As The Raven Dreams Podcast - 40 TRUE Scary Stories From JULY 2023 - Over 4 HOURS of Horror Stories

Episode Date: September 5, 2023

Today we have over 4 hours of true terrifying stories, all from July 2023. Have a Story To Submit? ➤ https://www.astheravendreams.com Or Post to the Subreddit ➤ https://reddit.com/r/TheRavensDream **Stories used with explicit permission from respective authors. True stories are unverified and considered 'supposedly true'.** ----- ➤ Videos include a content warning for language and sensitive/disturbing content. Viewer discretion is always advised. ➤ ALL Audio and visuals in this video are copyright of AS THE RAVEN DREAMS / RAVEN ADAMS and may not be duplicated, in any format, without explicit permission, including replication of voice with AI technologies. ➤ If you like any of the following stories, consider subscribing! - Glitch In the Matrix Stories, Past Life Stories, Lets Not Meet stories, Stalker Stories, Unexplained Horror stories, Dark Web horror stories, Chilling Paranormal Stories, Crytpid stories, Crazy Ex stories, Creepy Neighbor Stories and More! ➤ BlessThisMess --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/astheravendreams/message Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/astheravendreams/support Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Back when I was in high school, I was friends with this eccentric girl named Lisa. Lisa was one of those strange girls, the kind that wear quirky colors, but also tried to dress goth-esque. And I really did like her as a friend, but she could be a bit much at times. I was on the football team, and while I wasn't in the jock click, I will say that I wasn't in her normal friend group. The reason I ended up being friends with her was because in freshman year, I actually ended up in a group with her for a final project in our biology class, and I learned that she was a pretty

interesting individual. I wouldn't say that we were close friends, even, but we were friends, and we would chat whenever we were together in a classroom or whatever, but nothing beyond that. She never showed any interest in me beyond friendship, and I wasn't interested in her beyond friendship. And that was that. However, in junior year, things did change a bit. I started a relationship with one of Lisa's friends, Shelby. Lisa actually got us together because Shelby had a crush on me,

and I kind of had a thing for her too. So, obviously, the relationship. had Lisa's blessing. Being with Shelby meant that I did end up spending more time with Lisa. When we would hang out after school, Lisa would typically want to come over. And again, Lisa was all right, but she started to feel like a third wheel. It got to a point where Lisa would start texting me, asking me what I was doing. And at first, I just thought she was being friendly.

At one point, it got to be a bit much when she called me at three in the morning to ask me if Shelby and I were going to hang out that day. I got a bit cross with her, telling her not to call me in the middle of the night. And she just sort of sheepishly apologized and hung up. That day, when I went over to Shelby's house, I told her about the call and she freaked out, saying that Lisa had been doing the same thing to her, that she had called her every night for the last two weeks, asking about random things. We talked it through and we both decided that we needed to put up some boundaries with Lisa,

especially when we were spending time together. We got to a point where we would make plans to go somewhere, and we wouldn't tell Lisa. We wouldn't mention it around her at all. One weekend, we went to the movies just to get out and go on a date. And after we'd sat down during the previews, who else would show up, but Lisa. She walked in the theater with a large popcorn bucket in her hand, and when she saw us, she excitedly yelled,

Oh my God, there you two are! The entire theater looked back at us, and I'm sure that they immediately thought that we were going to be a problem. I just shushed her and asked her what the hell she was doing. She said that she wanted to see a movie and that she saw us walk into the theater earlier, and that her seeing the same movie was a complete coincidence. I didn't buy it, and based on the look on Shelby's face, she didn't either. Shelby just said something like, wow, what a coincidence.

Lisa sat in the seat next to us, and the whole time she was being. being obnoxiously loud and annoying. It got to the point where one of the theater employees came into the room during the movie and actually asked us to leave. We tried to tell them that we weren't with her, but they didn't buy it. She was being loud and sitting with us, so we were all asked to get out. I didn't want to end up getting trespassed from the movies or told not to come back, so Shelby and I just got up and started leaving.

Then, Lisa started yelling at the employee. She started screaming about how everyone in the theater was discriminating against her, and how she, as an American, was allowed to say what she wanted. I'm going to be honest. I have no idea what she was going on about with all that, but it was embarrassing to be seen as associated with her. I nudged Shelby to go, and she agreed, and we made our way out of the theater.

theater as quickly as we could. When we got out, we heard Lisa yell for us and asked why we left her there like that. Shelby actually went off on her, telling her that she was an embarrassment, that she was acting like an absolute idiot, and that she had completely ruined our date. At this last part, Lisa's shocked face kind of turned to a slight grin, which again telegraphed exactly what she was doing. Ruining our day was her plan, and she'd managed to do so. After Shelby finished saying what she had to say,

she grabbed my arm and pulled me away, saying that she couldn't stand to be around Lisa right then. I agreed. We walked away and got in my car to leave. Lisa just stood there with that same stupid grin on her face and waved at us, saying that she'd see us around. It didn't end there, of course. It got to the point where Shelby had to block Lisa's number

because she started calling at all hours of the night again. Sometimes she would be sobbing, telling her how sorry she was, some nights she would call and be pretty obviously pretending to be drunk, and talk about how she and I had slept together, which was a complete lie. One night she called and told Shelby that she was, she was in love with her, and that they should run away together and never come back. Mind you, Shelby and I were 17, and Lisa was still 16 at this time.

After Shelby blocked her, Lisa started texting and calling me randomly, telling me that she was in love with me, that we should be together. I told her that she was nuts, and that I loved Shelby and wanted nothing to do with her. She laughed when I said this. saying that I didn't love Shelby, and that I was just using her as a means to get with her. I hung up on her, and then I blocked her number. One of the last occurrences happened one day after football practice. At this point, it had been around a month since Lisa had really done anything or contacted either of us,

probably because we'd blocked her number. When practice was over, Shelby and I went to get into my car and get home. And when I opened my driver's side door, I saw a manila envelope sitting on the center console. I asked if it was hers, and she said no. I knew it wasn't mine. I got in and grabbed it, and when I flipped it over, my heart stopped. The front said, from Lisa to the love of my life. I just stared at those words and kind of froze.

How had she gotten into my car? and worse, what was going to be in that envelope? Shelby asked what the hell it was, and I told her that I didn't know, and that I didn't want to know. She asked if I should open it, and at first I considered it, but then I had a second thought. I told her not to open it, and that I knew what we should do. I put my car in drive, and I went straight to Lisa's house.

I went and knocked on the door and was actually thankful when her mother answered and not her. I asked her if Lisa was home, and she told me that she wasn't, that she had to stay after school and would be home soon, which was the second blessing in this situation. Thankfully, her parents knew both Shelby and I. They knew Shelby a bit more,

but since I was Shelby's boyfriend, they knew who I was. I asked her if we could come in and talk with her a moment about Lisa, and while she was confused, she invited us in. When we got into the living room, I handed her the envelope, and I told her that I had found it in my car, and I then started telling her about all the things that Lisa had been doing. I told her that I respected Lisa and that she was my friend, but that something needed to be done about how she was acting.

Her mother then asked what was in the envelope, and I told her that I had no idea. that we hadn't opened it. I watched her open the envelope and pull out what looked to be a stack of polaroids. As soon as she flipped through the first few, her face went completely white as a sheet. And she quietly said, oh my God. Almost as if on cue, Lisa walked in the front door, and the three of us all looked over at her as she quietly asked what was going on.

Her mother stood up and turned to look at her, and when she did, I was able to catch a glimpse of one of the photos. It was exactly what you might think. It was a photo of Lisa in a very inappropriate way. I then stood up and said that Shelby and I should probably leave them to talk about things, and her mother told me that she appreciated me bringing this to her attention, and that nothing like this would ever happen again. Shelby and I left, and the whole time we were walking to the door, Lisa was watching us with an incredibly angry look on her face. Which should have left me feeling guilty, but what she was doing was way over the line.

As we were walking down the front steps, I could hear her mother starting in on her, asking why she was taking nude pictures of herself and giving them to her friends like that. again, I probably should have felt bad, but there's only so much that one can take until pity no longer becomes an option. As we drove back to my house, Shelby asked if what we did was the right thing to do. I told her that we could have handled it differently, but that it had been months at this point, and that Lisa hadn't gotten the hint. I then mentioned that, since Lisa was still 16, what she had to be. put in that envelope and in my car was 100% illegal, and that she could have called the cops and told them that I was in possession of those pictures, and I very likely could have been

arrested for it. When I mentioned that, I think Shelby understood what I was saying, and agreed with my sentiment. She asked me if I thought that that was her plan, and I told her that I didn't know, but that I wouldn't have put it past her. That was the last major event with Lisa, thankfully. She still tried to talk to us some, and she would sometimes send us text from a different number, asking if we could talk about everything, but we pretty much just cut her out,

and told her that we were done with her. Shelby and I are actually married. Happily so, and we have a two-year-old now, so thankfully Lisa wasn't able to drive up. wedge between us like she wanted. The only reason that I even thought of this story was because Lisa tried to send Shelby a friend request on Facebook,

as is the cliche reason. Shelby considered accepting it, and I told her that it was her choice, but also mentioned that junior year was only 10 years ago, and that there's a high chance that she's still the same person she was. In the end, I hope that Lisa has a, great life. I hope that she finds someone else

to fill the role of, quote, love of her life because it's not me. And I hope that she can live out her days with them because I never want to see her again. Lazzang surgellé,

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pay you pay for responsibility for a very long time other than family because they were

involved and affected the only other person that knows about this is a close friend. I still get this bizarre feeling recalling it, and I know that many people may not believe it, but I wanted to share it.

However, just to give my family privacy, I will not be using real names, nor will I be sharing where I'm from. What now feels like a century ago, my family and I gathered at my grandparents' rustic summer home for a much-needed and long-planned family reunion. It was a picturesque cabin with a little guest house on the same property, both tucked away in the woods, surrounded by trees and a gorgeous lake. This home was built by my family, and the land had always been in our family. I knew that one day it would be passed down to me and my brother. At the time of this reunion, I had one child. A young daughter that I'll call Emily.

Emily was about six at the time, but she had never been there before. She met my grandmother, her great-grandmother, but she always came to see us. I was excited to take her so that she could experience and share similar memories that I had made there. I wanted her to swing on the tire swing that my dad put up. I wanted to take her swimming and fishing in the living. lake. I wanted her to be able to get out of the busy city and experience the beauty that was nature. Our time there was perfect. Everybody wanted to meet Emily, as many of them hadn't yet. And there were a few other kids close in age, so all the cousins and second cousins were able to

play together. We were all having a great time. As the sun began to set and people were slowly trickling down, my daughter was in between being fully awake and in need of a nap. Emily and her great-grandmother always seemed very close. She loved being with her and doing everything that she did, so I accepted when she wanted to go sit out back on the porch with her and swing, thinking that she would doze off too. I went inside and was talking to my mom and a few other relatives. nothing of importance really happening at this point. It had been no more than 15 minutes or so when I heard the back door open and my grandma come in.

She was alone. I wasn't concerned because there was no one around but family. I knew that she would be fine out there. What I was concerned about was the distressed look on my grandma's face. I went to ask her what was wrong and she asked to speak to my mom. her daughter, alone. I nodded and the two of them walked off to her bedroom. I went out to check on Emily, who was still sitting in the swing and singing to herself.

I asked if she was okay and she said yes. And then she asked if Nana was okay. That's what she called her. I said that she was, and Emily said that she didn't mean to make her sad. I couldn't see how she could have, so I told her that she didn't. and I sat with her. Shortly after, my mom came outside and asked to speak with me. She asked me what Emily had said to Grandma,

and even what I could have said to Emily about her. My mom had a suspicious yet worried tone to her voice, and I had no idea what was going on. First, my grandma was upset, still hiding in her bedroom, and then my mom, and all over what my six-year-old could have said. It didn't make any sense, and I demanded an explanation. So I went back to sit with Emily to try and figure out what was said.

I asked her, and she looked down at her lap, like she was sad or that she knew she was going to be in trouble. I tried my best to reassure her that she wasn't in trouble in any way, but I just wanted to know what they talked about. little did I know that my daughter had actually set off a chain reaction of revelations that many of us in the family were unaware of. Emily, in her innocent yet perceptive way, had asked her Nana, why she never visited her grave anymore.

Startled by the question, my grandma inquired further. Emily pointed out into the trees behind the home that we were in, saying, over there, I missed hearing you sing to me. But it's okay. I'm not sad. I'm happy now. And you should be happy now, too. The impact of those words, Emily had no idea what she had done. Emily seemed to know about a long buried secret,

one that I didn't even know about. My grandma had experienced a heartbreaking tragedy in her youth. She'd become pregnant before marriage, and her father found out. He went into a rage which led to a devastating outcome. The unborn child was lost, and my grandma had buried her in the trees, scared, not knowing what else to do. She would often go back there to talk to her, and saying to her and would be out there for hours. For decades she had carried this secret with her,

way down by guilt and pain, but you would never guess it. My grandma was always the life of the party. She loved having people over and would do anything for you if you were in trouble. If people fought, she was always there to break it up and fix what was broken. It was almost unbelievable, and I wanted to go back and check in the trees to confirm this, but my mom stopped me, telling me no. I remember her using the same parental tone from when I was a child, and that alone told me that this had to be true.

She told me not to bring it up to Grandma and that she would figure it all out. However, Emily seemed to be able to tell that something was wrong, and she was adamant on seeing her Nana. After asking if she could go in, she allowed her in, and the remaining few of us stayed outside, continuing to entertain ourselves. They both came out shortly after, my grandma's eyes slightly red from crying,

but she was all smiles as she carried Emily. They both were. The rest of that night picked back up, and everyone, including my grandma, was light-hearted and laughing. Emily and I stayed in my grandma's spare bedroom that night, and my mom was staying in the guest house, so we were all up pretty late talking.

Emily long since asleep. My grandma apologized for the way that she'd acted earlier, but I kept telling her that it was okay and that she didn't need to talk about it if she didn't want to. I even apologized, unaware of how Emily would have any knowledge of that. I didn't even know about it. But I listened to her story, and I saw a part of my grandma that I never knew of.

After she explained further, She mentioned how she always felt something different with Emily. I could agree with her. They always seemed extremely close from the moment that they met. Emily had a very bad illness shortly after being born. I was stressed out trying to calm her, but nothing worked. Even my mom tried to help with similar results, but when my grandma came over,

she asked for Emily, and I teased that I would be surprised if she calmed down. To my surprise, she did. She calmed down near immediately, and I was shocked. It continued like this as Emily grew up, too. They were so close, and I never knew why. Not that it made a difference to me. It was just heartwarming to watch. My grandma explained how she always felt like Emily was her guardian angel on earth,

and that her unborn child was part of Emily. Normally, I would have probably said that sounded insane and weird, but I could absolutely believe it. It's like Emily had known her a lot longer than six years. And how else would she have known about the grave in the woods? She didn't even understand death yet. No one had passed since I'd had her, so it was never something that she would have known about. After this event, my grandma and Emily seemed to have a lot. even stronger, inseparable bond.

She stayed over at our place often, and Emily always wanted her to stay in her room with her. I loved it, and I know that it meant so much to my grandma, too. It was like she got to live with her baby after all. My grandma passed away two years ago, and it was very hard on all of us, especially Emily. But after her service, Emily was the first of her service, Emily was the one of her. one to tell us that we needed to be happy, because she would never want us to be sad. Knowing the bond that they had together, I felt like it was my grandma herself telling us this. Emily is now 13, and she remembers her Nana vividly, and talks about her at times.

However, she has no recollection of the conversation she had that night at the reunion. She remembered how close they were, but couldn't explain what she was. why. Even with my grandma now gone, my mom and I still talk about that night. Emily's innocent words had triggered a very powerful healing process, and I'm thankful that my grandma was able to pass on without any guilt or sadness in her heart. So this one may be a little out there, but I feel like there was definitely something supernatural happening to me. Or at least, that's the only explanation that I can think of. This started many years ago, so I apologize if I trail off, but I want to make sure that I include everything that I can remember.

When I was around 11, I was in a horrible accident. I was riding my bike around my neighborhood, literally in that square block, like I always had. My mom told me to be home by a certain time for dinner, and I had on my watch to keep track of the time. At one point, I was rounding the corner. I looked both ways and crossed the street. The intersection I was at was on a hill, so I didn't see the car that came flying over, said hill. The last thing I remember was hearing tires squealing, and me telling myself that I was going to die. Then I woke up in the hospital hooked to machines, but was quickly calmed down when I saw my mom.

She explained to me a bit more as to what happened, and then broke the news to me. The way the car had hit me, and my bike, pretty much crushed my left leg, mangling it. So, I lost it. I have a prosthetic now, and I get along just fine, so please don't feel sorry for it. for me. You may not even notice if you were around me. Anyways, I found myself to be incredibly lucky and even thankful to whomever was looking out for me that day. Losing my leg will always be worth it to me so that I was allowed to keep my life. But from that day on, I started getting these weird feelings or sensations that would make me feel

like something was about to happen, and I would avoid it. It may still play out, but it was like I was able to avoid any mishaps involving myself. Here's an example. One of the earliest ones I can remember, or at least remember tracking, was being outside after playing. It was hot, and I was thirsty, but I didn't want to go all the way in the house and come back outside. Instead, I made my way over to the water hose attached to the side of the house. Right before I bent down to grab it, I got this weird tingling feeling in my left thigh.

I remember immediately reaching from my thigh, instead thinking that the feeling was weird. I was still a kid, and was worried that maybe something was wrong with it, or my prosthetic. So I instead went inside and told my mom. After looking it over, everything seemed to be fine, and the feeling was even gone, so we just chocked it up to maybe being a phantom pain, or maybe I was just standing funny. I got my water while I was inside and then went back out to play. A little later that evening, my dad went over to grab the hose as he was going to water Mom's Garden for her. I was in my bedroom that faced the wall that the hose was on, and the next thing I know, I hear my dad shouting expletives.

It made me jump up and run out to see what had happened, and I saw my dad gripping his hand with the other, turning red in the face. Apparently, there was a scorpion that had made her home in the center of the hose. The crawl space was next to the spout, and there was some loose dirt around it. So when my dad grabbed the hose, he unsettled the dirt trying to pull it out,

and disrupted her. My mom rushed him to the hospital while a neighbor stayed over to watch me and my younger siblings. I remember talking to my parents about it when they got back because I was going to use the hose too. My dad said that he was glad it was him and not me, even though I still felt bad. It was just luck,

and I decided not to mess with it, I guess. Another time, I had been in my room doing, whatever I was doing, when I started to feel a bit hungry, so I went to get a snack. As I made my way to the kitchen, I took my normal path, skipped the last step down, grabbed the door frame, and kind of swung my way into the kitchen. However, I got that weird tingle in my thigh again, causing me to bring my leg further in than I usually do. Once I was in there, my mom came up behind me and shouted to watch my step. because she had just broken a glass and went to grab a broom to clean it up.

She thought that she had picked up all the big pieces, but there was one that happened to land right by the entrance, and approximately where I would have stepped with my right foot. If I did, I could have stepped on it, sliced my foot open, or something. Again, we just called it a close call. I continued to have occurrences like this, and, for whatever reason, it would all start with that weird pain feeling in my thigh. And some of the things were minuscule, like the glass.

But then there were also bigger, more serious things that occurred. Like when I stayed at my friend's house one night when I was about 14. She had a bunk bed that she shared with her sister, but when she moved to her own room, she just kept it. She slept on the top bunk. and I slept on the bottom. Out of nowhere, I woke up in the middle of the night fully awake, and I had no idea why.

I sat up and started getting that feeling again, so I got off the bed and walked over to the door. By this time, I was starting to get used to that feeling and practically prepared myself for the inevitable. I stood there wondering if I should wake my friend up when I heard a single pop. and the top of the bunk bed fell, crushing the mattress below. I stood there fully awake, stunned while my friend just screamed my name jumping off the bed.

I turned on the light showing her that I was okay, but I think it assured her as well as confused her at the same time. Shortly after, her parents came in asking if we were all right and saw the bed. I didn't want to be weird, so I told them that I had just gotten up to. to use the restroom when I heard the sound. They believed me. It's not like it would have been possible for me to bend and crush the metal bars like they were, but it was also very strange that it happened at all. As I got older and became an adult,

these things continued to happen, but I actually started telling people about them. My parents and a few of my friends were convinced that I had some kind of supernatural power going on that protected me from danger. But there was still no explanation for it. I had one when I was around 23, that was by far one of the biggest memories that is forever etched in my mind. I like to walk, a lot.

I guess after losing my leg, it made me appreciate the little things like that. I thought that I would take a walk to a local cafe, hang out and enjoy my coffee, and then head back to start my day. On my way home, I pressed the button to cross the street and waited. When the signal changed to walk, I started getting that feeling again, causing me to grab my thigh and hold off on walking. As you might have guessed it, a car came barreling through that intersection, honking their horn as they approached.

Now, granted, I could hear a horn in the distance, but if you asked me if there was a horn, car with the horn would be going through that very intersection that I was at, not stopping, I would have told you no. I figured they were just honking at another car or something in the road. Needless to say, that one left me a bit shaken. Unlike my bike accident, I would not have survived that if I was hit. I went home and took some time to calm down. These incidents continued to unfold, and I was always left.

without words. Everyone around me joked about me being able to see the future. Whether big or small, I found myself one step ahead of calamity. Like the universe itself bestowed this power to me as a repayment for taking my leg, I guess. However, as mysterious and welcoming the ability was, it also did come to an end. after the birth of my child, these, I guess, glimpses of the future gradually faded. But that didn't mean it was entirely gone. As she got older, I noticed that she would do things without any real reason.

Like she would stray from her normal ritual, only for something to have happened that would have harmed her otherwise. She's 13 now, and she still seems to do it. and one thing about her, she was born with a hearing disorder, so she uses hearing aids. She's brought it up to me that she would get these weird pains in her ear, and I would assume that it was just her hearing aids, but she says that it happens when she doesn't have them in. She also explained how it happens before these events, causing her to divert from her normal path.

We've talked about this before, as in my daughter and I I tell her that she's special my husband is even aware of all this and thankfully he's open-minded but I don't think he quite understands the connection the two of us have to this day

I still have no explanation as to why I was given this ability and I want to believe that it was just good luck or something but I feel like it has to be more than that especially since it now affects my daughter.

I may never find the answers, but one thing is for certain. I was touched by something extraordinary, something that defied the boundaries of comprehension. This happened to me back when I was a little seven-year-old boy. My family and extended family were also close to one another. I remember always having people over at our place. We had parties for every holiday and every birthday. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, a lot of cousins. So the Fourth of July was no different for us.

We were going to be hosting the cookout and celebration. I was the second youngest of six kids. We were a big family alone. I remember going grocery shopping with my mom, and I helped pick out some of the snack foods and desserts. My mom made the best cupcake arrangements. She was a baker slash caterer, so she always went all out on the desserts. We picked out some ingredients to make what my mom called surprise cupcakes. She would make them as normal, but the center would be filled with

different things, such as frosting, sprinkles, or candy. Since it was the holiday of fireworks, I wanted to try pop rocks. So when we got back home, I was excited to not only make them, but eat them too. However, my mom told me that I wasn't allowed to have one until after I ate actual food. I was a kid with a sweet tooth, and she knew that I would go a little crazy over them and probably make myself sick. But that didn't mean that I understood her reasoning at the time either. So, as people started showing up, everyone was.

was talking, snacking, and having a good time. My dad was the cliche dad, with a giant grill making everything you could imagine on it. Steaks, hamburgers, hot dogs, kebabs, beans, you name it. My parents were both pretty cheesy and cliche, but they were all so wonderful. I only hope my kids nowadays think the same of me and their mom. Anyways, I helped my dad where I could, which is typically,

flipping things as he held me, but I more so wanted to monitor when it would be done so that I could eat and have a cupcake. When it was finally done, I made a plate and ate it a little faster than I should have. Once we were done, I was finally granted permission to those beautiful strawberry lemonade pop-rock cupcakes. They were just as fantastic as you could imagine. I don't know how my mom did what she did, but I was a lucky kid. After enjoying my first one, I asked for another one and my mom told me to wait for a bit. I was kind of disappointed,

but I obliged and busied myself doing something else. I played with my cousins for a while, and then we started lighting off some fireworks. After what I thought was a substantial amount of time, I asked for another cupcake, but my mom was busy talking and sorting things out. out, so she told me to wait. After a short pout, my mom walked back outside with the others, and I realized I was alone in the house

with the cupcakes. I took the opportunity to sneak one, and would eat it in my playhouse in the backyard. The party was taking place in the front yard, and I had a clear path to my house, confident that I could get away with it, too. It went just as planned, and the little kid. was just as good as the first one. But this successful plan just made me want to press my luck. So, yes, I went back for a third one.

I brought it out back and started eating it when I heard someone in the house. Fearing they may notice the missing dessert, or me, I tried to eat it faster when I started coughing really hard. I had swallowed part of it wrong or something, and making me choke on it. The last thing I remember was feeling very scared, but also very tired, until I closed my eyes. Shortly after, I woke up, and I was lying in my bed.

I remember looking around my room and stretching, until I remembered our cookout and party. So I sat back up, ready to go back out there with everyone else. That was until I noticed a young woman standing, and looking out my window. Being a little kid, I just said, Who are you? The lady looked over at me smiling and said that she was Becky.

She then started asking about the different items in my room, and about me. She pointed to one of my shark-stuffed animals and asked me what kind it was. She would ask me what my favorite one was, and complimented me on being able to name the different ones. as we talked more she would then stop and smile at me and say things about how smart and handsome I was and how much I looked just like my dad

it definitely made my little self feel pretty good and I tried to offer different toys to her as a gift she again smiled at me but declined then she told me that I should go back to the party because they would miss me I thought it was a silly thing to say and just mentioned something about how I was right here in my bedroom. She again smiled and said that it was very important that I listened to my mother

and get back to her quickly. So, being that she was an adult, I figured it was probably wise to listen to her, but before I went, I told her to join us, and, of course, talked about the cupcakes. She kept on smiling, but then she all. also looked kind of sad. She said that she might look for one later, but again pushed me to go quickly.

So I shrugged it off, not really knowing what was going on. Then I looked at my door, and I could hear my mom screaming my name, which startled me. And as if I had been dreaming, I woke up with my mom over me screaming my name and crying. Seeing my mom like that scared me and made me cry, but I noticed how I couldn't catch my breath. After a brief coughing fit, I calmed down and realized that I was sitting against my playhouse with several people around me. My mom made sure that I was all right and then picked me up and brought me inside. I got a stern talking to by both of my parents, because they figured out that I had taken the cupcake and they explained why it was so important.

They found me unconscious and choking. Apparently, whoever had walked into the kitchen could hear my coughing, and they knew it was a kid and how it sounded pretty bad, so they went and looked around for the kid. That's when they noticed me in the playhouse, but I'd already collapsed on the ground. My face had a hue of blue and purple, according to them. Obviously, they cleared my air,

way and I came too, turning out fine, but it was definitely a terrifying moment for them. It was scary for me, too, though, seeing how scared my mom looked. I made sure to listen to my parents for the rest of the night, but I was also too afraid to leave my mom's side. So that was pretty scary alone, especially now as an adult, knowing that I could have died, but the part my family and I still don't understand was the lady in my room. Later that night, I remembered her and asked my mom about her.

She had just started naming off people at the party, but I recognized them all. I told her how I had never seen this woman before. She looked confused, but she took me to my room and said that there was no one in there. I explained how she was at my window, how she liked my shark. and how she even said I was handsome like my dad. My mom looked puzzled until I explained that all this happened right before I heard her screaming at me and woke up in my playhouse.

Then her face looked more shocked than anything. As a kid, I could tell something was wrong with her, but I didn't know what. She just told me at that time that it may have been a dream when I was actually out in the playhouse, and I just left it at that, thinking it was just a crazy and real feeling dream. The next day, while I was having breakfast with my family,

we were talking about the night prior and everything that had occurred, when my mom again brought up the cupcake situation, scolding me again, but in a more light-hearted way. My dad was aware of the situation, too, and he joked about it. This caused me to bring up the dream that I had. My parents were both open, open-minded, I suppose, so my mom immediately said, Oh, yeah, tell your dad about this dream that you had.

So, I explained it to him. The whole time he had his normal interested look, as I told him, until I got to the part about the ladies saying that I looked like my dad. It was clear that this had piqued his interest, so he asked me to describe the woman. However, as I did, he mentioned that he said that he was, didn't recognize the woman. So, again, we all said that it was just a kind of weird dream and left it at that. Now that I'm older, my parents and I have talked about it on several occasions

trying to figure out who this mystery lady was. They, of course, would have more ideas than I would. The closest we've gotten was possibly my dad's great-aunt, as the home we were in was once hers that he inherited down the family. The only thing was that the woman I saw was very young, and no one could find photos of her as a young adult. So, we've always just referred to her as my guardian angel, for possibly having saved me that night, telling me to go back to my mother.

And, since then, I've never forgotten about her. Before I start telling the story about my ex, I want to add a bit of content warning here at the beginning. Some of the things that my ex did were absolutely disgusting. Vile, is a better word. And she was an absolute psycho that had zero regards for anything other than what she wanted. Something that I honestly did not see at the beginning, but became quite obvious after we broke up.

The content warning is for the fact that, during all this, one of the disgusting things that she did involved hurting an innocent animal. I know that a lot of people are sensitive to hearing about hurting animals, so I ask that you include this in the story if you narrate it, so that people can choose whether or not they listen to this story specifically. That out of the way, let's get to the context and then the whole thing that happened. About five years ago, I ended the story. the relationship that I had with a girl that I thought I was going to spend my whole life with,

Tracy. When I met Tracy, she had convinced me that she was a beautiful soul, that she was a kind-hearted, loving, altruistic person, and I instantly fell in love with her. We got together, and we spent a solid two and a half years together. It was a pretty major roller coaster, a lot of ups and down. and after one particularly nasty argument, I basically told Tracy that I could not do it anymore. I ended up telling her that I couldn't deal with what our relationship was becoming,

and I told her that we needed to take some time apart and just think on things for a while. She was, of course, begging me not to do it, but I told her that I had made up my mind. It was a messy breakup, full of anger and a lot of hurt feelings, but I was certain that it was for the best. We'd been broken up for about three months by the time this story takes place,

and I thought that things were finally starting to take a turn. I was starting to really move on, she'd stopped texting me, we'd pretty much just stopped talking altogether, and it seemed like that chapter of our lives was over. I wasn't ready to date anyone new, but I was enjoying the time to myself, just hanging out with friends, working a lot, and being myself. Tracy, on the other hand, was apparently not there yet. One night, I was jolted awake by what I thought was the sound of a door opening in my apartment.

I jumped up, but as I slowly hit the point of actually being conscious, I wasn't just to be. unconscious, I wasn't sure if I'd actually heard the door, or if it was just a sound that played in my dream and I was freaking out over nothing. I turned and sat on the edge of my bed, just listening to see if I could hear any indication of there being someone in my apartment. But after a couple of moments, I was pretty certain that I was freaking out over nothing. I decided to go ahead and get up and go to the restroom since I was already awake. I opened my door, and as soon as I got to the hallway, I smelled something that was, to put it bluntly, sickening.

As in literally sickening. It was a smell that made my stomach turn, and I felt like I was going to puke. It clicked after I pulled my shirt up to cover my mouth what it was that I was smelling. It was decay, like there was something dead in my apartment. My mind thought that maybe it was a mouse or something, but when I turned on my hallway light, I looked over into my living room and realized just how wrong I was. There, sitting on my chair, was the carcass of a dead rabbit.

I won't get into the details, but it was disgusting. The rabbit was definitely dead, and it was definitely placed there by someone. someone intentionally. I recoiled the second that I saw it, nearly tripping over my own feet. I ran to the front door and threw it open, hoping to see the person that had done this still in the hallway, though I knew that they would be gone. This obviously freaked me out pretty bad.

Someone had been in my apartment. They had placed a dead animal in my chair, and they were able to do this all while I was asleep in my bed. I immediately called the police, and when the officer got there, I struggled to explain to the officer exactly what had happened. I told them that I heard the click, that I'd come out and turned on the light and saw the rabbit, and that there was nobody in the hall when I checked. They were pretty clearly baffled.

They asked me if I had any enemies, and I told them no. They took the information, took the evidence, and told me that they would do their best to figure it out. Now, at the time, none of it clicked. A dead rabbit had zero connection to Tracy for me. I just didn't put the pieces together. That is, until about noon the next day. I was at work and I got a text message from an unknown number

that said, I hope you liked your gift, sincerely, your bunny. This is where it all clicked for me. One of the pet names that Tracy always tried to push me to call her was Bunny. I hated it. She told me that her dad used to call her his little bunny when she was a child, which, sure, that's cute, but asking your boyfriend to carry on calling you the same nickname your now deceased dad called you as a young girl. Yeah, that's creepy as hell. I obviously reported this to the police as well,

but the number was an anonymous online number, and she denied the whole thing, so obviously nothing happened with that, as they couldn't do anything without evidence. For the next few days, I found myself living in constant paranoia. Every time I would hear a creaking floorboard, I would jump, thinking that she was somehow breaking into my apartment again.

I was triple-checking the doors and windows, watching out the blinds to see if she showed up, thinking she was going to do something else. It may sound dumb. She'd only done the one thing, but it was more about the fact that she'd somehow violated the safety of my home, and I didn't know how. Then, that paranoia actually paid off. I was lying in bed watching the ceiling fan spin when I heard what I thought was the sound of

my door clicking shut. shut. It was one in the morning. I lived alone. There was no reason for anybody to be coming into my apartment, unless it was Tracy doing something else. I slowly got up, crept to my bedroom door, and looked into the dimly lit hallway. Sure enough, there was somebody in my apartment, and I could tell pretty quickly than it was Tracy. They had long hair, the same figure as she did. and they were the same height. I'm going to be honest. I don't remember all of what happened beyond me running out of my room

and taking her to the ground, and then grabbing my phone to call 911. The entire time she was screaming that I was trying to kill her, and probably to get the 911 operator to think that I was the problem in this situation. I kept her on the ground until the cops showed up, and I told them that I couldn't get up, because I was holding her down, and I was actually thankful that it was the same officer as the previous time.

He entered the apartment with his weapon drawn, and she started screaming that I had broken into the apartment, that this was her place, and that I was trying to assault and kill her. That did not work in her favor, because this officer knew me from only a couple of weeks back. He then took over the situation, all the while she was screaming that he was arresting the wrong person,

that she was the victim here. After a lot of screaming and her getting shoved into the back of the cop car, the situation thankfully died down. The whole time she was being apprehended, she was going off non-stop telling them that I was a murderer, that I had a criminal record, which, what? And then she started threatening them, saying that she would be out in no time and that she would find them.

It was just absolutely insane. She then said that the day that she was out, she was going to come back and finish the job. And based on what she had in her bag, she absolutely had a job that she was planning. In the scuffle, I didn't even notice that she had a backpack on her. But when the officer started going through it, I started feeling even worse about the whole thing.

The main thing that I think was problematic was the huge chef's knife that she had wrapped up in the bag, along with some bleach and a few other things. So, yeah, that's the story of my crazy ex, Tracy. The ex that left a dead animal in my apartment, as a threat, I guess, and then came back to seemingly kill me. She went away for a long long time,

time. I don't remember the exact number, but it was definitely a life-changing sentence. I ended up moving out of the state, and I'll be honest, it was mostly because I don't want her to find me. I'm still paranoid about my doors and window locks, and I now live in a third-story apartment, so I know that the only way in is the front door, a door that I keep locked, deadbolted and locked with the wall chain at all times. Back in college, I used to date this girl named Jenna. Jenna was beautiful, captivating, and smart. All the things that a naive young man like myself would fall for in a heartbeat.

She was fun to spend time with, and she and I got along really well for the most part. The only part that became a bit of a problem between us was that Jenna was a bit possessive. She had a bit of a possessive attitude when it came to me. She didn't like me spending time with my friends, and if there was another woman there, she would get really passively angry. The only thing that made our relationship a little more complicated was that, at the time, I was 21, and Jenna was about to be 40. Yes, there was almost a 19-year difference between us, which may sound really strange to some people, but to me it didn't matter. There were people in my family that weren't fond of the idea, but I live for me, not for them, so I did what I wanted to do.

Unfortunately, that age gap also came with differences in how we wanted to live our lives. I wanted to socialize. I wanted to party. I wanted to go out and live life to the fullest. This was an issue with how possessive she was, obviously, and she had this mentality that living life was just spending time together alone. I have no issue with that, and I was happy to just spend the night with her, but there were times where I wanted to go out and do other things,

and she wouldn't want to. My point is that, no matter how much we care, about each other, we were definitely two different people who wanted different things. And it was a major rift between us. After about nine or ten months of being together, we sat down and talked about things, and we both kind of agreed that while we cared about each other, it was for the best that we went our separate directions. It was a rather amicable breakup.

She understood, I understood, and we agreed that we could still be friends and get together for non-dating dates, if that makes sense. Because the breakup was mutual, I didn't really feel the need to sulk about it. Jenna was a great lady, and I enjoyed our time together, but if we both decided it was best to move on, then why should I get depressed about it being over? I thought that she felt the same way until about two weeks later, when I got a text message from her that said, Really missing you right now? It was a bit heartbreaking to get that text, so I figured that I would call her and we could talk it through. When I did, I could tell that she had been crying, and I told her that I missed her too,

that I'd been thinking about giving her a call anyways to see how she was doing. We just chatted about nothing in particular, which seemed to cheer her up. And as the conversation came to an end, she said something like, I'm sorry to have bothered you like that. I just missed you a lot. I made a comment like, well, I haven't gone anywhere. I'm always around if you need me. She turned that around on me and said,

If I needed you tomorrow night to get dinner, would you be around? I chuckled and responded with, Okay, anytime you need me that is not tomorrow night. I have class tomorrow. When I said this to her, her tone changed a bit. She changed from this sweet voice to one that was a bit more aggressive. She asked me since when did I have class on Wednesday nights, and I told her that the quarter had changed,

so my class schedule shifted literally the week prior. I could tell that she didn't believe me and that she was getting upset. I told her that I could get together on Thursday, and she just kind of brushed it off and said that she would see if she was available, and wrapped the call up. I was a bit upset with how she'd reacted, but I figured that it was just the side effect of us breaking up. That next night, as I said, I had class.

When it had let out, I was walking. to my car and to my surprise, Jenna was standing there leaning against my car. Unfortunately, at the time, I was walking with a few guys that I was friends with, and one of them was a bit of a jokey a-hole. He made a comment that was very audible to both myself and Jenna, saying, Yo, man, your mom's hot. Jenna stood up as we approached, and, much to my surprise, she pulled her arm back and slapped him across the face, saying,

I'm not his mom, you little punk. He just stood there staring at her, and then at me with his jaw hanging wide open. After a few seconds of silence, the others just sort of awkwardly walked away from me without saying much else. I asked her what the hell that was, and she said something about how what he'd said was disrespectful to both of us. and that she didn't want me hanging around with him anymore.

At this point, I kind of lost it. I asked her what she was doing on campus, and why she thought that she could control me like that. She said that she was there to make sure that I was actually in class, and that she didn't want to control me, but that she didn't want me being influenced by people like that. I laughed at her, and then made a comment that she was,

acting like she was my mom, and that I didn't need her to raise or protect me, as my own parents did a good enough job for the first 18 years of my life. I could see that she was fuming when I said this, but I just said, good night, Jenna, and got in my car and drove off. I thought that I had made my point. I thought that she was going to leave me alone after that, and yes, what I said was rude, but her slapping my friend was way over the line. Jenna, on the other hand, did not take my disrespect lightly. And this is where things went from an annoyance to something that I could have never expected. I was driving home, not even really thinking about the whole thing that happened with Jenna.

Honestly, I was more focused on the project that I needed to do for class than anything. Unfortunately, that was enough of a distraction that I didn't even realize that Jenna was in her car following right behind me. I was about to pull into my apartment complex, and I just happened to glance up at my rearview mirror, only to see Jenna staring at me, with her hands gripping the steering wheel so tight that her knuckles were white. I kind of panicked a bit, thinking that this was not going to end well. and if I had known how unwell it was going to end, I would have driven to a police station or something, not home. I parked my car and quickly got out, expecting to have an argument with this woman that I thought was a great person until recently. I grabbed my bag and just stood there on the sidewalk, watching as she backed into an empty spot in front of me.

I raised my arms like, what do you want from me? basically just feeling defeated at this point. After several moments of me just standing there in the glow of her headlights and her not getting out, I waved her off in a dismissive way, kind of to say, well, then forget you. And I turned to walk into my apartment building. The second I turned to walk toward the building, I heard the sound of an engine revving up, and tires screeching. At first I thought that she was just going.

to gun it out of the parking lot, but to my surprise, she wasn't turning. She was speeding up, and she was coming right for me. Fortunately for me, the distance between myself and the spot where she was parked, was enough for me to damn near literally throw myself out of the way and avoid getting run over. Unfortunately for her, I lived in the building by the pool, and where I was standing when she floored it was right in front of the cheap metal fence that surrounded said pool area. I'm pretty sure the thought of hitting me with her car clouded her judgment to the point that she didn't have an exit strategy. Because when I jumped out of the way and she kept going,

she smashed through the flimsy fence, and her car's front end went right into the pool. I immediately grabbed my phone and called 911, explaining what had just happened and saying that they needed to send someone right away. I was even nice enough to mention that they should send a medic just in case, though I pretty quickly found out that Jenna wasn't hurt. I watched as she opened the door and climbed up out of the pool. She looked like she was seriously lost and confused. I then watched as she took off down the parking lot and started running down the sidewalk.

Like I said, no exit strategy. It didn't take long for the cops to show up, and it was pretty clear that what I said had happened was what happened. They caught her, and they got her in cuffs, and they may have even taken her in for a mental evaluation or something. I really don't remember. So, after all that,

I really don't know what her plan was beyond just hitting me with her car. If she would have hit me, she probably still would have gone through the fence and into the pool, which sort of leaves this massive piece of evidence pointing to who had committed the crime. I will say that explaining the whole thing to the rental company was a lot of fun. And thankfully they didn't try to take me to court for the damages or anything, since it really wasn't my fault that my ex went crazy and tried to murder me. in spite of all this, in spite of all that happened, I really hope that Jenna got the help that she needed

for whatever mental issues she very clearly had. I don't wish any ill will on her. I just hope that I never run into her ever again. After getting permission from my friend, I wanted to share the story with you and others that might find it interesting. Several years ago, my friend Elaine had an experience that left us all questioning the very fabric of reality. It all began when we went on a seemingly innocent road trip and visited an old historical mansion that was turned into a small museum. The days leading up to this event were quite the normal vacationing fun, and nothing was askew, until we saw a pamphlet for this place.

We've gone to plenty of art shows and museums before, but when Elaine saw this place, she said that she really wanted to make time to go there. She said that she couldn't explain why, but she knew that something would be there for us. I didn't see any reason not to go, and we adjusted our plans to make room for it. As soon as we arrived, Elaine explained that she had an inexplicable sense of deja vu. She said that this place looked very familiar to her, yet she's never been here. It was in a state that neither us nor her family have ever been to. We just chalked it up to just being that strange phenomenon and went inside.

Shortly after, I could tell that something was going on in Elaine's head, but she was not outwardly expressing it. I stayed quiet as we went through the various rooms, looking at the antiquated tools and structures, as well as the art strewn across the walls. The further we went in, the more that I could see the unease in her. Then we reached a small room that contained a beautiful gown, and a painting with a dim light hanging above it. The painting was of a young girl with striking green eyes, her dark hair pulled into an elegant bun with thin soft curls framing her face.

the woman was wearing the same gown that was hanging in that room. Elaine seemed to stop at the painting, staring at it intently. I looked over at it and saw that her eyes were watery, like she was holding back tears. Something about the painting seemed to pull at her heartstrings. I nudged her, looking back at the painting and asking her if she was okay. I know her. Like, I knew her.

and she knew me. Like, I was her. Knowing who we were, I just kind of chuckled and said, Oh yeah? She looked over at me, and I could see her visibly swallowing hard. So I again asked her what was wrong. She said that she didn't know, and we soon moved on, the rest of our tour being pretty silent.

After we left, I tried to lighten the mood and said that the place was pretty interesting, and talked about some of the things that we saw. She seemed to try her best, but I could still feel something was there that she wasn't talking about. We went back to our hotel, where she talked about what she felt. She reiterated how she felt something telling her she needed to go when she saw the pamphlet. And the whole time that we were in the mansion, she felt like she had been there before. She was able to go through all the corridors and rooms smoothly because she just knew where each room was. Then we got to the picture.

She talked about how she had a rush of emotion flow through her from happiness to confusion and sorrow, and it was all overwhelming. She explained how even though the painting said artist unknown, she knew who that was and who painted it. she said the woman in the photo was named Arabella, and her father's friend painted it. Yes, she said her father. She said that she used to be Arabella. I didn't quite understand what she was saying at the time, but she briefly explained how she felt like her life as Elaine was a second life. I was confused, but also curious to hear more about her experience.

but we stopped to have dinner and just enjoyed our night. The next day, Elaine woke up seemingly a bit sorrowful, but also enlightened, I suppose. She told me about a very vivid dream that she had and explained how it had been a recurring dream for her for as long as she could remember. They never made sense, as it seemed to jump around a lot, though. But that night, the dream made sense. and it was the clearest it had ever been for her. It was as though she was telling me a story. She explained that she was Arabella,

and that she was laying in a large green field with a handsome young man sitting next to her. Then she could hear the booming voice of a man yelling out her name, Arabella. She recalled how scared she felt as the man she was with kissed her and ran off, and then how she stood up to begin walking toward her. the voice that she had heard. She said that the dream ended, or she may have woken up as she was running, so she didn't know

what else happened. However, she now understood what was going on in the dream. She was Arabella. And even though his name was not mentioned in the dream, she knew the young man that she was with was named Felix, and he was her true love. She also knew that the person shouting for her was her father. That dream and our visit awoke something in her. It was no longer a this feels familiar, but a straight-up, I remember this former life.

It was the 18th century. She explained how her family was very wealthy and had a high standard to live up to. Everything she wore, said, Eight, and how she did it was all scrutinized. She was the youngest of three daughters, but she was also very different. She was bored with the life that they lived. She didn't want to sit in a room all day, watching dancers or play the piano. Everything she did was to prepare to be a good wife and secure her future with another wealthy man,

so she didn't tarnish her family's name. The problem with that, though, was that she already had eyes for someone else. She was in love with Felix. His family owned a shoe repair store, and he was very creative with making musical instruments out of anything. She remembered being impressed and explained how he made a bell or chime for blades of grass and a few of her hairpins. She was infatuated with him, and she knew that she wanted to be with her. him for the rest of her life, but her parents wouldn't allow it, because his family was far from the wealthy status that they required. She was told that she would marry a friend of her father's.

She and Felix met in secret to enjoy each other's company and tried to plot out how to run away together. But the part in the dream was the last time she would ever see Felix. Her father caught them after warning him multiple times, and she was forced to stay inside after that until she was married off. The painting was done by her arranged husband a day after their wedding. As Elaine recounted these details to me, I watched her smile and become red in the face as she talked about Felix, how dull she looked talking about her daily life, and then the tears began when she talked about her wedding and posing for the painting. You could see the pain in her eyes.

I was at a loss for words watching her explain all this. She never really had an interest in that kind of thing, so I doubted that she had just randomly read a history book or researched this, planning this whole scenario out. But if none of that happened, then what other explanation is there? After we finished, I told her that we need. needed to keep track of all this and to look into it further, when we returned home in a few days. She assured me that she could never forget it again. Fast forward to when we did return home, this had definitely piqued my interest, so I wanted to look further into it. We went to the

library and looked through old archives, and we even went through some shady third-party site similar to ancestry, to find more about Arabella. The surface info we found about her and her family was damn near identical from what she told me. We located her old family mansion. We found pictures of them all with names underneath, one of which said Arabella. Before we looked into the mansion more,

Elaine was able to accurately describe the layout of the house. She could even describe the hidden panes. pantries, the color of the drapes that hung in the window, and even described how there was always a faint scent of rose that lingered in the halls, due to the oils and cleaners their housekeepers used. Granted, that wasn't found online. But all the details that she gave, even things like how the place smelled just flowed out of her, like she was giving a tour right there, and the physical details were eerily accurate. Again, Arabella's home was in a state that she had never been to as Elaine,

so we couldn't find any other explanation other than she had to have lived a past life. The only disappointing part was that we didn't find much information on Felix. We found an old shoe business and the last name of the family, which Elaine remembered, but there were no real records following them. We couldn't find anything about their lives. nor obituaries. I think that kind of cemented the idea for us that he was not one of the popular and wealthy families,

so there just wasn't much on them. But we could at least confirm that they were real. Since this revelation, Elaine has really embraced her past life. She enjoys talking about it with others, and has even started drawing a lot more. She's an amazing artist, with anything from oils,

charcoal, or even just pencil and paper. And seeing her draw these gorgeous old dresses and homes, with statues strewn about the yard, it's obvious where her inspiration is coming from. I always thought the idea of reincarnation was an interesting subject, but nothing ever swayed me in one way or another, until this event. Now, I can say that I've been a little,

without a doubt, believe that it is absolutely possible. So, I wanted to share something that happened to me back in 2019, that I personally cannot explain, something that left me nothing shy of shook and uncomfortable in my own home. It was in the middle of summer, and I was living alone in my second-floor apartment that was located in a sleepy suburb. It was the kind of suburb that has a lot of kids that are always outside playing in the daytime, but around eight, it goes completely silent. I've never had any issues with any of my neighbors.

My upstairs neighbor is a friendly older lady, and the ones next door are a couple with some really young kids. They can all make their noise, but it's never really been disruptive or a problem for me at all. on some nights when I had trouble sleeping which would happen a lot I would often step out onto my patio and just sit in my outdoor lounge chair and watch the stars I would sit there and close the screen door but keep the glass door open and just chill in the darkness

watching the night's sky as it slowly drifts past poetic right and one of those nights it was around midnight I was sitting out and just doing what I did when I started hearing what sounded like music. I sat up and just kind of glanced around, trying to see if I could figure out where it was coming from, because it was way too late for someone to be listening to music in the building.

As I focused a bit on the music, I realized that it was old-timey music, like something from a 1940s vinyl record. It was a bit staticy and crackly, but it sounded like a jazzy tune with some piano interlaced into the rhythm. Intrigued, I decided to try and find the source. I walked back into my apartment and then opened up my front door to see if I could hear the music and where it was coming from. But when I walked out into the main hall, the music seemed to be quieter. I walked down the hall towards my neighbor's place and then up the stairs, but

the music was completely gone. I went back, but when I got back into my living room, the music was still gone. So, I figured it wasn't anything important and just moved on from there. Then, a couple days later, I had another late night on the patio. And as I was sitting there, I heard the music start up again. I checked my watch, and once again, it was exactly midnight. I paused and listened, and sure enough, it was the same type of music, the distinct sound of music playing from a vinyl record, complete with crackling, popping, a slight bit of distortion but nearly clear as day. It was a different tune, but still jazzy with an eccentric piano sound in the background.

I took it a bit slower as I entered my apartment to see if I could hear the direction it was coming from. and it seemed to be coming from the back end of my apartment, not near the front, which meant that it would have had to have either been my neighbor upstairs or the one directly downstairs. The next day I went up and asked the older lady above me if it was her, not in a way that was upset or anything, just like, hey, have you by chance been listening to music at midnight randomly over the past week?

She kind of chuckled and told me that she's usually in bed and asleep by 9.30. So, it wasn't her. She mentioned that it was really odd that I was hearing the music, because she wasn't hearing anything, or waking up to it. I agreed, but thanked her for her time, and then went downstairs to ask the other neighbors. Of course, it wasn't them either. I wouldn't have expected a couple with two really young kids like that

to be listening to a vinyl, in the middle of the night. They also both mentioned that they hadn't heard any music, and he apparently worked in his office late into the night, so he would have heard it. So asking the neighbors if they had heard it was a complete bust, and I was no closer to figuring it out. Over the next couple of nights,

I had purposely spent every evening out on the patio to see if I could figure it out, but the music wouldn't see. seemed to play. Then, about a week after that, I was actually lying in bed, and I woke up to the music. I immediately jumped up and listened, and was genuinely surprised when I realized the music was much louder than it had been out on the patio. I started listening harder, and, sure enough, the music was coming from the direction of my hallway.

And when I stepped out of my bedroom, I was certain that the music was coming to. directly from the spare room across the hall. Two things about this room. One, it's been unoccupied since my roommate moved out a year ago, and two, I've treated the room as a giant walk-in closet. So, the only things in there are a lamp and some clothing racks. I know for a fact that there were no electronics in that room. No radios, no speakers, and certainly no record players.

I pressed my ear up to the door, and I was 100% certain that whatever was playing that music was inside this room, just on the other side of the door. I was a bit hesitant as I was freaking out, but I grabbed the handle and I threw the door open and nothing. As soon as I opened the door, there was nothing special on the other side, nothing playing music and nothing unexpected. The music stopped as soon as I opened the door, like dead stopped, almost as if it had never existed. The only thing of note for me when I opened that door was that the room was very cold, like way colder than the rest of my apartment. I immediately shut the door and decided that I was just going to go back to bed and ignore it if it happened again. Shockingly, it hasn't.

like at all. This was almost four years ago at this point, and I haven't heard the music at all since that night. I checked the room during the day, and I confirmed that there was nothing capable of playing music in that room, so I have no clue where it was coming from. I know some people may say that it was just coming through the walls, like I initially thought,

but I honestly do not believe that it was any of my neighbors, as none of them heard it. nor admitted to it. And then there's the fact that it just stopped like it did when I opened the door. As mentioned, I have no way explaining what this was, where the music was coming from, or what it meant. But I'm pretty thankful that it hasn't happened again since. It's never too early to plan your summer story in Europe with WestJet,

from rolling countryside to cobblestone streets. begin your next chapter. Book your seat at westjet.com or call your travel agent. Westjet, where your story takes off. I frequently go to my grandparents' house. I want to make one thing clear, though. The house is very clearly haunted.

Let me give some background. The house was built in the 1960s. It was built over a cemetery for African Americans before they were given rights, and slavery had ended. but it had obviously been a long time since people stopped putting corpses there. It is also by some very deep woods. All the houses are surrounded by the woods as I live in the southern part of the country.

I've seen some ghosts and spirits before, but it was when I was very little. I've also had paranormal experiences, and some of those were recent. I often hear knocking in places of the house that no one's. can get to due to the furniture. My great-grandmother, 76 and can barely walk, also lives with my grandparents, and she's diabetic, and she's very unable to move due to her weight. Her room is where I often hear the knocking coming from,

but she's handicapped and is not able to get up without a walker, or even really knock on the wall. Why would anybody knock on a wall just to scare me? Apparently I'm the only one that ever hears it or notices it. We also have an attic. Some things go missing, and oftentimes my cats just tear at nothing. But I've heard that animals can see ghosts. I get paranoid sometimes, but only to an extent.

A light once fell from the ceiling, very recent, actually, as it was only a few months ago. The light was new and recently installed, but it was. was definitely installed properly. So, why would it randomly fall out of nowhere? As mentioned, we do have an attic, but I can't even remember the last time someone went up in it. The light itself didn't fall, but the covering fort fell off, which was very weird. Nobody messed with it, and, like I said, it was properly installed. The most recent experience that I've had with a ghost was,

over a year ago, July 4th of 2021, to be exact. Usually a lot of my family comes over, and two specific cousins usually ask to stay the night, and only one is allowed to any time, and I always choose the older one to stay the night with because she's more fun. She recently got a new boyfriend, so she was mostly on FaceTime with him, and I honestly wanted the night to end because of her ignoring me and being rude,

to, I guess, impress her boyfriend. She wanted to go outside, and I was fine with it, because we were finally doing something after hours. She decided that it would be funny to mess with me and say that she saw something by the woods in our neighbor's yard, so we would keep running up and then run back trying to get a closer look each time. Eventually, we got close enough to get a clear look,

and I actually saw something. It was a white, skinny figure. It looked naked, or had very little raggedy clothing, and it looked like it had white hair with lots of chunks ripped out. I couldn't see a face, though, because I'm practically blind and can't really see that far away. I took a good ten minutes to look at it, and when I finally said something about seeing it to my cousin,

it started running towards us. I guess my cousin didn't see it because she didn't do anything. until I screamed and started running back to the back entrance of the house. I was wearing Birkenstocks, and I slipped because of the slightly wet grass. I didn't look back once, and I just grabbed my shoes because it flew off, and I took the other one off and then continued running. When I got back into the house, I locked the door and sat against it, so did my cousin. I told her everything and also got mad at her because she looked back at me and laughed when I

fell. We continued sitting against the door and then we heard knocking on said door. We got scared and ran back to my room and I almost started crying. As an update, it's been almost a year since I've posted this and I've made some edits.

I'm now 13 and I've only had about one other scare since then. I had a different cousin over and we were sleeping in the living room together. She went to the kitchen, which is the spot for my experiences, to grab a drink, and then turned the light off after that. We then noticed that the light was turned back on. It was late at night and nobody else was

really awake. Why is the kitchen light on? I thought you turned it off when you came back, I asked her. Oh, I could have sworn that I turned it off. I guess I imagined it? She replied. She went back to the kitchen and turned the light off. Jordan, I said, said, and she replied what. The kitchen light is still on. Have you not been turning it off? What? I turned it off.

I know that I did. She answered. Well, it's on and no one's awake, so who else would have turned it on? Are you too scared to turn it off? I asked. No, I'm not scared. I've been turning it off, she replied. Look, if you're embarrassed to admit it because you're older than me, that's totally fine, I said.

She replied with Braley, I'm not lying. I'll turn it off again. You can even come with me to make sure. I said, okay, I'll go with you. I went to the kitchen with her and we turned the light off. This process repeated again and we, of course, got a bit freaked out. Jordan, nobody's awake, right?

I asked my cousin. No, just us. Why? She replied. Because the lights on again, I said. What? There's no way. She looked into the hallway and saw the light on. I entered the kitchen myself and turned it off, and then the back entrance slightly opened. I thought maybe someone didn't close it all the way, so I closed it.

And then the light turned on again when I was in the kitchen. Jordan, why did you turn the light on? No reply. Jordan? Still no answer. I went into the living room, turning the light off behind me, and said Jordan stop messing with me. She was asleep. I got paranoid, and I put two fingers directly under her nose to make sure she was breathing. She was, so I was relieved and then went to the restroom.

I remembered how the light turned on again as I was shutting the door and got a little frightened. I went ahead and finished my business, walked out into the hallway, and the light was on again. I walked into the kitchen and the door was open again. I closed it, locked it, and I checked the house in case I was locking someone in who shouldn't have been in there. No one. No one was there besides my asleep family. I kept the kitchen light on because I was too scared to turn it off at that point. My mother and I recently moved into a new house with my brother. I'm mostly alone because they both work,

and I'm always paranoid and scared at nighttime now. I'm Nicole. I'm one of the few black women in my hometown to become a registered nurse. I grew up in St. Martinville by the Bayutech, in St. Martin Parish, Louisiana. I'm a lot older now, so looking back at certain events still makes hair stand up on my neck and haunts me. I know you're thinking, what the hell is she talking about? Well, just listen. Almost 20 years ago, I recently graduated from LSU with a nursing degree.

I moved back home with my parents, and I worked 16 miles south at a rehabilitation and nursing facility in Lafayette. Living in a rural parish, my salary was low to average. I would work 16-hour shifts on the weekend, and one or two days on weekdays. The following year, I found another nursing facility located in Baton Rouge. It was northeast of St. Martinville, basically 61 miles. It did seem pretty far. But this job offered a higher pay salary, sick days, and a sign-on bonus. I had a one-hour and three-minute drive, so I would set my alarm clock two hours early.

I drove back and forth to work. My parents were very worried about it. being responsible on I-10, Monday to Friday, every morning. Within a year, I saved enough to relocate to Baton Rouge. I found a small apartment close to my job, and I started dating a guy named Jackson. My apartment had eight buildings. I lived in Building 8, in the back of the apartment complex. I parked my car in the back parking lot, and my landlord and I would socialize about the world and my job.

He told me to call him Dan, for short of Danny. Dan was a much older guy at the time, maybe mid-50s. He was 5'11 with brown eyes, dark brown hair, which he always wore a cap over, a salt and pepper beard, was stocky and very sweet. Dan's wife died a year prior of cancer. He would say, you remind me of my beautiful angel. and I would smile and say thanks. I could see that Dan was still grieving. Poor guy, I thought.

A few times I suggested some sort of therapy, but Dan always said no. A few months ago, I changed my work hours from 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. I liked it. It was a laid-back shift, but recently I would arrive home at around 6.15 to 6.30. I walked to my apartment to put the key in the lock, but my door was unlocked. I entered my apartment not knowing why or who could be there, but to my surprise, there was no one. I went to the manager's office. Dan was at his desk drinking a cup of coffee.

I told Dan about my door, and we both went back to my apartment. Dan asked me, Are you dating anyone? I replied yes. but then said that he didn't have a key. My parents have the only spare. Then Dan asked, to feel safe, would you like it if I changed your locks?

I thought about it. Dan asked if I'd forgotten to lock my door. I blew it off and then just said, no thanks. But my intuition told me that I would never leave my door unlocked. I called Jackson, and I asked Jackson if he had left the door unlocked. And Jackson replied, No, my beautiful angel, and we hung up. I dwelt on that thought, beautiful angel.

A few weeks later, I came home to an open door. I rushed to my car and called the police, mentioning a burglary on my AT&T razor cell phone. I watched the police pull up, two officers got out of the car as I walked toward them, and they checked my apartment. There was nothing stolen, my windows weren't broken.

It was just like my door was left open. But by whom? Then the police asked, Are you dating anyone? I said, yeah, why. And one of the officers gave me a piece of paper with writing. The paper was a letter written to me. The letter said,

My dear darling, I know you're wondering why I wrote this letter. I love you. I watch you, and I will protect you. I will never hurt you, my beautiful angel. Love, your secret admirer. I didn't recognize the handwriting,

and I didn't know of any secret admirer, I told the police. Dan walked up, I introduced him to the police, and I showed Dan the letter. Dan told the police about the first time, and the police suggested that I get my locks changed. Dan said he would go to the hardware store as soon as he was done with his tenant interview. then Dan left.

The police asked me a few more questions about Dan, and then gave me a card with an incident number and detective number, and then left. I decided to call in to work, and I called Jackson. I wanted Jackson to come and have dinner and watch a movie with me. Later that night, Jackson came over. I just finished cooking dinner, and I told him that Dan hadn't come back to change my locks. Jackson just continued eating. After eating, the movie ended.

We decided to go to a bar for a couple of drinks, and we came home at a quarter to 11. We both then went to bed. At around 3 a.m., Jackson woke me up. He told me to get up, call the police, and then handed me a metal bat. He told me to stay in the apartment, and I asked him where he was going.

He said, outside. Now, I was scared. He woke me up without explaining the problem, and he went outside. I then heard a grunt, then a voice hollering. I looked out the window to see Jackson scuffling with a man. I described over the phone to the police, and then hung up and ran outside where I saw the man on top of Jackson hitting him in his face. I came up behind the man, hitting him in the back with a metal bat, knocking him off Jackson.

I helped Jackson get up and we went into my apartment. I locked the door, put a chair in front, and then cut the lights out, and we hid in my bedroom, until we heard the police sirens. We opened the door, and Jackson goes to make a police report. The police searched the apartment premise, and they returned to inform us that they found the description of the man. It was Dan, the landlord. The police said that Dan had been married. married six times, and all of his wives had died to suicide.

The last marriage, Dan's wife's death was a mysterious cold case. They found his wife dead in the bathtub. At first it was ruled a suicide, and I asked what happened, and they said she fell and hit her head getting into the tub. Then the autopsy report stated blunt forced trauma to her head had killed her. Dan, of course, had an alibi. of course charges were pressed I moved in with Jackson for three months

but our relationship didn't really work out so I moved back to St. Martinville but to Dan I hope that we never meet again so this story is from a chapter in my life that I honestly kind of wish I could erase but since I can't why not share it with the world

This was back in a quieter period of my life, where I was still kind of finding myself. But I was starting to put the pieces together. I had a pretty decent job. I'd finished my degree. I was making a decent amount of money, and all was well. At this point, I was even in a relationship with a young woman that were going to call Rachel. Now, to set the record straight, she and I were not in a serious. life-consuming kind of relationship.

It was casual, comfortable, and enjoyable, but completely casual. We'd been together for about three months, and we were exclusive with each other, but we'd both agreed that there was likely nothing in the future for us. We had different plans, specifically when it came to kids and our careers, and we were just enjoying the time together, until something inevitably split us up. Basically, good while it lasted, but not irreplaceable. And, of course, that's something that split us up would come from my side of things.

One day, my boss called me into his office. I honestly thought I was about to get fired, but it was actually the exact opposite. He offered me a huge promotion and asked me to oversee the team at our new office. The only thing was, this office was in Salt Lake City, which is a bit far from my home in Virginia. He basically told me that this was a once-in-a-lifetime job offer, and that this was a massive career move, and that I should seriously consider it. And, if I took it, I would be living in SLC in about 60 days. When I told Rachel, we both talked about it. We both talked about it. and understood what this meant for us.

It was agreed that I would take the job and that we would go ahead and just end our relationship then and there. There was some regret, a bit of crying, but at the same time we knew that this was for the best. We gradually stopped talking to each other over the next month, and while it was sad, it wasn't really devastating to either of us. Fast forward to around day 45 of 60, and things took a bit of an unexpected turn at work.

My manager informed me that there was a bit of an administrative issue, and my new position in Salt Lake City would be delayed a bit more. There was no specific timeline, just that I would have to wait longer, and they 100% promised that I still had the position. I was okay with it. It gave me a bit more time to prep for the move. They were offering to compensate me for the extra rent that I was paying, having to go month to month with my leasing company,

and honestly it made me feel way more relaxed about everything. Then the day finally arrived, the day that I was supposed to leave for Utah. I was home sorting through my stuff and boxing up a few things, not hurrying in any definition of the word. When I get a phone call. Much to my surprise, it was a phone call from Rachel. I kind of smirked, thinking that she was calling to wish me happy travels or something like that,

which was super sweet of her. But then I answered, and, well, it wasn't that. She started the call off with a frantic, Hey, Jackson. Her voice had a tone of, I guess, worry or concern. like she was a bit scared or nervous. I said hello and asked how she was doing, and she cut me off with,

Hey, I'm at SLC International. I need you to come and get me. My mind took a moment to register what she had just said. I asked her why she was in Salt Lake City. She responded with, I decided that I'm moving in with you. I brought all my stuff and my cat. I need you to come get me ASAP.

Now, remember, I hadn't spoken to Rachel in a few weeks by this point. She had no idea about the delay, or that I was still sitting pretty in my little apartment in Virginia. I broke the news to her, telling her that I wasn't in Utah, that I was still at my apartment, because my work had delayed the move. I expected her to be upset or whatever, but she responded in a way that I never would have expected. She lost it, screaming at me over the phone, accusing me of lying, of deceiving her, and blaming me for her being stranded in an unknown city. She was hysterical, crying one minute, yelling so loud that the phone clipped out the next. I tried to calm her down, telling her that I was sorry and asking why she didn't call me before she packed up and flew out.

and she responded by screaming, It was supposed to be a surprise. Which, yeah, I was surprised. But who packs up and flies to a city halfway across the country with plans to move in with someone without even telling them? After a bit more yelling and sobbing, she slowed down on her emotional roller coaster and the call went silent. She cleared her throat,

and when she spoke again, her voice was chillingly calm. She simply said, The minute you land at this airport, I'm going to kill you. And hung up. I just sat there on my bed with my eyes wide and thinking, wow, that was not the Rachel that I knew. I tried to call her back to see if we could figure something out,

but she'd either turned off her phone or blocked my number. She didn't call me back. She never texted me back. I even tried calling her mom to see if she knew what was going on, and she had no idea where Rachel was, or that she had even flown to Utah. A few more months went by, and in a bit of a twist, my work decided to not move me out to Utah.

My boss here in Virginia was actually chosen to lead the team out there, and I was given his position here locally. So I ended up never having to actually move at all. Since that day, I have not heard from Rachel at all. I haven't seen her here in town. I haven't gotten a text or call from her, and her Facebook has not been updated. I literally have no idea what happened to her.

I sometimes do wonder about it, how she managed in a city that she'd never been to, and I hope that she's doing okay. But it was such a bizarre event that I can't help but feel a bit freaked out. Sure, I do feel a bit guilty because it all could have been avoided had I told her about the delay, but I didn't see a point, since I was still going to be moving out there at the time. It was just going to be a bit later. Plus, she could have called me and told me that she wanted to make the relationship serious.

because I probably would have gone with it. Though now that I've written all this out and kind of thought about how she was acting, maybe it's best things ended up the way that they did. To start, the person who submitted this story did include a trigger warning tag, and as such, I will go ahead include it especially considering what it is. They put trigger warning animal sacrifice. So, if that's not something you want to hear about, I recommend going to the next story. All timestamps are down below.

Apologies for this story being so long. My dad and I flip houses for a living. We do everything, so house renovations can take anywhere from a couple of months to a year and up. Here is what happened to us in a 100-plus-year-old farmhouse, in Northwestern. New Jersey USA about three years ago. This old farmhouse was beautiful, but extremely run down. It had sat vacant prior to our purchasing it for 15 years. Also, there was evidence that squatters had been there at one point.

The house had good bones, as they say, so it wasn't worth it to tear it down and start from scratch. The first part of our job is the cleanup and demo. I've noticed that every house has its own vibe and energy. However, the old farmhouse was different. It was four floors, including basement and attic. Anytime you were downstairs on the main floor, kitchen, living room, and office, it felt fine, normal, even. When you went upstairs, it was different. There was a heaviness up there. I would announce every time I came in the house, Hey, it's just me.

Is it cool if I come up and do such and such? I also would announce myself any time I came in the house downstairs with a, Hey, how are you all doing today? My dad would look at me like I was crazy, because I never did this anywhere else, ever. I don't know why I did it here. I just felt the need to. Like a deep itch in my brain pleading me to say it, so I did.

Each and every time. Within the first few days of the clean-out and demo, my dad found something disturbing. In the master bedroom upstairs, there was a small closet with a light in it. Hanging on the inside of the closet door, on a coat hook, it was a bloody dog collar. There were weird symbols spray-painted only in this closet. Something looked like it had been burned in a pile on the floor of the closet. I refused to touch it, and got extremely upset at the side of the dog collar, furious, even.

Who the hell would do something to a poor animal like this? I was so bothered that my dad told me to go home for the day, and I did. It still makes me sick thinking. about the sick people who did whatever to have something like that there. My dad and the other co-workers cleaned it out. Also, the light in that closet, we never got it to work. We do minor electrical repair and couldn't figure it out. We had a master electrician come, and he couldn't get it to work either. New light fixtures, new wiring, new everything, and nothing worked. When we had finished,

cleaning out the living room quarters, we decided to work on the attic and basement. Basement was okay. Honestly, the bottom half of the house, basement and second floor kitchen office living room, felt fine, neutral, even. The attic was terrible. I could not bring myself to go up there, not once.

To not be an A-hole, I worked on the other floors at the house. My dad understood without me even having to explain which speaks volumes, because he is a real skeptic. One day, I had to hold the flashlight for my dad while he was in the attic. I stood on the stairs with only my head and upper torso sticking into the attic space. The lights never would work up there either. The attic had one of those pull down from the ceiling, foldable ladders. It was located in the hallway between the master bedroom, second bedroom, and only baths.

room. The second we opened it, a rank smell hit us hard in the face. Death, for sure. Something must have died up there, we thought. There were those large black flies that seemed to swarm to rot and death everywhere. To say it was an infestation of flies, that's an understatement. I stood on the ladder almost falling multiple times from ferociously swatting these demon bugs away. My dad looked everywhere for the cause of the flies for days and couldn't find anything. Before we sold the house, we finally got the flies to go away. This was after months of trying, by the way. However, when the new owner chose to rent the house out, the flies kept coming back.

To this day, almost three years later, exterminators and pest control have been called and the flies still. come back. The master bedroom had something else happened after the closet was cleaned up. I talked my dad into burying the dog collar, by the way. There were four windows in the master bedroom, two windows on the north wall and two on the west. The north wall windows one day suddenly had two bats on them. They were somehow wedged between the glass and the screen of the old window.

We needed to replace all the old windows, so we tried everything to free the bats without hurting them. We worked during the day, so bats being nocturnal, we figured it explained why they never moved during the day. When we would come the next day, they seemed to have moved overnight, so we knew that they were alive. These poor bats had me seriously fretting. Any dead bugs I found during the cleanup,

I would put into this window sill hoping that they would eat. I know that that's weird, but I don't care. I'm a die-hard animal lover. It appeared that they were stuck, and it was killing me to see them like that. It made no logical sense as to how they got in there either. Also, it was early summer, so they weren't hibernating either. My dad and I decided to get a ladder and try from the outside of the house. He finally got it so that the bats could undoubtedly get out.

The bats never moved. from that window screen for weeks. Then, one day, they were gone. I thought for a long time that my dad had discovered they were dead and disposed of them so as to not upset me, but he promises me he did not do this, and that after weeks of them moving barely inches, they had indeed left of their own volition. We finished the house and did sell it. The new owner rented it out to tenants.

Tenants would move in, stay for a month or two. and then break their leases to move out. This has happened four times since we finished it. After each move out, we were contracted to come in and do a fresh coat of paint, deep clean, patch up a hole, or any other fix needed. The feelings in that house, they never changed. Also, I wanted to add that we told the new owner about all the weirdness prior to them purchasing. My dad is a skeptical guy and has no explanation for any of this stuff.

My dad also now announces himself any time we go into that house. We've met every tenant that lived there at some point in their rental time, and they all seemed like normal people, and not the type to just break their leases for no reason. I feel like the house needs a cleansing or something, I don't know. But to whoever did that poor dog and the house dirty, may you reap what you sow. but I know that you've done stories similar to this in the past, so I thought that you may like it.

I don't think it's technically a glitch or anything like that, but it's something similar to some of those stories. Either way, I know you'll find a way to fit it somewhere. One point of note is that this story was told back to me, so sorry if my details are all over or a bit sparse, sparse. The story is about me from whenever I was three and four. There were several occurrences that happened, but I'm only going to write about the ones

that really stood out to me and make for the best stories. One of these was told to me by my grandmother and the other by my mother. The first of these two stories happened when I was three. Both of my parents had to work to make ends meet, so they always dropped me on. off at my grandmother's house in the morning, and I would spend most of the day with her. I loved going to my grandma's house most mornings, but according to them, on this particular day, I was in an absolutely awful mood, like to the point that I was mean and aggressive the whole time that I was getting up and getting ready.

My mom tried to talk to me and ask me why I was so mad, and I just kept trying to try. trying to say something, but every time I would, I would start bawling and she couldn't understand me. It got to the point where she was trying to hug me and tell me that it was going to be okay, but I kept pushing her and telling her that I didn't want a hug. She relented, and just finished getting me ready. And when she got me to my grandma's house, she warned her that I was in a bad mood. But my grandma said that it was obvious because of how I was just scowlety.

My grandma said that the whole morning, I was just sitting there on the couch and watching the news, and that I was holding back crying for the longest time. After a while of this, my grandma came over and sat with me on the couch and asked me why I was so upset. Apparently when she asked me, I was more willing to talk about it, and I told her that I knew about being born. She said that it didn't make sense, and she asked what I knew about being born. And I told her that I knew about before I was born and that being born hurts. She tried to press me a bit more on this, and I just kept saying that being born hurt, and that I was scared. She assumed that this was just some weird little kid thing, and after a while, I didn't seem to want to talk about it. Later that day, I had apparently calmed down because I approached her, and I asked her if she knew about being born.

She asked what I meant, and I asked her if she knew about how much it hurt to be born again. It was the again part that confused her, but she mentioned that she didn't know what it was like to be born because adults don't remember that far back. I looked her straight in the face and told her that I remembered it. And I then started telling her about how it was warm before I was born, that I was sleepy all the time, and then one day it all hurt, and I was born. Apparently I kind of freaked her out when I told her this, because this wasn't normal for a three-year-old to talk about. But she just kind of nodded along and asked me to tell her more.

I just kept telling her the same thing about how much it hurt, and as I was explaining it, I kept starting to cry. But I would stop myself. She told my mom about this, and my mom had no idea where I got the idea from. So they just had to pretty much accept that I was a little weirdo talking about weird things. And that was that. I had apparently mentioned this once or twice more, but it wasn't until I was a little weirdo talking about weird things. once or twice more, but it wasn't until I was four that things got really weird. One day, I was home with my parents, and I had told my mom that I wanted to talk to her.

She came into my bedroom and said that I looked really sad, and she asked me if I was okay. I told her that I wasn't okay, and she asked me what was wrong, and I then apparently just hit her with a, my life before was really sad. She laughed and told me that I didn't have a life before, that I've always been her son, and I came back with, no, I mean my life before I was your son, my life before I died. She was a bit shocked by this,

again thinking that no four-year-old should be making these comments, but she wanted to see what I had to say. So, she asked me about my life before. I told her that before I was born, before I was her son, I was an old man named John. I said that when I was John, I had hurt a lot of people. And that before I died, all I could do was cry because nobody loved me. I told her that I had a daughter that didn't love me, and that my wife didn't love me. and that my wife didn't love me either, but that she had died first.

So I was all alone when I stopped being John. I described John as being this angry and depressed old man that did nothing but sit and watch the TV, and that he was always angry at the world. And every night before he went to bed, he would ask God to fix it all, but he never did. I gave her a lot of detail about this seemingly fictional old man to the point that she started to think about whether I had watched something or was told about him.

She asked me where I had heard about John and I told her that I didn't hear about him, that I was him. I said that before I was me, I was John, and that when I was John, I was always so sad. She told me that she got a bit curious about what I would say, so she asked me what happened to John. And I told her that my last day as John was painful. I told her that I woke up, and I went to get my coffee, and when I got to the kitchen,

I felt a pain in my stomach and fell down. When I fell down, I couldn't get back up, and I just laid on the floor thinking about how nobody would ever save me. I told her that while I was laying on, the floor, I kept telling myself that I needed to get up, but I never did. And after a while, I started getting really tired. Then, after I got tired, I fell asleep, and I didn't wake up. At this point she wasn't sure what to say because her four-year-old son had just told her

long, detailed story about an old man that was miserable at the end of his life, and apparently died on his kitchen floor. She gave me a big hug and told me that it was okay, that I wasn't John anymore. I told her that I knew I wasn't John because I was born again as me, and that I wouldn't do the same thing as John because I had learned my lesson. And that was pretty much the end of it. When I was that age, I apparently had these really vivid memories of before I was born,

when I was born, and apparently remembered parts of my past life that I had. I don't remember any of this now. It was way too long ago, obviously, but my mom and grandma remember how emotional I was during all of this, and how I told them details that no young child should or would know. And they firmly believe that I was telling them about some sort of previous life that I had lived. My parents are big believers in the superintend.

so they've always believed me, even though I was seemingly just a kid rambling. I don't know what to think of it, but after hearing all the stories about the crazy things that happened in our reality, I have to say that I'm more of a believer than not. And part of me wishes that I could remember all of those old memories. If for nothing else, I would like to just know what it was that I saw in my mind. as a little kid. Back when my son, Riley, was around seven or eight, my wife and I noticed something peculiar about him.

He had a passion for drawing and coloring. It was actually very creative. He liked to draw the normal kid stuff, like pictures of us, our dog, and our two cats and other animals. But what really caught our attention was that he kept drawing the same house. house over and over again.

At first, we thought he had simply discovered a subject he liked and enjoyed drawing it. He'd drawn houses before, but they were pretty simple, the kind that you would normally see a kid draw. But this specific house was drawn differently than normal, and was a lot more detailed. I could tell it was the same house because of those details and the colors that he used. Over time he would add in more features of this same house and would draw it from different angles as well. He added the square shingles on the roof, the shutters on the window, the flower bed in the yard. Everything was there and precise.

Now, there was nothing wrong with these drawings, and none of it ever looked alarming or out of the ordinary, so we never questioned it, or called it out other than saying that he was doing a great job. But we did become curious when he started drawing the house from the top, like a blueprint. Granted he was only eight, so the lines weren't straight and there were no words or labels, but it was very clearly a blueprint. Granted, he was only eight, so the lines weren't straight and there were no words or labels, but it was very clearly a blueprint. That's when we started asking about what he was drawing.

He kept saying that it was his house, which we thought was odd because it obviously looked nothing like our house. I tried asking more questions about what he meant, but his answers were typically short and vague. Again, it wasn't hurting anything, so I just let it go. During a school break, I stayed home with him a lot as I was a contractor and was in between jobs at the time. After lunch, he wanted to go play in his room and excused himself. I'd been lounging around the living room when I noticed it had been a few hours since I even saw or heard from him,

so I thought I would go check in. He had the door open, and as I rounded the corner, I saw him with his Legos spread out on the floor, organized by color and piece, and some loose-leaf printer paper next to him with the drawings of the house again. I could tell by his mumblings and long sighs that he was getting frustrated, so I knocked on the doorframe to let him know that I was there.

He looked up at me with an almost sad or frustrated eyes. I asked him what he was building, and again he said, my house. I asked him, what he meant by that, and he explained that it was his old house. Again, this is the only house he knows when it comes to places he's lived. He's been to my parents and my in-laws home before, but we've lived at this house since he was born. I think this frustration got the best of him, because he finally explained more.

No, my house from a long time ago. I can't remember things about it. it's important, but I can't think about it as much anymore. It didn't really clear anything up, but I just assumed that he meant his drawings. He was still young, so his sentences weren't perfect, but I feel like he got the point across. I just told him that he was doing great and to keep it up, and I was confident that he would make it perfect, just the way that he wanted. But Riley just shook his head.

his expression's still serious. No, Dad, you don't get it. It's not made up. It's my old house. I built it. I lived there. His sentence, slowly tapering off as the look on his face dropped to a frown. I was taken aback.

Yes, he was a very creative kid, and I'd say even imaginative, but he's never been this passionate about it when me or his mom approached him while playing. I didn't know what to think about this. We hadn't watched anything about an old house or building them for that matter. So where could this be coming from? It was hard for me to wrap my head around what could be troubling my young son, but I was still curious to learn more. I asked him what he could remember about this old house. Riley took a deep breath. I could tell his eyes were filled with sadness, and he said, I remember making the house with my own hands. Looking down at his hands with his palms out, he continued. I was happy about it. I did a good job.

I lived there with my girlfriend, and there was a baby. But one day there was a cracking sound, and the floor broke upstairs. It crushed us, and I couldn't save us. I was very scared. and now I remember it again, and I don't want to forget it, because I need to figure out how I messed it up, so that it doesn't happen at our new home. I don't want to die again. I don't want you to die. My heart broke as I listened to him recall

what I could only describe as a past life. I started trying to think of literally anything he could have watched or seen, or maybe something he heard his mom and I talk about. but I couldn't recall anything. I don't even remember hearing about a house collapsing on the news or on the radio. And when I asked him if this was a dream, he told me no, because he saw these thoughts all the time when he was awake, not asleep. At that moment, and even though it was the voice of my little boy,

those weren't his words. I could tell. My initial skepticism was overruled by the overwhelming sense of compassion and wonder. I wanted to figure this out to not only make sure this never troubled my son again, but to make sure if this was legitimate, that the person he was could move on and be at peace. After telling my wife about what I experienced, she was skeptical at first, too, but after hearing it come directly from Riley, She seemed a bit more convinced that something was definitely off here.

Over the following weeks, Riley continued to share more details about his memories. He described the layout of the house, the creaky floorboards, and even the scent of the baked goods that his wife would always make. He even described the flowers that his wife had planted outside the house, white tulips. But he would always bring it back around saying that he needed to be. to make sure this place was stronger, making sure history didn't repeat itself. I thought the best thing to do would be first to assure Riley that our current house was safe.

I did everything I could to get diagrams, blueprints, and structural layouts of our home. I contacted our realtor, I tried government records, and I even brought in an appraiser. With all the info I got, I was able to piece a lot of it. of it together, and I showed it to Riley. He seemed to understand everything on paper better than I could. He explained where the stress points were in our place, and walked through it, trying to determine where the internal beams or walls were. But when we finished the walkthrough, he said that it made him feel much better,

and it helped him understand what he did wrong. He said he was no longer scared of our new heart. home. I just remember the huge hug that he gave me, thanking me for helping him that day, and I remember it being such an unusual hug. Again, it was my son, but the strength in this hug and the tears in his eyes made me think something there was not him. As time went on from there, he drew the house less and less, and rarely talked about it.

Until one day he just never mentioned it again. Riley is now about to start high school, and he said he doesn't remember any of this. Part of me is relieved because I only want him to remember a happy childhood, but I kind of also wanted to hear more about the house. I'm still curious about it myself, and I would love to find it, or at least some records on it, since it might not be standing anymore. But the first problem is, I don't even know if it was in the same state we live in now. I guess that that will just always be an unanswered part of this story.

In the end, it has definitely opened my mind to the world of past lives and possibly reincarnations. This extraordinary experience has taught me that there is certainly more to this world than just life and death. This happened when I, male, was a kid, back around 2004. My friends and I loved to be outside and explore places that we've never been. We played in the trees behind my friend's house, climbing them and making a makeshift hammock in them. We loved to find new places to explore, and had been itching to go through this old house that had been abandoned and empty for as long as I could remember. I never saw anyone on the property or anything about it change, other than the grass and weeds growing taller and taller. Then, my sweet parents, unbeknownst to them, got me a birthday gift that would push us to explore that house.

I'd been wanting walkie-talkies for quite some time. I loved the idea of being able to go anywhere in the park, the woods, and even between rooms. and being able to talk to my friends. I had some cheap ones that didn't work very long, or from very far apart, so I wanted to get a better pair, and my parents followed through. I told my friend Troy, and he came over one day, so we could try out my new walkies. We were walking all over my yard and in the house, trying to see how far they would reach, and, to our surprise,

They still came out clear and crisp with him standing at the tip of the front yard and me standing at the edge of the backyard. This seemed like quite the distance for us, enough for us to do a lot of things, so he instantly brought up the idea of exploring that house. The house was a lot closer to Troy's place, so we planned it all out, and I was given permission to stay at Troy's for the weekend. After I was dropped off, we went up to his room to gather a small backpack of stuff that we might need.

It wasn't much, and probably wasn't even anything that you would actually take while exploring, but, hey, we were still kids. We hopped on our bikes. I was allowed to ride his older brothers, and we made our way to the house, telling his mom that we were going to a nearby park. Once we arrived, we ditched our bikes in the tall grass, hoping that they were hidden enough so that no one would see us. We walked up to the house, both of us nervous, and tried the door. I don't know why we were surprised when it was locked. After trying a few times, we decided to try and look for any windows that we could access, and maybe climb through instead.

There were a few of them that we could reach, but they also seemed to be locked, or ceased. again, leaving us at a dead end. Now, even though we were kids and we were willing to trespass, I suppose, in order to explore this place, the thought of breaking in did not even cross our mind. We were pretty disappointed, and since our curiosity and exploration wasn't fulfilled, we thought we could at least try the backyard and see what we could find. The backyard was actually pretty well hidden by the dilapidated privacy fence, so we were surprised by what we saw. We broke off a plank that was already rotting and falling apart and crawled through.

The yard was filled with different decorations, like gnomes and lights. There was a garden lined by red bricks and small fencing with those tomato stands in them. There was a small table with a dried up and cracked coffee. mug resting on it, and two chairs tucked under the table. Then the part that got our attention the most was a small cracked stone path that led straight back through the yard to another gate. When we opened the gate, it appeared to just lead to trees. It was so dense that we couldn't really see through them.

This immediately set our eyes aglow, ready to explore. We could see the trees from the front, but it didn't seem like anything we would have expected. We immediately pulled out the walkies, tested them, and agreed to head in opposite directions to explore. We probably walked 20, 25 feet apart as we talked to each other through the walkies. We weren't really seeing anything of interest, other than some cool-looking trees, so we were just talking to each other, cracking jokes, saying curse words, because we thought it was cool. But then we started getting some interference on the walkies.

At first it just sounded like singing, so I assumed we were picking up a radio station or something. After confirming with Troy that he could hear it too, I told him that we should go back to the gate. Once back, we could tweak with them to see if we could clear it up and listen to it better. We were still just expecting it to be a radio station, but we were hopeful that it may have been something more entertaining. As I was walking back, I was already eager to listen, so I started flipping through the channels and listening. And, sure enough, I found one that was clearer, but still had a bit of static. However, it was not a radio station, and it clearly did not sound like a phone call eye. either. What we did here made our blood run cold.

It sounded like a woman, or maybe a young girl crying. Crying may be an understatement. She was sobbing. You could hear the hiccups and gasps of air between each cry. We both looked at each other, probably trying to read the other's expression, and carried on listening like, surely this was just a prank. Maybe someone saw us or was playing with another radio or walkie and just wanted to scare us. But we couldn't stop listening. I wish we would have. The woman sobbing would then break in between and start talking.

Again, the static was there, so it was hard to make out everything, but we both agreed on parts of what we heard. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I don't want to die. Please, God help me. Those words pierced through the airwaves accompanied by heart-wrenching sobs. It was as if someone's very soul was crying out for us to help, drowning in anguish and fear.

Troy and I exchanged terrified looks, and we knew that we needed to tell somebody. We ran back through the yard to the front and jumped on our bikes, trying to head back as fast as we could go. We kept the walkies on hoping to still hear the woman, but... it sadly faded away completely when we returned back to his house. The thought of us being in trouble because we lied didn't even cross our mind. The cries and the pleas from the woman were far too important for us. We ran inside and I let Troy do the talking. His mom looked confused at first, so we had to slow down,

and explained it all to her a second time. She seemed pretty disappointed in us for lying, and got pretty stuck on that. She told us that we needed to stay home and not leave the yard. We then tried begging her to go with us and explained what we heard again, but she didn't seem to believe us. She said something pretty similar to what we originally assumed, that someone was probably messing with us,

and probably were inside that old creepy house. Bottom line, she refused to consider the idea, that it was real and dismissed us. We went to his room and tried everything we could to get the signal back, but it was long gone. We tried playing games, watching TV, but the mood had been pretty well spoiled by our earlier experience. I couldn't help but feel this sense of guilt, knowing that we were helpless and there was nothing that we could do about it. Even when I went home, I told my parents about it, and they didn't seem to convince.

either. They too were disappointed that we went to the house, but while my mom did look a little curious and maybe even concerned, my dad said that what we heard wouldn't have been possible and explained how we choose to hear things within the static. I felt frustrated and helpless. Over time, I would slowly make peace with this incident, but it was never fully gone from my memory. Some things would happen that would bring it back to the foreground. When I heard about a missing person, I thought about her. The older I got, the more I wanted answers, and I began scouring the internet and news for any information that could explain the eerie incident. I tried looking into radio interference and how it worked, and I even looked

for anything about people that may have gone missing in my area around that time, or even people found but nothing matched up. I found nothing conclusive and no trace of an explanation. It was as if the incident had vanished into thin air, leaving me with nothing but lingering questions and a deep sense of unease. To this day, the memory of that spine-chilling encounter

remains etched in my mind. The sobbing on the airwaves, the helplessness in those words, I can still hear them echoing in the depths of my consciousness, and all I can do is hope and pray that my parents were right. This is a long story, so I'll try to make it as concise as I can. I was a member of the Queen fandom, mainly Freddie Mercury.

Queen fans are a surprisingly gross, homophobic bunch of people, and so there were many fights over Freddy's sexuality. I had some theories about him and his psychology, but no one was prepared to listen, and I'd spend far too long in forums arguing with stupid people, and I was sick of it, and was about to leave when a woman, Emily Ramirez, no real names are going to be used here, messaged me saying that she agreed with all of my theories, and asked to friend request me. We chatted on Facebook Messenger for ages, to have. the water, I guess, to get to know each other.

We became pretty close over the weeks, finding out that we both had the same dark, inappropriate sense of humor. Despite a six-hour time zone difference, I'm in London, England, and she was in Texas. We were pretty close, telling each other all of our personal stuff, fighting trolls together, and, most importantly, laughing. Just hysterically laughing.

We even spoke on the phone for hours and hours about Freddie Mercury. His personality, theories about his songs and pre-fame life story, there was no one else who shared our views, except another woman called Alyssa, whom she met on YouTube. Emily invited Alyssa to our group chat for a while, but eventually Alyssa stopped messaging and I sort of forgot about her. at this time there was no reason to doubt that Emily was real if she said she was doing something in her life her Facebook checked out for example she graduated from law school and celebrated by going on a six-week road trip from Houston to Anaheim stopping at Roswell New Mexico El Paso Sedona Arizona the Grand Canyon and Las Vegas on her way I'd always wanted to see the American desert

And she suggested that I should come over and do a road trip with her the next year As she went photos appeared in the locations that she told me she was going to in the order one might logically travel And I was fascinated by these places that I dreamed of seeing Emily is a lesbian and she told me that she had a crazy ex who was out of her league tall and blonde. And, sure enough, there were photos of the two of them from the previous Halloween. When she asked me for hair-dye advice after her hair went wrong from pool chlorine, there were photos to prove it.

She played guitar, and when someone requested a song, she duly posted a video of herself playing it. And she was a bit sick of Facebook in the end, so she deleted it entirely. using a new blank profile for the purpose of staying in contact with three friends, including myself. For a while, we kind of dominated the Queen slash Freddie Mercury forums as sort of experts, and we even got to know some of his friends from his 80s gay club years, and I had written some articles on him that I was sharing in groups under pseudonyms.

soon an Italian woman in the forums began to harass both Emily and myself discrediting our articles I blocked her and two German women rose in her place name-calling they plagiarized our work that was paywalled and spread it online saying that we didn't deserve to be paid for lies about Freddie Mercury so they were giving it away for free That did die down, but two years later, one of these people reappeared on a different forum, trying to humiliate me by posting links to old fan fictions that I'd written many years ago on another site that were unrelated to Queen. She'd worked out that it was me from my usernames.

She listed all of my usernames across every social media site that I happened to be on, and accused me of being many more people. people who, coincidentally, had similar usernames to mine. All of this was because she was possessive over Freddy, and was angry that me and Emily were getting heavily involved with Freddy's friends. I quickly worked out that the Italian and the two Germans were one and the same. She'd been watching me and Emily for two years. I was made redundant from my job, so my lifeline was to sell quote.

Queen fan art. Emily helped me build a web page, and I had some offers to buy prints of my work, until I received about 30 takedown notices from Universal Music Group, saying that I'd been reported personally for copyright. I warned another victim of The Troll who also sold Art to be careful. This girl was a minor, who had actually been doxed by The Troll. After this, the Troll began using my non-Queen Art. art as her profile photos, and calling herself the names of the people that I had drawn.

She had also removed my watermarks, and was threatening to sell them all on her own site. Both Emily and I quit the queen fandom, partly because of the troll, and partly because we hated the biopic, because Brian May pissed us off, and because we had moved on to other interests. We stayed in contact, but things weren't the same. when we had no silly jokes about Freddy to laugh about, and even his friends were bullied off the forums by homophobes and the troll. Emily only kept her Instagram, where she would do live, faceless Q&A's about Freddy. Then, one night at 3 a.m. UK time, Emily messaged in a panic and asked to call. She was hysterical, saying that she needed to confess something to me. Her

Her name was not Emily Ramirez. It was Alyssa Sanchez. She had tried to tell me ages ago when she invited Alyssa to her group chat, with the aim of phasing Emily out and then Emily would become Alyssa. But she dropped the idea in the end, because she thought that I'd easily work out that Alyssa had suddenly developed Emily's personality. She said that she had tried many times to tell me her real name, but was embarrassed. Why the sudden confession?

Well, the troll had screen-recorded at Instagram Live where Emily was showing followers her Freddie merchandise. She had her laptop on in the foreground, and the troll slowed the video down. And, on Emily's laptop screen, she observed a file named Alyssa Sanchez tax documents. The troll called her, threatening to blow her cover online, to tell people that she was never a lawyer and was leading a fake life. So, Emily confessed that she was Alyssa to beat the troll to it, and she apologized about the whole thing. This was not the end. From here on, Emily will be referred to as Alyssa.

The troll, who he found out was a middle-aged woman named Lucy, then phoned Alyssa's mother and cousin, screaming that she knows who they are, that Alyssa still talks to me, and that she will humiliate us and destroy anything creative that we do that invokes Freddy's name. The last I heard was that the troll had pretended to be a rival publisher, in order to obtain copies of a book that Freddy's friends were releasing for legal reasons, which meant that she saw an advanced copy of their book before the authors themselves. I did almost suss Elisa slash Emily out, but I brushed it off. She said her father was a well-known lawyer in the state of Indiana, but no such person exists.

I thought, oh well, maybe American stuff is omitted from a UK search engine. Another time she had filmed herself opening a book that she'd bought, and her nails and hands were different to those in selfies that she'd sent me. I put it down to her simply growing her nails out. One time she said that her dad was Mexican and that her mom was. Spanish. But this later got switched around, and she said that her dad believed Spanish people were superior to Mexican people, and regularly told her he was happy he produced quote-unquote white-passing kids. Well, people make typing mistakes sometimes, right? Then, she spelled her name

differently to normal, and I just brushed it off as bad autocorrect. As her auto-correct fails were a running saga for her. Eventually, we video called, and I never understood the point of her fakery. She actually looked very similar to the girl whose identity she had stolen. So I got catfished, and my catfish wasn't even the scary one. A stalker destroyed my friendship with my catfish, which was for the best in the end. Maybe. Alyssa doesn't message me anymore.

And I do kind of miss her. Lucy still has my art as her profile picture four years on. And on Queen forums, she calls herself Alyssa Ramirez, mashing up the two names. Me? I just keep my love for Queen to myself these days. When I was in my early 20s, around 2010, I lived alone in a ground floor apartment in what I would say was a decent part of my hometown. It was a bit of a humble but comfortable place. And honestly, I was loving living alone.

I didn't dislike living with my parents. I get along well enough with them, but I'm more of a loner. And I like to live within my own confines, not someone else's. For the entire first year, things went really well in my apartment. I loved the area. I'd furnished it the way I liked it. and I was happy. Then, near immediately after I signed my second year's lease,

things started happening that made me reconsider whether or not I was really safe. At first, the things that would happen were incredibly subtle. I would come home from work and would find various things that seemed out of place, but that I couldn't be sure about. The first thing was one day when I got home and found my front door was unlocked. I kind of freaked out a bit at first, but as I thought about it, that morning I was in a super rush because I was running late. And it was wholly possible that I forgot to lock it. I went in and checked everything, and as far as I could tell, nothing had been taken or moved.

I chalked it up to a, hey dummy, that was stupid, moment, and moved on. A couple days later, I came home to my door, being unlocked again, and again was incredibly mad at myself for having left it unlocked like that. However, when I went inside to make sure nothing was missing, it pretty quickly clicked that it wasn't my doing. When I walked in, I noticed that the lamp in the corner of my living room was turned on, which to most people wouldn't be a huge deal, but to me, it was a massive issue.

I never used that lamp. It was a room lamp from my room at my parents' house that I took so that they didn't have to deal with it. But I hadn't had to use it because the living room has a ceiling light. I'd put it in a corner behind an extra chair because it kind of looked nice, but I never used it. I checked the rest of the apartment, but again there was nothing missing. I actually went across the hall and asked one of the neighbors,

if they saw anyone coming or going from my apartment that day, and they didn't recall anyone being there. I mentioned the whole thing, and they were a bit shocked, but again, they couldn't give me any information. I ended up calling the main office to let them know, and they mentioned that it could have been maintenance because they were doing pest control on my building at some point that week, but that they should have left a note if it was them.

I told them that there was no note on my door, and that my neighbor said that they hadn't seen anyone, which made me think it wasn't the maintenance crew. They told me that they would ask the crew and see if it was them, and then told me to call them back if it happened again, and that they would figure out a way to get the situation taken care of. And, of course, something did happen. One night I got home, and when I opened my door,

I found an envelope on the floor on the other side of said door. Like, it had been slid under. I initially assumed it was a note from the office or the maintenance crew, but normally they just tape those to the front door, not slide them under. I grabbed it, put my stuff down, and opened the letter to see what they had to say. And it made my blood run cold when I read it. It was a typed, an unsigned note that said, you look so peaceful when you sleep.

I was freaking out in my head. Who the hell had been watching me sleep? Had someone actually been watching me, or was this some kind of screwed up prank? There was no evidence that anyone had been in my apartment beyond the lamp, and my door being unlocked twice, which to me was a mountain of evidence, but to anyone on the outside could just be coincidental. Of course, this letter was a big red flag, screaming, I'm watching you. But who the hell was the person that typed it?

After the letter, I started taking precautions with everything in my apartment. I double-checked all the locks on the windows. I kept all my curtains and blinds closed. I put Christmas bells on every single door so that I could tell that they were opened. and I bought a metal baseball bat that sat right next to my bed just in case. I had also reported the letter to the office, who made a police report with my information, and they had an officer that would circle the area multiple times a day

to see if they could find anyone suspicious. Despite this, things would still end up happening. I would come home to find my fridge open, my bathroom's sink running. The books on my bookshelf removed and piled on the floor. I seriously thought I was going insane. I begged the rental office to change the locks on my door. I told them every single thing that had happened,

and they were completely unhelpful. Their solution to figuring it out was telling me to get a camera because they couldn't do anything else. This was my home. I was supposed to feel safe here. and the company responsible for that safety was basically telling me that I was out of luck. I was starting to feel depressed and anxious all the time because I was thinking that this person was going to escalate, and eventually they were going to hurt me, or worse.

I hit a wall mentally. I wasn't sure what to do. I did end up buying a camera, one that I could hang up in the corner that watched the door, but part of me thought that this person was going to be able to beat the camera, and that they would somehow get in and mess with me without being seen. Of course, that would have been impossible. And the last day of all this was probably the most excited I've ever been. I came home from another day at work to find my door, unlocked, again.

I walked into my apartment, more pissed off than scared. and in the kitchen found another envelope taped to a bottle of wine. I grabbed the letter and opened it, and this time it was a bit more terrifying. The item in this envelope was a printed photograph of me at work, and on the back it said, you're always so busy. It was a picture of me serving a table that I had waited on only a day prior. I remembered the customer in the photograph, which meant that this person had been,

in my restaurant, and they were now following me in my everyday life. I started to panic, but quickly turned my attention to the camera in the corner of the room. This guy had the gall not to only walk in, but walk right in front of the camera to get into my kitchen. When I got to my computer and got the footage loaded, I was speechless. I watched as this man opened my front door with ease, walked in with a huge smile on his face and put the bottle of wine on the counter. I watched as he put the photo on the counter and wrote his note on the back of it and placed it in the envelope.

The reason that I had that level of excitement that I mentioned earlier was because I knew who this was. It was one of the maintenance guys for the property. I had seen him on the property. I had waved at him. I'd had short passing conversations with him. I called the office and told them that I had the video of the person breaking into my place, and I asked one of the property managers to come to my apartment so that I could show them.

They did, and I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't surprised to see what I was showing him. To wrap this up a bit quicker, I called the police, and I showed them the evidence. after he was arrested, it came out that this wasn't his first offense. He had been arrested and reported of stalking numerous other women. The reason that the office manager wasn't surprised was because he knew full well that this guy had done this before. Apparently, he was what they called a second chance hire. They knew that he had a record of stalking, and when I told them that I was being stalked, they didn't put two and two together.

I have no problem with second-chance hires. People do deserve a second chance when they make mistakes. But he was a textbook case of, We hired a man known for stalking women. We have a woman being stalked. Maybe we should consider that. Thankfully, the police took this all very seriously. And since he had a right,

they had zero tolerance for his actions, and he went away in cuffs. And, of course, after he was arrested, all of the craziness stopped. Obviously, I moved out of that property and into a new apartment. The inaction of the property management was enough for me to break my lease, which I happily did. Hi, Raven. This is probably the first. fourth or fifth story that I've submitted to you, but I'm honestly not sure what category this one fits in, but I'm almost certain that you'll find a place for it on your channel, though.

The story comes from my dad. He told me recently that his best friend was having some issues with his relatively new wife. I'm not going to use his name in order to spare his privacy. They got married only a couple of years ago, sometime during COVID. My dad said that he used to call her sweet Mary, because, well, her name is Mary, and she was always so sweet. My dad's friend is an older man, in his late 60s, so it's no surprise that both he and Mary had been through a few divorces already before the two of them met. everything was fine between them for a while.

But within a somewhat short period of time, Mary's demeanor started to become a little strange. They lived a few states away from us, so it's nothing either of us personally witnessed, but it sounded like the two of them were likely to get a divorce if things continued to get worse. We never could have imagined how far the situation would escalate. All of this was several months ago, and that was the last that I'd heard of it.

A few days ago, though, I had dinner with my dad, and he gave me a very disturbing update. Mary's mental state had apparently deteriorated pretty quickly. She'd been complaining of physical ailments, all sorts of weird things, and she was insisting that there had to be mold in the house. She basically wanted to tear the house apart until they found it. At some point, Mary and my father's friend had dinner with a buddy of theirs, who was a doctor. In conversation, Mary mentioned the health issues that she'd been experiencing recently. Their friend was concerned, and he told them that her symptoms matched those of someone who had been poisoned.

He asked if she'd been handling chemicals or had eaten anything strange. she said she hadn't, and once again insisted that there must be mold in the house. The doctor took Mary's hand and pointed out some distinct white lines that had developed across her fingernails, which are apparently a telltale symptom of arsenic poisoning. He recommended that she immediately get her blood tested to make sure that she hadn't been poisoned. She outright refused to undergo any sort of testing, which seemed extremely strict. to everyone in the room. My dad, upon hearing this, suggested that his friend get his own blood tested to make sure he didn't

have anything in his system, because Mary's reaction to the doctor's suggestion was pretty irrational, and honestly, suspicious. His friend spoke to Mary and told her that if the lab found poison in his blood, he would be contacting the police right away. Guess what the lab found? Arsenic. As much as it seems like something you would only see in a TV show, it was starting to sound an awful lot like Mary had been slowly poisoning her husband

and had mistakenly exposed herself to the toxin. But it gets much, much worse. Some even more disturbing evidence surfaced once my father and his friend dug deeper into Mary's past. Her previous two husbands had died pretty young. And as it turns out, their causes of death were conditions that could both be traced back to

specifically arsenic poisoning. I'm not sure what exactly law enforcement intends to do with Sweet Mary, or if she really is a black widow. But I can only hope that she wroughts in prison if her intentions were as sinister as they seemed. The story may need a little context, so here are a few key things to keep in mind. One, I was raised by my grandparents. Two, I only saw my mother off and on.

Three, she has a large number of sisters. Four, it is not uncommon for me to mistake my nieces and nephews with my aunt and uncles. and five, yes, my mom's mom and my mom had kids at the same time, and I rarely saw them, so I get confused sometimes. With all that out of the way, let's dive in. I was 15 at the time, and my mother was having a large family gathering at her house. I was invited because while my mother and I weren't close, she had recovered from drug use for two or three years

and was making a solid effort to turn her life around several of my aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, and nephews would be there and at this point my grandparents were pretty confident my mother was actually trying really hard to reestablish a relationship with me we weren't the best of friends but I also didn't hate her either I get there and it is blizzard Latently a fantastic time.

The younger of us played in the water slides, went on four-wheeler rides, and had ice cream from an ice cream truck, and we were all a little tired by the end of day one. Then the night comes. My mom puts on the outsiders for us to watch while we were going to bed, because I think any sane human

knows that trying to get 10 plus teenagers to bed on time is a wasted effort. I was exhausted, but unfortunately I had battled badly with insomnia my entire life. It was 2.30 a.m., and everyone else was asleep. Someone knocks on the door of the room that we're staying in. I'm a little aggressive at this point, saying something along the lines of, It's 2 a.m. What? And a voice, using a bad redneck accent, responds, saying,

it's your uncle Mike, go grab a knife in the kitchen. I was kind of in a jolt of thought about that, because I did have an Uncle Mike in the house at the time, but he actually was a redneck. This was almost as if someone was held at gunpoint and told they had to do a redneck accent, but physically were not able to. They were also sounding like they were choking on every word.

So, I simply decided I wasn't going to do that. No, it's 2 a.m. I'm not grabbing a knife from the kitchen, Mikey. I had never called my uncle that, but for some reason, the fear made me speak out of sync with my thoughts a bit. But we made cake for everyone. You have to get a knife from the kitchen. Hell no, I thought. Mike couldn't cook anything other than bacon, hamburgers, and steak. I opened the door and rushed into my oldest cousin's room. He was sleeping on a bed and a tent inside.

Mr. Lonely was playing with a blue room light on. I locked the door behind me and slept with my cousin who was in their 20s, and he was rough around the edges. I slept in that room that night only to wake up to accusations. My aunt, the one married to Mike, asked why I was banging on her door all night. I told her I wasn't. She said that at apparently a similar time that I went into my cousin's room,

I banged on her door and she got dressed to open it. The door to my cousin's room was open. The lights were off and no music was playing in the room. But no one was in there. When I told her my version of the story, she said that it was impossible because Mike left for work at 7.30 to be at work at 8 p.m. and wouldn't be back until closer to 4 a.m.

My older cousin who I slept with also had a different version of the story, stating that he woke up to no one in the room but his door open, and him looking down the hallway to every door in the hallway being opened. He shrugged it off and went back to bed after locking his door. He had no explanation for how I got into his room without jimmying the door open. After some conversation, my oldest cousin whipped out a cell phone and started begrudgingly asking questions. When we heard nothing, we listened to the video, and a clear-as-day voice, be heard speaking saying,

My name is Mike. I'm here. It sounded like it was choking, but without a bad southern accent. Afterwards, my family just decided it was a weird night, and didn't bring it up again, except in joking ways because, what are he going to do about it?

My mom and my aunt are very spiritual, but I'm a skeptic. I just thought I would tell my version of the events. And, yeah, My whole family thought that it was weird that I heard a voice at the other side of the door, and when I opened it, no one was there. And I never even thought about that aspect as a scared teenager. I truly hate Walmart.

The corporate symbolism, the size, crowding, lighting, etc. As I'm sure many people can relate, and I had sworn not to go there again multiple times, in the months leading up to this. But I was fixing up my newly acquired vintage camper in the summer of 2022, and kept having what I needed when I needed it at the price that I wanted, was luring me back in with my perpetual brokenness. The last time I went was to get the spray paint that I'd been using, which is only available there or on Amazon,

and I wanted it immediately. I decided to park in back by the auto center, a tactic I had used previously to try and make the trip as short as possible, since the paint and hardware section is adjacent to the auto center. It was business as usual in the auto center. At least there was nothing that caught my attention on recall. As I pushed the button to open the auto center entrance door and went to grab my spray paint. Of course, I ended up looking at other things. for a bit. I have ADHD, which makes a truly detestable shopping experience in there,

and eventually ended up near the front. I used the self-checkout, and walked my way back to the auto center exit where I parked. I passed through the corridor of the auto center checkout slash waiting area to exit through the door that I had entered from, and it wouldn't open. I had learned that upon entering, there is a button that must be pushed to unlock the door, but I could have sworn having done this before. That, when exiting the door, it would open freely. My brain quickly chalks this up to me misremembering and starts looking around for someone nearby to push the button on the other side,

and to let me out into the parking lot. I look towards the car shop area through the glass, and there isn't a single auto worker to be found. There are multiple vehicles cranked up on the lifts, but there is literally no movement in the entire space. Again, my brain chocks this up to Walmart being a general crap show, and I turn around to consider my next option. There are also zero employees at the checkout counter,

just two men waiting there, presumably for someone to come ring them up, and a woman with her toddler's son in a cart sitting in one of the leather armchairs in the makeshift area where customers wait for their car services to finish. I ask her if they're all there waiting for an employee of some kind, and she says yes. Not wanting to walk all the way back to the front and externally circle the massive building to get to my truck that's right there, I pop a squat in the leather chair perpendicular to hers, assuming someone will be walking through that door any second.

A few moments pass, and for some reason both the woman and I notice one of the cheap cork board panels in the ceiling, start to raise up slowly at one end. Not frantically, like from a gust of wind or something, but very smooth and deliberate, teetering up and down, sometimes pretty high up and sometimes just a bit. We confirm that we're both seeing it and have the following exchange. Her, there's definitely a worker up there doing that. Me, wouldn't we be hearing footsteps, though?

Can that kind of ceiling even support weight like that? her, but it has to be a worker though. Then, the panel directly across from that one starts to do the up and down hovering as well, creating a drawbridge-type movement, but with both sides of the bridge moving independently and without consistent pattern. There's a super bright, warm, yellow, orange light coming from the space up in the panels. At this point, I start literally yelling up into the ceiling, Hey, who's up there?

No reply. The woman and I are both pretty energetically anxious at this point. I yell again. Hey, is someone up there? Both panels then slowly drift back down into their correct placement and stop moving. I then notice about three or so panels down from the ghost panels, a ceiling panel that was organically off its tracks and tilted some, exposing a bit of the space of it.

above. I then realize, as I'm sharing with the woman out loud as I think it, that there is no light at all coming from that space, meaning the light that we saw would have to be somehow isolated to just that area above those two panels, which was not possible. I look around to see no employees still, and just jump up and say something like, this place is evil, and book it back into the main department store. I'm super flustered and start trying to find another back exit somewhere, while simultaneously texting my friend that I'm trapped in Walmart, and that there are shadow people in the ceiling here. I finally see some employees and decide to turn around and try the auto center door again, because I just want to be out of this place.

I forgot to really look around again, because, when I got there, a woman was entering and I sprinted to grab that door for dear life. I seriously feel like the dark energy of corporate capitalism was incubating in that ceiling. Big yikes. But I can truly say that I have never returned. I was nearly abducted early one morning. In June of 2015, I was a single woman settling into a new apartment with my dog. The location was close to major shopping centers, and only a few blocks away from the interstate. highway, but was somehow pretty quiet and felt more residential.

Perhaps that's why I didn't feel particularly uncomfortable taking my frail elderly cocker spaniel out for an early morning potty break while it was still dark outside. She was suffering from kidney disease, so she needed to get outside at odd times. The street in front of the apartment building was not very well lit. There's a single street light right at the corner. and then no further lighting until well down the street. Parking is only allowed on the side of the street directly in front of my building. As the building was pet-friendly, management had installed a waste bag dispenser and receptacle at the edge of the property

furthest away from the building, and usually I had no concerns about walking over to it to toss my dog's bags, even in the dead of night. I felt fairly safe. Besides, throwing the waste bag away in my inside bin made my unit stink. I work from home as a telecommuter, and once my dog and I got back inside, I needed to log into the system to start work. I didn't want to sit and smell dog waste until my morning break, when I could take the trash out to the dumpster. As I was standing in the front yard with her and waiting for her to finish, an older model boxy maroon sedan turned the corner, and drove past us down the street turned around in the cul-de-sac and then came back toward us this wasn't weird to me as people can only park on the one side of the streets so it's not uncommon for drivers to just do this to get turned around to park being new to the building i figured this person was another resident of the complex and no alarm bells were going off yet however that changed when the car stopped and

parked in the dark area of the street near the dog waste station, instead of pulling up in front of the apartments. There were no other cars parked on the street that particular morning, and where this car stopped was not close to any other buildings or entrances. Although I thought this seemed strange, I still wasn't all that concerned. Maybe the driver was just coming home from an overnight shift and wanted to park their car in an area they felt would be shaded from the daytime sun. Still, I kept it in my peripheral vision.

A lanky man stepped out of the vehicle, tall with scruffy, dark, blonde hair. He looked to be in his thirties, wearing jeans, a white t-shirt, and what looked in the dim light to be an army green light jacket or shirt. He was smoking a cigarette and didn't approach me, but instead still, he was smoking. stood in the darkened street next to his driver's side door, and stared across the apartment building's yard toward the parking lot. Okay, I thought. He must have a girlfriend or wife that doesn't like him smoking,

so he's hiding while finishing his smoke in the hopes that he can't be seen from their windows. Maybe that's also why he parked in probably the darkest part of the street as well. By this time, my little dog had finished reading all of the pea mail in the yard, and done her business. And I was fumbling with trying to open the waist bag that I'd brought with us. Finally managed to defeat the static cling, keeping it closed. I slid it over my hand like a glove and bent down to pick up my dog's gift. That's when I noticed the man was no longer standing by his driver's side door,

but had instead moved to the back of his car to stand by his vehicle's trunk, still in the street. He was still staring toward the parking lot across the yard, and perhaps it was simply paranoia kicking in, but I got the sense that he was watching me from the corner of his eye. His posture seemed kind of stiff, not like he was just casually looking off into the distance. It felt predatory. Now the alarm bells are starting to go off.

If he were just innocently finishing a cigarette before going into the building, then wouldn't he be standing on the boulevard where it's safer, instead of the middle of the street where he's at risk of getting hit by a passing car? As previously mentioned, I don't like disposing of dog waste in my house trash, but my normal routine of walking to the waist bin at the edge of the yard would have taken me right past this guy, who, if he was truly planning to grab me, would only be a few short steps away. I decided to just deal with a little bit of stink in my apartment until I could get the trash out later. I quickly tied off the bag, scooped my dog up into my arms, and hurried back to my unit.

My windows faced the street. In fact, where I'd been out in the yard with my dog was directly in front of my own balcony, so as soon as I got back inside, I ran to my window to see what the guy was doing. That's when his intentions became frighteningly clear. While I'd run back into the safety of my apartment, he'd gotten back into his car and taken off down the street. I looked outside just in time to watch him blow through the stop sign and make a left around the corner,

squealing his tires as he headed toward the main arterial road. That's when I realized that he was waiting for me to walk past him. What he'd intended to do after that, I don't know. But had he grabbed me, he could have been out on the interstate and headed out of the state within minutes. I lived in that apartment for another five years, and I never saw him or his car again. Attached is an aerial view of the area for reference. I've added some colorized markings to show where I was, where the car parked, etc.

I don't know if this will be popular, or if anyone will be popular. or if anyone will see it. This is the first time that I'm sharing this with the world, let alone really anybody other than my immediate family. I thought it would be fun to hop on here and share a story for fun that will always be an interesting topic. When I was 10 to 12, give or take, I lived in a house near Illinois, not giving away the whereabouts. This house was a normal, mid-90s housework. that was built in the 90s,

what happened to my family was around three or four years ago. Anywho, this house was a normal household, and we had lived in it up to that point for a good five years. Nothing happened, and we were fine. Everything was fine up until the point that we put our house on the market. I was a little girl and was always upstairs doing my own thing. One night, about a couple of days with our house being on the market, my mother went to take the dog out late at night, probably like midnight.

And as soon as she entered the garage alone with the dog, a slow scratching noise would start going up and down on a styrofoam box that we had on the garage counter. My mom went to look on the other side of the box, expecting an animal to be causing the sound. To her surprise, nothing was there. and the box was left untouched, at least by anything living. This low scratching eventually turned into a fast, inhuman scratch. Thinking nothing of it, she continued on with her night and went to bed. I wish I could say that that was the last thing that happened, but unfortunately, and wasn't.

A lot of this happened to my mom, as the next thing that happened was when she was relaxing and taking a bubble bath. I can't remember if this was during the day or night, but I'm going to say that it was at night. Our bathroom had two doors to enter, one from the hallway and one from the master bedroom. My mom had these both open, or at least had the hallway entrance closed. However, one door open was enough for her to see a shadow figure. She describes it as a figure running across the entrance, also to mention that nobody was home with her. and she doesn't believe it was anything, just maybe it was her imagination. Meanwhile, I was around ten years old, old enough to be home alone,

and when I was home alone, the house would be dead silent, just me and whatever else was there. I would hear footsteps as clear as day upstairs, walking. I don't know if it could have been the house settling in, but there was something there with me, walking right above me. Not only have I experienced this, but this has also happened to my mother as well. The night that changed our lives was the night that my sister found out.

My sister did her own thing usually, so I don't think she really knew much of what was happening. One night, my sister came up to my mom and had explained to her that, at night, she would see figures and would be able to speak to them. them. This creeped me out, because at the time, we would share a room. And I guess that I would have had to have been sleeping. I'm still not sure if she's a medium or not, but I guess I would assume that she is. I forget what the spirits may have said to her, or what she would have said

to them, but I know that she had that ability. Flashback to when I was eight years old, mind you this was before anything had happened I was going upstairs in the living room and on around like the third or second step I was pulled down off the stairs by my shoulders I don't know if it could have just been me falling backwards off the stairs but if I'm remembering correctly I remember there being this weird force

like I could feel something grabbing me anyways after everything that happened And my mother was sleeping like every other night. However, on this specific night, she was woken up in the darkness by an unfamiliar voice, saying, Hey. She turned on the lampshade and nobody was there. And my dad had always been a heavy sleeper, so it couldn't have been him. When we were selling our house, we obviously had to leave so the people who were interested in buying could go and view the house.

After a viewing, we went back, and as soon as we were going upstairs, my sister's school picture was on the floor, and only hers had been knocked off. We speculate that it could have been the people, accidentally knocking it off, but the photo was secure, and the people who had viewed it didn't knock it off the wall, quoted from the realtor that had been there. After we had thankfully sold the house and moved out, my mother had mentioned to the realtor all of our paranormal activity that we had been experiencing. And to our shock, the realtor who had lived in the same house prior to us had mentioned similar experiences,

as well as haunted furniture that she had brought into the house years and years back, that had generations of potential spirits attached to them. I hope this was entertaining, and I'm very blessed to be in a new house, and I hope to never experience that again. I guess moral of the story, don't buy potentially haunted furniture. Also, I watch Sam and Colby all the time, so I mean maybe they should do an investigation there sometime. And to add an update, I was in my sister's apartment the other day and was looking at an old photograph of her and her boyfriend smiling in front of our old house.

After looking closely at the photo, trying to see if I could find anything possibly in the windows behind them, I saw a very distorted and demonic face looking back at them. I took a picture of it and have it on my phone, but I'm not sure how to put it on the post. After finding this in the picture, it scared me so much that I could barely go upstairs by myself at night. This will take a lot of backstory and explaining, but it's worth it. This is one of many stories that I have. Growing up, we lived in a few different houses. The story is about the current house that my parents live in.

My parents' houses have always been haunted. I've always been sensitive to ghosts for as long as I can remember. Every house that we've lived in has been haunted, and I have been haunted, and a few of those ghosts are attached to me still. Even though I'm moved out, things still occur. Most of the ghosts attached are good. I make sure of it, so don't worry.

Anywho, back story time. I will probably be referencing multiple houses, so I'm going to name the current house they live in the Shelby House. When I was younger, we lived in, in the same neighborhood that they live in now. We moved out of our first house and moved to a couple different houses, and now my parents are living in the same original neighborhood than I grew up in. It is a house a few houses down from our first house.

The Shelby House has had a few different owners, and being a small town, we knew most of the owners. Well, the previous owners, Thomas and Grace, fake names for privacy, were a couple with an empty nest. I'm not sure how long they owned the house before us, but they were the couple that my parents bought the house from. They aren't there now, but when we moved in, the mailbox and the curb across from it,

had rose bushes at the end of the driveway. They had been there for a while. As I said, we knew some of the previous owners of this house, so the rose bushes were there since I was a kid. I remember seeing them when we would go visit sometimes. Now, the driveway is horrendous. It's so hard to get out of, and that's very important to the story. Back to the story.

So there were a lot of different incidents of this happening to the point that Grace would make jokes about it to us. When my parents bought the house, Grace said, Be careful of the rose bushes. They're cursed. The roses caused Thomas to die. She made some jokes like, Just make sure you don't run over the roses, and laughed. My parents are super religious, so they didn't believe her,

and they don't believe in ghosts or curses. Well, every time someone related to Thomas and Grace, themselves, friends, family, anybody, would run over those bushes on the curb opposite to the mailbox, they would have the worst luck for like an entire week, and people would tell Thomas and Grace about it. Now, this is where the story takes a turn. Thomas ran over the rose bush one day, and a week later, he sadly had a heart attack and died inside the house. That's what led Grace to sell the house to my parents.

It's important to note that Thomas was six foot. I have no idea if the previous owners had stuff happened to them because of said rose bushes. Okay, now to how the roses take effect on my family. We hadn't even lived in this house for a month, and my father accidentally ran over the rose bushes one day. That week, he got some rare type of food poisoning, went septic in the middle of the night, and had to be rushed to the hospital.

He passed out at home while in the kitchen and fell and broke his ribs because he hit the floor so hard. The doctor said that it was a miracle he survived. He was in the hospital for at least two months or more and also had to have some type of surgery. Then, my mother ran into the rose bushes on her way to work and she had someone to rearend her. Everyone was fine in the crash, but still, like, what? So after those two things happened, my parents decided to take the rose bushes on both sides up and just replant different flowers. My parents were too busy to do it, so they told my brother-in-law's sister to do it. My brother-in-law's mother helped them.

They all had bad luck and had catastrophic things happen to them for almost a month. I can't remember what they were because it was one after another, almost every single. single day. They replanted different flowers and the new flowers died immediately. No matter how many flowers my family replanted, they would all die. Now, I lived in that house for about a year or so before I moved out. I would always hear footsteps and voices when no one was home. I always had nightmares of me being haunted and possessed and bad things happening to my family. I would constantly have sleep paralysis, it was to the point where I wouldn't sleep because I was scared to have nightmares. Or I'd sleep in my car, or sleep when I would come home from school around lunch.

Well, one day I was home alone and eating lunch in the living room, while on the phone with my boyfriend at the time, Owen. From the couch, you can see into my room in the hallway at any angle, pretty much. I was on FaceTime with Owen and watching GMM like every. every day when I got home from school around lunchtime. I remember that I was sitting there eating ramen, and all of a sudden I see this six-foot-tall, dark figure just walk into my room from the hallway. And then I heard someone go into my room. I saw my door open.

And I said, Owen, I think someone is in my house. And he said, Okay, get something to protect yourself and stay on the phone. and if something happens, I'll call the cops. I grab a knife from the kitchen, and when I walk into my room and I check out my brother's room and the bathroom, no one is there. A couple of days go by, and the same thing happened. It kept happening.

So I told my brother about it, and he said the same would happen to him. The day that I moved out of that house, all of the nightmares of me having possessions and being haunted, and bad things happening to my family, and sleep paralysis, stopped. My brother tells me that he has them now. And most nights he won't sleep in the house. He'll go to my sister's house and sleep. Every time I go to my parents' house now, I go home with a giant migraine,

and I just feel like my entire energy is drained out of me. Hey, Raven. Your viewers seemed to like hearing about my night. night walks and sleepwalking experience, so I thought I would share something a little more recent. I posted some of this to Reddit a while back, but I figured that you and your viewers would like to hear it as well. My boyfriend and I moved into this apartment six years ago, and it's probably the strangest place that I've ever lived, even including the incidents in my childhood, which I'll submit at another date.

It's also a block away from a really famous cemetery. The first year that we lived here, we had this shadow, about cats-sized, that would dart back and forth between our room in the spare bedroom. The doors of those two rooms face each other, and the bathroom door is between those two doors, if anyone wants to know. So we would just see this tiny shadow figure dash past the lit bathroom multiple times a day or night. Then one day I was getting ready to store some stuff in the spare bedroom. I turned on the light and was shocked to see a young man laying on the bed. We made eye contact and he just vanished. Like blinked out of existence vanished.

After that, the shadow. never came back. The second year had quite a few events, which I can only attribute to ghosts or shadow people. For instance, I walked into our room and saw the shadow of a person cross the wall like they walked past our bedroom window. Except our apartment is on the second floor, with nothing but dead air outside our window.

No one could have been walking there. and that summer, my boyfriend went out of town, so I decided to shampoo the carpets and had moved all the furniture into the kitchen, with the only lamp in the apartment all the way in the back and not plugged in, of course, because it wouldn't need to be used. And I would have to climb over everything to get to it anyways. I had some snacks in the bedroom in case I got hungry. I didn't finish the carpet cleaning until about 1 a.m. Thankfully, I texted the neighbors about it and had permission to take as long as I needed. Exhausted, I took a shower, shut off all the lights, and climbed into bed.

I woke up at 8 a.m. to my bedside lamp. It's one of those desk lamps with the arm and all, inches from my face, and pointed directly at me. This was before we replaced all the bulbs with LEDs, so not only was it bright, but it was extremely hot. I moved it out of the way and got up to find that every single light in the house was on. Even the lamp that I couldn't reach had been plugged in and turned on. I shut off the lights that I could reach and then went to my sisters for a couple of days. When I came back, the lamp was off, but still mysteriously plugged in the same socket as the fridge. I moved the furniture back and things seemed normal for a while.

That winter, though, my boyfriend and I were woken up by a flashing light. We got out of bed to investigate and found that my bicycle light was turning itself on and off in the spare bedroom. Thinking it was malfunctioning, I took the batteries out and put it back on the bicycle. We got back in bed and the spare room started flashing again. This time it was the room light, and the bicycle light that didn't even have a battery. annoyed, I said, Knock it off. Got out of bed and took the bulbs out of both,

and then shoved them in a drawer. The next day, I put the bulbs back in, but the bicycle light wouldn't even turn on. The button wouldn't even click, so I just threw it away. The third and fourth year kind of blend together. We had some neighbors who were really loud and always negative. It seemed to attract things to our apartment.

We would have nightmares most nights, and wake up hearing something inhuman cackling about it. My boyfriend and I agree that this was some form of dream demon. I woke up one morning to voices in the room, sat up and realized it was a green ring of lights in the closet, speaking, and my boyfriend was saying the exact same thing that it was at the exact same time. I don't remember everything they said,

but I do remember that it rhymed. The bit that I do remember is, we the spirits of Earth and Sky, come to this world to die. Then, the last event that year was, once again, while my boyfriend was out of town. I woke up feeling like I wasn't alone in the room, so I sat up and looked around.

I saw a hand coming out from under the sheets and resting on my pillow in between me and the wall. I sleep on the wall side of the bed. I grabbed the hand, instinctually, I guess, and I watched the blankets move like something slithered down them and under the bed. The hand vanished, and I heard a voice say, huh? In a what-the-hell kind of tone.

Having had enough, I pulled the blankets over my head, ignored the rustling sounds coming from under the bed and just went back to sleep. Nothing happened the fifth year that we lived here, but this year we had my nephew staying in the spare room for a couple of months. When he moved out, he left the room an absolute mess. And my boyfriend and I spent a few hours cleaning it and had to throw away most of the bedding.

We also keep the litter boxes in that room, so my boyfriend cleaned them. We use these bags for the waste that are big enough for a small trash can, but are as sturdy as those black yard bags people use for leaves in the fall. Both litter boxes fill one of those pretty much all the way. My boyfriend set the bag down next to the front door, went to get the trash from under the kitchen sink to take them both out at the same time, and when he got to the door, the litter bag was gone.

He asked me if I moved it. I hadn't. We spent an hour looking for it, thinking maybe we'd misremembered. I don't know if that was the ghost helping us out, or if it was a glitch, but that bag of waste has not reappeared. And for those who might think that he took it out and forgot, our dumpster is half a block away, and my boyfriend was only out of my sight for less than a minute. Not enough time for him to have taken it out. and I checked the front step to see if he'd put it there as well.

So, yeah, this apartment is really strange. If anything else happens, I'll be sure to let you all know. This story is mine, sort of. But it's more my dad's. So the entire thing is based on what he's told me. I was there. I was just strapped into my little car seat in the back. and was obviously way too young to remember any of it.

He told me about this way later on in life, and honestly it was terrifying. It's probably why my dad has always been so protective of me and emphasized being alert and aware of your surroundings. Hell, when I turned 17, and I got my license, he always told me to take the main roads and to avoid backroads. From what my dad had told me, it was a pretty normal morning. He needed to go run some errands,

so he was taking me to my grandmother's house. I was just sitting in my car seat and watching the back window, as I always did, completely unaware of anything. He was driving down a relatively quiet road with trees on both sides. My grandma lived on the edge of a suburb, so there were a few spots that you had to go through

that weren't heavily incorporated. He was there, just cruising at speed, when a man jumped out of the woods and ran in front of my dad's car, flailing his arms wildly. Naturally, my dad slammed his brake, barely avoiding to hit this guy. He said that he could see that this guy looked terrified, like he was running from something or someone. But something about it didn't seem right.

Something about the situation was off. His instincts were screaming at him That this guy just wasn't some random dude running across the road The guy didn't say anything to my dad He just limped over to the side of the car And made the motion of rolling down the window My dad, curious as to what this guy's explanation was Cracked the window and asked if he was okay

The man didn't respond The two of them just stared at each other eye to eye for several silent seconds. My dad said that his heart was pounding and like his mind was saying, nah, get the hell out of there. He was prepared to drive off at the first sign of trouble,

and sure enough, trouble arrived. As soon as he turned to look back at the road, out of the corner of his eye, he saw two other figures starting to emerge from the undergrowth of the woods on the other side. Without hesitation, my dad stomped on the ground. gas. The car lurched forward, leaving the three strangers standing there in the middle of a dust

cloud that he'd kicked up. He said that he could see them in the rear view, and all three of them just stood there watching as he drove away. He didn't stop driving until we reached my grandmother's house, where he said that he called the cops to report the incident. He wasn't sure what they were planning, but he gave them the description of the man and the location. But the details were sparse. outside of that. We never did find out what happened in that situation, or what all that was. The police never called us back with any details, and my dad didn't press the issue. He was just happy to have avoided what was undoubtedly heading towards a dangerous situation.

Even today, years later, my dad sweats every time he tells this story, which really tells me how much it does scare him. My dad is a good guy. He'll stop and help people on the side of the road, but this was definitely a sobering reminder that some people will take advantage of those willing to stop. It's important to trust your instincts and be hyper-vigilance about your surroundings. This happened back in 1986

when I was working for a bank in the bookkeeping department in Richmond, Virginia. Where I worked in bookkeeping, was called statement rendering. We kept all the personal and corporate checks filed there. On the first and second of each month, we had to mail out, by hand, all of the corporate statements. Everyone in the department, no matter your regular job, had to help that day. And we sometimes didn't get out until eight or nine that night.

Usually, we got an hour for lunch, but on those days, we got 30 minutes. I can't remember the exact day the story takes place, but it was in 1986, right after we bombed Libya, so I'm thinking April or May. My friend, M, and I were discussing what to do for lunch, because, as I stated before, we only had 30 minutes that day. We decided on going to Popeyes because it wasn't too far away, and I thought we could make it in 30 minutes. So that's what we did. My friend was driving because I didn't have a car at the time, and I took the bus everywhere. The bus system in Richmond was really good. We got to Popeyes and got in line to order.

As we were standing there, a guy came in and got right behind us in line. He was staring a hole through me. I turned back and stared straight ahead. M and I kind of looked at each other with a... What's wrong with this guy? Look. We got our food and went to sit down. M sat down across from me and whispered that when I was going to sit down,

that guy's eyes followed me the whole time I was walking back to the table. That's when I started to get worried. He came and sat down at the table behind ours, and I was facing him. The whole time he just sat there and stared at me. I would try to sit so M's head was blocking his view of me, but he would just move over and continue to stare. We had to sit there and wait until he finally got up and left. After he got up and left, we laughed about it, but the laughter didn't last long. He didn't leave.

He was waiting for us in the parking lot in his car. As I stated before, this was right after we had bombed Libya, and he looked Middle Eastern, and I started thinking we were going to be kidnapped. We decided to walk back to where the arcade games were just to see if we were being paranoid, and we weren't. He drove over to where he knew we were. Now we started panicking. Our time for lunch was running out,

and we didn't want this guy following us back to work. So we went to the pay phone there, this was before cell phones, and we called our office to let them know what was going on. Our boss was at lunch, so we had to leave a message, and after that we stood there trying to decide what to do to lose this guy. The parking lot just had one row of spaces, and there was an entrance out to the main street, and another one in the back going out to a parking lot where there was a back way to work. By this time, he had pulled his car out and was facing the front entrance to the main road.

I told my friend to back up and go out the other way, through the same. that parking lot, and we can go the back way to work. That's what we did. We saw him zoom out the frontway and try to find out which way we went, but he never did. We got back to work late and told them what happened. They all burst out laughing. They said it sounded like something out of Miami Vice, and then I burst out crying. My friend yelled at them that there was nothing funny about this.

but that's my creepy encounter story. Thank you for listening. This is another story from my mom, though this time it's from when she was a teen. When my mom was around 15, she had lived in Germany for a few years. Her and her parents lived in a three-story old brick house, though this was a rental house,

which they were only going to be living in for a small amount of time. One night, when my mother was a little bit of time, When my mother went to bed, she tossed and turned, unable to go to sleep for some reason. She didn't know why, but she had a horrible gut feeling. She finally decided to sit up in her bed knowing that something was definitely wrong. Though before she decided to go to her parents' room, she sees a figure standing outside of her window. It was the outline of a man with the only thing that could be properly made out, was the fact that this man had red eyes.

My mother wanted to scream for a second, but then something hit her. Her room was on the third floor of the house. There was no way that anyone could be standing outside her window unless they had gotten a ladder and climbed it. But the noise surely would have woken the whole house up, if not at least she would have noticed. Something in my mother told her, not to get up, to just lay back down and pretend to be asleep, as if she didn't see anything.

As much as she wanted to go running to her parents' bedroom, something deep down was sending off alarms telling her not to. The whole night my mom laid in her bed unable to get up, but unable to fall asleep due to pure fear overtaking her. She waited until the sun was shining when she looked back over to the window, and the was no longer there. She sighed in relief, though she was still unable to go back to sleep, so she got up and walked to her parents' bedroom, where she woke them both up and told them what happened.

My grandfather, her dad, walked to my mom's room, though him and my grandmother didn't really believe my mom, thinking she was just having a bad dream or something. He told her it was nothing and that no one could have been at her window since they were so far up from the ground. My mom begged my grandparents to believe her, saying that she wasn't able to sleep all night, nor get up to tell the two of them, though they still didn't believe her. Two weeks go by, and my mother had only seen the man at her window five other times, though she felt like she was being constantly watched in the neighborhood.

She kept telling her parents, though each time they didn't believe her, saying that she was, was just imagining it. Then, whenever my grandparents were visiting with the next-door neighbor, my mother's so-called nightmares were brought up by my grandparents to the lady. The lady went pale as a ghost the moment my grandfather described the man that my mother had described to them time and time before in the last week. The lady said it was a spirit that's been around for decades, just standing outside of young girls' rooms watching them.

No one knew why or when the first time the spirit had arrived, but when it did, it never left. Most of the neighbors believed it to be an evil spirit that would prey on the young girls. And once it had its eyes on the next victim, the girl would go crazy seeing the man everywhere they go in the neighborhood. Though it was just a rumor. This was enough to make my grandparents freak out and move out of the rental as quickly as they could. which luckily was extremely quick, since they had just moved in and most of the boxes hadn't even been unpacked yet. This had to be one of the more creepy stories that my mom has told me. Though many people wouldn't see it as too bad, my mom was terrified.

Even when telling the story, which she won't often do, you can tell that she still gets freaked out. In 2020, at the beginning of COVID, I had just given birth. At this time, I could only have one other person in the room with me my entire stay at the hospital. Of course, my kid's father was there, but the third day, he left to clean up our house and get everything prepared for me and the baby. I had gotten sick and had a C-section, so I had to stay for about four to five days. Well, while he was away, a nurse named Kelly said that she would be helping me throughout the day and spending time with me so I didn't feel lonely while Dad was gone. I couldn't really hold my baby due to me being sick and the pain from the C-section,

so my nurses would come in every time it was time to feed. I noticed when they came in they wouldn't acknowledge Kelly, and she would go to the furthest part of the room and would tell me, I'm just going to get out of the way. Now, she did tell me that she didn't specialize in what they did, so she was just for comfort. So I didn't really question anything. The entire day, she was so helpful and encouraging to me,

I really believed that I would have broken down if she wasn't in there with me. She was such a sweetheart. Well, after about five or six hours, she told me that she had to leave, and that she would come to visit me before her shift was over to see how I was doing. She hugged me and blew a kiss at my baby and then walked out of the room. Later that night, Dad came back and he was very upset.

He told me some stuff happened with his mom and that he was sorry he took so long. I was upset, but I told him that a nurse named Kelly kept me company. As I'm telling him about her, my nurse is changing my sheets and she's like, who's Kelly? I explained and she said that nobody named Kelly was in my room or working that day. So, I instantly thought about those women who would pretend to be nurses and kidnap children.

But my nurse told me that I may just be hallucinating, and she told my doctor. I talked to my doctor and he said the same thing. A couple of hours later, a nurse that I didn't recognize came into my doctor. room and said, I know this might sound crazy, but everyone on the floor is talking about you seeing Kelly? And I said, yeah, she was here with me for like seven hours today. She helped out a lot. We're smiling and laughing while I was telling her about Kelly and how sweet and funny she was. And then she pulled up her phone and showed me a picture of her and Kelly that looked to be like it was in the early 2000s.

I was smiling, knowing that I wasn't hallucinating. Then, she sat down and told me that Kelly died over ten years ago due to domestic violence from her boyfriend. I wasn't too shocked because my entire life I've been dealing with the paranormal, but I got chills because I never had an encounter this deep. Well, the lady gave me a hug and started crying, saying, Now I know that she is okay.

Ever since that day, I've been wondering, why did Kelly come into my room to help me? And I kind of wish that I could see her again. A friend of mine and I decided to have a girl's day out. Life was just starting to go back to normal, or so I thought, after all the COVID shutdowns. I noticed my friend was acting a little different towards me, not in a bad way, but different.

nonetheless. We stop at a store and a man walks up behind me. He insisted on paying for my purchase, which was only two small items. I thanked him but declined the offer. He appeared visibly upset and then asked if he could at least carry it to the car for me. Again, I declined.

We later stopped at a very busy restaurant. My friend tells me that people are staring at me like crazy. I then began to notice that she was right. As we were leaving the restaurant, a man approaches me and asked if I dined there often. I told him that I stop in every chance that I get. He then says that he looked forward to seeing me again. I walked to the register and tell the cashiers that the man was so nice. They were both looking very confused.

They told my friend and I that that man was actually the owner, and they had never seen him do that in all the years that they had worked for him. My friend and I got in the car to leave, and she said that something creepy was going on. I kind of chuckled, but she had a serious look on her face that I didn't understand, at the time at least. We then stop at a Walmart, and men start following me around. Two of them almost got into a fight over who would get some... chips off the shelf that I had reached for. I walk over to my friend who, of course, witnessed that scene, and we laughed it off.

I tell her that it would be nice if one of the men would have been a Lenny Kravitz look-like. Then, I swear to you, we round the aisle, and there stands a man who looks identical to Lenny, with the exception of being a little bit taller. My friend then says that that was insane, and I had to agree. I was looking through the sail rack when an elderly lady approached me. She was just absolutely darling, and she had the sweetest smile. The lady looked to me in her late 80s, and she told me that she had been hoping to see me again before she was gone from this world. She said that she'd been waiting since she was a child.

Of course, that wouldn't have been possible as she was much older than I was. A much younger lady who was accompanying her tells me that the lady is her grandmother and that she kept talking about hoping to see me again. Okay, so at that point my friend and I are ready to get out of there. As we're on our way home, my friend suddenly asks me if I remember a classmate of ours passing away about ten years ago.

I tell her, of course I do. Not only was he a friend, but he was also living with my sister's best friend when he passed. My friend had the spookiest look on her face, and then tells me that our classmate is now still alive. And, apparently, according to his Facebook, had never been with my sister's boyfriend. She pulls over to the side of the road and shows me his Facebook.

I went into complete shock. My friend then looks at me and asks, What are you? This all happened about two years ago, and it still gives me anxiety to this day when it's mentioned. To start, I'm 31 and male. The first event happens around 15 years ago. My grandpa had kind of an old-timey gangster vibe. Nice suit, fedoras, clean cut.

I was super interested in history as a kid. Grandpa was a Navy World War II vet, so me and him got along really. well. We used to hang out for hours reading or watching World War II history and building models. My parents named me after him, and I've just always felt close to him. He passed away when I was around 15. It hurt my dad and I pretty bad. I have five siblings that didn't seem to care much about it, but it was crushing for my dad and I. So we really built a bond through it all. So one day my dad brings home a home. bunch of my grandpa's old clothes.

He was a pretty wealthy guy and had a ton of really nice clothes. My dad lays piles and piles of clothes on his bed, telling me that I can look through them and have whatever I want. We hang out for a bit, looking at them, and then he leaves to go get more stuff. I'm trying on different suits, looking at myself in the big mirror in my parents' bathroom. Eventually, I put on one that just kind of feels different. Dark brown tweed, brass trims. I found it in this old canvas bag.

It's big, but I felt really cool. I get the pants, vest, and jacket on and walk into the bathroom. Getting adjusted while standing in front of the mirror, I look down at the hat for a second and then look back at the mirror. Time feels like it takes. totally stand still. I'm looking at myself in the mirror, but it's not me. I know that I'm in my parents' bathroom looking at myself in the mirror, but it's not my reflection.

It's my grandpa looking back at me in the mirror. I've never seen a picture of him when he was young, but I knew that it was him. It felt a little eerie at first, almost like I was trapped or being watched. Then, I felt this kind of brushing pressure on my chest, like someone was wiping dirt off the lapels of the suit. I felt this wave of calm come over me. I felt like he was there with me straightening the suit up to make sure that I look good. I couldn't help but just stare at the reflection. I don't know how to explain it, but it just felt really nice.

Then, it was just gone. I felt shocked for a moment and then just really sad and couldn't fight the tears from coming. I found out eventually from my grandma that he had bought that suit as a present to himself when he started his business after he got out of the Navy. Apparently he hadn't worn it for years until he had it tailored to wear to my baptism. To her memory, he put it in a canvas bag after and she hadn't seen him wear it since. I felt it again on my wedding day. Getting adjusted in the mirror, being nervous.

I felt that pressure on my chest again. Just a gentle sense of calm. It felt like he was there with me. Was wearing a different suit, but I still felt it. I didn't need that shot of whiskey I was about to take and went on to have one of the best days of my life. I still have it. It didn't fit me until I was in my mid-20s, and I've had it tailored a few times now, but I wear it whenever I get the chance.

Okay, time for another story that is unrelated to my previous story. I was recounting an incident that happened to me over a decade ago to the same friend. I told him how when I was young I would often have alien abduction dreams, and I would lay awake in bed with the feeling of a presence in the room. This would happen on occasion as an adult as well. I'd be paralyzed by fear and be afraid to look at where I felt this presence was staring at me. Later, as an adult, I wake up and I find the most stereotypical gray alien standing at the edge of my bed and looking at me. I immediately jump up and punch it in the face.

The punch never connects, and it disappears. I figure, oh, I guess it was just a hypnipompic hallucination. I've never had such a large and detailed visual hypnipompic hallucination, but was familiar with the concept, and I don't have much reason to think it was anything else. A hypnipompic hallucination, for those that don't know, is a hallucination had when you're waking up, but not completely awake, and dream content can spill into your perception of,

reality. Hypnagogic is basically the same thing except when falling asleep, for anyone interested in that little piece of trivia. So, my friend asks what I mean by stereotypical gray, and if I could be more specific or maybe find a picture. I think this will be easy. I've seen pictures of this particular type of gray exactly as I saw it all over the internet. And that's probably how the idea of this alien got into my mind. However, I cannot find anything that looks quite

like what I saw. I remember seeing the stereotypical alien being all over the net. But the closest images, or drawings or whatever that I look up, at the closest, look two steps away from what I remember greys looking like. Like, they're all

based on the grays that I remember, but trying to change things to be original. I suppose since this one is just me, it can be easily written off as a memory issue, but I remember it so clearly, and seeing the depictions so often. Anyways, good news, since I jumped up and punched that thing in the face, real or not, I've never felt the presence in the room again. I'm not scared of what might lurk in the dark.

If I wake up to an intruder or presence in my room, room, alien or otherwise, my fight or flight or freeze response is no longer freeze. The default is fight, and I feel much more at ease laying in bed in the dark because of this. So, I'm 15, and tonight I saw something. I think I saw something that reminded me of something else that I saw a few years ago, and I wanted to share it here. First, I think I should say what I believe I saw tonight. It's summer, and it's fairly hot,

and we're doing some cleaning and packing, so my sister and I, we share a room, have been sleeping in the living room, and I was getting back from the bathroom and heading into the living room. We were watching the Muppet show with my sister, and when I walked past my bedroom door, it was cracked open. but I swear that it was shut before and I think I saw a pale white face through it

I think like Marinate from Fnaff having hollow dark eyes and a big hollow smile just without the red cheeks, purple tears and lipstick it reminded me of a few summers ago I don't think it was many years ago just like 2020 or 2021 I was sleeping in the living room by myself to have some space from my sister, I believe. I was catching up on amphibia, which is a cartoon that I like,

and while the next episode was loading, I went to get a snack. I got myself some dry fruit loops because they taste better dry. Then I walked back to the living room. Now, how my apartment is set up, the living room and kitchen have no doors. There's just a part of a wall that divides the rooms. So there's the living room, the dining room in the kitchen, and the dining room is the room that you walk into when you go inside the apartment. It's the room you have to walk through to get into any other room.

Depending on where in the living room you are, you can see all or most of the dining room and have a direct view of the path to the front door. And when I walked back to the living room, I felt that feeling of having eyes on me. I quickly turned around and saw what looked like a woman. She was in a long white dress, maybe a wedding dress from what I remember. The bottom of the dress seemed more white,

and then the higher up on the body, I guess, it began to blur more, and where the head would be was like faded out. It was coming towards me, and I very quickly turned away and closed my eyes. When I looked back, she was gone. I've seen other white blurs and shadows as well as seeing and hearing other things, and my siblings have too,

so I wouldn't be surprised if my apartment was haunted. But although I remember these other experiences, I only have three that I think really stuck with me, one being the person in the dress. But since it's stuck with me, I'm curious. Does anyone know who the lady in the dress might be? Is it a good spirit? I don't know if I've seen her again or not,

but I remember that one time where I know that I did so well. I'm a long-time listener and first-time submit her. Let me first say that I have witnessed more than a few paranormal experiences in my 62 years on this earth. But this particular incident is a head-scratcher. as I was not physically present when it occurred. My wife and I own two horses who were once abandoned by their previous owners. For the last 10-plus years, we've spent considerable time getting them happy and healthy.

I'm a retired law enforcement officer, and my wife is currently working. As such, I spend almost every day at the barn where our horses, Romeo and Susie, presently bored. even though the barn provides a stall cleaner whom I will call Jay. I choose to clean my horse's stalls. It's good old-fashioned work that feeds the soul. I did miss a day last week, so Jay cleaned the stalls for me. When I arrived at the barn the following day, I was greeted by Jay, who proceeded to tell me about his lucky poker hand

that netted $490. In the middle of his tail, he stopped and shockingly stared at me. Jay proceeded to tell me the following story. Jay said he was cleaning Susie's stall when he heard Romeo, who was in the adjacent stall, start to stir. Next, Jay said that he heard my loud, distinct whistle from close proximity to where he was cleaning. Simultaneously, Romeo excitedly cried out for me. The only problem was that I wasn't there and neither was anyone else in the barn.

Jay was puzzled. There was no way that someone could have whistled that loud from such a close area, and then exit the barn in such a quick fashion. Jay canvassed the area directly in and around the barn, without seeing anyone, nor were there any cars in the dirt parking lot some 50 yards away. When I go to the barn, it is rare that anyone but Jay is there. Most people ride late afternoon after work, and when I offered possible explanations,

Jay waved me off with, If Romeo didn't cry, maybe I could say that I imagined it. But nobody but you has that whistle, and only Romeo responds to it. It was a human whistle, not a whistle coming from a pipe or a machine. I looked and looked, but I didn't find anything. I should note that Jay is a very spiritual and practical person, not prone to messing with people or exaggeration. We do have peacocks around the area who are quite noisy, but when I offered that as a possibility,

Jay just shook his head and said, No, they don't sound like your whistle. I didn't think much about it until later that evening. Could it be some form of audio energy being released at my usual arrival time? Because I whistle every time I approach Romeo's stall? I just don't know, but what I've learned during my lifetime, is that there are things that just cannot be explained. They are so-called horse whisperers.

Maybe there are horse whistlers as well. I would love to hear if anyone else has experienced a mysterious whistling. Okay, so this all started when I moved to my apartment a few years ago. And just so everyone knows, I have a cat and a dog. But I got my cat in 2020, and I moved into my cat. to the apartment in 2019. So, first, when I moved in, nothing really happened. Other than hearing meows and when asking if anyone else heard them too, they would all say no.

Most of this stuff takes place in 2022 and 2023, because those are where the experiences were at their fullest. So, first, I would hear cat footsteps when my cat wasn't near. I would hear them under the bed, and when I checked under the bed, there would be nothing there. And no, it can't be my dog, because my dog's footsteps are way louder, and she was in my bed anyways. I would see a shadow of a cat randomly, and once I heard the sound of a cat playing with something, which I'm used to, as my cat is very energetic, and plays with almost anything. and I was home alone, so I thought it was my cat. It was in my big brother's room, just so you know, which is across the hall.

I looked beside me, and then I saw my cat, so she wasn't in that room. She was just sitting down on the floor. I thought maybe my dog had somehow done it, but it couldn't be her as she was on my lap at the time. So, I gathered the courage I had. to walk over there with my pets, of course. But when I checked under the bed, which was where the sound was coming from, there was nothing there. I would hear random meows from random places that nobody else could hear. I think I even saw the cat.

It was a black and white cat. This isn't the only paranormal experience. My brother has also had some, but this is just the one that I can't really explain. I would also hear a cat jumping on to the bed. Once, I even saw the cats, so I know that it wasn't mine. My cat is black and gray with only a little bit of white. Even if I was hearing and seeing things, well, that wouldn't be possible for what happened a few months ago. A few months ago, I was sitting on my bed on my phone.

I then felt my cat climbing on top of me, which she does often. so I thought it was my cat, as I felt the weight of her and felt her getting on top of me. I looked up and saw nothing. There was nothing there. I only felt the cat getting on me, not getting off, and I would see my cat in the corner of my eye if she had jumped off, so this just can't be explained. It's very weird that I would always hear the meows,

and even see my cat meowing at night. nothing while looking up. I would always hear my cat's footsteps when she wasn't there and even see the shadow of the cat, or the cat itself, and I know that I felt it. I don't know what's going on. I don't know whose cat it is, nor do I know why only I can hear it and see it. I've been babysitting for this family for two years now. The kids are too great. girls. A is 10 and Y is 7. This happened around September of last year. The family lives on the countryside with some horses and a farm about a five-minute walk away. There are other houses nearby, too. On this particular night, it was a little rainy and Y was fast asleep while I was struggling

getting A into her bed. It was around 10 p.m. and her mom was due back soon, so I was aware that she'd be annoyed if she was still awake. A. asked for a bedtime story, which I was happy to do. She climbed into the bed, and the family dog decided to join her and jumped up into the bed, too. Around 20 minutes later, A. was getting pretty close to falling asleep when I heard the sound of the front door opening, followed by the inner bootroom door opening too, which had a distinctive squeaking sound. I sighed knowing that she was back and A wasn't asleep, so she'd be annoyed with A. Although when I checked my phone, I noticed that she was about 25 minutes early, which is strange of her.

The dog instantly jumped off the bed and ran downstairs barking, which in turn caused A to sit up and ask, ask, is that mummy? I assured her it was okay and to lay back down as I knew she was pretty much about to fall asleep. Which she did. I got up and started walking out of her room to cross the landing to the stairs. Only the top of the stairs are visible from the area that I was standing. Before I could make it to the top of the stairs, I heard the sound of the mum's voice calling up. Hello?

From the bottom of the stairs. She said it in a whisper, so I replied whispering, Hi. Although, when I got to the top of the stairs, I peered down, and there was no one there. Just a weird, silence slash emptiness. I slowly walked down and looked around all the rooms, but with no sign to the mum or anyone, for that matter, the door was still locked and their dog was now laying down by it. Trying not to freak out, I unlocked the door expecting to see her car or a neighbor or something,

but there was no one there. I even checked in on why, but she was still asleep. I could not find a cause of all this. No intruders, no TV's on, and no one was downstairs when it happened. Their mom arrived back 20 minutes after this, and I told her about what happened. She was shocked and a little scared, but assured me that she had not come back early and left again. Like, I'd convinced myself what had happened. A, thankfully, didn't remember any of this the next morning.

As I expected, she was half asleep when she asked, is that mummy? I really just don't know what to think about this situation. Strange things have happened before here. Random noises, footsteps, etc. but nothing as real and scary as this. Anyone have any thoughts? When I was about 10 years old, we were living in a horseshoe-shaped housing estate.

One way in, same way out. As you first came into the street, there were bungalows, maybe five or six with elderly residents, and then family homes after that. One of the older residents was a lady called Ms. Green. She was the grandmother of my school friend who did not live in that estate. One afternoon, my sister and I, she was a year older than me, came walking up the hill and into the estate coming home from school.

Ms. Green was standing on the little path that led to her door, looking very distressed. We asked her if she was okay. She said, I can't get back into my house. I asked if she had lost her kid. and she replied, No, I just can't get back in. She was holding a small clip purse, wallet in America,

and she opened it. There was a small amount of change in it, and on top of the change was a single key. I lifted it out and asked her if that was her front door key. She replied with, Yes, please, will you help me get back in? We said, of course, and walked up her path. I was a bit worried.

about her as she was acting so strange. My sister put the key in the door and turned it, and just then, the lady from across the road shouted, Get away from there, what are you doing? You're morbid. We turned to look at her, and I said that we were just helping Miss Green. I looked back to see that she must have already gone back into the house, so we left and went home.

I asked my mom what morbid meant, and told her what happened. and she said that Miss Green had gone out back the night before to get coal for the fire all the houses had coal fires it was Ireland in the 70s and she had slipped and fallen outside the back door and was unable to move her body had been found that morning she died mostly from the cold but she'd also damaged her hip in the fall This one was a bit unnerving, but not really terrifying. We've had weird experiences in our house for many years. In fact, I've smudged the house twice since the activity began.

It worked, but eventually it would always start back up, but be different. I attribute this to the fact that I'm a home improvement contractor and have strange experiences in people's homes all the time. Anyway, the other day I was down in my basement switching out laundry. My washer and dryer are at the very bottom of the stairs near my boiler and hot water heater. I put a load of clothes in the dryer, started it, and went back upstairs. As I reached the top of the stairs, I heard a loud metallic bang, as if something heavy fell and hit the dryer. I went back down thinking I had knocked something over when I left,

but could find nothing out of place. I looked around for a minute or two, and finding nothing, I blew it off and went back upstairs. When I reached the top of the stairs, I was about to open the door and walk into my kitchen when I heard it again, the loud, metallic bang, the exact same sound that I'd heard earlier.

Now I'm starting to freak out a little. I thought maybe I put something in the dryer that could cause the noise, so I went back down, opened up the dryer, and looked through the clothes, but found nothing. I restarted the dryer and waited a good four to five minutes looking around for something that could have caused the noise, and I found nothing. The noise did not happen after I restarted the dryer. Now, I'm thinking it could be a spirit messing with me. We had our house read last year, and the sensitive told us that we had two spirits that resided in.

in our basement. One was an old man who hung out over by my little workshop on the opposite end of the basement, and the other was a little boy who resided in the area near the washer and dryer, where we store all of our clothes. Thinking the boy was playing games with me, I spoke out loud to the empty room and basically said that I was okay with sharing the house with spirits, as long as they meant no harm to me or my family, and that if they meant to scare or terrorize anyone, that they were not welcome and would have to leave.

I turned around and went back upstairs, and the noise hasn't happened again. Was it a ghost? I have no idea. But it stopped when I asked it to, and I still have yet to find something that could have caused that banging noise. This is a ghost story, I guess. If I'm being honest, I'm not really sure myself. For a little backstory, it was my 13th birthday, and me and my friends were going to hang out all day,

and then they were going to stay the night. My grandparents had a huge farm, so, of course, we were all going to stay there. The girls would sleep with me in the camper, and the boys would sleep in the house about 80 to 90 feet away from us. There were four girls, including myself, and then the boys. We decided that we would play hide-and-seek at night before we would hit the sack. Boys were finders, girls were hiders.

We decided to hide in the far back of the land, where there were tractor parts and such. Now, right beside us was a driveway in the woods that wasn't ever really used. This driveway also led to the road about a mile away. So we got quiet, and of course the adjutant. adrenaline was already high from the excitement of hiding. Everything was still except for the crickets. Then, as if we were in a movie, loud thumping footsteps rang through the woods right on the driveway that I was talking about.

We froze. The boys were on the other side of the land by the farms, so there was no way that it was them. And there was no way to warn them. It was about 30 minutes before the boys made their way over, which is when the footsteps stopped. We were all freaking out as we tried to tell the boys, but they didn't care, and then they went to the house to sleep.

So, as shook up as we were, we went to our little camper and settled in. Now, the other girls fell asleep quickly, but I stayed up because, well, I'm almost an insomniac. It was maybe one in the morning, and I started staring at the camper ceiling, when the footsteps were thumping again, but this time it got a lot closer. I looked out the camper window, which luckily had blinds that were thin, to see a silhouette. I stopped completely and stared at this thing, and then it spoke in a gravelly voice. It said, you better be careful next time. I will admit that I was crying from fear, but I'm not going to let this person play with me like this,

so I opened the blinds just to see nothing. It was completely empty. I thought I was going insane until I heard the footsteps walking away and a very low giggle. Not like a kid giggling, but like a man giggling. I never spoke of this to anyone, because, well, who was going to listen to a 13-year-old? Recently, I've mentioned to my mother about my interest in paranormal

experiences, which I then asked her if she'd had any. She replied with a few stories, but one stuck out to me. The story begins with toddler me eating breakfast and my mother in the kitchen. I turned to her and asked, Mommy, can you make that cat stop staring at me? At the time, we had a cat named Piper, so she thought I was talking about, well, Piper. She told me that she can't do anything. about Piper looking at me, and I responded, Not Piper, the white and orange cat.

This got her confused. We didn't have a white and orange cat. She asked me what I was talking about, and I said, you know, the cat right there. And then I pointed to the couch. She didn't see anything. Later, out of curiosity, she asked our neighbors about the cat that I saw. They told her that they did have a cat, but the only white and orange one they've ever owned had passed away.

So, my mother and I think that I saw our neighbor's dead cat. Hi, Raven. My name is Briley White, and I'm a big fan, but anyways, I lived in a haunted house, and in my basement I had one of the creepiest things happened to me. So me and my brother were sleeping in my basement, and he went to sleep around 11 o'clock. So I was up alone, and I'm sitting watching TV, and then it randomly turns off. So it was pitch black. I did have a phone, but I didn't have internet.

So I was sitting there, and all of a sudden, I heard someone or something run up my stairs. I heard that for about an hour and then it stopped. So I was kind of freaked out. Then I heard the door to the garage slam open and then shut. I froze in fear. It was close to Halloween and we had decorations out. And we had this bowl where if you'd stick your hand inside of it, it would go off. And I heard that go off.

I don't know how to explain it, but it's... It was like a cold wind ran through me. Then I got on my phone and went on Netflix, and, like I said, I didn't have any internet. So I went to my downloads on Netflix, and it was all horror movies. I turned off my phone and rolled over, and I felt something touched me on my back. It was like seven or eight in the morning, and it was just now getting light outside, so I ran upstairs as quickly as I could. I was in total fear.

I've told some people about it, and nobody believes me, but that's my story. And I'll probably come in here and tell another one later.