Just Creepy: Scary Stories - 6 True Scary Paranormal Stories to Haunt Your Dreams

Episode Date: June 19, 2024

Get ready to be spooked with these 6 terrifying ghost stories that will send shivers down your spine and keep you up at night. These true scary paranormal stories are sure to haunt your dreams and make you question what lurks in the darkness. Grab a blanket, turn off the lights, and prepare yourself for a chilling journey into the unknown. Stay tuned for tales of ghostly encounters, unexplained phenomena, and eerie happenings that will leave you feeling unsettled long after the stories have ended. Are you brave enough to hear these bone-chilling accounts? Watch now if you dare... Story Credits: ►DarkEchoesSeries ►https://www.reddit.com/user/FreeMeFromThis-/ ►Sent in to https://www.justcreepy.net/ Timestamps: 00:00 Into 00:00:18 Story 1 00:07:03 Story 2 00:17:37 Story 3 00:29:50 Story 4 00:40:24 Story 5 00:52:23 Story 6 Music by: 'Decoherence' by Scott Buckley - released under CC-BY 4.0. www.scottbuckley.com.au https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wM_AjpJL5I4&t=0s Business inquiries: ►[e-mail] #scarystories #horrorstories #paranormal #ghoststories #redditstories 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀

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And see the new Masters of the Universe movie, only in theaters June 5th. My most terrifying workplace experience involved an encounter with what I believe to be a demonic entity. It was an experience that I'll never forget. This happened a few years ago when I was working overnight as a custodian on a college campus. Working nights in an empty building is creepy by default. but there was something different going on in Building 8, something unsettling, something malignant. Starting the very first day after being reassigned to that building, I began having intense nightmares. These weren't your normal bad dreams. They were unlike anything I'd ever experienced,

night after night of violence and carnage, and they didn't go away when I woke up. They lingered long into my shift each night. A key piece of backstory was my recent divorce. I was only a few months removed from it when I started working there, and that divorce destroyed me emotionally, spiritually, and financially. I went through a prolonged dark stretch, and this job was the first step to getting me back on my feet. I liked having a series of tasks to keep me busy each shift. It gave me a sense of purpose and accomplishment, but that all changed when they moved me

to building eight. There was something different about those shifts, a pervasive creepiness that grew as each shift war on. It was unsettling. I had a co-worker that we called the gentle giant, whose shift ended halfway through mine. I hated to see him go because once he was gone, I was alone in the building for the rest of the night. At that point, my uneasiness would rapidly intensify, almost as if the malignant force knew that I was now alone and would ramp up the psychological oppression. Fragments of the previous night's nightmares would force their way to the surface, and they were horrifying. In each dream, a new murderous, lust-filled chapter unfolded.

The dreams would start with me attacking my ex in some violent, rage-filled manner, and then I'd have my way with her in every way possible, sometimes mutually, sometimes against her will. But always, always afterward, I'd finish her off in some brutal fashion, usually with a blade, but sometimes with my own bare hands. Having a nightmare like that just once is eye-opening enough, but having it night after night is horrific. It affected me, poisoned me with intrusive thoughts, left me teetering on the verge of real-life violent outbursts.

And it goes without saying, but I probably should mention it. That is not who I normally am. I've never been violent toward any women, let alone my ex, and the last time I got into a fight was in middle school. Needless to say, those nightmares were changing me into someone else, and I feared that I was nearing a breaking point. Between the divorce, the sleep deprivation, and whatever was in that building slowly overtaking me,

my sanity was teetering on the brink, and something was bound to give. There was another unwanted side effect of those nightmares, and that was me obsessing over my ex all over again. I'd find myself scouring her soul, social media, dwelling on all the ways she'd done me wrong, fixating on her posts with her new boyfriend, and becoming increasingly vengeful. My obsession got so bad that one morning after my shift, I found myself parked outside her apartment, contemplating how easy it would be to make one of those

nightmares a reality. I shook off that compulsion and drove away, but it was undeniable that some oppressive force was slowly enveloping my mind, body, and soul. And then came the night of my creepy experience. I was on the back half of my shift on an otherwise typical night. Jared had already left, and once he did, the images from my nightmares began to overwhelm my thoughts. I put on a podcast to distract my mind, and it did help, but the oppressive force intensified. Then I thought I heard something, the sounds of someone shuffling down the hall. I thought maybe Jared had returned, and I went looking for him. As I did, the shuffling sound continued, but I couldn't pinpoint what direction it was coming from. I found doors unlocked,

lights left on, but no sign of Jared or anyone else. After looking around, I tried to convince myself that it was just the sounds of the building settling, and then it happened. I heard a cacophony, a banging sound throughout the entire building. I turned around to see the classroom doors of the hallway were all thrown open, close to a dozen of them. These were heavy fire doors and had to be manually opened. My pulse was racing as I stood there alone in the empty hallway. Images from my nightmares flashed through my mind. I turned and ran, and as I did, I heard whispers from every direction,

whispers telling me to end her, to punish her. When I rushed out of Building 8 and ran across the empty parking lot, the whispers seemed to follow, and it felt like they were chasing me. It took me a frustratingly long couple of seconds to retrieve my car keys. But when I finally found them and piled into my car, the whispers slowly receded. I drove out of the parking lot and went straight home, and I never went back to that job. The phone calls from the college began a few hours later and continued steadily for the next few days. I never answered a single one.

Eventually they slowed and then ceased altogether. And just like that, my nightmare stopped. The irritability faded, and I began to feel like my normal self again. I found a new job doing admin work, and I got back to living. Maybe it was six months later when I ran into my old co-worker Jared in the parking lot of a strip mall. He was excited to see me and immediately asked me what had happened that night. I explained the beeping and the doors, and then he asked me about the graffiti. I told him I didn't know what he was talking about,

and he pulled out his phone and had me scroll through a series of photos. He explained that in every classroom of that building, something was painstakingly drawn on the whiteboard. Some of the drawings were variations of the same word, while others were complex images that looked like hieroglyphics. The word, written in dozens of different forms and languages, was Asmodys. Jared explained that this was the name of an ancient Persian demon

that predated the Bible and the Talmud. Now I've never been very religious, so I don't know what to make of all that, but I will say this. Whatever entity lurks inside that building, I hope to never encounter it again. This first event took place when I was 14, and the second when I was 22. When I was in high school, I had a best friend named Andy and my cousin Joseph.

We did everything together and hung out often. They live near each other in a bad part of town, but I would often visit them every week. We'd walk to a nearby park to hang out and just talk about life. Next to the park was a sort of maintenance tunnel with two entrances leading underground. shallow water ran out from them into a creek. The tunnels were made of concrete, and the entrances on both sides were square. Outside there was a concrete ramp sloping down toward them.

One day, we decided to sit on the ramp and look into the tunnels. We noticed graffiti on the left one, above a corner, that said, This way to hell. Being young and thinking we were brave, we wanted to see what was down there. The ceiling was low, so you had to crouch, to walk inside. We got about 10 feet in and realized that if we went further, we wouldn't be able to see anything. We planned to get flashlights and come back later. Our moms bought us some cheap ones that could barely shine, so we made it just a little further than last time, but we could

see some of the graffiti inside. One said, run boys and girls, as you got further down the corner going toward the right. Before it did, there was a final warning that read, You're halfway to hell now, with an arrow pointing in the direction of the turn. At that point, we couldn't see anything around the corner, so we said that we'd save up for some good flashlights and come back later. About a week later, I got to class, and my cousin, who usually joked often with me, looked a bit shaken up. He was quiet and didn't say much.

I finally asked him what was wrong, and he hesitated to tell me, but finally said, Me and Andy went into the tunnel yesterday by ourselves. My mom bought me a powerful flashlight, and I ran ahead of Andy. When I got to the corner, I turned, and the light shone on something. It was black and big, and when the light hit its back, it turned its head towards me, and stood up all the way. He had a serious expression on his face, and I could tell that he wasn't joking. I wanted to believe him, but Andy had a bad habit of lying,

and I figured maybe Joseph and he were just trying to prank me. We didn't go into the tunnels for a while. One day, I went to stay over at Andy's, and he invited a girl over from class to hang out. We told her about the creepy tunnel, and she wanted to see it. So we went there when it was dark. Being braver than both of us, she kept getting ahead of us. Andy tried to warn her, practically begging her to slow down. We turned the corner and proceeded to go down the long part of the tunnel.

Even with three flashlights, it was difficult to see much. There was no graffiti, just shallow water. We got to a wall that had a smaller circular hole that led further down, and just before that, the ceiling arched upwards. We stood up to stretch our backs. Me, being six-four, was able to stand up all the way without my head hitting the top. As we stretched, it suddenly hit me what Joseph had said about seeing something stand up at the end of the tunnel, a part that neither of us had reached before until now.

I looked at Andy and said, Joseph wasn't lying. We got out and went back to Andy's. We told Joseph what had happened, and at this point, although we were scared, it was still something scary to show others. He called one morning to tell me his cousin stayed over the night before, and that after telling him, his cousin wanted to see it, but not to go in, just to see where it was. Joseph's mom was a bit strict on him leaving past a certain time of night, so when she fell asleep, they snuck out in the middle of the night to go see it. When they arrived,

Joseph said that they walked down the concrete ramp and heard voices, like multiple people talking from down the tunnel. He went to get closer and stepped into the water when he heard voices and a commotion saying, someone's here, then splashing from down the tunnel as multiple footsteps began running through, making it echo. He said he and his cousin ran all the way back to his house, afraid that someone might have seen or even followed them. He got his grandpa's rifle and kept it by him, not knowing what to expect, but nothing ever happened. One night, I was at home, and my aunt Priscilla came over, so it was me, my sister Renee, my aunt, my sister's friend Erica, and a friend of mine named Michael. We started telling

scary stories, and I brought up the tunnel. My aunt asked where it was and offered to drive over because she wanted to see it, and this got everyone's interest. I went outside to tell my dad where we were going, and he told me that incidents had happened there with kids when he lived in that neighborhood. My dad told tall tales, so I didn't really believe a word he said, but to my surprise, he handed me a pocket knife if I insisted on going in there. We showed up, and Erica said that she was staying in the car. I called Andy and Joseph and asked if they would want to go with us in a big group.

I guess safety in numbers. And since we didn't see anything last time, I figured it would be smart. They walked over, and we all went in. As we got to the corner and turned, my sister started to get ahead of me by a few feet. I was trying to catch up while holding the light ahead to shine with hers when I saw the light reflect off something dark. I immediately stopped and started to tell Renee to get back. She either didn't hear me or didn't care, and took two more steps and shone the light upon what I had mine. aimed at. Something crouched down with its back turned at first turned its head back to us and stood up.

The skin was solid black and the light seemed to shine off of it, almost glistening. From what I could tell, it was massive and the head near the ceiling as it was where the roof arched upwards. The thing I could clearly see were its red eyes, just two embers in the dark, staring down at us. I've never heard my sister scream like that, just pure guttural terror in her voice. She turned to run past me, pushing my arm, yelling at me to run. My entire body locked up from fear, but she didn't see that I was still behind and kept running. I'd never been so scared that my body refused to move. I panicked and grabbed my leg, forcing it to budge, and then the other, too afraid to look up,

but imagining that this thing was heading my way. As soon as my legs could move, I turned and ran faster than I'd ever run in my life. I ended up being the first person out of the tunnel, although the rest of the group, including my sister, were ahead of me. We agreed to never go in again. A couple of months later, me and Andy planned on going to the park to hang out and saw a birthday party was happening, so I suggested that we go into the entrance of the tunnel, where the light from the sun was still visible, just to have a little bit of privacy and talk and not be near anyone. He was hesitant at first, but agreed as I told him that I told him that,

I wasn't going anywhere near the darkness. We got a little ways in, and the uneven ground elevated near a spot, making the water run around it, creating a dry spot, and we sat down and began talking for a bit, until we heard some kids from the party come down to the entrance and ask us what we were doing. We tried to encourage them to go back, and when they insisted on staying to ask questions, I told Andy, let's get out. I don't want them coming down here. We went to leave, and as we came out we saw a man telling the kids to go back. He turned and looked at us and asked, What were y'all doing down there?

I told him that we were just talking and hanging out, and his face turned very serious. And he asked, Did you see anything down there? I felt my heart begin to pound. This was a complete stranger that we had never seen before, and I tried to pretend that I didn't know, and asked, What thing?

in a quiet voice. He began to raise his voice and said, That thing, that big black, no-name thing, did you see it? We stayed quiet until I finally asked. How do you know about that? He responded, let me tell you something, man. When me and my friends were your age, we thought we were brave and cool and went down there too.

You ain't got no business going down those tunnels, you hear me. He was getting angry, although we weren't arguing. This is until he began to yell, and Andy began to backtalk and tell him that he didn't need to listen to him. Andy was short and stocky, and me, being a pretty tall teenager, was really too scared to say anything. The man threatened to take Andy down to the tunnel and kill him, and something about the way he said it made me feel that he was pretty serious. Suddenly, a man from the party, drunk, came down to the area and went to unzip his pants and relieve himself in the water away from us. said, man, where'd you go? We were looking for you. The other man replied, I'm just talking to these kids. And the drunk man asked him to hurry up and went back to the birthday party. The man turned

back to us and pointed a finger at us and said, I'm serious, stay out of those tunnels. Then walked off without waiting for a reply. Andy finally expressed how scared he was but didn't want to show the man, so tried to be brave and talk back. And we went to his house. and made his promise that day to never go there again. Years later in my late 20s, I told some friends, and I agreed to go show them the entrance. The graffiti warning was still there. Trees had overgrown,

covering the top of the entrance with hanging limbs and leaves, and a gate was installed, blocking the entryway to both sides with a sign that said, No trespassing. I'm not sure why it was installed, as I hadn't seen it in years, but to this day, At age 36, it still gives me the creeps to think about our experience in there,

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I always like checking out old mine shafts and ghost towns. That kind of stuff really intrigues me. At the burger bar in Wells, Nevada, where I'm from and grew up, they had these old turn-of-the-century maps under glass on the tables. On one of them, it showed several ghost towns just north of Ruby Valley, so I figured that I would go check them out, as I hadn't been in the area very often. I gassed up my 72 Dodge pickup.

Being a redneck and a SLK before 14,000, Chan even existed, I grabbed my HK91 and set out. I found some old foundations in the lower country and started heading into the mountains themselves. I started finding abandoned mine shafts, and it was pretty cool, so I kept going up. I took this ancient road that was no more than an overgrown cattle path by this point in history, and came upon a tree blocking the road. It was an old Pignon Pine, also two feet in diameter, that blocked the road. After the tree, the road continued straight for about 200 yards, then hooked right before coming back 180 degrees. I parked my truck in front of the tree and set out on foot.

I grabbed my HK91 with one 20-round magazine and the rifle and put another 20-round mag in my back left pocket. I always had my rifle with me. I've encountered mountain lions and mine shafts before, and just generally I like to shoot stuff and get up on the ridge lines and shoot boulders from a couple of hundred yards away. Anyway, as soon as I climbed over the fallen tree, I had a creepy feeling, as if I was being watched. I continued on for about 200 yards to the point where the road started curving right and gaining elevation towards the cabin. At this point, I realized not only did I feel like I was being watched, but it was also dead quiet. This was in June, so everywhere else you went, you could hear cicadas, but not here.

It seemed as soon as I crossed the fallen tree, the mountains were silent. No bugs, no birds, nothing, just deafening silence. As I came up to the turn, there was this big rock about 15 feet in diameter. It used to be on the road, but due to years of erosion and snow, it had slid down just slightly off the road. It seemed to be red limestone or something like that, which stood out since they are not that common in this area. I looked at the rock, and you could tell that there were carvings in it at some point in time,

and due to weathering, whatever was carved on it had been worn off. I kept walking up the road, feeling incredibly creeped out, but I really wanted to check out that old cabin. It was obvious that no one had been there for quite a while. At this point, I was probably three hours off road to get to this point, and I got up to the cabin. As far as abandoned houses and cabins in Nevada go, this one was in pretty good shape. All the glass on the window was still intact, and there were remnants

of curtains behind the windows. In the back of my mind, something told me that I should be leaving. I went inside the cabin, and that's when I started to get the feeling that something was off. Most cabins you find out in the middle of nowhere in Nevada are barren, with maybe a bit of broken furniture. This one was different. It was completely furnished. Time had taken its toll, but everything was still there. What was left of an old mattress and bedding, plates, and other cookware throughout the house, along with tattered clothing and personal effects like a chest, faded pictures and the like. What really creeped me out was the dinner table. It was set for four people, ten plates, glasses, and silverware. This was the first cabin I had ever

found in this condition. It was as if whoever resided here had just up and left everything behind. I felt like I shouldn't be in the cabin and went outside to see if I could find the mine shaft or anything else. Once I was out the door, I decided to chamber around in my HK91. The sound of me racking around echoed throughout the canyon and broke the silence. As little of a thing as it was, this calmed my nerves very slightly. Directly behind the cabin was a well, and it was still intact. As I got closer, I heard noises coming from it, like a slight breeze, rustling through it. When I got within about 30 feet of it, I started to smell something. It was absolutely putrid. Definitely. Something had died in that well. The smell of decay was heavy in the air,

with an acrid copper scent that tore at my nostrils. I didn't want to get any closer to the well and started walking towards the left where I could see the opening to a mine shaft up on the hill. The closer I got to it, the more I felt the breeze coming out of it. This is not really uncommon if you've explored mine shafts before, as the breeze could be coming in from another opening for the mine. But the thing was, it was perfectly calm. As far as I could see, there were no trees moving or any signs of wind. As I got closer, another thing struck me as odd. The breeze coming from out of the shaft was hot. Most of the time, it was cool, as most mine shafts maintain a constant temperature. The closer I got to the shaft, the slower I moved towards

it. Nothing since I crossed the fallen tree seemed right. The closer I got to the opening of the mine shaft, the more I had a feeling of dread and being watched. I got within about 15 feet of the shaft when the smell hit me. It was the smell of decay and copper, but much stronger than the well. Right then, all of my spighty senses started going off. I had to get out of there. I started turning left to run when I saw a dark shadow moving in the opening of the mine shaft. Whatever it was, it appeared to be crouched down to fit in the mine shaft, and most mine shafts I've been in have eight to ten foot ceilings. At first I thought it was a mountain lion, and then I remembered how big the shafts were. My mind raced, trying to think what it could be.

It was too big to be a black bear, which are rare in northeast Nevada. I nearly froze with panic, and then it slowly kept coming towards the opening of the mine shaft. It was probably within 10 feet of the opening, and the light was starting to show whatever it was. It was covered from head to toe in grayish-brown fur, and then it screamed. It was unlike anything I had ever heard in my life. My ears were ringing from it.

I flipped into panic mode and did what any good redneck would do. I shot at it. I pulled up my HK91, placed the front blade on what appeared to be the center mass, and ripped off five rounds as fast as I could accurately shoot. If you've ever shot big game with a large caliber rifle, you know the sound when you connect with something. I had four solid hits and one round that went high, and this made it scream even louder than it had in pain.

At this time, I started hearing more and separate screams coming from over in the well and in the hills above the mine shaft. I started running down the hill as fast as I could. In the tree line above the road, approximately 75 to 1 25 yards away, I could see fast movement. Rocks were tumbling down the hill, and there were several other screams from the mine shaft. I could hear the wailing of whatever I had shot.

Whatever it was, I had definitely connected, and it was hurt. Up in the tree line, they were running from tree to tree on all fours, getting closer to me as I ran towards the rock. I was shooting in the general vicinity of the movement on. the top of the hill, and by the time I got to the limestone rock, I had expended the 20-round mag in the rifle. I ripped it out, put in my spare magazine, chambered around, and started spraying towards the fallen tree approximately 200 yards away. By now, I kept glancing back, and whatever they were, they were staying in the trees. I could make out their masses and

fur, but they wouldn't stay in the open. I got back to the fallen tree and ate dirt trying to jump over it. I got up, fired between 12 to 15 rounds at the closest movement, which was approximately 50 yards away from me. I heard a few rounds connect and it started screaming louder. Between the screaming and gunshots, my ears were damn near deaf. I opened the door of my truck, got in, and started up as fast as I could, backing up to turn around. I dang near put my truck down in the canyon, and as I started going forward to leave on the road that I came in on, I finally got a look at one of them. It was crouched over with its front feet on the tree. It was covered from head to toe in grayish brown fur, with long, slender fingers with claws tipping off the fingers.

The back of it was hunched, and the face most closely resembled that of a badger, but with sunken-in-in eyes. It was shaking its head back and forth, and it sounded like it was attempting to speak, but it was so garbled, and with the noise of my truck, I couldn't make out what it was. I averaged 50 to 60 miles per hour on this terrible dirt road that I had done 15 on the way in. I didn't slow down or stop until I got back to pavement, and by now I was so shaken that I had to stop and collect myself. I got back to town and was in a bit of shock. My dad had been a guide in the Ruby Mountains for about 20 years. He asked me how my trip went and where I had been. He could tell that I was startled and asked where I had been, and I told him that I had been north of Ruby Valley. He got

quiet and asked if I had seen a cabin with a tree falling over the road. I told him yes. He looked me in the eyes and told me that it was somewhere that I should never go again, especially alone. We never spoke about it again after that. A few years had passed and I asked some old timers, and one of them told me a story about the Ruby Mountains, and I'll make it quick. You see, during the 40s and 50s, the Army Air Corps operated out of the Wendover Air Base. Every now and then, during bad weather, a B-25, B-17, or B-29 would crash into the rubies due to poor visibility. Some of the local ranchers got recruited to help the military go up to a crash site during the winter to recover the bodies. A rancher I was talking to told me that it took them about three days to get up to where the crash was on horseback and recover the bodies.

He said that when they got to the wreckage, all of the crew members were laid out side by side. side next to each other in a clearing in the wreckage. Many of them had severed limbs, and it was apparent that they all died on impact. Somehow they ended up laid out next to each other, and this was at nearly 10,000 feet elevation as well. I have never been back there. Part of the reason is I live in Western Nevada now, but in the back of my mind, there is something that's telling me that I should go back. And one day, I do want to go back there. Now this was back in 2000. before camera phones, and I was too broke to afford any sort of digital stuff. I want to go back with a camera, preferably a GoPro on my helmet, and with several friends that are

armed. There's just something about there, even with all the stuff that I experienced that day, that's drawing me back, and one day I will go, and I guess I just need closure on what happened that day. This episode is brought to you by Ultima Replenisher. Health is all about balance, like a salad, with fries. So why not have balance in your hydration? With six essential electrolytes and no junk, Ultima provides balanced hydration you can enjoy every day. That means no sugar, calories, or carbs,

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As a kid, my imagination would do terrible things to me sometimes, probably as a result of watching horror movies at a young age, scary stuff lurking around every corner. But on one occasion, I knew it wasn't just my imagination. I was in sixth grade at the time, probably 12 or so, and I lived in a very small town off a major highway. Seriously small, the only significant thing in this town burnt down about 20 years ago,

and then a kid died in the high school, so it was condemned. The only things here now are a cemetery, a lake, a post office, and a gas station, all within about four blocks of the town. Another strange thing about this town is that it was booming in the early 90s, but now it's a dusty, literal ghost town,

with about 40 people living here, and people who never speak or even really go outside. The only other kids were my best friends, and there were only three of us. Every morning we walked together to the bus stop, and most mornings, none of us spoke. One morning, it was foggier than usual, but I remember it was cold and a little misty. My uncle, who was now deceased, grew up here, and he always told me messed up stories about this town. He told me to watch myself. Strange things were always going on here. But he was kind of loony, so I didn't really want to.

worry about it most of the time. However, this morning felt kind of off. I wasn't too stressed because I knew the others would be waking up soon enough, and when they didn't, I started to freak out. I stood alone at the bus stop, and my imagination started going wild. I was in the middle of imagining a set of eyes in the mist, about ten feet away from me, when I saw something walking. This was absolutely real, and I remember every detail. It was a man in shape and state. It was a man in shape and stature, but the way he walked seriously made my bones feel numb, slow and rhythmic, almost like he was floating. My 12-year-old eyes bulged out of my skull, and I remembered freezing in terror. I can't even stop shaking while I'm currently typing this, and then he looked at me, looked directly at me.

His eyes were so far apart, they were almost on the sides of his head, which were oblong like a sideways egg, but not that long. He had a small nose in the center, absolutely hair, with crooked, jagged yellow teeth underneath a disgusting smile. I've read a ton of creepy pasta threads and heard almost exact descriptions of ghouls, and I've wondered if maybe they saw who or what I saw, but it's never the same. He didn't leave me until the headlights of the school bus came over the hill. And then, without taking his eyes off of me, he raised one hand and waved, not like a goodbye wave, more like a see-you-around wave.

and then he walked slowly away from the spot he stood, which felt almost like a small eternity. When the bus pulled up, I was crying. I don't know why. I don't remember what triggered it, but the driver had to call the school, who called my mom, and she came and picked me up. I tried telling her what I saw, but she didn't believe me. She said it was probably just a guy in a mask messing with me. I knew it wasn't.

I know it wasn't because for the next five years of my life, he was there, watching me, and almost enjoying our time together. For the first few months, his appearance sent me into a terrible frenzy of crying and screaming. My mom, who was single most of my childhood, worked second and third shifts to keep our house, so she was never there at night or in the afternoon to watch me. I never had anyone to tell I was frightened and alone so much, but whenever I would see him, I would call my grandma and talk to her on the phone, hoping that he would see this and think that I was talking to the cops or something.

I don't know. I was 12 or 13. I would shut the blinds and watch TV and try not to think about it, and he would only make appearances like once a week, so it wasn't an everyday kind of thing. Then at some point, I realized that he never came near me or touched me or anything. He just stood watching me, whether it be outside my wife, windows or in the cornfield just beyond the fence of the school playground. I got used to him, and after a while, he was nothing more than scenery. When I would go on trips or vacations, he wasn't there. It was only around this small town. On one instance, when I was 15 or 16, I was on a walk

with a friend of mine. We were walking near the edge of town where the paved road turns into gravel, and the cemetery sits next to the graveyard. And that's when I saw him again. the being that I had taken to calling a Skinwalker. He was about 100 yards away, leaning casually against a gravestone. I asked my friend while keeping my eye on Skinwalker, want to go into the graveyard, and he was down, so we went in. It had become obvious to me that Skinwalker wasn't noticed by anyone other than myself, so it wasn't a shock that when I walked almost directly next to him,

my buddy was oblivious. I remember that was the closest I'd ever seen him. He was so much more detailed this close. His skin, I'll never forget it. It was almost translucent. He wasn't just pale. He was old, and he was staring directly into my eyes. His eyes were green but dark, not completely black,

and I remember it was a green with a hint of yellow and brown, and I remember he had what I would describe as pretty eyes, but they were so beady and far apart. I had forgotten all about my friend when he said, why are you staring at that gravestone? I looked at him and then the skinwalker, but he wasn't there anymore, just an old weathered slab of tall concrete.

I looked at it for a second, then noticed a name, Blankety Blank, 1846 to 1847. I paid no attention to this for a long time, until I noticed that every time I was in the graveyard, there he was, same pose, same stone, watching me. And one day, I was reading a book on the paranormal when I thought about something. Maybe he was just a ghost, and maybe he wanted me to help him.

So I came up with a plan. I rode my bike to the graveyard. I don't know why at the time. I thought that it might make a quicker getaway if he tried to get me or something. I don't know. Anyway, I approached him standing there as usual, and I said, Can you hear me? And he just looked blank-faced in no response.

If you need my help, tell me. Then he seemed to get angry. I don't remember exactly what happened. All I remember was that I ran. I ran and didn't look back until I was back on my bike. And then when I got on my bike, he was standing there, still at the gravestone, with one arm stretched out towards me, like he was reaching for me to come back, or like he was sorry or something.

I don't know. I didn't stick around much longer to find out, and I rode as fast as I could home, and that was the last time I saw him for a while. A few months went by and I started to get really anxious, avoiding being alone, avoiding going outside after dark. I was so scared that I would see him again, but at the same time I felt bad, like I shouldn't have upset him. I felt sorry for him.

I don't know. It was weird, but I almost felt like we were friends at this point, and I still feel like we're friends. The first time I saw him again was while I was riding the bus to school, I no longer had to walk to the bus stop, I was in high school, but I knew that it was him. He was walking or dancing down the sidewalk, but it was only a quick glance. He watched me go past him, and I knew that he knew that I was on, and that was it. His appearances became less and less frequent until one night.

The last night I'd never see him. I was 17 years old, and my mom announced that we were moving. Things had gotten serious with her boyfriend, and we were moving in with him. him. Our boxes were being packed and the house was on the market. It was about midnight and I was alone in the house as usual. I was drawing in my living room. I had my supplies laid out in front of me and I was going to town on the paper when I saw something move out of the corner of my eye, but this was the first. He was now in my house and my first reaction was to scream and he took a step back. I remembered this as being a very strange moment. It was quiet and he seemed scared.

We watched each other for a moment, and then I realized that I didn't have anything to fear, and I went back to drawing. He moved about for a moment and wound up standing behind me. It was like he wanted to watch me draw, so I remember letting him, and he moved in front of me, and he stood there, looking not at me, but at my sketches. I'm not sure how long this lasted, but at some point, I realized that he must have wanted me to draw him, and so I did. I started slowly, but eventually it normal, I just sat completely silent, drawing this being, this messed up thing that followed me for damn near five years. And when I was done, I held my notebook up, and he seemed to be happy, ecstatic actually. His smile seemed bigger, and his eyes seemed kinder. I'm pretty sure I

smiled too, and he liked it. I have absolutely no idea how long we stayed that way, but eventually, he turned away from me and walked into the other room, and then he was gone, forever. My mom and I moved and went on with our lives. I'm 20 now and living on my own. I wish with everything inside of me that I hadn't left that notebook with my mother, because it's probably in storage somewhere now. I'd also like to say this. Every year since I moved, I go back to the gravestone and leave flowers, and every year I've hoped to see him standing there, and I plan on doing it. this until I die.

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I moved to Kentucky for the fire service, buying 10 square miles of hilly forest with a home at an auction. The previous owner had lived there his entire life and died on the land. His family sold it to make a quick buck, and I started planting more trees. Although the forest was dense, it could use more, especially around the house. I installed trail cams due to homeless wanderers coming onto the property. Something was getting angry and ripping down the trail cams, including one high up in the trees. I found piles of them in tree hollows. I grabbed my shotgun in camping supplies and headed out to persuade the homeless person to leave my property,

but I couldn't find anyone, only tiny, four-toed prints in the mud by the streams. Initially, I thought it was a raccoon, but the spacing made me think it was standing upright. I made camp and hunkered down, cooking some tasty rabbit stew. Too tired to clean the pot I went to sleep. Around 3 a.m., I woke up to weird grunting noises outside the tent. When I opened the window flap, the stew pot was swinging, but all I saw near it was a mossy rock about the side of the side of the side of the sun. of a gallon jug that I hadn't noticed before. I thought nothing of it and went back to sleep. The next morning, the stew pot was licked clean and the mossy rock was gone. I assumed raccoons must

have cleaned it in the middle of the night, and the rock was the culprit. After searching the area and finding nothing, I returned home, tired and bummed out from not finding anyone and losing my knife. That night, there was a light knocking at my door. Groggy, I eyed my gun, peeked through the window, but saw no one. I grabbed my shotgun, opened the door, and poked my head out. Again, no one was there, only forest noises in the occasional butterfly. When I stepped out, my foot kicked something. It was my knife, lying on a bed of flowers in the grass.

Confused but happy that someone had found my knife, I shouted a quick thanks and invited them to come see me so I could talk to them. I noticed about three rocks all around the size and shape of a milk jug, just on the border of the forest. I picked up my knife and went back inside. When I glanced outside again, the rocks were gone. A month later, while planting more trees and working the land to make a small garden, a puppy named Hugo was walking around sniffing things. I noticed two rocks on the edge of the forest and thought nothing of it.

They didn't bother me, and I didn't bother them. I was getting used to them and expecting them by now. Honestly, I didn't feel afraid, and Hugo didn't seem to mind them. One day, as I was really into my gardening and lost track of time, I looked up to find Hugo sniffing one of the rocks. The rock shifted a little when his nose got too close. I ran over to Hugo to keep him from getting hurt in case the rock tipped over. That's when I saw the moss on the rock shift and sprout out a tiny, spindly little arm.

I stopped walking for a second and blinked to me. make sure I wasn't seeing things. It was hot and humid, and I hadn't been drinking as much water as I should have. The arm continued to extend slowly towards Hugo, recoiling a little whenever Hugo's nose touched it. I cautiously stood back up to not spook the rock thing. It was getting nearer to Hugo, about 50 yards away, and I saw that it was petting Hugo's head. Hugo was wagging his tail and seemed to be enjoying it. I got about 10 yards away when I stepped on a twig, making a loud noise. The creature's arm shot back into its body, and the rock started tumbling frantically away. Hugo ran after them, and I chased after Hugo. I lost sight of my dog and searched for him until nightfall.

I went back to my house to grab a flashlight and my camping gear to find my pet. As I got closer, I saw a white and black lump on the porch. I started running toward my house, and as I got closer, I saw that it was Hugo. He was a little. He was a little. He was a little. He was a little. He was a little. He was a was lying on the porch, not moving. I got upset as I approached, and I saw red and pink around his head and neck. I started sprinting, thinking my dog was hurt or dead. About ten feet away, Hugo's head jerked up, and he looked at me. He stood up and came to greet me with a slobbering mouth, clearly happy to see me. He had a little crown of red and pink flowers around his head and neck and a rope tied to his collar and my door. I hugged him, tears welling up because I'd come to

love this pet so much. I stood up and shouted a thank of you to whoever had brought him home and then went inside to sleep. I've been on this property now for about four years and have a lot more stories about them if people are still interested. I've gotten very close to them and I'm trying to build up my trust with the little things. About a year later, I kept seeing the rocks around my house, and they were getting closer. I noticed one was living in my garden now, a little different from the others, greenish-gray and very round, almost spherical. Occasionally, I would catch a glimpse of it moving around very slowly and methodically in the garden. The garden has never looked more beautiful since it moved in. I go out to my garden often and see it on the opposite side

for me. One day, I decided to approach it and show it that I meant no harm. It was unsuccessful. It just tucked its arms and legs in whenever it saw me. It looked like a chubby sloth carved out of stone, with no mouth or nose, just too beady little eyes. I decided to leave it alone. It seemed to be helping me with the garden, and I appreciated that. Sometimes some of my veggies would be gone or half eaten, sitting by the stone. I let it have them and left some veggies near the edge of the forest one day. I noticed that the stone was gone, and the veggies were no longer being eaten.

The garden was looking a little worse for where, and the stones were gone from the tree line. I was genuinely sad that they were gone. About two weeks later, I went into the forest looking for them. I came to the middle of my property where a massive oak tree had fallen. It was probably around 100 feet tall. When I got closer, I noticed that there were dozens of the stones on and around it, all leaning on it like they were kissing it or resting their heads on it. I was overwhelmed with a sudden sense of sadness, almost as if a family member had died.

I walked over to the tree and placed my hand on it, whispering some sweet nothings to the stones. I went back home after spending almost three hours at the tree, feeling bereft of an old friend. For some reason, I remembered that I had a white oak sapling in my yard outside my house. I dug it up and took it to the fallen oak in the forest the next day with Hugo. I planted it next to the fallen oak to replace the giant hole the older one had left. Hugo was walking around, and I caught a glimpse of a few stones petting him. A few days later, I noticed the stones were back on the edge of the forest. The garden stone was back, and everything looked lush and vibrant again.

I have one other notable story that was kind of scary. Well, not really scary, but it does involve a crazy homeless guy. I went out to the forest one day with Hugo to look around for bums, say hi to some friends, and just be outdoors. I noticed more and more signs of a homeless person living here, trash everywhere, broken branches, and plants, etc. Finally, I made it to where I thought the guy was camping. I found a shelter and took it down, but I neatly folded it for him so he could get off my property quickly. It was starting to get dark, and I was getting a little worried that I might have made him angry, or he was dead somewhere on my property. I saw someone moving deeper into the forest and

shouted out to him to stop and talk to me. The guy had a pickaxe, so I kept my shotgun ready in case he got violent. I saw that he was smashing something with it and started to freak out, thinking that I'd stumbled onto a killing. That's when I heard the unmistakable sound of rocks being smashed. I fired into the air, getting his attention quickly. He dropped his pickaxe and put his hands up, mumbling something unintelligible. My adrenaline was pumping. I was shaking, and Hugo was going mad on his leash. I screamed at him about smashing the rocks. He started saying how they were following him and throwing stuff at him. I almost shot him then and there, but instead, I led him at gunpoint to the edge of my property and told him to get out and never come back. A few days later, I got a call from

the sheriff's office about a body they found near my property, a homeless guy, beaten to death and stuffed into a tree. They told me a deputy would be coming to talk to me. The deputy showed up about an hour later and questioned me about it. If I had any interactions with the homeless guy, I told him no. He started to leave, then turned around on my porch and mentioned my stone fence was a little low but looked good. I looked around and saw the entire edge of the forest around my house was surrounded by stones. I thanked him and saw him get into his cruiser. He left, and I looked back at my house. All the stones were gone except for two. I had a lot of small ones like gifts and whatnot, and they left me flowers, sometimes morel mushrooms, and things I've lost. I've been giving

them about a third of my veggies, and they seem to like that. More and more of them show up in my yard rather than my tree line, and they only seem to move when they don't notice me there. They're very slow-moving, and the only time I've ever seen them move quickly is when they roll. I have a lot more animals in my area now in the forest and the yard, and the garden are much more lush and green when they're around. They seem to disappear during storms. I think they either go into tree hollows or patiently waded out under other kinds of cover. The garden rock likes to go into a small covered trellis that I built for it when the rain comes. I've never heard them speak, and I've only seen their faces a few times. It's just an oblong rock with beady black eyes that look like

polished black glass, very spindly arms and legs, not bony looking but more vine-like, that they tuck back onto the body and aren't noticeable. They have four toes and three fingers and a thumb. The bodies are shaped like a bullet, and they're about the size of a gallon jug. The garden rock is more round, though. Their heads sit on the front of the body rather than on top and kind of of blend into it. The eyes are wide spaced, almost parallel to each other, and about the size of a small marble. They're covered in moss and can range from green to burgundy, and I think that might indicate age, but I don't know. When they stand up and walk, they look hunched over, and they tend to wobble more than just walk with arms out, like they're carrying something under

them. There were a couple of things left in the house before I moved in, like some personal documents, mostly health records. And other than that, I know the guy came from Holland, and he built the house when he was over 50. None of his family wanted the land. They just seemed to want to make some quick cash. I did let them spread his ashes in the forest, though, because that's where he spent most of his time with his wife, and her ashes were also spread out there, according to their daughter. He seemed like a sweet old man. He liked woodcrafting, and I found some of his stuff here and there in the basement in the shop. I left a figure out that he made on the porch, and the next day it was gone.

I'm not sure if the little stone people took it, or if it was some other animal passing through. This episode is brought to you by Netflix's remarkably bright creatures. What if a Pacific octopus held the key to a mystery that could heal your heart? Well, that's Tova's reality. An elderly widow working at an aquarium. Tova forms an unlikely friendship with the crumudgeonly Marcellus, whose remarkable intelligence leads her to a life-changing discovery. Watch remarkably bright creatures with your remarkable moms this Mother's Day weekend,

only on Netflix May 8th. Ryan Reynolds here for MintMobil. I don't know if you knew this, but anyone can get the same premium wireless for $15 a month plan that I've been enjoying. It's not just for celebrities, so do like I did and have one of your assistants' assistants switch you to MintMobile today. I'm told it's super easy to do at mintmobile.com slash switch. Up front payment of $45 for three-month plan, equivalent to $15 per month required.

Intro rate first three months only, then full-price plan options available. Taxes and fees extra. Seeful terms at mintmobile.com. I know that immoral doesn't quite cover it. It isn't as though I awoke one morning and decided that was the Thursday I was going to roll out of bed and become a piece of crap. I didn't pull on last year's trainers and make a pact with myself that my bank balance would triple because I was going to become a ghost-hunting scam artist, greasing my endless lies. with snake oil. But it doesn't matter, not really. Karma came for me in a big way, and it was

deserved. We gained a bit of a niche following online, nothing to write home about, but we made our money from donations, and of course the cold hard cash from the people we sucked the life out of. I won't bore with fine details, but we ghost-busted 19 homes before we reached the whistlebees. With each home, we bought more equipment to really add credence to the whole wraith-rangler thing. We turned creaky floorboards into demons. Water tank leaks into internet views. It was fun, until it wasn't. I'd never met a family quite like them. The others, they were young couples afraid of whistling wind, old singles desperate for validation that their home wasn't heavy with the weight of vengeful spirits. It was easy, muscle memory. But the

whistlebees, God, they were terrified. Young parents and two children with their family dog, cowering in the corner when we set up for our bull crap interview. The daughter was so pale she seemed to sink into the walls behind her, face gaunt and eyes haunted. It was her we latched onto as we probed, stifling excited smirks with our palms. He never leaves, she whispered, staring through us as if we weren't really there. If her eyes glimmered once, they certainly didn't now, lost and soulless as she gazed into the abyss. It was Adam who managed to coax the words from her lips. voice soft as he gently probed.

Who is he? We have plenty of equipment here to find him in whatever corner he's hiding. We just need to know as much as you can tell us. A wry smile made its way onto her lips as she finally looked at Adam, voice low and deliberate. You don't need to find him.

You'll know where he is, I promise. He walks on the ceiling and crawls down the walls. He'll find you. The young girl's mum spoke suddenly, eyes full of tears. She didn't use to speak this way. She breathed, gaze darting around the room. She's so tired, so tired.

She doesn't sleep anymore. It doesn't let her. Jonah stood up then, grinning as he clutched his camera for dear life. Ma'am, don't you worry for a second. You're in the right hands. We'll find out what your visitor wants, and we'll cast him right out of here. You have my word. His word meant nothing, but they didn't need to know that.

The fear in their aura was palpable. It was as if they had their own pulsing circle of gravity sucking the life from the room. Their dread did something foreign to me. It made me nervous. In all the nighttime giggling and masquerading in people's homes, I'd never been scared. To do this job was to know that ghosts were as real as fairies and whimsical tales. It was to laugh at the notion. But during that interview, I wasn't laughing.

The girl's eyes were black holes. and they looked like they'd sucked her soul out long ago. So with the image of those eyes burned into my retinas, we did what we did best. 11 p.m. rolled around and with the family booked into a hotel, it was showtime. Show yourself, demon! Jonah lunged through the front door as nighttime blanketed the house in darkness, hauling our masses of equipment through. We didn't need any of it, obviously, but it made people feel as though we were legitimately

expelling ghosts from their homes with the flick of a battered. crucifix. Adam rolled his eyes, glancing down at the EMF reader in his hand. Bro, come on. Did you see how scared that girl was? I feel a little bad. Damn, she was creepy. Jonah chomped on his gum, leaving muddy boot stains as he clambered up on the sofa to stick his camera to the wall. He walks on the ceiling. Dude must have the mother of all headaches. I stayed quiet, chewing my lip as I set up our audio equipment and eyed the tired-looking lump of plastic. The older it looks, the more authentic it appears, Jonah had assured me. And sure, I supposed it did look like it belonged in a 1998 horror game,

but it was pretty crap. Not that we'd ever picked up anything on it before. There was the great scare of House 12 when the fridge appeared to hum a lilting tune, but it was just super broken. Right, Jonah jumped downwards, nearly knocking over the coffee table. Plan is, is, Megan Donovan is leaving the house party you guys didn't want to go to at like 2 a.m. I say we wrap up here by 1 a.m., swing by the party, and I'll be her shoulder to cry on, because her douchebag boyfriend was a jerk again all night. Adam scowled as Jonah cackled, but I stayed mute, casting my eyes around the room. I couldn't deny this place felt different somehow.

Even with all the lights dancing across the house, there sat an empty, texed. rapid coldness that seemed to seep through the walls. There was no warmth here, no safety. Loving family photos littered the room, but somehow it felt barren. Wrong. I'm down to do this quickly, at least. Adam muttered, eyes darting around nervously. You guys feel that? Place feels haunted? I finished for him, rolling my eyes at Jonah's gaffaws. All right, I'll get started. He stared ominously into our main camera placed across the room, red light blinking towards the sofa we were sitting on. It's time, everyone. As always, first we'll try to contact the ghost and see if we pick up anything on the microphone or the EMF. Clearing his throat, Adam stole a glance at me. Uh, okay,

we're here in your domain, ghost. He tried to project, but I heard the slight crack in his voice. We're here to find out what you want, why you haunt this family. We're here. We're here. We're here. here to set you free. I counted down from six, bulging my eyes as I shrieked, throwing myself backwards. No way, I bellowed, pointing off camera. There's no way. And we did the usual scramble. All of us claiming we saw a photo frame go flying, switching to shaky hand cam footage, as Jonah retrieved it from the floor we laid it on earlier. It was rehearsed, but something just felt different. It's hard to describe, but I couldn't shake the feeling a pair of eyes were locked on to me, a horrid gaze burning into my back. The feeling amplified as we pulled out the trusty Ouija board only moments later, laying it on the table and pushing it into frame.

I scratched at my arms nervously, trying not to stare at the shadows that seemed to be consuming the room. All right, Jonah muttered, placing his finger on the planchette, I ask its name, we give it something creepy like Maurice. I'll move it. You guys just stay still. Feel free to run the show on this one, I offered. Goose bumps erupting over my skin. Had it gotten colder in here? Adam certainly thought so as he hugged his hoodie tighter, shaking something off as he placed his finger on the planchette with us.

The dread was otherworldly, beginning to creep across my skin and begging me to stop. Spirit, Jonah demanded, dramatically eyeing each corner of the room. make yourself known to us show us communicate with us i want to ask what name gives you your power what is your name ghost he waited a fairly believable amount of time before the planchette slowly began to move towards em but i knew my heart wasn't in my lackluster reaction jona would yell at me later claiming i ruined the entire weja shot but i swore i could see something in my peripheral just out of view staring at me me. I didn't turn my head, didn't dare. Instead, I gritted my teeth and focused on the board, letting my jaw drop dramatically. M-A-U-R-I. And just like that, the planchette halted, painfully, almost. Jonah scowled, head snapping to us. Really? Dude, I was nearly finished. You stopped, I argued, wondering if it was a blanket on the bookshelf or a crumpled up man staring dead-eyed at me as I was beginning to suspect it was.

Just do it again, Adam grumbled, and it wasn't usually like this. We didn't fight, we didn't bite. The house felt as though it was draining the life from us, the joy. I felt physically tired, as though even being here was soul-sucking. But as I told myself, ghosts were not real. We were not real.

We were opportunistic bastards, and we were leaving at 1 a.m. The planchette moved to M with ease again, and we forced our stuff. shock, but with less enthusiasm this time. It seemed even Jonah was struggling now, eyebrows knitted together tensely. M-A-U-R-I-C. And it stopped again, but this time it jerked to the left, causing a gasp to leave Adam's lips. Jonah, for Pete. What is your problem? Jonah cried, looking between us, as though we were crazy. Ever since we got in here, you've been acting like a

couple of little girls, I swear to God, if Megan, but his words died on his lips, because, as we all scowled at one another, the planchette yanked our waiting fingers in the opposite direction, landing on a letter. B. Adam for Christ. E. The planchette scraped horribly against the Ouija board, and I couldn't tear my eyes away, sitting between the chaos of my friends arguing as each blamed the other, neither paying enough attention to the board. I swallowed, trying to watch for a twitch of the muscles in their fingers, some indication of which one was messing with us. E. But there was none. Their fingers were light, barely grazing the object, jerking clumsily around the board. Adam met my eyes, trepidation lining his features. Listen, I just want to get this crap

done and get out of here. If this is you, L. It isn't. I returned. voice lost in the sound of Jonah growling and wrenching up the planchette, launching it across the room till it hit the wall with a sickening crack. I could only stare in shock at my furious, panting friend. But Adam leapt upwards, throwing his arms out in question. You can't be serious. Jonah, for hell's sake, what is wrong with you? And they argued, yelled, threw their arms around, ignored the room.

But I couldn't ignore the room. I hadn't been able to ignore it from the second we'd stepped in here. the atmosphere wrapping around my throat from the very first second we dared. And they weren't seeing it, but I was, the blanket in the corner of the room, hanging limply from the figure underneath it. Tall, impossibly tall, shrouded in shadow, and with the fabric sagging off it horribly. Shut up, I whispered to the boys next to me, but they didn't stop.

They didn't stop as the blanket began to drag closer towards us, the sound of toenails scraping on the floor echoing louder than even my friends. I could see the silhouette underneath it, the darkness that followed, the cold. But they didn't notice, not until a screech sounded, sending our eyes all in the direction of the bleeping monstrosity. Damn, Adam cried, shaking his head at the EMF detector, which was flashing a bloody red color and wailing to attention. I was only distracted momentarily from the carnage.

turning around in time to feel a horrid whoosh of air as the blanket fell into a crumpled heap a mere inch from my nose, dropping to my feet. The air was sucked from my lungs as I tumbled backwards, collapsing on the sofa and gasping instead of forming words. Adam looked upon me with concern, but Jonah was done. Nah, he growled, wincing at the wail of the EMF machine. Listen, I'm not doing this all over again. Come here, let's do something with this godforsaken thing. Grab it, wave it around, just get up. My eyes were still darting around the room and only pulled from their trance as a buzzing fly landed on my hand,

narrowly avoiding death with the flick of my shaking finger. It woke me up, my voice sounding more strained than I would have liked. Are you hearing that? It's detecting something, Jonah, I swear to God I saw. Faulty microwave, shoddy electrics. I don't know. His voice raised threateningly. Seriously, stop.

Let's leave the room and run in. We'll act shocked about the EMF, we'll walk around a bit, and then we're going. I'm sick of you both. I should have argued. Obviously, I should have argued. But I can't describe the way I felt in that moment. It was as though my fear gave way to denial so quickly that I was already calling myself crazy, reaching desperately for the idea that no, I was seeing things, feeling things,

as though I needed to prove to myself that I was crazy, and the horrors my mind was conjuring simply couldn't exist. So I stayed. I stayed as the three of us trudged out of the living room, as we all pulled our clothes tighter and ignored the ice seeping into our skin. I ignored Adam squeezing my shoulder, a sentiment he'd never bothered with before. I ignored my thudding heart as we clutched our cameras, bursting into the living room in our most epic movie yet, ready to contort our faces in horror. But we didn't have to fake it. In the corner was our screaming EMF reader, blinking red as it had been for the last five minutes.

But the problem was the endless claws wrapped around it, attached to a figure so tall its head brushed the ceiling, and black eyes glared upon us. It swayed in the shadows, but I could see its arms, gaunt and as long as its legs, neck cracking awfully as it turned to look at us in an instant. A sick dripping sounded just loud enough for us to hear, and to this day, I imagine it as thick crimson blood

falling from its fingers onto its dead, curled toes. Holy crap, Adam whispered, so I knew in fact I hadn't lost my mind. We ran, of course, scared idiots launching themselves backwards and tripping over everything. Legs jelly as we bolted for the front door. I cursed myself for not leaving more quickly, begged for a time machine to have me believe my eyes the first time. We didn't make it.

There in the hallway was our 1998 horror movie audio device. except now it was crackling, and a rasp sounded from it, too deep and gravely to be human. Layers of voices sounded at once, so distorted I could barely make them out. I smell your blood, it rasped. The voice touching me so closely I could practically feel it inside of me. I'll suck it out of your veins and wear your skin. And then, before there was time to react, every light bulb in the house smashed at once. I know, because I heard the truce of the same.

shards hit the floor in every room, cried out as pure darkness filled the space, leaving me with no idea where my friends were and if they even existed anymore. The door won't open! Adam screeched from my right, audibly jamming the handle. It won't open! Where's the crucifix? Jonah begged, and I could hear the tears in his voice. Adam! Where? But now it was only footsteps we heard, not slow ones, thudding, loud footsteps, gaining pace and getting louder and louder till it sounded like something was running at us. But the sound didn't come from the floor. With the most gut-wrenching feeling of horror, I realized it was coming from the ceiling.

Oh my God! Adam's voice was below me somewhere because he'd fallen down into a heap of fear. What the hell is that? What is that? It was deafening, all of it. The wailing EMF detector, the rasp of crackling audio threatening to break all our bones at once. the footsteps slamming to a stop directly above my head. All leading to the moment I looked up, a silent tear disappearing in a slow trickle down my cheek.

Its body was contorted horribly as it glowered down from the ceiling, neck cracked at an unnatural angle with bones jutting out everywhere. Dead black holes for eyes bored into mine, hell radiating from them in such a way that I was knocked to the floor by the sheer force of it. rows of razor teeth were pulled back into a horrific grin, stretching much in the way its wings did as they grazed the ceiling, reams of liquid trickling from them onto our heads. Hell, staring from above me, my memory is hazy,

and part of me thinks my brain tried to erase the trauma to give myself half a chance to go on with my life. I remember Jonah being lifted into the air with such a guttural wail that I've never heard a sound like it since. Remember the sound of his bones crackling as we ran, making straight for the living room. We threw furniture at the window and ignored the thud of Jonah's lifeless body being hurled at us, hitting the wall with a sick crack. I know we got out.

I felt its eyes burning from behind me as our skin snagged on glass, as we sprinted into the hammering rain, screaming for any help we could find. When the paramedics came, most of Jonah's leg had already been eaten. The remains nowhere to be found. He woke up six days later, screaming bloody murder. Screams he kept up till he was sedated, only reducing to a whimpering wail the third time they woke him up. The bottom floor of the house was destroyed, along with everything in it.

Our equipment crushed. All evidence of our horrors erased, other than the haunted look in Adams' eyes and the nightmares that still wake me at 3 a.m. Wild animals tore the leg from an unconscious Jonah, the local police said. We were just idiots holding a seance in a house, leaving the back door open to all manner of wild animals

as we partied ourselves silly. At first they thought we trashed the house, but the whistlebees assured the police that no, it simply wasn't the case. This had happened before, they told them. We were just caught in the crossfire. They gave their statement that night, protested our innocence, then packed their bags. They never left.

Their little girl went missing that night, right before they could flee. Her suitcase sat in her room, untouched, and that house became a sad legend on those streets, spoken about in hush tones. I left town, but something inside it never left me. We don't speak of it, the three of us. We left, and when we meet, that night exists as the elephant in the room, Jonah's scarred stump reminding us that we didn't imagine the entire thing as a collective fever dream. So I left.

lived my life, started going to church, took up cricket, and when I hear the sound of thudding footsteps hammering along the ceiling of my hallway in the dead of night, I pull the covers over my head and pray to every God that may or may not exist that I'll live another day. It takes such a long time to pick up all 104 crucifixes off the floor the next morning, but for the life of me, I'll never stop doing it.