones shake. Your brain rattles in your skull, and somewhere in there, deep in the parts of your brain passed on to you from your monkey ancestors, you know it’s time to panic. That's how being near the thing felt. Like a predator had me dead to rights, and all I could do was wait for the end. I’m panicking, breathing like I just sprinted for a mile, my eyes are darting for a way to escape. How many of these things are there? I chance a look back at the tree: yep, he’s still there. I look back to the house, squinting to find him again, this one’s still here too. I scoot back on my rear end to get some distance from the more immediate threat and get an angle to look at the tree and the house. Tree guy is gone. House guy is still there. gently caress. I’m jerking my head around, looking for the other one. House guy is still standing there, completely still. I take my eyes away for a moment to check the barn. There he is. House guy is gone. Then it dawns on me. “It’s the same one. It’s the same one. It’s the same one,” I’m babbling to myself as I try to get control of my brain and my adrenaline. Trying to calm down is a challenge, because wherever I turn, there he is with that silent death stare of his. My mind goes back to school, in my congregation class. We had an hour of instruction from Pastor on what to do about supernatural stuff. It sounds weird, but it was really a thing in my school. It's not like we had a whole class dedicated to it, but one day, during third period, he took questions on the supernatural. Anyway, there are four things you do not do in an encounter be it demon, ghost or whatever. Don’t acknowledge it. Don’t speak to it. Don’t give it your name. Don’t call on it. Ok. The acknowledging thing is right out the window. It obviously knows I see it. Rule number one broken. “Ok. Rules. Rules. Rules. Rules... “ I’m muttering under my breath. Rushing through words. I talk a LOT when I’m afraid. I think it helps me cope with things. Slows my brain down. Everything has rules right? Rules are comforting. The whole universe is made up of rules. For one the thing hasn’t left the shadows. There’s that. It hasn’t touched me. There’s that too. I stand up and whip out my phone. Time to call for backup. I’m not going to be that rear end in a top hat that tries to go it alone in a spooky situation. If ghost stories ever taught me anything, it’s that when someone shows up that can possibly corroborate your spooky story, ghosts run for the loving hills. It’s science. Also being scared out of my gourd may have something to do with it. I dial my wife. She’s the most likely person at The Camp to have her phone on her. I keep my eye on where I think I see the shadow thing. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Four ri-- *Click* “Annie? Hello? Can you hear m---” then the most God-awful screeching noise like when you’ve got a poo poo connection to the tower, and the speech is all garbled. I look at the screen just as it displays the little Apple logo in the process of turning off. “Annie?” “Annie? Hello?” Oh poo poo. Tears well up in my eyes out of sudden realization and terror. My vision gets hazy. My voice was coming from under the awning. “Annie?” “Ann?” “Anabelle?” I hear it call my wife’s name to my left, then behind me, then off in the distance somewhere impossibly far away. It wasn’t just copying what it heard, it sussed out Annie’s full name. Something clicks. “Harveeeeey?” It calls for my dog. I’m starting to see now. “David?” The memory of hearing it call out to me with my wife’s voice still keeps me up nights. The situation has changed again. I swallow the scream I had been holding in. Rule number two broken. It knows my name. Message received. Don’t call for help. Tell no one. I want to bolt. I want electricity, lights, noise, people. But I can’t leave right now. I think that's what it meant for me to interpret from it mocking me. If I leave now, I could tell the others, but then I imagine Annie hearing me call her from somewhere in the dark, only it’s not me… I slowly, carefully take trembling steps further toward the barn/tool shed, thinking it may leave me alone if i look for the dog and then go. That was my original intent after all. I don’t know. Not my most rational decision. The building is more of a car port than a barn, I guess, having only three walls and a roof. I peer inside, but, of course, it’s pitch black. I can make out the edge of the hay loft and the outlines of the backhoe and front end loader. I can almost make out the shadow man directly to my left, in the patch of darkness closest to me cast by a nearby tree, always as close as possible within sight. “David?” Perfect impersonation. I hear a scrambling sound from the tree next to the barn like little claws on bark. On one of the limbs I see a little gray lump with legs(raccoon judging from the size), doing its best not to fall from its branch. I feel a little better seeing another living being around, even if it’s not human, but then the branch gives way with a snap. The raccoon falls onto and through the tin roof into the barn. I hear a disturbing scream from a loving terrified raccoon, and then it’s cut short. The thing is still standing there to my left, still as ever, as I hear wet popping sounds coming from deep inside the barn. He never moves, but in my mind’s eye I can see the animal being butchered alone in the dark. I silently pray that no one else has met that fate tonight. The sounds continue interminably. I’m not sure when they stopped, but eventually I’m left in silence again. Complete silence. “David?” I remember sprinting back to the doublewide, staying in the light like my life depended on it. I didn’t look back. I didn’t call for help. I followed the rules. I found everyone returned from their search empty handed, and they were all too drunk to realize I was terrified as opposed to worried. None of them saw the dog or… anything else. I was afraid to ask them directly. I still haven’t. I spent the remainder of the night watching TV with the lights on and trying not to look out the window. I got Harvey back a couple days ago from a very nice lady that took him in when he showed up on her porch. She lives only a few miles away from The Camp, but that’s a long rear end way for a little dog to travel over rough country in the dark. He is a bit more chill now, content to curl up and cuddle on the couch with me rather than bark and random sounds. He's happy as a clam on your lap watching TV or reading a book. He must have been through a lot. He does not sleep with the lights off anymore. He sits there and shakes so badly that his kennel vibrates until we give him some light. We’ve taken to putting his kennel under the Christmas tree to calm him down. He won’t come when we call him anymore. I have dreams sometimes about looking out of my window into the night and seeing it there. Sometimes the dream is about my wife stepping outside thinking she heard me call her name. This got super long. TLDR version: I searched for my lost dog and got spooked by a shadow and a raccoon.
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Dec 7, 2014 07:53
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I thought this thread had died and disappeared! I'm glad it's still up. I have an update on the woman in my car. I spoke with my dad about my... encounter, and he told me that there was a car accident alog that stretch of road back in the 70's. Apparently 3 siblings, a young woman and her two brothers, were travelling from Mitchell to Roma and they rolled their car three times, killing all of them. Unfortunately I can't find any newspaper articles or anything to corroborate his story, so I'm thinking of going into the local papers offices and asking about fatalities along that road from the 1970's. See if they have hard copies stored somewhere. I'm still sceptical of 99.99% of all other "paranormal" stories, but I'm really intrigued by this now. If I can find a newspaper article referencing it, and maybe a photo or something of the girl, I'm sure I would recognise her. Anyway, I've been extra-vigilant on that road ever since, and have not seen her again. But I have seen something else weird. Same stretch of highway, but closer to Muckadilla this time. About 5 minutes out from Muckadilla, if you're headed East towards Roma, there is a railway crossing. I was returning from a trip to see my parents with the kids 2 weekends ago, and was barreling along the road when I came to this crossing. I'll be honest, I wasn't slowing down for it because we don't get trains out this way anymore, everything is freighted by truck, and it's in a bit of a plain, so you can see along the rail line in both directions for about 3km each way. But I did slow down, because in my high beams, I could see a parked SUV, or possibly a ute with a canopy over the tray (uh, "truck" to you Yanks) parked on the side of the road about 20 metres beyond the crossing. As if they were headed the same direction as me, then pulled over. I braked, because my first thought was "gently caress, a speed trap" but the vehicle was what appeared to be all dark blue, aside from the back which had white (or lighter coloured) stripes (which is what makes me think it was a canopy). My second thought was that they'd got a flat tire; their interior light was on, as was their headlights. I didn't see anyone though, just this parked car with its lights on. Nothing weird about that though, if they were in front of the car or on the passenger side, I probably wouldn't have seen them anyway, let alone if they were crouched down changing a tire. So I switched off my high beams, and slowed right down to see if I could offer assistance. As soon as I got over the railway tracks, that loving car disappeared. Gone. I stopped, in the middle of the road and looked around. Like I said, it's in a bit of a plain, so there are good sight lines in every direction and there wasn't a hint of headlights or anything in any direction. So I got the gently caress out of there, went home and told my wife, who teased me for having my mothers specil abilities. I've toyed with the notion that I might have a brain tumour, and that's why I'm seeing this weird poo poo lately, but my mother did point out that it's a strange tumour that only effects me along that stretch of highway. BONUS! Had my work christmas party on the weekend, and dumped the kids on my sister this time, out in Mitchell, so the wife and I could get our drunk on (which got blown to hell when her boss decided to gently caress off to Adelaide for the weekend, leaving my wife as the only on call medical scientist in the area). Picked them up Sunday night, and just past Muckadilla there was an aboriginal man, wearing board shorts and walking down the middle of the road, and apparently texting on his phone. Nothing ghostly, he just scared the poo poo out of me because, well, what the gently caress are you doing out in the middle of nowhere walking down the middle of the road, you lunatic? His dark skin and dark coloured board shorts made him just about invisible in the night until I was pretty much right on top of him. I was already pretty wired after travelling that bit of road before Muckadilla (and seeing nothing out of the ordinary) and the crazy fucker didn't even look up from his phone as I blazed past him!
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Dec 8, 2014 07:29
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Elpato posted:This got super long. I really enjoyed that  It was well written too, thanks.
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Dec 10, 2014 14:01
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Elpato posted:
That was a great story! Glad this thread ain't dead yet... princecoo keep us updated, I'm keen to know if there's any further detail you can figure out
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Dec 14, 2014 17:40
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Mister Bung posted:That was a great story! Glad this thread ain't dead yet... Same, especially around this time of year! Everything is sparkly and bright and I just want spooky stories! Also, I really love the old tradition of telling ghost stories on Christmas Eve. 
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Dec 17, 2014 23:25
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Its six in the loving morning and I've been woken up by a nightmare about goddamn Slenderman. Now, I don't particularly care about him, I read the loving thread where he was created, and I think it's the stupidest thing that it caught on as much as it did. But I had a dream about it, and by God I'm going write it down. It's not long, but if my writing starts to go hell, keep in mind I'm not a native English speaker and please just point out to me. The little bit of backstory to this is that my family lives away from my extended family from both sides, and particularly regarding my dad's family, we had to travel to Campinas, an honest-to-god metropolis. In a state where there's only three cities with more than 1m inhabitants, and one of those is São Paulo, it seems pretty big. Now, Campinas was always scary to my family and in extension, to me, but for the mundane reasons, high crime and stuff. I'm not surprised that for all intents and purposes the story took place there. On to the story. As I was walking the streets at night, going back to the house I was lodged in, I noticed that I could only see directly below the lampposts: Everything between it was completely pitch black. No windows and no night-sky as well. I was just about to take a corner when loving Slenderman just entered the one of the lights just down in the street I was just in. I'm still getting goosebumps just for recalling its appearance, one hour later. It really wasn't a man, per se. It was like if some colored smoke decided to take a shape of a person, but didn't really know about joints, so all its movements were a lot more fluid, I guess. It loving nailed the colors, though. Its body was all blue-ish, save for a spot right inside the chest and its extremities. In the chest there was a reddish clump hanging from a thread of red smoke. Its "feet" and "hands" were both white. It had no head. I was in the opposite sidewalk when it entered the light when I saw it. The most ridiculous thing was that he didn't care about me at first. Here it was, a translucent/ethereal spirit of murder and creepy time just walking down the loving street like everything was peachy. If it had anyway of making sounds, I tell you, it would be loving whistling without a goddamn care in the world. That poo poo aint fair. I was fixated on it walking the street for so long that it noticed me and turned to face me. When he did that, I turned around and started walking in the direction of the house I was lodged, feeling like a hole was being burned on the back of my neck. I eventually arrived at the house, locked the front doors and windows, and went to turn on the lights. The electricity was out, great. Even thought it was pitch black everywhere I looked, there was a patch of light illuminating right outside my door, and nothing else. And there was nothing there, just a white, flat, textureless floor. Nothing happened for a while, so I ducked out from the window, and as soon I was getting away from the (strangely-lit in the inside) door, someone knocked and called me to open up. It sure sounded like my dad. I open up and see nobody (I bet you didn't see that coming). At this point I get pissed and tell the thing to go gently caress itself. It just replies, ice-coldly: "You sssssshouldn't have done that". And I freak out and try to close the door. Now, this door is a regular home door, it also opens to the inside. It's a front door. It becomes parallel to the wall and the threshold stops it from swinging. But the door swung. It loving swung outside, like it was the most normal thing to do. At this point I'm trying to lock the goddamn swinging door and panicking because it won't stop swinging and I can't line up the lock. "It won't matter now" And I woke up. tl;dr: I had nightmar with loving Bendyman, forums favorite
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Jan 23, 2015 10:50
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Slenderman is NOT Bendyman. Murder you're famil.
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Jan 23, 2015 11:34
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Well, guys, 2014 is over. Seeing how I am absolutely terrible at keeping OPs current, I'm letting someone else take the reigns for 2015's thread. It's been great with all these stories! Now, I'm leaving this open until the next thread comes around. Also, PSA, please murder you;re whole famil. 
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Jan 23, 2015 15:47
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I was going to finally put down some stories of my own but then I got to the end and realized this thread was done. Can someone keep us all posted on the location of the new thread? Is it time for an exodus back to GBS or are we staying put here?
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Jan 25, 2015 19:17
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I wouldn't mind kicking off the new thread. I've kept up with nearly all of them them and can pretty much track down any story from the past threads. But yeah, since the seasonal scary story threads usually went to GBS and now that place is a FYAD-lite forum, I'd like to know where it should go before I write anything down.
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Jan 26, 2015 08:01
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Id imagine just post in pyf. Come october someone can start s spooky story thread in gibbis.
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Jan 26, 2015 22:48
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Yeah, Gibbis is out, as is P/C. PYF should work fine.
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Jan 27, 2015 01:28
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Post a link in here when you start a new one?
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Jan 28, 2015 16:14
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Whoever does create it, please link back to it here. I'm a sucker for ghost stories and off season spookiness.  Edit: I totally missed Mister Bungs post above mine. Sorry about that! CatStacking has a new favorite as of 17:22 on Jan 28, 2015 |
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Jan 28, 2015 17:16
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cuntvalet posted:Whoever does create it, please link back to it here. I'm a sucker for ghost stories and off season spookiness. Missing Name: I took a bunch of your links from this thread and updated them for the new OP. I tried to be as comprehensive as I could but if anyone has new suggestions for improving the new thread let me know.
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Jan 29, 2015 10:03
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Yep, that's good. I'm glad you kept OOGA BOOGA in there. Thanks! Now this thread is over. It is deceased.
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Jan 29, 2015 20:04
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