Horror Stories - 5 PARANORMAL STORIES | True Creepy Encounters You Won’t Forget

Episode Date: October 23, 2025

☕ Support the show, send your own horror stories, and help shape future episodes. 🎧 Join the darkness here: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://buymeacoffee.com/horrorstoriesnetwork⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ [e-mail] Real Fear Uncovered: 5 PARANORMAL STORIES That Will Chill You. Paranormal encounters are some of the most haunting and unforgettable experiences people can face. In this video, we bring you five terrifying true stories of supernatural events that defy explanation. From eerie figures in the night to strange noises and ghostly presences, these chilling tales will make you question the unknown. Perfect for fans of horror, creepy tales, and real-life supernatural accounts. Turn off the lights, put on your headphones, and prepare for a spine-tingling journey into the paranormal. #ParanormalStories #TrueScaryStories #HorrorStories #CreepyEncounters #SupernaturalTales #HauntedStories #RealParanormal #DisturbingStories #ScaryStories #CreepyTales 5 paranormal stories, paranormal true stories, creepy paranormal encounters, supernatural horror stories, paranormal tales real, paranormal experiences true accounts, paranormal creepy real life, disturbing paranormal stories, paranormal ghost encounters, supernatural chilling stories, real scary paranormal events, true horror paranormal stories, paranormal creepy tales, paranormal real supernatural events, real haunted paranormal stories, chilling paranormal experiences, paranormal unexplained true stories, paranormal night encounters, true paranormal ghost stories, paranormal activity real accounts, scary supernatural tales, paranormal experiences that terrify, paranormal creepy real experiences, supernatural haunting stories, terrifying paranormal encounters, paranormal unexplained horror, real paranormal activity stories, creepy ghost paranormal tales, paranormal scary true events, supernatural real paranormal cases, haunted paranormal horror stories, paranormal life stories true, real creepy paranormal experiences, paranormal ghostly encounters Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Please gamble responsibly. Monopoly is a trademark of Hasbro. Hasbro is not a sponsor of this promotion. Hello everyone and welcome back to horror stories. I know many of you use these episodes to fall asleep so before you drift off, I'd love it if you could leave a comment letting me know where you're listening from around the world. Also, don't forget to like and subscribe if you're enjoying the episodes. Story one, these two experiences happened only a month apart.

The first one happened to my brother-in-law and the second one I experienced myself. So here goes the whole story. It was the year 2007. At that time, my sister and her husband were living in the same mobile home I shared with my mother. I was in high school back then. One Saturday night, while my brother-in-law was working a security shift, my sister and I went with my mom to a church service. Those meetings usually lasted until around 8 or 8.30 p.m.,

so we would almost always return home around 9. That night, when we arrived, we noticed something strange. Usually my brother-in-law was already inside waiting for us, but this time we found him outside, standing alone with a look on his face as if he had seen a ghost. As we pulled into the carport, I noticed all the lights in the house were off. As soon as we got out, he raised his hand, pointed at the house, and with a trembling voice said, I'm not going in there alone. We asked him what had happened, and this is what he told us.

When I got home and was walking through the carport about to go inside, I heard what sounded like a group of people talking and laughing inside the house. I also heard silverware and plates, like a dinner or a gathering, but all the lights were off. I thought you were playing a prank on me. I walked up the steps, pulled out my key, and could still hear the muffled voices, the laughter, and even music. But the moment I put the key in the lock, I heard someone clearly say, shh. And instantly everything went dead silent, like someone had flipped a switch.

I opened the door and suddenly heard what sounded like a stampede of people running to the far end of the house. At that point I began to suspect it wasn't a prank, but maybe someone had broken in and was trying to escape before being caught. So I ran to the back to intercept them at the back door, but when I got there, there was no sound at all. I thought maybe they were still inside trying to avoid me. So I ran back to the front, opened the door and went inside. The house was dark and completely silent. I turned on all the lights, checked every room, and didn't find anything out of place. There were no signs that anyone had been there.

That's when I ran outside and waited for you to come back. A month later in the same house, the second thing happened. That night my mom had gone out. I don't remember exactly where. And my sister and brother-in-law were out on a date. Around that time, Halo 3 had just been released and my brother-in-law had been released and my brother-in-law kept his Xbox in his room. Before leaving, I begged him to let me play while he was gone, and he finally agreed, though reluctantly. So I was left completely alone in the house. I turned

on all the lights in the house for obvious reasons, but when I went into his room, I turned them off, leaving only the glow from the television to fully enjoy the video game experience. While I was playing, I clearly felt someone walking inside the house. In a mobile home, you can feel every movement, so I paused the game and just listened. After a few seconds of silence, I decided to speak. Hello? But no one answered. I went back to playing, convinced I had imagined the noise. A little later out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow moving under the crack of the door. I paused again and stared at it, just as the shadow moved away. My first thought was that someone had come home early, so I called out again, but still no one answered. By then,

Then I was getting uneasy, sitting in that dark room trying to catch any sound. Suddenly I heard something unmistakable. The refrigerator door opening. Everyone knows that sound. I got up, opened the bedroom door, and looked toward the kitchen. The refrigerator was closed, but the kitchen light was now off. In fact, all the lights on the left side of the house had mysteriously gone out. At that moment, panic set in.

I thought maybe it was an intruder. I walked slowly toward the living room, keeping an eye on the dark dining room, and turn the TV volume up to full blast. Then I turned the kitchen light back on, which partially lit up the dining room, and immediately switched on the dining room light too. I ran into the middle of the room yelling, hoping to scare whoever was there. But there was no one. I ran through the house banging on doors and shouting, checking every corner. I found nothing. All the windows and doors were locked.

there was no way anyone could have opened the refrigerator and then escaped without me seeing them. I went back to my brother-in-law's room, locked the door, cranked the TV volume all the way up, and kept playing Halo 3 until my mom came home. I knew that our landlord's parents had died in that house of natural causes. The kitchen and dining room were exactly the places where the most activity was reported. Before all this, I didn't really believe in ghosts or evil entities. but the weight of the experience is very convincing. Story two.

Who doesn't enjoy a good ghost story, especially around Christmas time? I've gone through countless accounts of the paranormal and the supernatural and internet articles and TV shows. I speak from experience when I say that until it happens to you, it's hard to believe these stories. I openly admit that some sound more believable than others, and that many circulating today are nothing more than made up nonsense. That said, I'm not so. I ask the listener to keep an open mind. My intention in sharing this story is not to convince anyone of the existence of the

paranormal, but simply to recount what I lived through. Perhaps someone in the audience has gone through something similar and may find comfort in knowing they are not alone, and that there are things science cannot always explain. I must warn you, things will get pretty intense. When I was in law school, my professor used to say, Sometimes it's hard to remain objective and in subjective reality that becomes even harder. I couldn't agree more. I come from a wealthy family.

My grandfather was the co-founder of one of the largest pharmaceutical companies in Canada. My father followed in his footsteps and eventually became the CEO when my grandfather could no longer run the company. I won't dwell too much on this, but that circumstance influenced my decision to study law. I love my family, but I'm not blind to the unfair practice. as big pharmaceutical companies often engage in, and my family's company was no exception. That's why I chose to become a labor lawyer. I wanted to protect the little guy

from being crushed by large corporations. I like to think that in some cases I made a difference, though I won't lie, the good guys don't always win. But this story isn't about that. Sorry if I sound like I'm giving a lecture. I just wanted you to know a little more about me before we get to what happened. Let's go back to the winter of 1985, late December, right at Christmas.

As I mentioned earlier, my grandfather founded his company in Canada, but my father was born in New England, and that's where my sister and I grew up. Every year my father and grandfather went hunting in New York on a property upstate. My grandparents owned an old mansion, and that's where we spent most of our Christmases. That mansion was enormous, three stories tall with a fountain at the end. and surrounded entirely by dense forest. I don't remember the full history of the place, but I know that during colonial times it served as a hospital,

and many people died there due to the lack of medical knowledge back then. As you can imagine, ghost stories abounded. Still, my sister and I didn't pay much attention. We were more interested in playing hide-and-seek or chasing each other through the endless hallways. The mansion's basement was huge. My grandparents stored antiques and furniture there that had been collected over the years.

We were strictly forbidden to enter, since our parents feared we might hurt ourselves or break something valuable. But naturally, the curiosity of two mischievous kids always found ways to tempt fate. Every time we were left alone, we tried to open the door leading to the basement, but we never had any luck.

It was always locked. That turned into a kind of game. We roamed the house like little detectives, searching for the magic key that would grant us access to the forbidden place. Everything changed in the winter of 1985. My father and grandfather were away hunting, as they did every year. My mother and grandmother had gone Christmas shopping in town.

I was 15 years old, and my sister Natalia was 12. We were old enough to be left alone in the mansion. Although we no longer played hide and seek, the curiosity about the basement was still there. We took the opportunity and headed to the door. We expected to find it locked as always, but when I turned the cold metal knob, this time it opened with a creak. I flipped a switch on the wall, and a single bulb dimly lit the start of the wooden staircase leading down into the darkness. I looked at my sister. Her face showed the same astonishment as mine.

After so many failed attempts, we were finally going to discover what was down there. We went down slowly, stumbling in the shadows, until frustration began to outweigh fear. We couldn't find another switch to light the rest of the basement. Natalia ran upstairs to grab a couple of flashlights from our bags. She came back shortly and with the beams of light we began to explore. The place looked like something out of a movie, a sea of furniture and objects covered with white sheets, like that scene in the others.

We pulled the sheets off the ones with the most striking shapes, but most were just chairs, tables, and old shelves. Things we didn't know how to appreciate us. at the time. At the back we found a hallway that stretched about 30 feet before ending abruptly in a wall. The structure was odd as if they had bricked up a corridor halfway through. At the end there was something large hanging on the wall, covered with a dirty sheet. We approached intrigued. On the ceiling there was a lamp with its own switch. I flipped it and the hallway lit up. Together we pulled the sheet away, revealing a huge mirror with a carved worn frame,

stained and cracked glass. It looked more like junk than an antique. But soon we discovered that this mirror was anything but ordinary. Natalia bent down to tie her shoe while I stood facing the mirror. At first I had trouble making out my reflection until with horror I clearly saw an old man staring at me from the other side. I dropped the flashlight in shock and fell backward. My sister noticed my expression and asked what was wrong. I saw an old man in the mirror. I swear to God, I told her. She quickly stood up and looked straight at the glass. Immediately she froze, trembling from head to toe. I got back up and looked again. Now I only saw our normal reflections, aside from Natalia's terrified face. I placed a hand on her shoulder to ask if she

was okay, but before I could say anything, she let out a blood-curdling scream so loud I thought the mirror would shatter. She ran up the stairs crying uncontrollably. I turned off the stairs. I turned off the light and followed her. That night Natalia cried in her bed without stopping, and from then on she was never the same. She became cold, distant, and that attitude lasted for years. As she grew older, she became bitter toward everyone and began to suffer from night terrors. She would always wake up screaming in front of the mirror on her vanity. I knew that what she had seen in that old basement mirror was the source of it all. What I witnessed was terrifying, but over time I managed to forget it. What she saw, however, was so horrible that it scarred her forever. Every time I tried to

bring it up, she would silence me immediately, even threatening to kill me in my sleep if I mentioned it again. Once I dared to tell my parents, but all they did was scold me for going into the basement. Nevertheless, they too noticed Natalia's strange behavior. She soon began attending therapy and was later diagnosed with schizophrenia. Her night terrors worsened, and she started sleepwalking. stopping in front of mirrors around the house to stare at herself for hours before screaming. As a child, she had been good at drawing. Before that day in the mansion, she drew our family, flowers or little birds. Afterwards, she began drawing a deformed woman with half of her face destroyed.

Her mental health kept deteriorating. They put her on all kinds of medications that stopped the screaming but reduced her to a shadow of herself, barely able to sit still, staring into the void. It destroyed our family. My parents never managed to agree on how to deal with her. My father wanted to commit her to a psychiatric hospital. My mother strongly opposed. The fights became so frequent they eventually divorced years later.

After graduating high school, I moved out thanks to an apartment my father rented for me while I went to college. Though it shames me to admit it, I felt relieved to get away from Natalia and not have to witness my mother's desperate attempts to recover the source. sweet girl she once was. One day I got a call for my father. His tone chilled me to the bone. He had bad news. He told me Natalia had left the house and walked to a nearby highway. I don't want to go into details, but several witnesses said she threw herself in front of a moving truck. A week later, during her funeral, as I watched the closed casket being lowered, I couldn't stop thinking about that mirror in the basement. Over time with her diagnosis, I had tried to

to forget it. But the doubt came back. What had she seen in that reflection that broke her so badly? The answer came to me many years later. In 2017, after my mother's death, my wife and I spent a few days sorting her belongings to sell the house. In the attic, I found a box labeled with Natalia's name. Inside were her clothes and belongings, and at the bottom, an envelope full of drawings. I went through the pages one by one. Moe showed happy scenes. Our family smiling and holding hands, all of them except the last. When I got to the final drawing, tears began to fall. It was the confirmation of everything that had haunted me for decades.

The drawing showed a little girl standing in front of an old mirror. And in the reflection, a deformed woman with half her face destroyed. Story 3. All of this happened over the course of a year. In the fall of 2005, I moved into Goldstein Hall for my freshman year of course. college. Goldstein Hall was a classic three-story dorm built in the 1960s, already pretty worn down with age. My room was the typical cinder block cube. Nothing fancy, but it would be my home for that year. Very quickly I dove into college life, classes, sports, parties, and a diet consisting mostly of pizza. At first, everything was normal. My roommate Alex was a very shy guy, into computers and watching

football games. He was homesick and often spent long stretches with his family, so I frequently had the room to myself. One day, while typing up a paper on my computer, I felt a chill run down my back just as the TV turned on by itself. It unsettled me, but I tried to convince myself that maybe I had accidentally hit the remote, even though I knew it was sitting on my bed. Sometimes I would hear knocks on the window when no one was there, or I'd leave the door open and watch it slam shut as if pushed by a strong gust of wind. Another afternoon I came back and found the radio playing, even though I had turned it off before class.

Books would be out of place, and once my fillies cap, which had been missing for a week, suddenly appeared on top of my computer. From time to time a strong scent of cologne filled the room, even though I don't wear cologne and Alex was rarely around. Each strange incident I tried to rationalize with decreasing success, The weirdest event of that semester happened when Alex and I were watching Thursday night football in the dorm. Out of nowhere, the microwave turned on for about five seconds and then shut off.

We looked at each other in silence for a moment, and then went back to watching the game. The next day, Alex skipped his Friday classes and immediately went home. At the end of the semester, Alex decided he was transferring to another university. I wasn't surprised. I knew this wasn't his thing. After finals, I wanted to be nice and help him load his car. My family wasn't coming to pick me up for winter break until the next day, so I had no problem lending a hand.

We had just finished in the parking lot and were saying goodbye when Alex looked at me very seriously and said, I don't know how you can stand staying in that room. You know what I'm talking about. I let out a long sigh. Yeah, I know. I'll be fine, I answered. We shook hands and I watched him leave Goldstein. Hall for good. Luckily, nothing strange happened that night, and during a winter break,

I managed to convince myself that it had all been the product of my overactive imagination. The new semester began in mid-January 2006, and I was excited about my new roommate. This time his name was Matthew, and he was red-shirting with the football team. He was a pretty nice guy, though we didn't have much in common. Matthew stayed for about the first week of classes and then immediately moved to another dorm. He didn't even tell me. One day I came back from class and all his stuff was gone. With Matthew gone, the strange occurrences from the previous semester returned. I was willing to tolerate the weirdness of the room because I loved having a double all to myself while only paying for a single. As a coping mechanism, I started drinking more. I was

19. I learned to ignore it when something moved through the room, or when my favorite sweater turned up on the bed instead of in the closet where I had left it, or when I went to bed in my bunk and heard creaking from the top bunk, even though it was supposed to be empty. Denial is a wonderful thing. The year went on, and in early April I got completely wasted at a lacrosse team party, so drunk that I nearly ended up in the hospital. My friends Mason and Ryan carried me back, helped me into bed, and left a trash can next to me in case I got sick. I fell into a deep drunken sleep. Suddenly I felt water splashing on my face. A guy I didn't recognize was standing next to me with a water bottle in his hand. In the dim light I could make out that he was short, stocky, with blonde hair and brown eyes.

He shouted at me that there was a fire and I had to get out of the building. Confused, not understanding how he had gotten into my room and still very drunk. I managed to grab my phone in the stumble out of the building with the fire alarm blaring and the sprinklers going off. The guy was right behind me until I lost him in the crowd of residence and RAs gathered in the parking lot in front of the building, waiting for the fire department to arrive. It turned out that some genius, also drunk, had tried to light fire crackers in the second floor common area and had started the fire. We were allowed back two weeks later once the water damage had been repaired. When I returned, nothing happened during the last two weeks.

weeks of the semester. I searched for the guy who had woken me up that night, but I couldn't find him anywhere. Finally, the year ended, and I left that dorm for good. Fast forward to Halloween weekend of 2006. I had moved back home and started commuting to campus because, frankly, I was sick of dorm life. I became friends with a classmate from my theater course named John. He was the stereotypical theater nerd, and we got along pretty well. That Saturday afternoon, we were studying together in the library for an exam. Since it was Halloween weekend, we started talking about weird experiences. That's when I mentioned that strange things had happened to me in Goldstein Hall.

John looked at me intently and said, You know a guy died there in the 80s, right? My uncle studied here back then and told me about it. John went on to explain that in April of 1986, a group of fraternity guys decided to set off a smoke bomb in the second floor common area of Goldstein Hall. A fire broke out and got out of control, and one student died. They found him in his first floor dorm room. Apparently, he had died of smoke inhalation while trying to escape.

Naturally, the story shocked me, and my curiosity got the better of me. I asked John if he wanted to check out the yearbooks in the library. He agreed, and we found the 1986 yearbook. I flipped through the pages and froze when I found what I feared, a memorial page dedicated to the fire victim Kevin W. Anderson, born August 15th, 1967, and died April 6, 1986. The smiling photo of Kevin was exactly the same as the face of the guy who had woken me up in my dorm room the night of the fire. Story 4. It's been 10 years since the first time I set foot in that house. This has been the most terrifying experience of my life, and as someone who lives with the strange, the inexplicit.

and the unsettling more often than most. I don't say that lightly. To explain it better, I'll put it this way. I've had quite a few encounters with spirits. I perceive them strongly, and I've always been able to. Usually I can even tell if they're male or female. So in the face of the supernatural, almost nothing rattles me. Even so, the trip I took with my closest friends changed everything. It was 2010 and I was visiting what is basically the mecca for fans of my favorite TV series. Although the series was filmed on a set, exterior shots of this house were used as the protagonist's residence. It's still private property. You can't just knock on the door and walk around. You have to reserve a room. That's why my chance to be there was so special.

I received an invitation through a dear friend of mine who in turn is friends with the owners. big charity event in the form of a Halloween party. A select group was invited and paid an amount to stay for several days. All the money raised went toward restoring the house. It was for a good cause. The mansion was very old and had an interesting history. It had three floors, plus a basement and an attic. Almost every corner had its own story. It was exactly the kind of place I had always dreamed of staying in. Halloween in an old creepy mansion. Fun, right? Well, for the most part. By then I had been with my friends for about seven or eight years, including my best friend.

She's very much the New York TV stereotype. Sarcasm is her native language, and she has no problem calling people out on their nonsense. She's also a huge sci-fi nerd and one of the smartest people I know. Basically the sister I never had. She's usually my travel and hotel roommate when we go to conventions, so of course we'd share a room that week, nothing more natural. What wasn't natural was the very high level of paranormal activity in the house. These old mansions seemed to host one or two spirits. Well, at least one per floor. Most didn't bother me. In fact, at times, their presence felt comforting. In the attic,

there was a little girl who tugged at the back of my shirt and spoke to me. In the corridors near the grand staircase, there was a man who greeted me and even saved me from falling down the marble steps. In the basement and near the ballroom I saw presences I believed were the original owner and his wife. All of them were harmless. However, in the wing that housed the old servant's quarters, something different could be felt. There was definitely something there, something dark. The house enormous seemed full of life. Every room occupied by people from the event, except the basement.

The larger rooms hosted three to five people. For my friend and me, that meant sharing one of the small. rooms in the wing where the staff used to sleep. I didn't mind at all. I was happy and grateful to be there. But from the moment I crossed the threshold of our room, something felt wrong. It was unsettling, as if something were watching me with a predatory attitude. My eyes immediately drifted to an empty corner, and I could see it. His spirit. He was male, and even though I held his gaze, he had the nerve to keep staring at me. His eyes ran over my body, looking at me like, like a hungry animal. I turned to my friend and murmured. There's a man watching me in the corner.

She dismissed it instantly. It's an old house you're imagining it. I could almost feel the spirit smirking as I sat down my suitcase and quickly went out to meet my other friends and explore the rest of the mansion. Much as I love my best friend, she's not like me. She doesn't see spirits and certainly doesn't believe in them. I spent the rest of the day with my friends away from the room. And when I returned that night, I had almost forgotten what had happened. At that moment, it was just a small room in an old house, and I was exhausted. Although I usually have trouble sleeping in new places, that night I drifted off easily. The next day we continued exploring the house and went out into town,

a beautiful place that was once the playground of the rich. I was having a great time. The days flew by, but every now and then, in that room, I felt that predatory gaze on me again. I tried to avoid the room as much as possible, which was easy. There was so much to see an experience. This trip was a dream come true, and before I knew it, the big Halloween party had arrived. That year the party was on the night of October 30th, two days before my return.

We were all excited. We wanted to show off our costumes. There would be music and dancing in the ballroom, and most people were dressed as characters from the series. I wore a beautiful historic dress in ivory, but the weight of the fabrics and layers had me sweating in a very unladylike way. By the early hours of the 31st, when the party was winding down, I couldn't wait to get out of the dress and go to sleep. I walked down an empty hallway completely silent. I entered our room. My friend was fast asleep. She can literally sleep through a hurricane. In fact, years later I saw her sleeping soundly during

Sandy. I locked the door for a simple reason. That night I would sleep in the corner by the door, and I didn't want to get hit in the head if someone came in. My bed was a sleeping bag on an air mattress. My friend had a twin bed almost diagonal to me. Climbing the stairs and walking the long dark hallway had left me hot and sweaty. The dress was incredibly heavy. I just wanted to take it off and put on my nightgown. As I pulled the dress over my head, I felt that strength. I was incredibly heavy. I just wanted to take it off. I felt sensation my friend calls my spider sense, a tingling at the crown of my head when I sent spirits nearby. It was him again, the man in the corner looking at me. Of course he would appear when I was naked and vulnerable. I felt his eyes on my body and could do nothing but cover myself with a nightgown

as fast as possible. When I finished, the spirit was gone. I decided not to dwell on it and go to sleep. I was exhausted and we had big plans for the day. I turned off the lights, got into the sleeping bag, and turned toward the wall to try to fall asleep. When suddenly, I thought I heard someone call my name. Catherine, whoever was in the hallway could wait until morning, I thought. But I heard it again, more clearly. Catherine, I couldn't identify the voice. I tried to ignore it. it came a third time. Catherine. No one knocked on the door and my friend kept sleeping.

Ignore it. As soon as they see the door is closed, they'll go away, I told myself. It was probably someone snoring, I thought. Suddenly the room turned icy. It was my first October on the East Coast. I vaguely remembered someone mentioning it might snow that night. I curled up tighter in the bag. The air felt electrified.

It was getting harder and harder to sleep. Then from the corner I heard footsteps. He was there. As I said, I've had many experiences with the supernatural, but I had never felt so terrified. That presence was predatory and worse. It emanated an aura of pure evil. From the floor I not only heard his slow, deliberate steps approaching.

I could also feel him. He emerged from his empty corner, circled my air mattress, and crouched beside me. I was paralyzed. A large masculine hand covered my mouth, muffling my sobs while he violated me. In my mind, I began frantically reciting prayers, chants, and half-remembered mantras, anything that could drive him away from me. I've never been very religious, but the panic was such that nothing else occurred to me.

I prayed to every God I could remember. Something must have connected because my attacker went still and disappeared. I threw off the sleeping bag, jumped to my feet, and turned on the light. No one was there. My friend was still snoring. The door was locked. My whole body was trembling. When I ran my hand over my face, I felt the tears.

I had been crying from fear. I had to get out of there. I unlocked the door in a rush, opened it, and ran blindly down the dark hallway toward the stairs. I could only think about getting to the celerium, where surely someone would still be awake. I ran into two friends who were heading up to sleep, and I started babbling nonsense. I must have looked like a crazy woman running down the corridor in my long white nightgown, talking about a man who wasn't there. They had never seen me so hysterical.

But since they'd known me for about seven years, they believed me instantly. They told me not to go back to that room and to come with them. That's when I realized I was cold. I was in a nightgown. Okay, let me go get my robe. I said. I walked slowly back down the hallway toward the room, and as I approached, I noticed that the door was now closed. Fearfully, I took the doorknob with my trembling hand, but it didn't turn. It was locked. I knocked and loudly whispered my friend's name, but she couldn't hear me over

her snoring. I felt that evil presence was still inside. Don't ask me how, but I knew it wanted me to beg it to let me in. There was no way I'd give it that satisfaction. I turned to meet my friends, but they were no longer in that wing, and I had no idea which room they were sleeping in. In practice, they had left me alone. Not knowing what else to do, I went downstairs and found the celerium dark, with a fireplace burning. I knew they wouldn't leave the fire unattended for long, so I curled up and waited for someone to return. Dawn could be seen through the large windows. Soon the sun would rise over the ocean.

I saw movement on the terrace, a group of guise. still drunk after the party was walking toward the beach. One of them, whom I didn't recognize, asked me if I was okay. The whole story of what I had just experienced came pouring out. We sat and talked until the sun came up. He looked a bit like the actor John Gilbert, and I was immediately attracted to him. We later started dating. With the house coming back to life that morning, I told a friend about the experience who said there was someone in the group even more sensitive to the paranormal than I am. I spoke to that person and asked them to come up to my room for a minute. I didn't give any details about what had happened. Upon entering, they looked straight at the

corner with a serious expression. Catherine, you can't stay here tonight. Take all your things and leave. Don't leave anything behind and don't come back to this room. He will come back for you tonight and attack you. I stood there, mouth open, stunned and horrified. Every hair on my body stood on end. Did you not understand what I just said? Hurry up, grab your things, and let's go. I looked at my friend's bed. What about her? He's not after her. He wants you. My blood ran cold. I quickly gathered everything and moved to an empty room just across the hall. Nothing happened on the last night of the trip, and the next day I took my flight back home. I thought it was over. But the following year, I returned to the mansion for the Halloween party. My boyfriend, the one who looked like John Gilbert,

had proposed to me that year. But a week before the trip, everything fell apart and we broke up. I went with my best friend, like the previous year. We were all supposed to stay in the gatehouse, but the boiler broke, and we were moved to the main house. It turned out we were assigned the room where I had slept the last night of the previous year. I felt safe in that room, though I knew it was across from his room. I thought I'd be fine. I was wrong. That night my friend was in a twin bed and I was on the floor again with sleeping bag and air mattress. The door had a latch and the room wasn't dark. A small bedside lamp was left on. Since what had happened the year before, I had developed terrible insomnia and sometimes went days without sleeping, but I managed to

doze for a while. Something woke me up. Everything was silent. Then I felt a little. I felt felt the familiar tingling. I'm safe in this room. The door is locked. I repeated to myself like a mantra. And I heard movement on the other side of the hallway. From the floor I could clearly see under the door. I didn't see anyone or anything.

Then I heard the footsteps. He knew I was there. He was coming for me. The footsteps came from that corner of the room across the hall. They stopped right in front of my door. No one was there. The gap under the door showed empty space where a pair of feet should have been, and yet the doorknob began to rattle. I held my breath as I watched it move faster and faster, and then it stopped. Then the whole door began to shake and pound. I started to cry,

curled into the fetal position without taking my eyes off the door. I had never felt so defenseless. Finally everything ceased, not a sound in the hallway. He was gone, but there was no way I was leaving the room until daylight. In the morning, I told my friend I couldn't stay there. In fact, I couldn't remain in that wing of the house anymore. I would sleep anywhere, on the sofa in front of the fireplace, in the tower, in the attic, in the basement. Anywhere but there, I ended up sleeping on the sofa the next night, but I left my suitcase in the room with my friend. The next morning in the cheerful light of day, I returned to the room.

to get clean clothes to shower. As I approached, I saw something strange. There was a red apple placed on the floor in front of the door. I knew it was for me. It was a message of some kind. The door was locked, so I knocked calling my friend. She poked her head out from another door farther down the hallway. I thought you were inside. No, I slept downstairs last night. Then who locked it? And is that apple yours? It's not mine. She joked that someone had left me a midnight snack. I laughed, but I didn't touch the apple. I asked the owner for the spare key, and upon entering,

I saw all my clothes and my things thrown around the room. I reached my limit. I couldn't take it anymore. I packed my bag and spent the rest of the trip in the tower room with my friends. It has taken me a long time to be able to talk about this. I've returned to that house many times, but I've never stayed in that wing again. And even so, I still feel him there in the corner of that room, waiting for me in the dark. Story 5. I want to share a story from my childhood. I've never been sensitive to the paranormal,

but there was one encounter in my life that left a deep mark on me. I'm originally from a small town in northern New Hampshire, a stone's throw from the Canadian border. After my grandmother passed away in 1996, we moved into her house across town. I never got to meet a me. meet my grandmother because of the complicated relationship she had with my father. I'll talk more about that later. The house was an old two-story that resembled a Victorian style, though it had a strange appearance. It looked as if two houses had been built very close together, and at some point someone decided to merge them into one. Many of the bedrooms on the second floor had very slanted ceilings due to the odd architecture. I called them pizza slices. The master bedroom was on the ground floor,

that's where my parents slept. I was told to choose one of the rooms upstairs. As I mentioned, most were pizza slices, but there was one across the hallway that looked normal. I chose that one. For the first two months, nothing happened, until everything changed one night. I remember there was a storm outside and I was having trouble falling asleep. I felt an insistent itch at the nape of my neck and my throat burned as if it were on fire. At first I thought I was getting sick. I was about to get up for a glass of water when I saw someone standing in the doorway. It was a middle-aged man staring at me with an icy fury. I had no idea who he was.

I thought someone had broken into the house. I tried to scream, but the sensation in my throat wouldn't let me. The stranger glared at me and then turned around. At that moment a lightning flash lit up the bedroom. What I saw in that flash froze my blood. The back of the man's head was missing. There was only a huge hole in his skull with pieces of flesh hanging. I must have been about seven years old, and I had never seen what the inside of a person's skull looked like.

The man disappeared, and I shot out of the room. I ran to my parents' bedroom and woke them up. After I calmed down, I told my mother what I had seen in the doorway. I remember my parents looking at each other with concern, but they didn't say anything. They didn't even try to convince me it had just been a nightmare. They told me I could sleep with them for the rest of the night. The next morning my father went upstairs and moved all my things into another bedroom. I stood in the hallway watching as he nailed boards over the door to my old room.

When I asked him why this is what he told me, son, I'm going to tell you the truth and you'll have to be a man and face it. Your grandfather was an evil, cruel bastard who hated life so much he decided to end it. That's who you saw last night, and I think he chose that room to do it. So it's not a good idea for you or anyone to ever go in there again. And that was that. I stayed in one of the pizza slice rooms until I left for college in 2009. Years later, I learned that my grandfather was an abusive alcoholic who eventually blew his head off with a double-barreled shotgun.

My father explained that when he was a kid, my grandmother refused to do anything about my grandfather's violent behavior, and that when I say abusive, I'm implying there was more than physical violence. My grandmother even blamed my father for the suicide, which explains why their relationship was so strained. My father no longer lived in that house when it happened, so he wasn't sure which room it was. After what I saw that night, that was all the confirmation I needed. I wondered why we went back there. Apparently we were going through financial difficulties that forced us to move into that house after my grandmother's death. Otherwise, my father would never have considered it.

Over time my family moved out of that place, shortly after I went to college. My father sold the property to a developer on the condition that they demolished the house. I believe they built a hotel in its place. Looking back, I'm grateful my dad told me the truth from the start. Knowing who it was, I saw that night helped me in some way to cope with it. I suppose for my seven-year-old self, that made sense. After boarding up that room, I never saw my grandfather's ghost again. and with the house ripped out by the roots,

I hope he's in hell where he deserves to be. Thank you for watching. If you have a story you'd like to share on this podcast, send it to my email. If you haven't already, subscribe and turn on notifications. You can support the podcast by visiting. The link is in the description. You'll hear from me very soon. Until next time, there's always a reason to be afraid.