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I finally tracked that story down. Took for-freaking-ever, but I did it. If you have archives, I found it in the 2010 thread. (WARNING: Link requires archives) The Legend of Dogipede posted:
Credit goes to mistressminako who posted it in the old thread. I also have a request! A few threads ago I remember some goon posting a story about student tenements in Chicago that were haunted as gently caress. Anyone have that story handy?
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Apr 24, 2014 13:46
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SourceElement posted:I also have a request! A few threads ago I remember some goon posting a story about student tenements in Chicago that were haunted as gently caress. Anyone have that story handy? Is this the one? It's one my favorites, from here or anywhere. The original author was not tagged in the post I found. ?? posted:I've never been one to believe in ghosts or aliens or much supernatural doohickies. Frankly there's enough real world weird poo poo going on that I've never felt the need to assign meaning to random events but I lived in one apartment complex that really challenged that.
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Apr 24, 2014 14:25
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ASMR Yodeling posted:Is this the one? It's one my favorites, from here or anywhere. The original author was not tagged in the post I found. That's the one! Thanks! That story remains one of my favorites. Also some quick googling reveals that it's from the 2008 "Bizarre, unsolved mysteries" thread. Original author was apparently TurboBitch.
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Apr 24, 2014 14:39
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SourceElement posted:I finally tracked that story down. Took for-freaking-ever, but I did it. Thank you! Still delightfully creepy, and now I'm pretty convinced I need archives, because there are probably a LOT of really good stories that could be reposted.
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Apr 25, 2014 17:34
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Onic posted:Hahahhahaha wow, I'm glad someone saved all these old pictures of my corn-crib before waffleimages died. Thanks a bunch. Like the Dog Creek story I'm reposting from the 2008 thread, if you don't mind: ------------------------- This one happened to me a few years ago. I have only gone back to the spot once, and it was with another goon. That night however was completely boring and there was too many bugs. So, I'll talk about the more interesting night. Along Dog Creek So there I was, typing away on the internet. Making sure to waste my life the best I could. I then received a phone call from a buddy of mine. He sounded really high, which he usually did, but I listened anyway. He wanted me to go fishing with him and another friend. I asked him where exactly he wanted to go. "Dog Creek" was his response. Dog Creek is more of a river than a creek. It's pretty big and deep, and extends for a very long ways. The best you could hope to catch out of there was some catfish and carp. It was early spring though, so the fish weren't as muddy as they would be in the summer. Making them more edible. The creek itself is located in a wooded area, with some cliffs and other cool features. If you go there, chances are you wouldn't even think you were still in the farmlands of Iowa. So, I agree to go with him. He pulls into my yard and picks me up not to long after the phone call, and we set off. We drive the 45 miles to the area where it's located, but needed to pick up some bait. I was going to use canned corn, but he insisted on getting night crawlers. We stopped at this little ranch style home that sells bait. Outside of the house sat this leathery old man. I stayed in the truck, as I wasn't buying anything. My friend who we'll call "Mike" wandered over to the old man and conversed with him for a while. I sat there thinking, "this old fella must be a talker" because they went on and on for about 20 minutes. Mike finally did come back to the vehicle with his tub of worms, and we took off. I asked him what the old guy was talking about. He said it was just talk about fishing. I figured, yah, that sounds about right. We drove about another 10 minutes, then got onto a gravel road. From there it was a 5 mile drive to the woods. After you get in the woods, you can drive for about 2 miles. After the 2 miles we reached the dead end, and had to set out on foot. This is the part that I hated, because it was a walk through woods for about a mile to the river. We had 2 fishing poles each, our tackle boxes, a few coolers of beer, and some camping stuff. Talk about a load of stuff to carry around. I don't remember how long it took us to get to there. We set up camp when we got there, since we were planning on spending the night. We had decided to spend the night on a sand bank that had developed along the creek. It was the perfect area really. The sand bank itself was about 200 yards long, and 50 yards wide. Behind us was this wall of tall thin trees, so thick you couldn't see between them. The other side of the creek was probably about 60 feet away. You could tell erosion was taking it's toll on the waterway. The bank looked like it used to be about 8 feet higher, but all that was left was a crumbling dirt wall. In retrospect, I think the sandbank we were on used to just be the bottom of the creek. Anyway, we got the camp set up, and started hunting firewood since it would be dark soon. We cleaned out the sandy area of all the dried up driftwood, and soon ventured into the woods themselves. We split up since we could cover more area, and find more stuff to burn. There really wasn't that much to find out there. I was quite surprised. I figured the woods would yield lots of old branches and stuff, but nope. I returned with a pitiful armful of twigs and sticks. I waited and waited for those 2 to get back. The one friend returned with about the same amount that I had found, but Mike was nowhere to be seen. We figure he was just smoking a bowl or something, so we started fishing. Around an hour later, it was dusk and we heard rustling in the thin trees behind us. We glance back and see Mike stumbling out of the woods. He had a lot of sticks, and small logs. He dropped the stuff on the ground and started doing a little dance. I thought it was weird, so did the other guy. He then rips his shirt off and screams like a little girl. Ticks! By the dozens! Those little bloodsuckers were all over him. He starts doing a frisky dance shake deal while screaming. Which I personally found hilarious. Ticks take quite a while to actually suck onto you, so I think he was overreacting a tad bit. Then it hit me. I probably had them too. So the next 15 minutes was spent getting those horrid little parasites off me. Some actually got into my boots! When we were done, it was dark, so we started the camp fire up. Well, it was more of a bonfire. We had kind of went overboard with all the driftwood we found. Soon, we were fishing once again, and actually catching a decent amount of channel catfish. We got quite a few and cooked the the old fashioned way. Cut the heads off, gut them, shove a stick in them, and hold'em over the fire for a good slow cook. A lot of you probably think thats unhealthy. You're probably right, but I'm still alive, so I don't ponder on it too much. Mike dropped a couple of his in the sand unfortunately, but that didn't stop him. No sir. He ate them without washing or anything. You could hear the sand crunching between his teeth. Yikes. We kept on fishing, drinking, and telling stories throughout the night. The fire started to dull down at around 1 in the morning I think. So it was off to find more wood. Problem was, we didn't bring any flashlights. There was a bright moon though, so it should be no problem right. We took off into the woods, but decided to stick together this time. The Department of Natural Resources had confirmed that bobcats and mountain lions were in the area, so we were not up for getting mauled to death. The air was calm that night as we moved through the woods. Well, not really moved, more like stumbled. We couldn't see where we were going to well, so tripping over rocks seemed to happen a lot. A dark image up ahead caught our eyes. We moved closer to inspect what we had seen. My god, it was a stump pulled out of the ground. We could burn this thing for hours! Problem was that it was kind of big. About the size of a 30 gallon trashcan to be exact. Size wouldn't stop us though. We banded together and started to roll the stump towards the encampment. Not really roll, more like...Pick up on the big root and tip it over, then repeat. It took a while to get back, but we made it to the camp safely. The fire was long burned out by the time we got back. Just some glowing coals remained. We shoved the stump onto the embers and doused it with starter fluid. One flick of a lighter later, and the entire river was lit up with this fire that was way too big. The warmth of the fire was more than welcome, being as it was still very chilly outside. I plopped back down to continue fishing. I wasn't catching anything for a bit, so I decided to take a pee break. I shuffled off into the dark and relieved myself. On my way back I took a survey of the area and noticed some weird things. I got my friends up and told them to look at what I had saw. All around the camp was these weird footprints in the moist sand. We were baffled as to what the footprints could have came from. They looked like a human foot basically, only crooked and larger. I know you're thinking bigfoot, but that's not what I would compare it to. Imagine taking your foot and bending it to the outside down the middle till it's kind of at a 45 degree angle. That's what it looked like. We saw the prints leading off into the dark towards the tall thin tree's we had come out of. The problem was, is that these were not here when we showed up. There was deer, and raccoon, and all other sorts of things. But nothing even closely resembling these prints. So in other words, whatever it was, must have showed up while we were out getting our stump. Well that's just fantastic! It didn't take long for me to remember my fun in the woods at the lakes not too long ago. I wondered if it was the same thing that I had seen up there. I actually wanted to leave at that point. We all did. Problem was that we didn't want to have to walk through the woods where this thing obviously was. That was the only way to get back to the truck. It was time to crack open the scotch. As cliché as it sounds, but I really needed a good drink. We made the best of the situation. We kept drinking and fishing. The fish however had other plans. They were not hungry at all. We couldn't catch a drat thing. I guess they just decided to move down the creek or something. An hour or so later we were feeling better about the situation. We had a little liquor in us, and nothing had happened. So we started talking and joking around once again. That's the poo poo that gets you. You put it out of your mind and then something happens. That something was those tall thing trees shaking behind us. I turned quickly and look at them. Something was moving through them. Not running, but more or less, pacing. The light of the fire showed these trees bending then springing back up through about a 20 foot length of land. Mike said something, I don't remember what, but when he did, the thing stopped moving. We all were still, not moving. Something caught my ear. It was a sound of heavy breathing. Like a really big dog was trying to pant with it's mouth shut. We stared into the trees for what seems like a thousand years. Then the breathing stopped and there was just silence. The silence didn't last long though, something took off through the trees back into the deep woods, it was big enough to sound like bowling balls being dropped in succession onto the ground. It was a thumping noise. We could hear it running until it just faded into the distance. "Was that a cow or something" asked Mike. A cow? That actually kind of made sense at the time. There was a lot of pasture in the area, so a cow getting out and going into the woods was more than possible. It was the only reasonable thing any of us could come up with, so we went with. Not more than 10 minutes later though we hear a howling noise. A very deep howl, sort of like a monkey that smokes 3 packs a day. It was very loud though, and it came from the direction the thing took off in. Then another Howl, this time from the other side of the river, and a lot closer. Oh poo poo. There is more than one of whatever is making that noise. At the exact moment I was thinking that, the bushes on the other side of the creek start moving. Then we hear splashing noises. We can just barely make out clumps of dirt falling into the water from the 8 foot bank. We are then treated to a large black thing jumping or falling into the creek. This made us stand up pretty drat fast. The splashing started as soon as we saw the dark image go into the water, and it was getting closer to us. Whatever was in the water was headed our way. We took off running down the sand bar we were on. I turned back in time to see this huge black mass lunge out of the water and block the complete view of our burning stump. We kept hauling rear end along the creek. We reached a point where we had to go back into the woods, so thats what we did. The truck was east of our point, and we had been through the area enough to know how to get back, even in the dark. Or so we thought. All the running got us turned around somewhere, and we found ourselves lost. I had ran so much, I had to stop and take a breather. The other 2 did the same. We stood there for a minute, trying to get find out bearings. It was really dark now. The sky had clouded over, covering the moonlight that we had come to love before all this poo poo happened. I still wasn't sure what the hell that was. Maybe it was just a cow. Sure the howling made no sense, but everything else seemed to. The cow must have slipped on the bank and fell into the water, then started swimming towards shore. That had to be it. I think I was just trying to calm myself at that point. We started walking after our very short break. Running seemed stupid at the time, since we had no clue where we were running. The problem with walking, is that you're more aware of whats around you, and your mind tends to play tricks on you. I swear I heard snapping noises in every direction and heard breathing all around us. My imagination was just loving with me at that point. We had to have walked for a good half hour before we stopped again. This time because of a god drat cliff. Well, an Iowan cliff, it's nothing impressive, but also nothing I wanted to climb up. The fact that we found this was a problem, because there are none of these around where we parked the truck. We started making our way around the small cliff type thing, but heard noises behind us now. Not imagination noises like I was hearing before, these were real. Something was tromping through the woods quite a ways behind us, you could just barely pick the sound up. Our walking turned into jogging. We had to get a move on, and fast. By this time, my legs were burning and my lungs were on fire. Being a smoker never helps with running. No matter though, we had to keep going. I'm not going to be the guy on the news that gets killed by a cow so it can lay it's eggs inside me! We were jogging along, but that noise was getting closer. Whatever was following us was moving at a faster pace than we were going. We saw what looked like a clearing up ahead. At that point our jogging turned into sprinting. We burst out of the woods onto a dirt road. "Where the hell did this come from!?" I think to myself. each side of the old decrepit road was the woods. It was running right down them, but I didn't even know this road existed. Neither did either of my friends. We took advantage on not being in the woods, and made a moderate pace down the road. After a few minutes we realized that the noise had stopped. Nothing was following us anymore. So we started walking once again. Thank God. I was pretty sick of moving around like a healthy person. We got probably 100 yards down the road, when The thing that was following us burst out onto the road in the direction we were heading. It turned towards us. It looked like it might be a cow after all! Until it kind of stood up on 2 legs...poo poo. The thing was probably 150 feet away from us, and the dull light from the cloud covered moon barely illuminated it. But I remember clear as day, how that thing stood up. We turned around and walked the other direction slowly. No I'm just kidding, we tore rear end down the road in the opposite direction of the thing. It had started chase once again. I could hear it tromping up behind us. It didn't hold chase very long, for soon there was a thump and skidding noise. One look back confirmed what I was thinking. The beast had slipped and face planted onto the road. We took advantage of this and kept running full speed. The road stopped, dead end. Tree's once again. What the hell is wrong with this place! Into the woods we go once again. This time however we saw something that we recognized. It was an old rusted out car frame, that the woods had consumed long ago. The truck wasn't far from here. We ran our smoke ridden hearts out and saw the truck up in the distance. We had made it! We jumped into the truck and fired it up. Mike tore rear end out of there. We had apparently made it just in time. For one look back proved that the thing was still chasing the truck! It wasn't fast though, so obviously there was nothing to worry about. We pulled away from it soon enough. 20 minutes later, and we had made it to some little hillbilly town. Civilization had never looked so good before. We took our breather there, and filled up his gas tank at the co'op. He had almost no gas in that truck. Thank god it actually started and we made it to a town. We left for home after the trucks tank was full. When we got back, we chilled out at Mike's place. That is when the discussions started. We talked and talked and talked about what the hell was after us. Personally, I thought it was a cow of some kind. Maybe something with rabbis...I wasn't sure. The howling and the standing up was bugging me too much to confirm my thoughts though. Mike and my friend both thought it was Iowa's bigfoot. Granted, there has been quite a few sightings of a bigfoot type thing in the area. That stuff though..I don't know. I also kept pondering back on the thing that I had seen up at the lakes. That thing however, was silent. It was quite enough to lick my drat hand. We went back after our stuff in the afternoon, after we got a few hours of sleep. This time we were armed with shotguns. Sometimes the redneck way, is the best way. We get to our camp to find that nothing is really touched. The one cooler is knocked over, and a fishing pole is gone, but thats about it. The ground around it told another tale though. The footprints that we had seen before were now everywhere. Not as neatly pressed into the sand though. They were more shuffled through the sand. It was all pretty messy. I figure it could have been our prints, but none of us emerged from the water. That's the story of Dog Creek. To this day I still don't know if it was a cow. I guess I'll just let you guys be the judge of what it was. Who knows, maybe those things are in your area too, and someday you can enlighten us with your experiences. ------------------ I also like the one with the horse/raptor/monster that stalks dudes drinking beer by the shack in the woods but I need to track that one down.
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Apr 26, 2014 02:21
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Onic posted:Hahahhahaha wow, I'm glad someone saved all these old pictures of my corn-crib before waffleimages died. Thanks a bunch. 
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Apr 26, 2014 04:03
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Hazo posted:I'm psyched for this and everyone who found this thread should be too, because pretty much all Onic stories are great. Ayin posted:Your stories have always been among my favorites! I'm so happy you're back Time to get this sucker pounded out before my bourbon runs out. Many of you will remember the horrific tales of my Corn-crib, or of the douche bag ghost that dwelled within the confines of my home. Well, about 3 years ago or so I finally decided to tear down all the old buildings on my farm with my bare hands! And the aid of an excavator. This included the Corn-Crib. It was completely taken down and pushed into a pit which burned for 3 strait days. (It was a good slow burn). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bn1EJqEsEvU This left quite a vacancy on my farm. With the corn-crib gone, where would the eldritch horrors that lived in it go? Where would I keep my ancient liches? Well, don't worry they found other places to dwell. And that leads into this new story that I am typing out for you right now. It is called... The Hammock A few months had passed since I tore the corn-crib down. The entire acreage of my farm was pretty much a giant sloppy mess of mud from clearing out all the debris. No matter though, the evil that called the decrepit building "home", was now gone forever. The snow was melted and it was well into spring... Well, more summer than spring. Winter didn't end that year until May 4th. That was the last day it snowed on the farm that year. Bastard weather, ruining what should have been a spring full of thunderstorms and tornadoes. Anyway, this meant that I could un-winterize my ancient farmhouse and think about getting my garden planted. I need a years supply of salsa, so I can't miss getting the garden in the ground. My garden is located out in about an acre section of my field in a giant boxed in area of evergreen trees. About 100 trees surround the area. If you want an idea of what it looks like, see below. I finally fenced the fucker in to keep the ravenous beasts from consuming my beans and onions. Most of it is sweet corn, about 3/4 of the acre, the rest is my salsa stuff and a few pumpkins for Halloween.  I decided it was time to get off my lazy rear end and actually work the ground. That meant tearing around in the dirt with the disc on the back of my 4430 John Deere. Not a problem, pretty easy going really. I can be done within 10 min if I make a few passes. So, I did just that. I was on my last pass when a hydraulic line blew however. An absolute mess all over the disc and the back window of the tractor. I don't know why it blew, it was a new line, and they're not cheap mind you. a 6 foot length can cost you almost 100 dollars with the female and male ends on. So, needless to say I was furious. It was starting to cloud over, and I didn't really want to deal with this in the rain, so I got the old lines unhooked and left the tractor sit out in the field for the night. I would go to the implement the next day and get some new lines rigged up. That night it decided to rain pretty heavily, so I didn't have the option of dealing with the tractor the next day. I wasn't about to be up to my ankles in mud working on something. So, the next day was spent inside the house, DE-winterizing everything. That meant taking all the plastic off of the windows, and refilling the basement toilet. Which really is just sucking the RV antifreeze from the trap, then turning the water on to it and flushing a bunch of water. INTERESTING GHOST STORY STUFF HUH. Doing all that stuff seemed to stir the spirits that linger in my home. The lights kept going off in the basement while working down there, and doors kept opening in my breezeway. Oh well, I didn't mind. I'm far too used to this stuff to really care. Ghost-bro and I get along pretty well compared to what it was years ago. Later that night I was doing some work on the computer, when I heard the familiar thumping from upstairs. Just the usual back and forth pacing, and some stirring around, nothing I really care about, used to it. This time however, things got a bit weird. After I crawled into bed and was about to completely fall asleep, I heard this horrific noise. It is comparable to cats all out fighting. Like, 2 beasts going at it. It's hard to describe but it was happening right in front of my face, but nothing was there. I shot strait out of bed of course, wondering what wild critters had made their way into my humble home. Shockingly the lights worked and as soon as I got them flipped on the noise stopped. I passed it off as that post-sleep paralysis poo poo, and decided to go back to sleep. Sure enough though, as soon as I was about to drift off the screeching began again. This time way worse. There was tumbling noises and screaming and gnashing. Sounding like 2 things trying to kill each other. I just tucked my head under the covers and went to sleep, I was too tired to deal with this poo poo. Come morning the noises had of course quit but strange things had happened in the night. First being there was an anchor on the front steps to my house. A boat anchor. Don't ask me why. Second being every cupboard in my kitchen was open. All out at a perfect angle with each other. drat do I hate these rogue merchant marines showing up and leaving anchors and not battening down my hatches. All this didn't leave me in such a comfortable state of mind. So, that night I decided to rough it, and sleep outside in my hammock. I have one of those nice camping hammocks with the mosquito netting over top of it. I just toss a wool blanket inside and I'm nice and warm for the night. Nightfall hit and I was pretty tired since I wake up at dawn anymore. So, I decided to head out to the hammock that I had strung up between 2 trees. It was a calm night. I could hear the frogs croaking way off in the distance, and the crickets were in overdrive as well. The hammock is set up in 2 trees, about 100 feet from my garden, so I'm pretty well sheltered from the wind and whatnot there. It's just a nice area to sleep on warm nights. I crawled up into it, and got it all zipped shut. Got kinda situated and started to drift off to gentle slumber. Which I actually did for a change. Only to wake god knows when, in the pitch blackness to the sound some something pacing around me in the grass. I couldn't move an inch. I also couldn't see a drat thing because I sink really far into that drat nylon parachute hammock and can't see through the sides. I just lay still, listening. Whatever it was, it wasn't too close but not too far away. Maybe 50 feet or so. The grass was still wet so it didn't give off a crunching sound, but still enough that you knew something was walking through it. I lay there waiting, hoping whatever it was would leave the area. But it didn't. The pacing continued for what seemed an eternity, and then it stopped. That's the worst part, it just stopped. It didn't move away, it didn't fade off. It stopped right where it was, and I lay there listening to nothingness. Why did this thing decide to stop right there near me and not move? Was it observing me or simply lay down to take a break? Many questions raced through my mind. Perhaps it was a deer or a feral dog just bedding down for the night that hadn't noticed me. After probably 10 minutes of being gripped in absolute terror I decided to peek out of the hammock with my pen light to see if I could tell what it was. Slowly I peeked up past the edge, trying to make as little noise as possible. In the dark I couldn't see a drat thing. Where I was, the yard light was blocked out completely. I fumbled for my penlight and twisted it on. A quick flash illuminated 2 yellowish eyes not more than 20 feet from my hammock. Staring at me from the darkness. The eyes were about waist high from what I had gathered. I quickly shut the light off and ducked back down into the hammock. I was essentially hosed beyond all belief. I couldn't make a break for it in a hammock, let alone one that was zipped shut in bug netting. What the hell could I possibly do in this situation? I didn't have time to decide, not more than a few seconds after all this poo poo went through my head, I heard the sound of rustling to my left. Whatever it was decided to get up and investigate me. I was at home, so I didn't bother bringing my pistol with me, it was in my office, sitting neatly in the safe. So, I had no form of defense to speak of. The thing was creeping closer, quieter this time. I could barely hear it coming. The sound of weight against soft wet grass barely carried on that calm night. The sound stopped a few feet from me. That's when I could smell it. A terrible smell, like ammonia. The smell was comparable to walking into the home of a crazy cat-lady. I could hear the ragged breath just feet from my head. A labored breathing. At this point I'm thinking rabid feral dog. Which is something I really don't want to deal with. The thing stood there for no more than 10 seconds and then walked off in another direction. I could hear it clear as day now, it hurriedly took off to the north. I didn't know why and I didn't care, I was just happy. I waited a few minutes and said "screw this", and decided to go sleep inside. I swung out of my hammock and made my way quietly to my door. The thing was loving locked. OF COURSE IT WAS LOCKED. Why would it be unlocked. loving farmhouse. My keys were inside, and the only other person that had a set was my father, but he lives an hour away. So, I would have to wait until morning. So, it was back to the hammock from hell. I crawled back inside and tried to fall asleep unsuccessfully. I don't know how much time had passed, but I do know it got a lot colder outside. It was probably in the 20's now. I could easily see my breath, but thankfully the wool blanket kept me super warm. I sleep very well in the cold, I love it, but tonight just wasn't doing it for me. I had already decided to just wait till dawn which was a mistake. If I had gone asleep I would have at least maybe slept through the poo poo that was about to happen. Not long after the temperature drop, the thing returned. Louder this time, tromping along towards me. It stopped several yards from my hammock this time and went dead silent. Then started growling like a furious dog. It's growling scared me at first, but then the sound of the 2nd growling appeared. The first was near my head, the 2nd was near my feet kinda. I didn't know if I was about to get torn to ribbons by 2 dog beasts, so I just lay there as quiet as I could. The growling intensified until it was deafening. It turned into snarling and gurgling. Then everything all stopped at once. No sound, no frogs, no crickets no snarling. Just dead silence. I felt something rub against my butt as it made its way under my hammock. Oh Sweet Jesus! I howled louder than the things that were making noise a few seconds prior. It wasn't just my howling, I was thrashing around like a retard in the ball pit of McDonalds. I managed to overturn the hammock and kinda lay there in the bug netting for a second, before my weight made me crash through it to the hard, wet ground. I lay there in agony, having fell on my loving face. I quit groaning long enough to hear noises in the general direction of the beasts. I couldn't go into the house, and I couldn't go into my truck because the keys to that were in the house as well. I had only one option. Queue me sprinting towards the tractor parked in my garden area. No boots on, no socks. Just bare foot running over corn stalks and mud. I could hear something perusing me but It wasn't far to the tractor. I made it to the tractor in record setting time and scrambled up the steps. Hurting the hell out of my feet in the process. I got inside just in time to hear scraping on the steps below me. I slammed the door shut and shinned my penlight down to see 2 sets of yellow eyes looking back at me. loving creatures of the night! I fired the tractor up. The olde 1974 diesel fired to life right away, scaring the poo poo out of whatever had followed me. I turned on the overhead lights and illuminated the entire yard. I didn't see a god drat thing. I'm not complaining, I'm glad I didn't see anything, but where did the wretched beasts go. I wasn't going to bitch too much though. I had a full tank of fuel and only a few hours to sunup, so I turned on the radio and left the lights on and let the tractor run. Which I'm glad it did run. 20 some degree weather should gel up most diesel fuel. Then again I'm estimating temperature, so who knows what it really was outside. I stayed in there until dawn, then unhooked the disc and drove the tractor into town to use a phone. I got a hold of my father and he brought me the keys that I needed to get inside. But, of course, when he got there the doors were magically unlocked. loving indoor ghost ingrate. The End Onic has a new favorite as of 07:51 on Apr 27, 2014 |
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Apr 27, 2014 07:38
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Well, you knocked down the ghosts' "living" areas. Did you expect them to just call and ask for their deposit back? Good stuff.
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Apr 27, 2014 16:58
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Onic I'm so glad you're posting stories again. I guess that's a weird thing to say because it implies I'm happy the ghosts are being jerks? From reading your stuff I'm also glad that the resident ghost at my moms place is generally pretty chill and not as much of a jerk as it is gently mischievous.
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Apr 27, 2014 21:09
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This will probably end up being a little long, just due to my writing style, because that's just how I roll, but hopefully it will be a little interesting. This is sort of a combination of things I participated in and things friends saw/experienced that I was either with them for but didn't experience. I may end up breaking it into multiple posts, we'll see how long I go before I take a break. Anyway, here goes: Have you ever gone somewhere and felt like something wanted you to be there, but at the same time that you had no business being there? I have. And a few of my friends have as well. That place was Athens, Ohio. More specifically, the grounds of what used to be the Athens Lunatic Asylum, but is now part of the art department of Ohio University. Apparently they have a museum, offices, and storage and what not in there. Here's the wikipedia page if you want to take a look: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Athens_Lunatic_Asylum First, some of the background may be helpful. My friends and I were all doing undergrad work at the time, but not all at the same school. This was when instant messaging and what not was just starting to come into its own, and poo poo like ICQ was our lifeline to each other. We'd all coordinate when we'd be back home and make plans and what have you. I think it was in September or October, I know it was early fall, because the nights were just starting to get chilly and we were getting close to Halloween. Lots of those dumb ghost story specials came on regularly, and a couple of us had just happened to be watching one of them. I think it was something like "World's Scariest Places" or something. Basically a countdown and a couple stories about each place, and it was narrated by the weird lady from Poltergeist for extra creepy factor. In any event, we're all just trading messages on ICQ while watching when Athens, Ohio comes on the show. We're all thinking "holy poo poo, that's not too far from home", and as we watch there's all kinds of weird stories. Some patient being locked in a wing being remodeled who happened to be mute and died in a blocked off room and decomposed to the point of leaving a stain on the floor that just comes back after its been cleaned, creepy cemeteries, incinerator for cremations, and the specter of lobotomies and god awful experiments done on residents, basically the whole shebang as far as creepy asylum stories. Then there's the city itself. I'm not going to keep adding in supposedly or allegedly here with each thing I rattle off, so just throw them in there if you care. The city sits down in a valley, where the Shawnee Indians used to hang out. There's a river that runs right through town that was moved 50 or so years ago to cut down on flooding, and supposedly unearthed a bunch of Indian bodies and what not ,so you've got the former Indian settlement/burial ground aspect going on your creepy poo poo checklist. Then, in what is probably just a combination of coincidence and cherry picking data, there are five cemeteries on the hills surrounding the city, that if you draw lines to connect form a pentagram. Some geography student like 20 years ago did some research and found that each line of the pentagram was within like 50 feet of being the exact same length, which given that they're separated by at least a couple miles is probably pretty close. So you have a pretty well formed pentagram, and dead center is the Ohio University campus. Specifically, a dorm called Wilson Hall. There are tons of stories about that place, like the story of the girl who was into witchcraft and ended up killing herself. They didn't let anyone stay in that room for a couple years afterwards, and actually boarded up the door, but people kept hearing all kinds of weird poo poo. Eventually they let people stay, but nobody wanted to stay in that room very long, and eventually they made it into like a storage room or something. So of course, being dumb college kids, we hear this poo poo and we're down to go get the poo poo scared out of us. So we coordinate a weekend we'll all be home, like I said earlier, later September, middle October, somewhere around there, and we all pile in my car and head up. It was something like an hour and a half drive, so we all told lovely stories and shared our additional "research" we'd done on the way. Lots of second hand stories, and stories posted on lovely old geocities websites mostly. We roll into town with a couple hours of daylight left, so we headed to a couple of the five pentagram cemeteries. There were the usual stories about those, but we didn't see anything all that interesting. Some creepy headstones, creepy statues, pretty run of the mill poo poo. So after that, we decided to try to locate Wilson Hall, and thanks to being in a town we were unfamiliar with and my friend who apparently can't read a map for poo poo, we get lost. Its not a big town, so we managed to find our way eventually. We get back to the campus and stop to look at one of those big YOU ARE HERE maps they had posted to try to get where we needed to be. The sun was just starting to go down, so the creepy energy was starting to get cranking for all of us at that point. And its then, that I noticed we had an uninvited guest. Sadly, or fortunately depending on your outlook, the guest wasn't anything supernatural, it was campus PD. Two weeks prior, I'd been a dumbass and got a nice ticket for doing 87 in a 65 and had to go to court. The judge made me a nice deal that if I could avoid a moving violation for six months, they'd just drop the charge, so I of course was down for that. Now I had a cop following me around. Just loving great. So I'm making sure to stop longer at stop signs, going under the speed limit, the usual. He just keeps following though. Really, out of state tags with a bunch of kids and no student parking tag, he was probably doing exactly what he should, but it was making me jumpy and I'm sure that added to the dread in the car. So we're driving along, and all of a sudden the loving road turns into a sidewalk, and of course I just stop, and the cop hits the blue lights. gently caress ME gently caress ME. The cop gets out, comes up to the car, and asks for the license and the usual and heads back to his car. He comes back and asks what we're doing there since we aren't students, and we told him we were ghost hunting and looking for Wilson Hall. Then he asks me to step out of the car. He says again "you're looking for Wilson, right?". I said yes, and he asks me to turn around. I think oh poo poo, I'm going to jail for that goddamn ticket. He takes a step closer from behind, points over my shoulder at a building and says "you just went right past it", then tells me I can get back in the car. Holy poo poo. The cop hands me back all my info and said they'd had a few more people than usual show up since that show came on, so he figured that's what we were up to. He goes on to tell us that its a public university, so we're welcome to look around, just don't damage anything. The cop says that as far as he knows, there's not a lot that goes on in Wilson, just the usual weird stories that get passed around on probably every college campus. People still claim to see and hear weird stuff in that dorm, but since none of us were students there, we weren't exactly allowed in. We talked to a couple people that came out, and they told us that they'd heard weird things like screams, scratching at the door from the inside, and voices in the bathroom when nobody was there, but since we couldn't go in, that was more or less the end of that. However, after the cop had given us the rundown on Wilson that there wasn't much to it, he had started to go back to his car, but then turned back and leaned back to the window. "You want to see some creepy poo poo though, head up to The Ridges", he said. "The Ridges? What's that?" my buddy asked. "The old asylum. They've got some university offices and stuff up there now, but you can definitely tell its an old asylum. We get calls up there all the time, night and day. People hear things, see things, way better than Wilson". We'd planned on trying to find it, but this just got us even more psyched, and that cop, being awesome, even gave us direction. He did give us the warning that they had motion sensors on the doors and windows, so we shouldn't even get close to the windows, although we could walk the ground and look around otherwise as much as we wanted. He also told us that they patrol up there regularly just because of the reports of weird poo poo, so he'd probably see us up there if we hung around for very long. He did give us the ominous "though most people don't hang out up there for too long for some reason", and then gave us a wink. So of course, we decided to book it up there. The drive there was just a minute or two, but a few turns and since the asylum sits up, as one might imagine by the name The Ridges, up on a ridge, you go up a decently steep hill. As you roll up, you can't really see anything until you're right up on it, and then you see this, with giant wings on either side:  Its a little foreboding in that picture, but at night, with floodlights from the bottom pointing up, that is creepy as poo poo. So much so that we roll up and the hill and see that and my friend Beth says "oh holy gently caress, no". I just laugh, and we slow down and cruise along the grounds. Its a HUGE facility, that at its height had its own farm, its own power plant, laundry facility, and something like 75 total buildings. It was self sustaining, and more or less its own little town up there, just that it was filled with people deemed crazy (whether they actually were or not). We drove around for who knows how long, seeing a few different things that we found...interesting. The first, we were driving along what was at one point the orchards. The orchard sits sort of down over a hill, and as we're driving down the hill to get there, my friend yells out that he sees red eyes in the orchard. I didn't see it, but he and my other friend did. I was sort of trying not to drive off the side of that drat road. So we get down there, roll the windows down and go really slow, and sure enough, we all spotted what looked like red eyes, first down in the orchard, then up on the hills surrounding it. Its like they would disappear, and then reappear somewhere else. Once they started appearing and staying, and then more appearing elsewhere too, we decided to get the gently caress out of there. One friend said he saw some of the eyes follow us up until we left the actual orchard, then they stopped. Ok, so we're getting into some creepy poo poo. We head back into the main campus, and are cruising around just looking, and my buddy spots a sort of pale blue light in one of the windows as we drive by, so I turn around and swing back. Sure enough, there is a bluish/green pale light up on the 2nd or 3rd floor (can't remember now) window around where the stairwell is. So we sit and watch for a bit. The light starts to move down the hallway. We can follow it as it lights up one window, then the next, then the next, about 2/3 of the way down the building. Then Eric decides to get out of the car and go for a closer look. He's looking around, and the light starts to head back toward him. It pauses, then it starts to pick up speed, so yell at him to get back in the car because we're giant scaredy cats. He's not coming, so we yell again, and he's not responding. Then the light gets to the stairs. And then it starts coming down the stairs. So we're all yelling at him now, and he turns around and sees us and heads back to the car finally and we drive off, not wanting to find out what the gently caress that blue light was or why it seemed so interested in Eric once he got out. After he got back in, Eric said he hadn't heard us yelling at him at all until he turned around to look back at us. We were maybe 15-20 feet away, so there's no reason that he shouldn't have heard us. About that time, our buddy the cop came rolling up, and he seemed a little impressed we were still there. He asked if we'd found anything interesting yet, and we told him about the eyes in the orchard and the blue light in the building. He told us what he knew about the blue light: "Oh yeah, that blue light. People see that all the time. Sometimes we'll have a professor staying late or a cleaning lady call us all freaked out because the whole hallway is lit up but everything in their office had just shut off. I think we've all seen it from the outside, but when we go inside we can never find it. A couple weeks ago some new professor was setting up her office and saw the blue light and called, and me and one other guy showed up. We open the door and hear a scream, so we book it up the stairs and get there and all we see is this professor carrying a box hauling rear end down the hallway toward us with this panicked look. My buddy goes to check out the floor, and I follow her out to make sure she's ok. Once we get outside, I can't even get her to stop until I physically stopped her and asked her what the hell happened. All she'll tell me was that she saw the light faintly and heard someone whispering her name, and then as the light got brighter it seemed like it was right outside her door and by then it was screaming her name. As soon as she saw the lights from our cruisers outside, she said it just started screaming and then the light was gone. She was determined to get to her car, and asked if we could get her glasses and cell phone off her desk, so I got on the radio and asked the other guy to grab them after she demanded I stay with her. He brought out her glasses and phone and she fires up the car and takes off. The chief told us the next night that she apparently quit the next day and didn't even want to go back in there to get the books she had unpacked." So yeah, pretty glad we didn't hang out for that thing to meet Eric. gently caress me this is longer than I thought and took me way too long to type. I'll finish up with our first visit to The Ridges later on today or tonight or sometime here soon.
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Apr 28, 2014 11:13
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Oh, we also asked that cop about "the stain" on the floor where the mute woman was supposedly locked into an area of the building that had been blocked off during renovations, and he confirmed that it does (or at least did at the time) exist. He even pointed to the building and the window for the room where it was, but he said he couldn't let us go in to look. He told us he'd seen the stain personally, but he didn't know about any of the stories behind how it came to be. He did say that one of the custodians had showed it to him and told him that it was true that it didn't matter what they used they were never able to clean it and that at one point they'd even brought in some company that specialized in cleaning crime scenes but they couldn't do anything with it either. He also gave us some more directions on where to see more creepy poo poo, which I'll get to in the next installment. Oh also, I may have told at least part of this story already. I feel like I have, but it may not have been here. Its a story that people request when we hang out with new people, so maybe that's what I'm thinking. Y'all can tell me to shut up if you've read this poo poo all before.
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Apr 28, 2014 11:25
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stimpy posted:Oh also, I may have told at least part of this story already. I feel like I have, but it may not have been here. Its a story that people request when we hang out with new people, so maybe that's what I'm thinking. Y'all can tell me to shut up if you've read this poo poo all before. New to me, and pretty drat creepy. Preach on, brother!
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Apr 28, 2014 17:57
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I don't know if this counts as a ghost story but hey it's content! So as you know I work in a call centre in an allegedly haunted/cursed mall. Today I was taking a call from a girl, very polite and nice and the phone line is crystal clear. That point is important, sorta. So I've wrapped up the issue she's been having and we're just sorta chatting when the line goes dead silent. Which is weird. I prompted for the customer to see if she was still there and am greeted by this god awful sound, somewhere between a girl's scream echoing through a warehouse and a barking/snarling dog. Then the audio goes really distorted and garbled. I can make out the pattern of a person speaking but not the words, and then the call drops. I waited a moment, sorta freaked out, then called her back and finished the call. She hadn't heard any of the weird noises.  So there's another tale of the mundane from a haunted call centre.
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May 2, 2014 18:24
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Onic, what part of Iowa are you in? I have relatives in Iowa.
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May 3, 2014 09:38
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Drum posted:For your reading pleasure: (REQUIRES ARCHIVES)
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May 5, 2014 06:43
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Archives and search are both broken and there is no plan to fix them in the near future. So if you're like me and you enjoy reading the old threads, QCS has basically said "tough poo poo."
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May 5, 2014 07:09
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Khazar-khum posted:Onic, what part of Iowa are you in? I have relatives in Iowa.
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May 5, 2014 07:40
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Khazar-khum posted:Onic, what part of Iowa are you in? I have relatives in Iowa. Northwestern part. I live about 35 miles from Minnesota and 60 miles from Nebraska/South Dakota. If you came to my area it wouldn't even look like Iowa with all the huge glacial valleys and wooded areas. (Picture is only 15 min from my farm) 
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May 5, 2014 10:35
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Hazo posted:Archives and search are both broken and there is no plan to fix them in the near future. So if you're like me and you enjoy reading the old threads, QCS has basically said "tough poo poo." Well, isn't that delightful.
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May 5, 2014 20:16
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Is there an Onic compilation somewhere?
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May 12, 2014 19:10
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All on Black posted:It reminds me of something 50 Foot Ant once posted about a little girl who was brought to a hospital and found to be literally rotting from the inside out. Anyone got this one? I'm morbidly curious.
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May 17, 2014 20:43
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chthonic bell posted:Anyone got this one? I'm morbidly curious. It was in a thread about gross stuff, about a year ago.
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May 18, 2014 00:13
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Hazo posted:Archives and search are both broken and there is no plan to fix them in the near future. So if you're like me and you enjoy reading the old threads, QCS has basically said "tough poo poo." drat man. I just found/read this thread and fell in love. This kinda stuff has always been awesome to me. I was going to buy archive access as well so I could read all the old stuff. Kinda wish something like this would happen to me. My lifes boring. I need some paranormal activity to spice things up. I can't even get a good creepy feeling going on reading this, what with 5 dogs and 3 cats asleep in the room I'm in. 
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May 21, 2014 12:23
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Wulfling posted:drat man. I just found/read this thread and fell in love. This kinda stuff has always been awesome to me. I was going to buy archive access as well so I could read all the old stuff. I just found this link in my old bookmarks and I dont think it got mentioned in the first post: http://www.thuneral.com/eerie/ It has some of the older ghost story threads from 02-08 and the skinwalker threads. Edit: Hazo did post that on the first page, a little further down on it, but there it is again incase you missed it in his post (it had a TON of links, but alot was archive stuff) NuminaXLT has a new favorite as of 14:05 on May 21, 2014 |
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May 21, 2014 13:55
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Onic is back, awesome! I always loved the haunted farm stories.
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May 21, 2014 17:16
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My first ever contribution, I don't remember my childhood well, but there are always things, good and bad that will stick in my brain forever. Here's one, in real time it maybe took 30-45 minutes, but as I was typing it up it was getting way longer than I expected so I broke it up. I don't think it's the most terrifying of stories, but it happened to me so I can never quite get over the impact it had. If there's any interest I'll finish up the last bits, probably two more parts and post them. Ghosts in the Graveyard I grew up next to a cemetery in a broken down old house. This sounds like a creepy statement, but like anything else in life, your environment is your normal. My mom was single, with me and my older brother. She bought the house for a $1 because it was foreclosed and part of the purchase was agreeing to bring it back up to code, which she did with a lot of help from friends and family. I don't remember too much from this time because I was fairly young, maybe about 3. It's a small town, about 1500 people, with two highways cutting it in half. One east-west, one north-south with nothing but farmland for 40 miles around the town. Our house was on the east side of town, the north side of the east-west highway. Directly across the road was the funeral home and town cemetery. When I say highway, you need to realize it's just a two lane road that leaves town. While it's a "busy" road in town that means a car would drive by every 5-10 minutes instead of every hour. So even at a young age there wasn't much fear in letting kids run across the street or roam the neighborhood. There was actually quite a few young families in the area and we would often gather at another's house to play all those games you played before the internet came along. Tag, kick the can, hide and seek, etc. Of course when things got dark, (and we were old enough to stay out past dark) the games would change to the spookier side. Not sure if you're familiar with Ghosts in the Graveyard, but it's a cross between hide and seek and tag. One person is the ghost, the rest hunt for them. Once the ghost is spotted you yell, "GHOST IN THE GRAVEYARD!" and sprint for the safe zone. If you get tagged you're a ghost too and the game continues until only one person is left. They have to hunt the ghosts alone one more time before they become the ghost in the next round. The worst part, as it always is, is being alone in the dark. Whether you're a ghost or a hunter you're almost always mostly by yourself. It's not so bad in the backyard where you can't be too far away from anyone, but then let's move the game across the street to the expansive graveyard with plenty of opportunities to hide and now we're really upping the spook potential. Looking back, it was probably disrespectful of us to play kid games in a graveyard, but I'm sitting here and I hope that if I do hang around after I pass, I wouldn't mind getting to watch kids have fun and laugh. It's probably a pretty lonely existence otherwise. Let's hope that's all it was. We had moved the game from the backyard to the cemetery as usually happened. It was always the older kids that instigated it. Tonight was a pretty standard night, most likely a Friday since it was nearing summer and didn't get dark until too late to play on a school night. About seven of us were playing and my older brother, Bryan, and my friend's older sister, Amy, had egged us into the graveyard again. A couple rounds of hide and seek went by just fine until it was dark enough to start the real games. I was picked to be the ghost first. I always hated it, hated having to go out alone and find someplace to hide and sit until someone finds you. The only thing worse than being the first ghost was being the last hunter, at that point you know you're going to be caught, so it's less about the ghosts hiding and more about them laying the perfect trap to scare you before starting the next game. Being the wimp I was, whenever I got picked first I always did the worst "acceptable" hiding job I could. I didn't get teased, but didn't have to sit alone for too long surrounded by dead people in the ground. So I do my standard duck behind a grave 15-20 feet away from the people counting and hang tight. I'm already nervous, and I hear them finishing up counting. My first thought was they were cheating because it sounded like they were already moving before they finished the count, but it sounded like they were moving away, the voices getting more distant. Dammit, they're going the wrong way and now I gotta sit here until someone circles back. I peeked over the headstone and saw the shadows of my friends darting between the graves, poking their heads around corners trying to find me. I dropped back down, waiting for someone to jump around the corner and I'd have to take off and catch someone. Killing time, I started plucking grass out of the ground, a nervous habit. After a minute or two I drop the grass and brush the dirt off my hands. That's when I catch a glimpse of the grave I'm sitting next to. If you've ever spent a lot of time in cemeteries you never want to see footprints, angels or teddy bears on a headstone. That means it's a kid that died and that's even more terrifying in the middle of the night then the thought that some elderly chap passed on. She was about 9 or 10 years old because I thought I was just a bit older than her at the time, I can't remember how long ago she died. This always put me in a weird mood, thinking about how they died, etc. I was snapped out my thought process by the sound of someone approaching. I crouched onto my feet, ready to run when spotted. Step...step...step...waiting really is the hardest part. You can tell they are moving around grave to grave, cautiously looking. They don't want a surprise of me jumping out as much as I don't want to be surprised. I was getting wound up, waiting for this person to pop around the corner, but the footsteps just never seemed to get closer. Which is exactly when someone shoved me on the shoulder. That's what it seemed like, but as I try to remember it now it wasn't that hard. More like a tap someone trying to get your attention would do. Probably already half into a fight or flight mode I can't remember what I yelled, but I think it was along the lines of "Holy poo poo!" Thinking someone had found me I jumped around to chase them, but nobody was there. I had outed myself and my friend Tony was about 3-4 graves away, frightened by my yell as he tripped over a low headstone. Someone shouted, "ghost in the graveyard!" as Tony scrambled to his feet and took off. I didn't even bother, he was much faster than me. Luckly, Nathan wasn't too far in the opposite direction and I managed to tag him and another friend before everyone else made it. My plan having failed, I was teased mercilessly for screaming like a baby. I have no idea what happened, my heart was racing but I couldn't quit or let on, especially with the girls my age that we're playing. I was crushing hard on one of them, so I mustered my false courage and headed back out for another round. I never had the courage to ask if someone snuck up on me, but I could have swore no one was close at the time.
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May 21, 2014 19:48
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Wulfling posted:drat man. I just found/read this thread and fell in love. This kinda stuff has always been awesome to me. I was going to buy archive access as well so I could read all the old stuff. I've been getting my fix from thuneral and the nothotbutspicy site (which has a lot of the old pictures saved).
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May 21, 2014 19:51
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Hazo posted:Ozma finally stepped in and made a forums-wide announcement. Unfortunately I think they still allow people to purchase a broken feature, although she said they're working on preventing that. Based on reading QCS it seems like Lowtax can't do anything because he's out of the country and the forums currently have no one on staff capable of actually fixing the problem anyway. Thanks for the links. I actually tried to pick up archives, even if if was buggy and as is, but even that errors out. Oh well. At long as people keep posting creepy poo poo here, I'll be in love.
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May 22, 2014 01:57
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Request: Searched through the dropbox link with keywords, didn't find it. There was a story in one of these threads about some kid who grew up in a weird neighborhood ruled by a satanic crimelord, the cops found a crazy goat shrine when they busted him. Poster remembers weird things like walking out into the street for no reason and poo poo. Anyone remember what the hell I'm talking about.
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May 26, 2014 19:46
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I know exactly what story you're talking about, will find and post when I have more reliable internet.
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May 27, 2014 04:24
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I remember the story said the guy was called a "Zip," or an Italian hitman. I wish I could remember the dude's name. Can't help you more than that until search/archives come back. edit: Got it. Originally posted by Swanson Broth 2006 Fall Ghost Stories In the Eighties I was a child in Brooklyn, in New York City. Italians lived in the area, and they kept the streets safe with what little muscle remained after the U.S. government broke the Mafia’s back in the Seventies (sidenote: the Mafia is still alive and well these days, and always will be; I hate them, but they’re like roaches. No matter what you do, you can never completely get rid of them). Immigrants have always streamed into New York City, and my neighborhood was no different. We had the Chinese, the Koreans, and the Russians moving in, but also an oddity and a bit of an anachronism – we had Sicilian immigration. This was a holdover from the Seventies, when the powerful mafia families imported friends and relatives from Sicily so they might serve in New York as paperless, untraceable trigger men, or “zips.” We all knew why the Sicilians were coming to our neighborhood, so many years after the major zips were busted in famous cases like the Pizza Connection, in which Gambino boss Paul Castellano smuggled millions worth of cocaine using pizza shops: the local gang was building its numbers. Shortly before I was born, a man called “Poccione” came to live in the neighborhood. Poccione didn’t speak English – only Sicilian-dialect Italian – yet he drove a Cadillac, dressed exceedingly well and carried himself with great dignity, despite having no marketable skills in America. Everyone knew he was a zip, and steered clear of him. Even the other zips did, and the zips were known for their crazy bravery and fearlessness. The local gang head resented Poccione, but we grew to understand that Poccione was part of the package. Either he came with the zips, or none of them came. The Italians in my area needed the zips to avoid losing their territory to the Chinese and the Russians, and so Poccione was tolerated and respected. People tolerated Poccione a little too much. His demeanor was cold, and he made no effort to learn English. He often demanded to be let into people’s houses so he could look around, on the pretense of sharing dinner with them (which he would always leave early), or on the pretense of visiting their young children, which he claimed to love in his remote yet rhythmic Italian. Poccione did take a particular interest in children. One of my first memories is of him, tall and black-haired, with cold eyes and pale skin, staring down at me while visiting my grandparents (who could not refuse). He claimed to love children, but he never talked to us. We passed him on the way to the store, we saw him walk by as we played kickball in the street, but he only stared, as if appraising something. He was pushy about more than visitations with the parents in the neighborhood. When a child was born, people talked about how Poccione would visit them and demand that they accept a small gold charm. The parents would place this around their child’s neck and would not take it off, Poccione explained, because they should be honored that he would give it to them, and he would be very upset indeed if he saw the child without it. Why, he would question their friendship, he would say. I had one of these charms around my neck for the first years of my life. I remember it as a kid. I remember thinking it was very strange. It was a small gold hand with its fingers arranged in the popular devil’s-horns metal gesture, and it hung from the neck with the fingers pointing down and out. I remember that it was heavy and always cold. I would take it off sometimes, or hide it, but my parents would never let me walk around the neighborhood without it. I had to stay in the house, and know where it was at all times so I could rush to put it on if Poccione stopped by for coffee. By the time I was six, in the late Eighties, my parents started thinking about moving away. I had been to about fifteen different doctors and I was always sick with infection. When I was a younger child, I would do strange things. When I was three my parents told me that more than once I walked out of the house in the middle of the night and stood in the street (only the vigilance of a neighbor saved me from getting hit by a car, I think). I would go into the basement of our house and tear at the wood panelling with my fingers until my hands were raw and bleeding. I needed a nightlight because I would always complain about seeing shadows and feeling unbelievable terror at night. My parents only let me go into a pool once, because, as they explained, I stood by the lip of the water for a good minute, staring in before I pitched face forward, limp, into the pool. I don’t remember that. I was a hosed up kid, and it’s a miracle I didn’t kill myself. Bad, dangerous things kept happening to me. I remember being very young and climbing up furniture to get to the top of the refridgerator (just to do it). I grabbed onto a knife rack as one of my handholds, and brought the thing crashing down on me. I fell to the floor and watched the knives tip out of the drawer and fall, helpless to move. They punctured the ground around me, forming an outline like a cartoon machine gun makes. I laid there until my parents found me. And throughout all this time I was in and out of specialists’ offices, because I was getting worse. My parents found out that this was not abnormal in the neighborhood. If you lived in Brooklyn in the late Eighties, you may remember reading a news story about how a certain neighborhood in Bensonhurst had an unusually high rate of child mortality. That was my neighborhood. I grew up with no friends because the families with young children either moved away or lost their kids to car accidents, illness, or going missing (and in New York, you have to assume that’s abduction). It was at this time that I remember Poccione becoming very pushy with my father. I remember that Poccione used to take food to the house, saying it was for me, because he had heard about my illnesses and wanted to “get my strength up”. He claimed that they were old-fashioned Sicilian recipes, but the food looked and smelled wrong. My father took the food from him, but threw it out. He didn’t refuse; I remember that Poccione looked angrier in those later days, more gaunt, paler. One day, Poccione disappeared from the neighborhood. Apparently, he was killed in some gang dispute. When the cops raided his house, they found a weird altar in his bedroom, filled with candles and idols of a bipedal goat, and reportedly the altar gave off a very strong smell of sweetish rust (cops today won’t tell you this sort of thing, but back then, the neighborhood cops were the sons, brothers and fathers of neighborhood families, and word got around). With Poccione gone, the gold charm was removed from my neck that day. I remember throwing it into the trash. I stopped getting sick after a few weeks, and my odd behavior ceased almost immediately. I haven’t talked about it with any of the other kids who survived that neighborhood. I’ve lost track of them. I’m not sure I want to think about it. Hazo has a new favorite as of 06:43 on May 27, 2014 |
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May 27, 2014 06:31
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Thanks for finding that! I thought I had it but I guess it got lost somewhere. It has a real Unsolved Mysteries feel to it which is what I love. Definitely seems like it happened or at least could have happened, with enough weirdness to keep you feeling unsettled.
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May 27, 2014 19:42
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coronatae posted:Thanks for finding that! I thought I had it but I guess it got lost somewhere. Wonder how many kids he buried in the cellar or threw in the river.
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Jun 1, 2014 23:36
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Antigonish "Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there. He wasn't there again today, I wish, I wish he'd go away... When I came home last night at three, The man was waiting there for me But when I looked around the hall, I couldn't see him there at all! Go away, go away, don't you come back any more! Go away, go away, and please don't slam the door... Last night I saw upon the stair, A little man who wasn't there, He wasn't there again today Oh, how I wish he'd go away..."
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Jun 2, 2014 05:14
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yoo I mighta missed this but there was this story about a military dude and the bunker he was in with the secret nazi basement and there were haunted phone calls? Anybody have that edt: \/ okk <3 Cubone has a new favorite as of 14:10 on Jun 5, 2014 |
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Jun 4, 2014 13:05
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Cubone posted:yoo I mighta missed this but there was this story about a military dude and the bunker he was in with the secret nazi basement and there were haunted phone calls? Anybody have that You want the stuff written by HumperMonkey and 50 Foot Ant. Google either of them and you'll find the stories, they're too goddamn huge to put in a single post.
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Jun 4, 2014 15:50
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To celebrate the return of Archives here's another Onic classic. ---------------- Camp Hell Camp Hell is a boyscout camp in Iowa (Not the Real Name) It is located in a forest area near Des Moines. Being a good christian child, I was initiated into the cub scouts at a young age, and then eventually the boy scouts. I eventually made Eagle, but that has nothing to do with this particular story. Our troop had decided that our summer trip that year would be to head to Camp Hell. There we could do our lifeguard training, C.O.P.E. which is basically rock climbing, and other random fun things. I think I was 15 or 16 at the time. We get all packed up and start the long drive down there. 6 hours later, and we reach our destination. We get all our gear out of the vehicles and start to walk down to our designated site. The camp is god drat enormous though. The walk from the parking lot to our site took 45 minutes. Talk about being hard on the arms and legs. We finally get there though, and get to see what our lodgings will be. Our camp site was about the 50 yards around. The tents we would be sleeping in were those world war 2, olive green pitch tents. Throw a couple of pallets in the bottom of them, and you're out of the mud for the most part. I opened up my tent and was greeted with an ungodly amount of spiders. The majority were daddy long legs, and wolf spiders. Back then I still had my sense of smell, and let me tell you. That tent smelled like loving spiders. It took me a good half hour to brush all of them out of it, and get my cot set up. I opened the back of the tent, and look down. It's on the edge of a ravine. There was a good 30 foot sharp drop off right there. Down in the bottom was a small stream and some rocky outcroppings. I walked out of the tent and saw everyone gathered around the tent next to mine. I walk over to see what the fuss is about, and take a look inside. Sitting on the ceiling of this tent is the biggest wolf spider I have ever seen. The drat thing looked like a large tarantula. It was about as big as your hand spread out, and boy was it hairy. Someone jabbed it with a stick, and the thing plopped down with a thud onto the pallet. It then ran towards the back, and leaped out into the ravine. We actually watched it glide down into the woods. So already we have an infestation of the oogly booglies in the camp. What I didn't mention was the noise. God drat cicadas were going off like crazy. It was one of their big years. There was an estimated 25,000 per acre I think they said. It was so bad, that when I later walked over to a small cabin, I saw that the entire side of it was cicada shells. You couldn't see a piece of wood on that thing because of all of them. The huge snails were cool though, they were all over the damp woods. Anyway, after we got all set up, we headed to the main hall for the welcoming to the week of hell. There was some stupid poo poo speeches and other boring stuff that kids don't want to hear. We then dined on the finest baked beans and hot dogs. Later that night we all gathered around this huge fire, in a semi-circle. There was about 1000 of us, so it was a big fire. Behind it was this huge totem pole with a platform at the top. I'd say about 50 feet up. Standing on the platform was some fruit cake in body paint screaming. Then shirtless weirdo's ran around us screaming with torches. I swear, the boy scouts organization is one of the weirdest in the world. After all the batshit insane stuff had died down, we were treated to stories of the camps history. The main guy told us of all the people who had died at this camp, and of the weird creatures that lurked in the woods and lakes. The way he told the stories though was so funny, due to his crackly, whinny voice. I think the stories ended at around midnight, and we were sent back to get some sleep. So, we get back to our campsite, and I'm pretty bushed, so I decide to head to bed. I crack open that tent, and flip a flashlight on, only to see that all the god drat spiders were back! Let me tell you, a week in that place will cure you of all your arachnophobia. I didn't even bother with the spiders, I just got undressed, hopped in my sleeping bag, and conked out. 5 a.m. rolls around and I hear the blaring sound of reveille playing a few feet from my tent. Since when did I join the army!? I got dressed and headed out for my first day of fun and festivities. The first thing on my agenda was C.O.P.E. So, I headed down to the designated area, which was a 2 mile walk through the woods. By the time I get there I'm soaked from all the dew. About 15 of us had signed up for cope this year. The first thing we do is go to climb the 100 foot tower, then repel down the back side. No big deal really, we had all done it before. So, we get our swiss seats tied up, and start going up in one by one...eh, it's nothing really to talk about. Nothing interesting happened on it my first day. So, I'll skip ahead. My first day was pretty normal for the most part. Cope, followed by canoe safety, then some other stuff that I can't remember. That night was once again filled with spiders and 100 degrees plus humidity. We had to get up the next day at the same time. This day though I had to go to the mess hall and prepare the table for breakfast. Queue me trudging through the woods at 5 in the morning. I noticed that the woods were dead quite for the most part, besides the common sound of rabbits or squirrels. The cicadas hadn't come out yet, so it was less annoying. It was still dark out, so I had a flashlight with me to guide my way through the trees. I don't know what made me look up, but when I shined my light up at the tops of the trees I saw something. A large black image was leaping through the tree tops at a fast pace. It went directly over me, then off in the direction I had just came from. My light didn't carry on it for too long, but long enough for me to confirm that I had seen something strange. It didn't make a sound, which was pretty weird. I had already seen some strange stuff in my life at this point, so I wasn't really scared at all. I just kept moving onward towards the mess hall. It took me about 30 minutes to get there, and once again I was soaked up to my knees in dew. Setting up the table only took about 15 minutes, and by 6 everyone had shown up and started eating. After breakfast they sang songs about using the pancakes as toilet paper, and coffee for cuts. Really, boy scouts=weird. After breakfast it was off to another uneventful day of cope. Then onward to canoe safety. Today during my canoe class, we had to go out into the middle of the murky lake, and sink my canoe. Then attempt to un-sink it. The only thing that worried me about that lake was the unusually high amount of large snapping turtles. Those things were mean too. I didn't want one of those taking a finger off or a chunk of flesh. Our instructor demonstrated how to do it properly. He would sink his, then 2 other canoes would pull up and you would work your canoe to the surface, then kind of stack it on the other two so it could drain out properly. It seemed pretty pointless to me. Since if you're by yourself, you're not going to get it out from under water. I waited until my turn, then I rowed out into the middle of the lake. I started rocking my canoe until it flipped and started to go under. The drat thing only sank about 5 feet down, so I was able to stand on it under water. The instructor sent out 2 guys with canoes as soon as mine was sunken. I had a good 10 minute wait though. So, I stood there on my sunken canoe waiting for those slow rear end people to work their way out. I felt the canoe start moving from under my feet, as if a current was pulling on it. I kick my heel over the edge of a support beam in it to hold on. That stopped the canoe dead in it's tracks. Suddenly I felt something wrap around my ankle and pull me down. It pulled hard enough to submerge me completely, even with my life jacket on. I open my eyes up under the water and see these pale rotting hands fly at my face and grab my ears. A screaming face is then thrust into mine. I could hear the screaming perfectly, even though I was underwater. I start frantically trying to get away. I'm kicking and waving my arms as hard as I can. It seemed like an eternity, but the thing let go of me, and I was able to make it to the surface. My life jacket bobs me up above the water line, where I proceed to cough and sputter. The guys in canoes show up just as I bob up to the surface, so I start trying to climb into one of their canoes as fast as I can. They won't let me though. "You have to get yours out before you can come back." God dammit! I told them something underwater had grabbed me, but they told me to stop making poo poo up and get my canoe out. So, I did just that while all the time wondering if something was going to grab me and drag me to my death. I get my canoe out, and floating again, then speed into shore. When I get there, the instructor asked me why I was underwater for so long. I told him of what had just happened, and he said "Oh yah, that happens." That happens!? What the hell kind of place is this. I went down to the showers to get cleaned up, but am greeted with a fat elderly man showering naked...so I waited. This place was giving me a serious case of the heeby jeebies. I eventually got showered up, and walked back to my campsite, where I planned on taking a nap. I layed down for a good hour, but couldn't get to sleep on account of all those drat cicadas going crazy. So, I decided to hang out with my buddies for a bit. They wanted to go explore the woods, so of course I went with. We all found some nice branches, and made them into walking sticks, and we were off. We found a path down the ravine behind our campsite and took it. We then followed the stream for a while. The stream turned into a small river with some fast current going down it. I was checking out the little fish that will swimming around in the nice clear water, while my friends walked off further down the path. I was waiting for a friend to catch up anyway. I glanced over at a huge pile of branches that were hung up on a bend in the river. I see something weird sticking out of them. I walk over that way, and finally see what it is. A nice mangled torso slung up in the branches. Intestines were floating out of the eviscerated stomach. And it wasn't fresh at all. The whole thing was a pale white, and looked like it had been there for a while. I start yelling for them to come look at it. Nobody was coming yet though. "Don't" That 's what I hear. I look at the torso again, and hear "Don't" A head then slowly cranes it's way out of the rushing waters, and stares at me. There is no lower jaw on the head, and the eyes are popped out of it. The lips are huge and purple. It says "Don't" Once again. I take off like a bat out of hell screaming my head off. I ran and ran, until I saw the friend that I was waiting for. He's yelling "what's the matter!" at me while I'm running up to him. I catch my breath and tell him that I had saw the torso caught up in the branches. We bust rear end back to the spot, and take a look at the branches. There's death there alright, but it wasn't what I had saw. It was a freshly killed deer this time. Still had all it's hair and color. He questions me as to why it was such a big deal. I explained to him the whole time, but he would just laugh and tell me to stop trying to scare him. He went on to catch up with the other guys. I just headed back to the camp at a very fast pace. Behind me I could hear the word "Don't" echoing through the ravine. What does it mean? I couldn't figure it out. No one else at the camp would believe me. They said it was either making up stories, or my imagination. gently caress, imagination. Last time I checked, people don't imagine ripped up torso's and talking severed heads. I already wanted to go home. This place was too hosed up for me, and apparently other people had poo poo happen to them here also. I still had 4 more days to look forward to though. That night there was a huge electrical storm. I'm talking big. There was so much lightning that it was brighter than daylight out. I was lucky enough to be in the tent 5 feet from the tall metal flagpole. Lucky me. The wind was howling at about 50 miles per hour. Everybody except a few of us had moved into the wooden shack that stored our fire wood. I was one of the lucky people that got to stay in the tents. The wind was so strong that it was untying the double knots that I had made to keep the tent flaps closed. It wasn't raining at all though thankfully. More and more spiders had decided to get out of the storm. By now my sleeping bag was covered in smooshed spiders from my rolling around at night. I tried to get to sleep but the thunder was so constant and loud that it was just impossible at first. Then the talking started. "Don't!" That thing was yelling at me from the river. Over and over it would yell "Don't" at me. I flung the sleeping bag over my head to stop the noise of the thunder, wind, and talking. It was pointless though, everything got through. I must have eventually fell asleep, because before I knew it, it was daytime again. Today, was the day I had been at first looking forward to, but now I dreaded it. It was the oh so fantastic "Survival Trial". We are given a tarp, a sleeping bag, a small shovel, a bucket, a book of matches, and our knife. Then we are supposed to go deep into the woods and make a campsite for the night. This was not a good thing for me, after all that I had went through. First thing to do was try go find a good spot to set up. I headed over to the huge bridge that went over the ravine, and tried to set up under it. But saw someone else there, and they were getting peed on by people on the bridge. So, that was a no-go. I tried a couple of other places. I was looking for a good, elevated flat spot, that was away from that river or stream or whatever it was. I found a good area that was about a mile into the woods. I to this day don't know how they got away with this stuff back then. Sending kids into the woods unattended, it's so unsafe. But oh well, what can you do. I'm sure they don't allow it anymore these days. The spot I found was on the top of a little hill, with a nice big tree. So, if there was rain, it would all go down, and not pool up around me. I dug a small ditch which resembled a shallow grave. I covered the dirt in it with pine needled and dry leaves. I set my sleeping bag in it. I used the tarp as a makeshift tent. I was proud of my campsite when I was done. It looked pretty drat good. I then went off and gathered a decent amount of firewood. I dug a tiny pit, and lined it with rocks. That was where I would have my fire. I found a nice flat rock that I could use for cooking and set it next to the fire. Then, I went down to the lake and pulled up the lines I had set earlier. The lines had 6 baited hooks on them, and I had thrown them into the water along the shore. Most of the hooks were full with mediocre sized rock bass, but I kept them. Part of the survival course was catching and eating your own food. Night rolled around and I had eaten my fish that were cooked on the flat rock in the fire. I sat there alone, smoking about a half a pack of ciggs that I couldn't touch until I was alone. At least that was one good thing about this survival crap. It was a calm night. The storm the night before had blown all the bad stuff away apparently. There was only the sound of crickets and the crackling fire. I sat there, enjoying my fire and nicotine for quite a while. Then I noticed that all the crickets had stopped chirping. Well, isn't that the best sound ever. When they do that, it means something is about to die. I had this happen later on in life, but that's part of another story. I looked around into the dark woods, but my small fire didn't light up much. I heard the crunching of dead leaves and sticks off in the direction behind me. I figured someone must be out checking on us survivalists. I called out "hello?" and waited for an answer, but got none. The crunching kept going on off into the distance, away from me, and soon faded into nothing. I thought it was someone just being a prick. I rolled my bag out into my shallow grave...man that sounds bad doesn't it. I hopped into the bag, and snuggled in. It was actually quite comfortable. I was pretty surprised with how well things were turning out. It didn't take me long to fall asleep. I woke up some time later. My eyes opened and I stared into the face of something. I was still very groggy so I just looked until my eyes adjusted. It was some sort of beast. It was just inches from me. The thing had stuck it's head under my tarp and was eyeballing me...kinda. It had no eyes. Imagine a deformed wolf, with no eyes, or eye sockets. It was huge, and white. It inched closer to my face till it was almost touching. I'm trying my hardest not to move or scream my head off. It starts to smell me. It's hot stagnant nose breath wafts over my face. The smell is terrible. It smelled like the essence of death. It sniffed for a few seconds then started to growl slightly. The growling got louder, and louder, until it whipped it's massive head around and looked over it's shoulder. I move my eyes over and see that it's looking at something. What it's looking at is...gently caress I don't know. It was like a tall skinny human being that was hunched over. By tall I mean about 9 feet tall. It was naked, and had no mouth or arms. It was looking right at me. The growling turned into snarling. I could see the wolf things mouth open. Inside were several sets of teeth, like a shark would have. The wolf type thing turn around roared at this humanoid thing off in the distance. The tall thing started backing up slowly, while the wolf thing was walking at it slowly. I'm laying here with the biggest amount of fear and what the gently caress rolling through my mind. In an instant the wolf thing leaps into the air and slams into the tall thing. The tall thing starts writhing around on the ground. I could hear muffled screams coming from it's non-existent mouth. The wolf was snapping and bitting at it. I could hear flesh being ripped from bones, followed by the crunching of bones. I loving black out at this point. I couldn't take that much poo poo in one sitting. I wake up and look at my wrist watch. It is 3 o'clock in the afternoon. gently caress! I had been sleeping for a very long time. I get up and remember what I had seen. Was it all a dream? Apparently not. There is black tar like stuff splattered all around my camp. I could only assume it was blood from those things. There was huge patches of dirt kicked up, and a tree was snapped in half not more than 10 feet from where I was sleeping. It was a tree about the size of a leg. I decided the poo poo must have actually happened, so I got my poo poo packed up and ran back to the main camp. When I got back I was greeted with a lot of "where the hell were you?". I explained to them that I had overslept. I found some of the other guys that had done the survival course, and had a word with them. I asked them if they had anything strange happen to them during their stay in the woods. Only one person said that he had seen something lurking around in the dark. He said it was shaped like a dog, only a lot bigger. The other people seemed uneasy, so I don't know if they were telling the truth about noticing nothing, or if they were hiding something. At 5 p.m. I headed over to my cope class for the biggest fun we were going to have. That would be the 2nd longest zip line in the world. Or it was at the time, I'm sure there are some bigger ones by now. To get to the zip line, you have to climb up this wire ladder onto the top of a light pole. Then grab onto one wire, and walk across another wire to the other side, which is another light pole. It's about a 20 yard wire walk. At that point you get yourself hooked up and take off. I don't even remember how long it is, but it's a long drat way to the other end. You fly over the ravine and a ton of forest. At the other end are your fellow boy scouts ready to stop you. Theres a bunch of bed mattresses nailed to trees too. Well, thats comforting. I had to wait an hour before it was my turn because someone chickened out, and had to be forcibly removed from the pole. It took me 15 minutes to walk to the line start from the end, so that kinda shows how long a distance it is. I get up the ladder, and make my way across the wire. I get hooked up to the line, and kick off the platform. The zip line takes off like a bolt of lightning. I'm soaring over the land, and it is just kick rear end. I look down as I pass over the ravine and see a mass of thousands of bodies writhing around. They are reaching up at me and screaming. I throw up all over myself. I get to the other end, and am shaking terribly bad as they catch my line and help me off. They pass it off as me being scared, and the rush getting to me. It wasn't though. I had enough of this place, it was too much now. I waited around at the end for the instructors girlfriend to come down the line. We got radioed that she had started, but she never showed up. What the hell happened to her? Turns out that she got above the ravine, and her hair flew up into the pulley and got caught. It half way scalped her. That was a very bad thing. She hadn't tired her hair back and put it under her helmet like she was told to. a rescue guy had to climb out to the middle where she was stranded, and cut her hair so she could get moving to the end. She was passed out from what I would assume to be pain and blood loss. It was all bad, and I'll never forget it. She lived fortunately. Later that day, the other instructor fell off the tower, and his line didn't catch. He shattered both his legs. He was about 40 feet off the ground at the time, trying to show off. poo poo was going sour awful fast. These 2 things happening in one day got cope canceled for the rest of the trip. I skipped the rest of my courses that day, and just hung around the mess hall. I wanted to be near some kind of civilization, and that was the closest I could get at the time. Night rolled around, and I was back in the tent with my buddies, the spiders. I didn't mind them by now. They didn't bite me or anything so it was no big deal. There was something wrong with me the whole trip though, I couldn't take a dump no matter how hard I tried. It wasn't constipation, I just didn't have to go. It was weird. I'm just letting you guys know I was having trouble pooping. I lay there in bed, wondering what was going to gently caress with me tonight. I soon dozed off and was met with nightmares of epic proportions. I don't remember what they were about, but I know I had them. I woke up from them in a cold sweat. And it was freezing cold in that tent. It was about 90 degrees when I fell asleep, now I could see my breath. I was shivering in my sleeping bag, wondering how it had got so drat cold. I go to flip on my electric lantern, but it wont turn on. Batteries must be dead. I hear the tent flap behind me head start to open. I turn my head and look over. Through the flap comes the head of the tall skinny thing. It cranes it's foot long neck and stares right at me. There is black tar stuff oozing from cuts that riddle it's face. It looks at me for a few seconds then starts talking. It says "Come with me. You must come with me." I actually said "No" It's face moves closer to mine, and it keep repeating it's phrase. I'm in absolute terror. The thing suddenly starts howling in pain. Like a man would. It's then jerked back out the tent. I say jerked because it looked like something pulled it out. I hear thrashing going down into the ravine. Followed by a roaring noise and now screaming. I curl up into a ball in my sleeping bag and close my eyes shut as tight as I can get them. I must have fallen asleep because I woke up to the sound of the trumpet at 5 a.m. Today was the day we leave. I was so loving happy to leave that godforsaken place. I had all my poo poo packed up by 7 a.m. and I was waiting out by the van. I said gently caress the ending gathering and waiting in the parking lot. Everyone got back an hour or so later, and we took off. As soon as we left the parking lot I had to take a dump. My bowels knew what was going on. That's it. There is your story guys. I hope you enjoyed it. Now I have to get to bed, I have work way too early tomorrow. ------------------------------
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Jun 9, 2014 04:00
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Does anybody have the one about a cable guy who went into someones loft and went missing? That's the one thanks! Tea Bone has a new favorite as of 14:45 on Jun 13, 2014 |
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Jun 13, 2014 14:10
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By Khazar-khum -------------------- Intruders I grew up in a haunted house. It was a big Moderne/Streamlined house, not the stereotypical Victorian mansion, with turrets and gingerbread, waiting patiently at the end of a tree-lined lane for fools to wander in. Oh, it had its own circular driveway and plenty of trees, but that's where the resemblance ends. The man who built it was a genius with concrete. In places the walls were 3' thick, lined with lead and rebar. Everywhere the house was built of reinforced and lined concrete, making serious renovation all but impossible. He had peculiar design ideas: no walls were exactly even, no room precisely square. My bedroom, for instance, was 13'3" x 15'2" on the east/south walls, and 13'4" x 15'4" on the west/north walls. No windows or doors were centered. Downstairs the living room had a barrel vault for the ceiling, with indirect neon lights. There was a massive Palos Verdes limestone slab fireplace, full of fossil shell. The dining room had the most bizarre ceiling in the place: it was a pyramid, with a big brass lamp suspended from the center. The kitchen was long and wide, with a backdoor that seemed to be a refugee from somewhere in the midwest:it had windows that rattled whenever the door was touched. We had been living there for a couple of weeks when this particular incident occurred. The old wool carpets had to be pulled as I was allergic to them. My dad still complains about having to get rid of them. Anyway, the new stuff hadn't yet arrived, so we had bare concrete floors downstairs. We had big moving boxes everywhere while my Mom decided what needed to go where. They had to go to a meeting for the horse show committee, which meant I would be alone for a few hours. It wasn't a problem: I had my dog Kimba, the phone was right outside my room, and I had a ton of homework. I said goodbye to them and went up to my room. By force of habit I shut my door. My bedroom was right over the dining room. Off of it was a little sun deck/patio that linked to one off the master bedroom. I planned to enclose that one day for a studio for myself. It would be a couple of years before that happened. Right now I moved out there to do homework, since the house tended to be stuffy. By the time I finished math it was getting dark, so Kimba and I went back inside. I found a good station on the radio and settled down to draw. I had been working on a big project for history and I wanted to make a map. So I was merrily shading away when I heard the back door downstairs open and slam shut. They were home early. Cool. Maybe we could go get ice cream or something. I heard my dad drop his keys on the kitchen counter, followed by movement in the living room. I figured they had brought back junk from the meeting, so it was no big deal. I heard the TV come on, with the voices drifting upstairs. Someone started for the stairs, their shoes clicking on the floor. Kimba growled. At that moment the temperature in my room dropped. Not plummeted, but definitely colder. I grabbed Kimba and hung on. Someone started on the bottom step. The first three or four stairs creaked, and I could tell that whoever was coming up was much bigger than my Mom. It was eight steps to the landing, and eight more to the top. I counted them until they stopped. We had three bedrooms and one big bathroom upstairs. My Mom always insisted on opening every closet door & looking under every bit of furniture in the house. I would have thought that was what was going on, except that she didn't call my name. I heard whoever it was go into the guestroom. The door clicked shut. They went down the hall to my parents' room. I heard the door open and close, followed by footsteps as they walked around the room. Kimba snuggled close to me, which worried me because she wasn't really a snuggler. Finally they came back down the hall, and stopped at my door. The room was icy cold. I clung to poor Kimba, who was no longer growling. Instead we sat there, waiting for the door to open. I don't know how long we sat. I didn't look at the clock. All I know is that we stayed still until I heard the backdoor open and slam shut, and heard my Dad call up to me. I shouted back that someone was in the house. He came upstairs, and then we all searched the place. No one was there. Nothing was out of place. I told them what had happened, and they insisted it was my imagination. Two days later, there were cop cars in the driveway when I got home from school. My Mom was sitting outside, smoking, talking to one cop. I asked her what was up. Just about then a deputy came out and said that he didn't find anyone in the house. She admitted she'd heard people in there, talking and moving around upstairs. The cops told her it was OK, she did the right thing by calling, you can't be too careful, all that good stuff. She finally apologized to me over the whole thing. It was good, because after that we started to see them. But that's another story. It wasn't midnight here. Yet. Telephone Man If I were to list every thing that went on in the house it would fill this forum and a couple others, too. My Dad owned the place for 25 years. I lived in the house & in another house on the same land all that time. So I have quite a trove of stories to tell. If you ever watch the Ghost Hunters on TV, you know that they want to see some kind of evidence before calling a place haunted. There's one little problem with that: ghosts are like fish. You're in the boat, you've got the lines out, you know that there's fish in the lake; but if they're not in the mood to bite, forget it. With ghosts, you can place all the high-tech gear you want in the place, but if they won't or can't appear, there's nothing you can do. Anyway, just about everybody's favorite story involved the phone man When we moved in, the place still had party lines. My Mom wouldn't settle for that, so we had the phone company come out and place a single line. Everything was OK outside: they ran the lines to the house and outbuilding, a long, low construct that had housed the man while he built the house. We later converted it back into an apartment for me when I got married. He did the downstairs, and then went up. To get into the very large attic, you had to open a closet door and then climb up into the opening. There were shelves in there, which could be used as a ladder if needs be. The phone man was able to hoist himself up in with no problem. My Mom left him alone and went back downstairs. A short while later, he came down, got some tools or somesuch, and went back upstairs. And disappeared. We never saw him come down. The phone company had to send someone to get the truck. They never spoke to us, and we never signed off on the work order. But we had phones, so it was OK. And that was it. You'd think it was a joke, except for two things. One, he left his flashlight in the closet. We used it for years, until it finally got lost. And two, when people came to install AC & add insulation, they found a hard hat in the attic. So what did happen to the phone man? I don't know. Telephone Man – Second Version When we moved to the house in Norco, the are was still on party lines. Party lines are pretty much like you see in old movies: you pick up the handset, and if someone is talking you can either listen in or wait for them to stop. For a 15 year old from the OC this was exotic and fun. For my folks it wasn't. They started the process for a private line. One day the telephone company truck pulled into the driveway. The telephone repair/installation man got out. My Mom showed him the two phone lines in the house, both at built-in telephone tables. The man made some notes about the one downstairs, then asked about the attic. Access to the attic was through a very wide closet in the hallway leading to the master bedroom. There was a series of shelves and drawers, which were climbed like a staircase, and then the access panel in the ceiling of the closet. You had to be reasonably tall, or agile, to get into the attic that way, but it was doable. The telephone man thanked my Mom. He went downstairs, got some stuff, and went back upstairs. That was the last anyone saw of him. Around five another telephone company truck showed up. A man got out of it and into the one the telephone man had driven over. They both drove away. My Dad went upstairs. The access door was open, and there was a telephone company flashlight sitting on the top shelf. And no telephone man. Many years later we had air conditioning installed. While laying the ductwork, they never found the telephone man, either. Someone once asked if he could have gotten trapped inside a wall. Well, the walls on the house ranged from 1-3 feet thick. They were concrete blocks, reinforced with lead & steel, and then covered with more poured concrete. So, no, he wasn't in the walls. What really happened to the telephone man? To this day, I do not know. Ghostly Phone Sex In my Dad's house, we had many many things happen. There was a building behind the house that the owner had lived in while building the main house. It had a bathroom, the making of a rudimentary kitchen, and a phone. The line was separate from the main house. We used the place as a garage/storage/whatever for years. Then when I got married, we decided to convert most of it back into a living space. We laid carpet, tile, put in a shower, stove, etc. My folks had turned the phone off to prevent anyone from using it & running up a bill. Now it was time to turn it back on. They had to replace some lines and naturally that meant climbing the poles. We were inside when he fell off the pole. Fortunately the neighbor was a fireman. He kept the phone man quiet until the ambulance came. Someone went up in a cherry-picker to finish the job because they couldn't just leave things as they were. According to the new man, the guy's harness wasn't loose or anything--he just fell out of it. No one could figure it out. And then the phone bill came. $850. From the time the guy climbed the pole to the time the second guy finished the job was roughly 2 hours. My Dad called the number that the bill said had been dialled something like 3000 times. It was a long-distance pay phone-sex line. So we went to the phone company to complain. The lady at the desk had to get her supervisor because they'd never seen anything like it. They calculated that the actual number of calls that could be placed was something like 80. But even that didn't make sense, as the calls were made before the phone had been connected. They sent someone out to check the lines, I guess to see of someone was tapping them. But no. Who or what made the calls? Sealed Window Still more stuff from my Dad's old place. We had an outdoor riding arena to work the horses at night when it was cooler. My Dad put up a light pole so we could see what we were doing. Friends would ride over and we'd play around with the horses all night. This one evening my best friend and I were out, playing games on horseback. We could see my bedroom window quite clearly. I had the curtains closed because my room faced west & I didn't like being blinded in the morning. My folks left to go shopping. They drove past before leaving so we'd know. Anyway, we're playing tag or whatever it was, when we saw the lights come on in my room. We hadn't seen my folks pull up, but thought maybe they were around front and we just missed seeing them. A few seconds later the curtains in my room get drawn open. We stopped to see what was up. My folks never bothered my curtains, so we wondered just who was up there. Just then one window opened partway. That was a good trick--a real good trick. We had the windows sealed shut because of the wind & dirt. There was no way to open them unless you used a special tool to break the seal. Now we thought someone was robbing the place. We had a phone in the barn, but it was locked. I'll have to tell the story about that phone and why it got locked another time. We decided our best bet was to stay put and try to get a good look at whoever was in there. Since my room was at the back of the house, AND had a separate enclosed patio room that led onto the lower roof, we figured that they were planning to go out that way. Why they'd opened the window we saw made no sense, but hey--we weren't the robbers. We saw one person--male, we were pretty sure--walking back and forth. We didn't see him moving anything, but then maybe he was just trying to decide what to take. He left the main room for the patio room, which had no windows on our side. It did, however, have my stereo & TV. We could see the light from it flashing out onto the lower roof--so he was in there, probably bagging all the stuff. The headlights from my Mom's car came up the road. We rode over to them and told them what we saw. My Dad was convinced we were screwing around. While he was telling us to cut it out, the lights went off everywhere--the house, barn, street, everything. Power was flaky there, so this wouldn't normally have been a big deal, but with someone in the house it was. We went back to the barn for a flashlight because the one in the car was dead. Once we had the lights, we started in. We took maybe three steps into the house when the lights came back. My Dad made us stay down while he went upstairs. Nothing. Nothing was taken, everything was OK. Except the window had been opened & then closed.
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Jun 13, 2014 14:28
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