“When I was really little my parents would let me stay up late on the weekends and watch TV until I fell asleep. I really loved these times and I would stay up later than anybody else just because I could. Well one night I was almost asleep on the couch when I heard a noise on our front porch. It was the sound of our old fashioned porch swing moving back and forth. I was a little scared so I crept toward the bay windows of my living room and peeked out towards the porch. Sitting on my front porch swing was an older woman, probably in her 50’s wearing nothing but a night gown, covered in blood and holding a huge kitchen knife.
I flipped out immediately and ran screaming into my parents room but was too terrified to form words. My parents saw that I was upset, but when I finally was able to tell them what I saw, my dad got really angry and told me that it was just a dream and to go back to bed. I refused and kept crying and screaming until he had had enough and snatched my arm and dragged me towards the front door to prove that nothing was there. I kicked and screamed all the way trying to make him stop, but he kept pulling me. Finally we got to the door, he unlocked it, swung it open and said “See theres nothing th-” To this day, I have never seen the look of fear and shock that was on his face when that woman turned and stared at both of us and slowly stood up with the knife.
My dad slammed the door shut and got my mom to call the police while he went and got his gun. He went back to the door with a 12 gauge and cracked the door enough to stick the barrel out. He asked her what she was doing and she said “Somebody killed my husband, but it wasn’t me.” My dad told her that the police were coming, and she freaked out, grabbed the knife and walked away. They police found her 15 minutes later trying to break into one of our neighbors houses.
I never slept in the living room again.”
“Happened to a friend of mine. It was about 1am and he heard a noise outside his front door. His front yard is really dark so he looked through the peep hole rather than opening the door, he couldn’t see anything but could tell something was below the peep hole. He decided to open the door slowly and as soon as he did an older lady who’s face was covered in blood and only wearing a t-shirt(no underwear or pants)tried to run into his house. He slammed the door on her and called the cops. While waiting for the cops he kept looking out the little hole on the door and every so often she would scurry back and forth on his front lawn. (I wasn’t there but I picture it like the alien at the birthday party in “Signs”). So the cops finally show up and detain the women and they get to the bottom of the story. It turns out the woman was his neighbor and she was extremely drunk. She had been drinking and locked herself out of her house and tried to get back in by braking the window with her face/hands.”
“My family has lived in rural Nebraska since they immigrated from Germany in the mid-1800s. Near the turn of the century disease was pretty rampant in the homesteading area and it killed off members of almost every family. When someone died from illness, time was of the essence in burying them as not to let the virus spread from the deceased to the living. This meant no wake periods.
So an aunt of some unknown number of “greats” preceding her relationship to me dies of some disease and she gets buried in the family cemetery on the the homestead. The dogs were very fond of her so it wasn’t too surprising that after the funeral the two dogs stuck near the grave.
The rest of the family began to think something of it when, a week and a half later, the dogs were still visiting her grave almost constantly. But they weren’t just at the grave. They were visibly distressed, frantic, and often barking while there.
This goes on for maybe two weeks when the family decides to check it out. They dig the casket up and open it.
The deceased’s hair has all been pulled out. Her fingers are raw and bloody and mangled from where, on the inside of the casket door, they can see deep scratches in the wood.
She was comatose when they buried her, and she came to while underground, spending probably her last five or so days alive in a buried casket.”
“When I was about 7 years old I went on a walk with my babysitter. We were walking back a mile or so to my house on a fairly busy road and about half way there she says we should play Simon Says. At first we walk faster, then skip, and then jog lightly. Then she says “Simon says run as fast as you can. Simon says turn here.” I was slightly confused, but played along. As we turned down the driveway I looked back and saw two guys chasing after us, one with a bat and the other with a knife.
We ran up to a house and some old people living there let us in thankfully. At the time I didn’t grasp how fucked up it was that we were getting chased and I still have no clue why they were.”
“I have noticed that almost anytime I am walking alone at night through my town, street lights turn off as I pass them. Not all of them, but enough to make me think something wants me to be in the dark.”
“About a year ago in my final semester in college I worked at a department store in the mall. I didn’t have a car yet so I asked for day shifts because it was a 2 hour bus ride back home. So basically if I had a closing shift, I’d get done at 11 but not get home until 1 am. But sometimes I’d be given closing shifts much to my annoyance since I had a 6 45 am class & my mothers worry because who wants their kid on public transport that late? (Sometimes she could come & get me but it’d be too much of a hassle to get my younger sisters out that late & such so I never asked her).
My managers being the jerks that they were gave me a week of closing shifts, knowing my situation. I was pissed but whatever. One night I had just finished my shift, got on the bus (I sat in the back) & was minding my business when my iPod died. I was annoyed but I just kept my earbuds in & occupied myself by playing a crossword on my phone.
About 2 seats behind me I hear these guys speaking Spanish. Now, my stepmother is Puerto Rican so while I understand a fair bit of Spanish, I don’t speak it. So i hear them talking but I don’t pay attention because it’s rude to eavesdrop & all until they say “that black girl up there” then my ears perk up. I keep my earbuds in so that they think I can’t hear them & I continue listening. What they’re saying is horrific. To paraphrase, they knew my stop (second to last one before the bus gets back to the terminal & while my stop is at the front of my neighborhood, it’s got no street lights & at this time of night, empty.) & to put it simply were planning on “snatching that piece of ass up”
I was about 20 mins away from home so I knew I had to act quickly. Since I knew they could see me (they were 2 seats behind me but like across if that makes sense) i pretended to play on my phone, oblivious while I was actually texting my mom.
“Mom, can you please meet me at the bus stop” 5 minutes go by, no answer. We’re getting closer to my stop so I decide to call her cell. No answer. I call the house phone & she finally answers. Its about 1230 am so she was asleep. I try to talk as cheerily & calmly as I can. This was our convo. “Hey mom, did you get my text?” “Uh no…what’s up?” “Oh I sent you a picture of these jeans I’m gonna order online when I get home. I REALLY need your opinion so I REALLY need you to look since the sale ends at 1 am.” She gets the hint that I need her to look at her cell so I say goodbye & hope for the best. We get to my stop & I see my mom’s car. I snatch my shit up & hightail it off the bus. Id on’t even look behind me to see if they’re following me. I jump in the car & tell my mom to just GO.
I look in the rearview & I see the guys staring at the car.
The next morning I called my job & told them I quit. No more public transport for me. Thanks to my stepmom for teaching me Spanish. Thanks to mom for getting the hint. Weird Spanish speaking guys, let’s not meet again.”
“My best friend at the time (same age as me) was my neighbor who lived with her mother and grandmother 3 houses down from mine, we had been friends since we were babies, we grew up together, went to the same school, moved in the same social circle, went on vacation together, shared clothes, cds, food, we were basically sisters, our families were close, etc.
Her mom, early 30s at the time, was a single mom working as a secretary, they didn’t have it bad, between her salary and the grandmothers pension they lived comfortably and without any major setbacks.
Her mom started seeing a foreign guy who was in the country for business, he claimed to be from Spain but he had a funny accent, as if he was originally from Italy or another non-Spanish speaking country. He was supposedly rich, despite staying in a rinky dinky hotel (the hotel did have a pool tho, lol) he would often show pictures of himself in a very luxurious residence, he said it was his house in Ibiza, pictures of him driving a red sports car, a picture of him in front of the Eiffel Tower (oh god, how innocent were we) and so on.
After a month and a half or so of dating, my friend’s mom said they were leaving the country in perhaps the next 6-7 months. She was in love with him and he had promised her a life of luxury in Europe and everything was going to be perfect, the country they were moving to: Spain. Her and her daughter. The grandma couldn’t come. at least not yet, she was supposed to meet them in the future after they had settled in (but at the same time, wasn’t he rich? so many red flags).
This is where I come in, since I was such good friends with Maritza, the guy had told Maritza’s mom to bring me along for vacation, that it would be good for Maritza, make the transition easier, etc.
I was, of course, thrilled, a month in Europe with my best friend who was moving away, and the idea of going to see her every summer and stay at her step father’s mansion, it was a dream. My parents of course weren’t so thrilled at first, but as they got to know him they liked him and eventually he won them over too.
Eventually I even got a little weekend job as a waitress at my uncle’s restaurant to help my parents with the plane ticket and other costs, we got my passport, we were ready to go. As the months went by, it became evident that I wasn’t gonna be able to go, the money I had saved wasn’t enough, it didn’t even cover half of the ticket, and my parents couldn’t come up with the money for the rest of the trip.
A week or so before they left, the guy came to my house and talked to my parents, he offered to pay for my plane ticket. My parents politely declined. I was fuming, I swore I would never talk to my parents again, I didn’t come out of my room for days, eventually I got over it and when it was time to go to the airport to say goodbye to them, I did, we cried, we hugged, we promised each other we would meet up next summer, by then I would already have the money saved. They left. We never heard from them again.
The days went by and nothing, I remember the grandmother, the pain on her face, the nights she went on without sleeping, home alone without her daughter and granddaughter who were supposed to call her as soon as they arrived in Spain, and yet they never did. Eventually they were reported as missing, surprisingly enough the guy had given out his real name and last name the whole time, so after the cops got involved turns out he had this huge record in Spain and Italy, and had been in jail for drugs, prostitution, kidnapping, extortion and god knows what else. The police told their family that they were most likely sold into a human trafficking ring, that this was very common and that sadly there were too many cases like it, there was nothing to do but wait. Last time anyone saw them or had any register of them was at the airport in Seville when they arrived. Nothing else.
It breaks my heart even to this day, and to think that if my parents had said yes, I wouldn’t be here today, sends chills down my spine. Sometimes I look Maritza up in facebook, in hopes that I’ll find her, maybe she regained back her life and her freedom, but nothing ever shows up. The grandmother died in 2013 too, sadly without ever seeing or hearing about her daughter and granddaughter again.”
“My stepmom (were going to call her Macy) grew up as a kind of a privileged teen in the 70s and her mom had moved their family over here (the states) from England when she was about 9. She went to a pretty nice high school in a really nice town. There, she made friends with a girl (Lily) who didnt exactly run with Macys type of crowd (popular, stereotypical, etc.) They really hit it off, and Lily would take Macy out to do her type of stuff: hiking, fishing, sailing (theres even a hilarious set of pictures of them camping. My stepmom has raccoon eyes and looks like she hates everything.) Anyways, because of Lilys influence, the two of them would do stuff like that a good amount.
One Sunday they decided to go hike in some hills about an hour away. Macy put on what Im sure were her extremely expensive hiking shoes and the two of them drove off to the hiking trails. Lily parked in this big clearing with makeshift parking spots (you know, like a piece of wood marking the head of a space) but there were no other cars there. This was only important in hindsight.
They started hiking up the hill, off the path because Lily fancied herself as something of a badass. The hike was nothing extraordinary (if you asked my stepmom she would just lament for fifteen minutes how sticky and buggy it was.) Anyways, they reached the top of the hill and my stepmom was done. The polished, pampered side of her was coming out and she groaned until Lily (begrudgingly) said ok, they would rest and then walk down again, slower.
They had been heading down the hill for maybe ten minutes when Macy started bitching again. Lily conceded to walking down the side of the road instead of the rough hiking trail. So there they are, probably looking like a couple of tools geared up for hiking and walking down a crappy road, and after not even five minutes, a truck pulled up next to them.
It was red and rusty, and just generally looked like a clunker. The guy driving rolled down the window and the girls looked in through the passengers side window. He had a big beard, a baseball cap pulled down, and long brown hair. He greeted them and even smiled through his beard, asking if they needed a ride. Macy described him as charming, and even cute. Lily still says the moment he greeted them her hackles went up. Despite her better judgment, my stepmom convinced her to get in the truck. It must only be a ten minute drive down to the car, tops.
The two girls opened the passengers door to this rusty old thing, and the guy directed them behind the seat to get into the back. They settled in and the truck started rumbling forwards. Lily always says that was the point it hit her what a mistake they had just made. The backseat was clean enough but there was a rope on the floor behind the drivers seat and four boxes of saran wrap half hanging out from under the passengers seat. It seemed creepy and weird, but Lily didnt want to freak my stepmom out so she just kept her mouth shut.
After ten minutes, the woods didnt look any clearer, and they hadnt seen another car the whole time. Lily asked how long he thought it would be. He said he was taking a different route down the hill and had to stop somewhere to get something first. That was it. The girls were 16/17, and Lily didnt want to press the issue. She was scared. She can remember his hair because she was sitting behind him. He looked like a woodsy guy, but his hair was super tangled and dirty. She noticed crusted mud on his collar and tried to find something identifiable about him, but just got scared the more she picked up on little details. He was young-ish, strong looking, and had a 1 on both of them. So they didnt ask any more questions, and he didnt offer any information, and they drove on.
Several minutes after that, they reached a tiny shack/log cabin looking place right there in a clearing of trees. There was an old stump where someone had been chopping wood and a huge axe stuck into the log. Lily was definitely on red alert now. The guy turned off the truck and slipped out of it, saying, Ill be right back. Dont get out. And he disappeared into the house.
Lily tried to talk to my stepmom about how she was incredibly uncomfortable but she mostly just dismissed it. Lily started begging, increasingly freaked out and finally put her foot down, demanding Macy exited the truck with her. So they got out and walked around the front of the vehicle. The house was about 50 yards in front of them (why this guy would have left two young girls in the truck alone while going into the house is beyond me) and they wandered around, looking at it, hesitantly. If this guy really was decent and just trying to give them a ride, it would be super rude to just run off right? My stepmom had this strict upbringing when it came to manners and a public persona and she saw it as an issue of that nature, so she actually started to head back to the truck, opening the front door to climb in behind the drivers seat. Lily was pissed off and followed her to yell some more.
On the drivers side floor, half hidden under the seat, there was a big hatchet. It had dried red/brown stains covering the blade and stuck to the floor under it. Lily understandably lost her shit and seeing it, my stepmom started getting hysterical. They decided that leaving was by far their best option at this point, and just booked it off the side of property into the trees. They bumbled around in the trees for a little while until Lily was fairly confident they were on their way back down the hill. My stepmom cried all the way down. Lily felt bad about it, but was also completely freaked out that he would heart it and kept trying to calm her down.
When they finally got back down to the bottom and saw the old wooden fence that surrounded the original parking area, they were relieved. But as they got closer they saw it. The truck. It was parked on the other side of the gravelly makeshift lot. Just sitting there, facing the other way innocently. They couldnt see if anyone was in it and of course Macy wanted to run for the car, but Lily was super hesitant. She managed to calm my stepmom down; saying she wanted to wait before running out into the open, to see what was out there. Remember, this is the 70s. No cell phones. There was no ranger station or anyone around. The parking lot was big and empty and open and who knows what would have happened if they decided to stroll across it.
Thankfully Lily convinced my stepmom to chill and the two of them hunkered down against a big tree, hidden by bushes and other trees and waited it out for what was seemed to be a couple of hours, when dark started to fall. All the animals started coming out and making noises and my stepmom (predictably) started getting antsy about this and bothering Lily, who was tired and moments away from giving in. She was just planning their dash to the car when they heard a clunk. Across the twilight-lit lot, they watched as one of the back doors of their car swung open. And the bearded guy slid his way out of the backseat.
He got out, shut the door, looked around at the surrounding woods for several moments, and then walked back to his truck. The truck lumbered past their car and out of sight. Several minutes after watching him drive away, they sprinted to their car as fast as they could, jumped in and peeled out before they had even shut the doors.”
“This happened a couple years ago when I was backpacking in Australia.
I traveled around driving a van, like many backpackers there do, as it saves a lot of money with accomodation. I usually slept in rest areas, gas stations or wherever I could park.
This one night, I’ve been driving for a few hours and started to feel sleepy. I decided then to stop in the next rest area, in the middle of nowhere. Parking in that location during day time could be a great idea, but at night it seemed like a horror movie location.
There were no cars parked there (I know, I should park where there were more people around, but I was really drowsy) and no lights whatsoever. I turned off the engine and closed the curtains of the van.
It was not long before dawn that I heard some heavy knocking on the side of the van: “Open up, it’s the police!” Nothing wakes you up faster than that. My heart was racing. I was just adjusting to the adrenaline rush in my system when they repeated the heavy knocking, saying it was the police.
My first thought is that I parked somewhere I shouldn’t, but then again, it was the middle of nowhere and it was a rest area.
Before opening up, with my mind telling me that that situation was weird as fuck, I decide to go slowly to one of the windows and look through the gap in one of the curtains.
I could clearly see the shape/shawdow of a guy standing beside the van. His car wasn’t too far, but it didn’t have any lights or flashing lights on. This guy was definitely not a cop.
Bringing up the courage I had left I just shouted: “Get the fuck away! I have a gun and I’m calling the cops on the radio!” I didn’t have a radio or a gun, but that seemed to faze him. I saw him getting back on his car, and – to add to the creepiness – someone came out of the bushes and also got in the car.
They left and a few minutes after that, I turned on my van and drove in the opposite direction they went to.
Safe to say that I never slept in another rest area that didn’t have at least a couple other cars parked. I don’t know what those people wanted, but with Australia’s history of backpacker’s serial killers, I’m very happy to be here today!”
“My grandmother swore by this story till her dying day. It was during the war in London, and my dad was a baby. She was bombed out of her house and was staying with a friend. The friend had set her up in a room on the top floor. Anyway, she was taking my dad upstairs to bed when a figure materialised on the stairs telling her not to sleep in that room tonight. She noped back down stairs and told her friend that she, and my dad, were sleeping in the sitting room that night. Her friend was annoyed but agreed. That night a bomb exploded near the house and the roof caved in, right on top of my dads cot – he would have been killed.”
“I had awesome parents who let me sleep in the living room on weekend nights when I was very young because my sister was a light sleeper and I could stay up until dawn. But of course I always end up sleeping on the couch because Nick At Nite made me tried.
So, one night I wake up to the prickly feeling. Like an instinct. Just bolted into a sitting position and stared out the front window. We lived in rural Georgia, so you can imagine the magnitude of trees. In perfect light cast from the moon, I see a silhouette of someone in this fucking tree. The family dog dashes to the window and is snarling into the glass.
Terrified, I run into my parents room and try to explain to my parents that there is a strange person outside. Dad grabs something defensive and darts outside with the dogs to beat the wax off the hot head. I tremble in Mama’s arms until Dad comes home and says he saw no one and to go to bed.
I decide to sleep in my regular bedroom. I fill in my sister in as to what happened. Dad is making regular rounds in the house with a cup of coffee. We’re all still and I finally think “I can sleep.”
Nope. I notice the man outside my window. From what I can see in the moonlight, he gives me a shush signal and runs away. Just turns around to run a straight line away.
I swear I couldn’t stop crying for what felt like hours.”
“When I was a child, I lived in an old Victorian house, and I would always hear laughing while I was trying to sleep. I was an only child with a single mother, and when I was about 5-6, I would wake up hearing laughter in the hallway in the middle of the night.
After mentioning this to my mum, she swore it was probably just the TV being left on late.
One night, I awoke hearing the laughter in my room. I went to sit up but felt like there was someone holding my shoulders down, invisible hands gripping into my shoulders while I heard laughing. I screamed my little heart out.
My mum ran into my room, flicking on the bedside lamp, convincing me it was just a dream, until I said “but my shoulders hurt.” She lifted up my t-shirt and there were two adult-sized hand prints on my shoulders.
I honestly thought I had imagined it and that it had never happened, but the other day I mentioned it in passing to my mum and she went blanket white and said ‘I don’t want to remember that.’”
“About two years ago, I was driving home from a family reunion pretty late at night, and the drive was about two hours. I didn’t stay the night because I had to be back for work the following day. Most of the drive was on roads with dense bushes and trees on either side – the real creepy ones you see a lot in movies. Anyway, I had been driving about 45 minutes, and I was starting to get really tired. You know how sometimes you just suddenly become really tired, out of nowhere? Well yeah, that happened to me. I knew I wasn’t going to last, but I didn’t come across any place that I felt I could park and safely sleep.
Anyway, after it became clear to me that I wasn’t going to find a place to pull up, and my tiredness wasn’t going away, I did something very questionable. I pulled over to the side of the road onto the grass, behind some bushes, to try and hide my car from anybody else who was going to come past (the roads weren’t empty, I came across another car every few minutes or so). I made a mental note that the time was 11:22, and then fell asleep.
Some time later I was awoken by a scratching sound. I looked at the clock – 11:50. The sound stopped after a few seconds, and because I was still extremely tired, I didn’t bother looking around and simply went back to sleep. I was later awoken by the same sound, and it was now 12:40. This time it really freaked me out because the sound didn’t stop. The thought ran across my mind that it was just an animal inspecting the car, but why would it return almost an hour after it had left the previous time?
I looked in my rear view mirror and just managed to catch a glimpse of something running away into the forest. Now, at the time, I thought it was the damn hook killer, you know the one that scratched that couple’s car and then slaughtered the guy when he got out to investigate? Fuck that, I thought to myself, so I got the hell out of there. There was a bend no more than a hundred yards up the road, and as I came around it, there was a fucking car, parked off to the side of the road with the driver side door opened. I slowed down just to look to see if anyone was in there (there wasn’t). Then I looked in my rear view mirror.
I didn’t see anything, and all of a sudden, this guy comes sprinting around the corner. He starts screaming at me, shouting stuff like “Hey! Hey you! Get the fuck out of your car! Now!” I noped the fuck out of there and sped off. I never saw the guy again.”
“So I was sleeping, and in the middle of the dream a character of my dream who was doing something turned her head, looked at me very seriously and said “There’s someone in your apartment, wake up.”.
I nearly had a god damned heart attack, and my apartment was empty.”
“Ok so this happened to me last summer when I was back at my parent’s house during the holidays. It was around 3am and i was in my room on my computer when I got a call from my sister.
Now that was already a little bit weird since my sister’s room is just down the hallway from mine and she could have just came in my room. I went to pick up and the call ended as soon as I reached the phone.
I figured that she wanted to speak with me so I got up and went to her room. As soon as I reached her door, she started screaming that someone was in the room with her so I busted in and of course nobody was here.
After she stopped crying she told me that she woke up and saw a dark shadow just centimetres from her face and that’s when she screamed.
So I told her that she called me, she tell me that her phone is not in her room and that she was sleeping. Sure enough her phone is actually dowstairs in her purse. The weird part is that I have the log of her call on my phone but she doesn’t. Never managed to explain this one.”
“Back in my younger days when I was still living with roommates, I had what turned out to be the most obvious of dangerous encounters.
I was looking to move and I was about to leave to see a place in the perfect location, good price, two seemingly professional male roomies. At the last minute my boyfriend suggests he goes along because the place is nearby and they’ll have to meet him at some point anyway.
We get there and I introduce myself and the one roommate seems a little taken aback at the fact that I had someone with me. I suppose it could be seen as unusual to bring your boyfriend but I figured “Oh well, the damage has already been done. If they don’t allow me to be their roommate simply because he’s with me, I can’t do anything about it now. Let’s just see the place.” The apartment is HUGE! We’re both suitably impressed until we turn the corner of the living room and we see it. A 2-camera setup with a light pointed at the couch. There’s a guy sitting on the couch that is introduced as the other roommate. He jumps off of the couch and gives my boyfriend the same weird look. I now realize the look they were giving, was disappointment.
I shoot my boyfriend a very quick look of understanding but we silently decide to continue with the tour, so as not to escalate the situation. I casually joke that it’s nice they have a camera so I can video tape myself for my auditions. They both laugh much too hard and say, “YES! That’s what we were doing!”
He brings us over to “my room” and it’s literally a broom closet. You wouldn’t even be able to fit a single-sized bed in there. It is now patently obvious that there was never a room for rent in the first place.
I take this opportunity to get out of there by saying, “Oh that’s too bad. I have a queen bed and I won’t be able to fit. Okay well thanks for your time!”
We get out to the street and walk around the corner without saying a word. When we finally look at each other, it’s in this stunned silence. He just hugged me really tight, and we went for a walk in the park.”