The Lets Read Podcast - 24: Episode 024 | Crazy Ex & Instagram Stalker Stories | 27 True Scary Horror Stories

Episode Date: February 22, 2019

Welcome to the twenty-fourth episode of The Lets Read Podcast! This podcast includes narrations of true creepy encounters submitted by normal folks just like yourself. Today you'll experience horrifying stories about Crazy Exes, Haunted Jails & Instagram Stalkers. HAVE A STORY TO SUBMIT?► www.Reddit.com/r/LetsReadOfficial FOLLOW ME ON- ► Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsread.official/ ► Twitter - https://twitter.com/LetsReadCreepy ►YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/c/letsreadofficial ♫ Background Music: Iron Cthulhu Apocalypse https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DFvrqVSJE8E PATREON for EARLY ACCESS!►http://patreon.com/LetsRead

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If you have questions or concerns about gambling or someone close to you, please contact Connex Ontario at 1-866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. I'm not the greatest storyteller, but I'll try my best to tell you what happened. Even after five years, remembering this part of my life makes me sick to my stomach. When we fall in love, the last thing we think our partner is capable of is wanting us dead. In a normal relationship, we believe that to be the exact opposite of love. As time goes on and the relationship grows stronger, we become more and more comfortable with each other, often to the point of revealing our biggest secrets. However, there sometimes comes a moment at the end of that relationship when we regret revealing those secrets because love rarely ends

happily. In that situation, a former partner may feel unveiling that secret is a way to take revenge over the one that spurned them. Although we all may fear that our former mate may use what they know against us, I've only known one person who was willing to kill another human to ensure that never happened. Soon after completing college, I ran into a girl I had once briefly worked with. For the sake of privacy, we'll call her Mandy. I've been a manager at the GameStop located in my hometown, a place you've never heard of so I'll leave out the name. Since I was a manager, having a relationship with another employee was frowned upon.

So, despite our obvious attraction for each other, we kept things professional. However, knowing that there was no such barrier to us now, we soon started seeing each other and it quickly became physical. Looking back, I think we were rushing things because we felt we had a lot to make up for. The amazing thing about relationships that are so passionate is they are exciting but unfortunately burn out quickly and all that passion can turn into hate. This was the case with us and it was all from her side. She was unable to accept that I would move for my new job and not stay in our little hick town with her. We managed to go our separate ways and agreed not to see each other again. My life went ahead and I moved to Dallas to take a new job. My memory of my time

with Mandy was fading away. This was all changed when I received a phone call from a police detective from back home. He said that he needed me to come into the station and speak to him. He was quick to assure me that I was not being investigated but it was an important situation involving my relationship with Mandy. I'll admit right now I was freaking out but also puzzled considering it had been several months since we had even spoken to each other. When I arrived at the police station I was led into an empty room and asked to sit and wait for the detective. This did little to help my feelings of dread. After waiting for what seemed like hours the detective came into the room and sat across from me.

What he said to me next would change my life forever. We received a tip from one of our confidential informants that your ex-girlfriend was looking to hire a hitman. After a two month long investigation, we sent in one of our undercovers to meet with her to discover her true intentions. At the end of that meeting we felt we had enough evidence to take Miss Lawrence into custody. After several hours of interrogation she confirmed that you were indeed the target. My jaw dropped and I asked the detective to repeat what he had just said. There was no way Mandy would do something like this. For a moment I thought it was all a cruel joke. This kind of

thing doesn't happen in real life, just in movies. But once I saw the file and heard the recording of her admitting to it, I had no other choice but to accept it. The detective and I spent the next three or so hours discussing my history with Mandy from beginning to end and were still left with no motive. She refused to give a reason and I was at a loss myself. Okay, the aftermath of our breakup was rather rocky but nowhere near the point of having me terminated, so to speak. Hiring a hitman is an extreme answer to any problem and I couldn't think of any that severe between us. We had to wait almost a year for the trial to start, but when it finally did, we got the answer to our number one question.

It appeared that one night Mandy had let slip to me a story pertaining to an ex-boyfriend that she was mortified I would repeat. She had woken up with this guy and when she discovered he was engaged a few months later to a new girl, she contacted the girl and told her all sorts of lies about him. The lies scared the new girlfriend so much that she cancelled the wedding and dumped him. She had apparently agreed to not tell the guy the source of the stories or even exactly what was said. She just bailed. To make the story even more crazy, Mandy was now going out with the same guy again. From what she said in her testimony, she was afraid that I would tell the guy that she was the person that destroyed his impending marriage. The funniest thing about

this whole situation is that I didn't even remember that story until she repeated it in court. I guess the relationship was that important to her. So important that she would attempt to take the life of another she once claimed to also love. Well, anyway Mandy was found guilty and sentenced to 10 years and I imagine she'll probably be out in about 7. So Mandy, if you ever do read this and manage to get out of jail, I have a great idea. Let's never meet again. In my 20s and 30s, I lived in an apartment complex in an upscale section of a large Dallas suburb. I had moved there with my longtime girlfriend, but within two years, we went our separate ways. Despite the split, I decided to stay in the apartment because it was a great neighborhood and I never liked moving if I didn't have to. I was able to make

friends on occasion with the tenants nearby but for most of my time living there I spent alone. This wasn't really a problem as I worked long days during the week so I was usually too tired in the evenings to want to socialize. The weekends were spent cleaning and completing the chores that had remained undone from days or weeks before. However, when I did find myself at loose ends on the occasional Saturday evening, I would invariably find amusement at one of the coffee shops or bars that were densely scattered throughout the neighborhood. My hangout of choice soon became a small English-style pub conveniently located across the street from my block of apartments. The quiet, laid-back tone

of the bar was what I liked most about it, but soon I would also make friends with several of the employees. Generally, the same group of people worked every Saturday night, so we quickly got to know each other well. Lisa, a tall and curvy redhead, caught my eye almost immediately. She had been the first girl in God knows how long I had been truly interested in. Luckily, I discovered she felt the same way about me and we started seeing each other on our corresponding days off. We did our best to take things slowly considering we had both just ended our long term relationships. Hers had only ended just recently and her ex had been very jealous and possessive. I liked her a lot so I was willing to give her as much space

as she needed. The following couple of weeks went by smoothly, especially when it came to Lisa and I. We continued to see each other on our nights off and would occasionally meet at the coffee shop next door to the bar and chat on our breaks. On Saturday nights I would hang out at the pub. I would generally be met with friendly faces but there was one bartender that used to give me dirty looks and ignore me if I asked him for help. One night soon after I started dating her I asked Lisa if she knew what the guy's deal was with me and she told me something I wasn't expecting. The rude bartender was her ex. The possessive one she had just broken up with. I naturally was a bit confused and asked her why she was still working on the same nights as him. I didn't expect her to

just quit her job because she had broken up with a fellow employee but surely she could have asked her boss to change her schedule so the two of them wouldn't have to work together. Bringing this up I tried to show enough concern while not seeming too controlling since I knew that had been one of the problems in their relationship. After all we were just casually dating. We had agreed that we were still free to see other people if we wanted. The last thing I wanted was to make her think I was just like him. She assured me that they had agreed to not let it affect their working relationship and besides the bar owners frowned on employees dating each other. She was afraid that if she had mentioned the situation to her boss he would punish her in some way or even fire her

so she just kept it to herself. Despite my concerns I figured that she knew her ex better than I did and if she didn't foresee any problems I'd have to take her word for it. Besides if the most I got from the guy was the evil eye once in a while I probably didn't have much to worry about him either. At least that's what I thought. Things between Lisa and I continued to progress well. So well, in fact, she started staying over Saturdays and the idea of her still working with her ex-boyfriend had slipped completely out of my mind. I would meet her after work and walk with her back to my place. This was our weekly routine until the winter started to really kick

in. By December, it had become too cold to walk so I started picking her up in my car. One late Saturday night, I met her at the back door of the bar like I did every week. As she walked toward the car, I could tell she was upset about something. When she got to the car, I asked her if she was okay. She cut me off and coldly assured me she was only tired and asked if I could take her to the gas station so she could get some coffee. Since I had no reason to think she was anything other than worn out from work, I agreed. As she came back to the car from the store, the bright lights lit up her face. I could tell she had been crying. Her face still held that

deep red tone. When she got back in the car she said she just wanted to go straight to bed. The urge to ask her what the matter was consumed me but her icy demeanor stopped me. I hadn't seen her like this before so I didn't know how persistent I could be before it sparked an argument. After all maybe she was just tired like she said and her nerves were frayed. When we arrived at my place she continued to say nothing. I did notice she stayed back near the passenger side of my car. She hadn't followed me to my front door like usual. Noticing this, I turned back to her to see if I could see what was holding her attention,

but as soon as I began walking back to the car she snapped out of her daze and followed me to the door. Once we finally made it inside she went straight to my bed to lie down. I was confused by her behavior. She seemed severely exhausted but wired at the same time. I glanced at her and noticed she was looking through the blinds next to my bed. Outside the window the bright headlights from a car lit up her face and the bedroom she was in. Upon seeing the lights, she rolled off the bed and onto the floor and started screaming, No! Before one word could leave my mouth, two loud bangs and the crashing of glass filled the bright little bedroom. My instincts must have taken

over because I found myself lying flat on the floor with my hands on my head. The screeching of car tires quickly came and went, and just as quickly the room went dark and silent as it had been moments before. Looking up from my hands, I saw Lisa's motionless form curled into the fetal position at the foot of the bed. I felt fear creep over me. Not because of the bedlam that had just occurred, I was still unsure if it was real. I was afraid Lisa was dead. Just as I started to lunge to her place on the floor, she sprung out of her ball and began wailing. Her eyes darted around the room as did her hands, reaching out as if though she had been blinded. Pity overwhelmed me. The sight of her panic and fear tore at my heart. Grabbing out

to her, she took my hand and pulled me to her. She continued her muffled wail as she rocked slowly in the dark, cold room. The police arrived sometime that morning, not sure when although it was likely within a few minutes of the gunshots. I did my best to tell the detectives what had occurred but it was Lisa that had seen the attack first hand. It took a week or more before she was able to fill in the gaps. Apparently things had not been going as smoothly as she had led me to believe. The ex had been harassing her, leaving violent messages on her phone, threatening her and myself. She had done her best to keep him at arm's length but everything had come to a head that night. He had shown up at the bar around closing time ranting about how he was going to blow us away and then end himself. He had driven away before I had arrived

so she hoped he had went home but it seems he followed my car back to my apartment. The rest of course you already know. The highway patrol managed to catch up to him a few days later. He never said what exactly he had intended to do with us but in the end I guess that doesn't really matter. The damage was done regardless. Of course a relationship would have to be rock solid to make it through such a harrowing situation like that and I guess ours wasn't. Lisa contacted me just once more to tell me goodbye. She was moving west to stay with some friends and we agreed it was probably best that I didn't know where she was moving to just in case. I moved back to my hometown that spring and I hope to this day Lisa will find the peace she deserves.

I have a sister about five years older than me. She always had addiction issues, at least as long as I can remember. On top of that, her choice of men had been just as bad, if not worse. She moved out at 17 and straight into an apartment with three other addicts. One of them was a 30-something-year year old tweaker with a long history of dating barely legal girls. Of course, my sister fell head over heels for him and ended up moving in with him and his mother within a month of meeting him. This relationship followed the usual pattern most of her others had in the past. They'd score dope together, he'd beat her up for taking more

than her share and then beg her forgiveness. She would move back in with our family but his begging and crying always drew her back to him. Over time, the apologies came less and less until she believed it was her fault for his actions and gave herself over to him completely. It didn't take long before the drugs take their toll and she was unable to hold down a job for more than a few days. Naturally, he couldn't be expected to work because of some phantom ailment or condition he suffered from. His only solution for their problem was to turn her onto the streets to sell her body for the substances they so badly craved. It took a near-death beating from him to get her to see him for the garbage he was. She ran home to my parents and they took her in with open arms. Thankfully, the horror of almost

losing her life brought her to the clarity she had lacked in the past. Her determination to get clean and change her life for the better was finally strong enough for her to pull it off. My parents once again funded a 90- day stint in a rehab program, the fourth time in fact. We were all pleased to see her taking it seriously and even after leaving the treatment facility she continued to attend NA meetings and keep clean. She took a job as a secretary at a local doctor's office and stayed there for several years until she left to raise her first child. Perhaps the biggest change in her life was finding God. She had begun attending a small Baptist church in the area and was soon volunteering there and at other church-run

organizations on her days off. Since our family had never been the church-going type, this choice had seemed the strangest to us, but I was unhappy she had found a source of solace and security after all she had suffered. About six months after her release from rehab, my sister met a handsome young man when she was volunteering at the church food kitchen. He was also a volunteer there in addition to a leader of another local church's choir. Despite her attraction to him, she had learned from her past bad decisions to take things slow even though she had found everything about him wonderful. This courtship lasted two years and in that time he did his best to show her how much he was unlike the other men that had been in her past. When the time came and he asked for her to marry him, he made sure to get

the father's approval. Of course, my father and the rest of the family approved of the kind and respectful young man. We couldn't be happier that she had finally found a loving partner. The wedding was beautiful and couldn't have went more smoothly. However, when they came back from the honeymoon a week later, what had occurred shocked us all. The first night after they had reached the hotel, they had an argument over her tipping the man who brought the food to their room. He said she had made him look unmanly because she had not let him be the one who tipped the man. She saw this as no big deal and in an attempt to cool the situation, she apologized. This only

served to make him even more angry and the fight escalated to the point of him slapping her. Almost as soon as it happened, he began apologizing profusely and blamed his outburst on jet lag. Thinking it the most wise choice at the time, she accepted his apology, but in her mind she knew that when they got back home, the marriage was over. It broke her heart that it had ended this way, but she had made a pledge to herself all those years ago in that hospital bed that she would never let a man take advantage of her love again. Just as she promised, the divorce was filed the following week. As usual with men like him, he spent all his waking moments

begging on the phone for forgiveness and asking her to come home to him, sometimes even breaking down in sobs. My sister did her best to ignore his groveling and turn her life on to a new and better path. For the most part, she managed to achieve this, at least until we took the choice away from her. One Monday morning, about two months after the divorce was finalized, my sister left for work like usual. However, around noon, the office called her home to find out that there was a reason she wasn't coming to work. We assured her boss that she had left for work at 7.30 like she did every day. An unanswered call to her cell phone freaked us out and we alerted the police right away. The only

conclusion we could come up with was that her ex-husband had abducted her or something much worse. We gave the cops all the information we could think of. All was left was to just sit and wait. The next two days moved at a snail's pace until we received a phone call from the police that my sister had been found and she was still alive. They tracked them down to a ramshackle cabin. A passing motorist saw her ex-husband's car and called in with the location. The state police managed to storm the cabin early in the morning, catching him off guard. We could see when we reached the hospital that he had beaten her pretty badly. My intuition tells me he did much more but I would never dream of asking her to relive it. We were all just overjoyed to have her back.

The trial didn't happen for another year and when it did my sister showed her strength by testifying against that monster. The jury found him guilty and he was sentenced to 20 years. Believe it or not, my sister managed to move ahead. She was even able to find a lasting and loving marriage. I've been blessed with two beautiful nieces and hope to be blessed with more. Her new husband is the finest man I've ever known and would give his life for my sister and his daughters. She has finally found that stable life she had been searching for for so long. There is, however, a cloud hanging over this idyllic family. They were just notified that her ex-husband is being released on parole.

After serving only 12 years of his sentence, he has conned the parole board into believing he was a new man. For the sake of my family and my sisters, I hope he really has. I'm what people like to call old school, which means I like to do things the old way. When I want coffee, I make it in a coffee maker in my kitchen. If I need a new piece of clothing, I go to a men's store and buy it. When I want to read a new book, I go to a library and borrow it. If that's not an option, I visit my local bookstore and buy it.

Of course, I know it would likely be cheaper to order from Amazon, but I prefer to spend my money locally with people from my community. On a recent visit to my favorite bookstore I was unable to find the title I was interested in. I was pleasantly surprised to be helped by a hot little item we'll call Rhonda. She notified me that the book was only available by special order. I gave her my information so the book could be shipped to the store and I could pick it up when it arrived. We flirted back and forth until, before I knew it, we decided to go on a date together. We set it for that Saturday and I went on my way. Saturday arrived and I

decided to take her to dinner at one of those big chain family style restaurants. She struck me as a meat and potatoes kind of girl and I knew this place made both well. She was pleased with the place as I had hoped. Despite being a petite and thin girl she managed to put away her massive entree easily. I was pleased to see she felt comfortable enough around me to be herself. After dinner we enjoyed our desserts and coffee and chatted about our lives. When the subject of her last boyfriend came up she told me the basics of how they met and how the relationship ultimately ended. From what she said they didn't have much in common and had only spent a few weeks together. That was until the fool decided to break up with her through a text. Even though we agreed that this was a low thing to do,

she easily laughed it off and told me how she had poisoned his dog for revenge. I froze in place as she continued to chuckle her way through her horrid tale. The look on her face as she told it proved that the idea that this was a psycho reaction never entered her warped mind. I quietly choked down the rest of my dessert trying not to betray the outright fear coursing through me. I had met some crazy girls in my time but she was the definition of overreaction. I acted as normally as I could on the drive to her house and as she left my car, oblivious to the fact that we'd surely never see one another again, I counted myself lucky. I would hate to see how she would react if I dumped her after a short relationship.

At least I didn't have a dog. I happily went back to my normal life and tried to put Rhonda out of my mind. There wasn't a peep from her until that next Saturday came around. She called three times and left as many messages through the course of the day, but I did my best to ignore her. Fortunately, the rest of the weekend was quiet. Things remained that way until Monday when she began blitzing my phone with confused messages. Each one was more and more frantic. The last was left Friday evening with just the desperate statement, I thought we had made a connection. You've broken my heart. I know I may sound heartless but

I'd had my share of crazy relationships and some turning violent. The last thing I wanted was to get into another. I was pleasantly surprised not to hear from her again after that last message. Things went back to normal and I had reassured myself that regardless of how crazy she could become, she'd never be able to come to my house and stab me to death in my sleep or something insane like that. As if she could hear my thoughts, a text popped up in my phone a couple of weeks later. It was from Rhonda and it simply said, You forgot something. My heart sank. That's when I remembered the book. The book I'd ordered from her and had given her my address to do it. That's why I'm writing this crazy story. I need help from all of you out there

reading this. What should I do? I don't care about some stupid book, there is something much more serious going on here. Please help me. I'm purposely going to leave out names and certain details of the story. My main reason is to respect my aunt's privacy and that of the other families involved. I wouldn't have told it all but I feel a certain responsibility to remind people that the police are not always right. My mother's sister had been in and out of our life throughout my childhood. Once she had been able to conquer her addiction problems she became a much more important part of our family.

However, before she could get herself together, she was the victim of a hideous crime. One late night, she was helping a friend find a motel room when they were kidnapped and left for dead. Thankfully, my aunt was able to crawl to a main road for help but despite this her friend didn't survive. She managed to identify one of the men involved and the police caught up with him quickly but since she was unable to give them many details on the other killer, the police doubted his existence. Considering the extent of her injuries they assumed she had just imagined him.

Although it was obvious that it would have been much harder for one man to abduct two young women, they wrote off her claims as just another irrational female. She did her best to return to the drug-free path she had set herself upon before the whole thing happened. Her days were filled with work and her free time was spent doing her best to prevent the police from closing the case. Despite the fact the cops continued to believe that her attacker acted alone, she was continually providing them with similar crimes where the witnesses identified two young men. Regardless of the evidence, her claims fell on deaf ears. As the months dragged on, she became more convinced that the second killer would

never be found. After Thanksgiving, the family focused more on the coming Christmas holiday and all the goodies that come with it. Whether we wanted to or not, my aunt and I were nominated by my dad to pick up a present from my mom. He would be working out of town until the last week of the month, so he gave us the job. I don't have to tell you how chaotic the Christmas shopping season is but we managed to achieve our goal a few days early. To celebrate our triumph we decided to stop off and get some fancy coffee. The traffic was light so we saw no reason the car behind us should be riding our bumper. He soon started flashing his lights and when we came to an empty stretch of road he pulled to the lane next to us and began ramming the side of the car. It was obvious at this point he was trying to run us off the road. I freaked out of course,

being only 19 at this point I had never been in a situation like this and how I didn't crash right away is beyond me. The second time he rammed his car into mine my aunt started yelling out, that's him, that's the guy that killed and she mentioned her friend. She immediately dialed 911 and told them what was happening. It took a couple of minutes before the highway patrol came into sight behind us. When we were about 50 yards from the roadblock, the man ramming us slowed down and tried to turn around, but another cop car behind us blocked him in. Realizing he had nowhere to go, he gave up. That Christmas was the best our family had ever

had. The second killer eventually took a plea deal so he could avoid the death penalty. It wasn't until much later that the detectives told him he could have got away with this crime had he not tried to come after us. My aunt has yet to get an apology from the police department but she's happy in the knowledge she was right when everyone else doubted her. Despite my many misgivings, I'm writing this story down because my counselors agree that doing so could be a positive step in my therapy. Since I've been here for almost a year, I assume that some of those involved in getting me better think it's time for me to move on with my life. I'm not so sure, but here we go. I was shy and bookish in high school because of that I guess I failed to attract the attention of boys. I didn't really mind. Most of the boys I

knew in school were jocks or immature gamer types. Besides, the last thing I had on my mind was dating. My focus was on school and I was determined to get into the best college I could. Maybe I would be able to cut out a small bit of time to meet someone. At least, that was my plan. Other than reading, my greatest love is music. All the best moments in my life are connected to a song. My best friend and I would go to every concert that we could. One year, I counted and figured out we had been to a song. My best friend and I would go to every concert that we could. One year I counted and figured out we had been to 10 shows. So yeah, when I say greatest love, I mean it. In May of 2016, The Cure was playing The Bowl. So we went and that night I met Adam.

He looked like your average goth emo type guy. Somehow, we had made eye contact in that mass of thousands of people, and I guess this gave him the okay to come talk to me. Normally, I would have blown him off since I'm not interested in guys that look like they're trying to be cool. Look, I may be shy, but I have no problem telling people what I think of them. Before I could do the same to him, Adam flashed a smile so beautiful it melted my heart. Once he had gotten my attention, I began listening to what he was saying and to my surprise, he was the smartest person I'd ever met. Usually I'm the smartest person in the room, wherever I go, but everything that came out of his mouth floored me.

That's all it took. I was in love. We spent the rest of the show talking about everything under the sun. I'm not even sure what songs The Cure played. For the first time in my life, music took a back seat to a boy. When I spoke, he actually listened and when he did, he made the most mundane things sexy. When the concert ended, we exchanged numbers and made plans to get together as soon as possible. Since he lived in the next city over and had his own car, he promised to pick me up the next Saturday and take me somewhere I'd love.

That week drugged by so slowly that I was unable to focus on anything else. When Saturday finally arrived, I started getting ready almost as soon as I woke up. It was my first date and I wanted to be ready as soon as he called. Pretty sad, I know, but Adam was special. When he finally called, I told him to pick me up at the end of the block. I didn't want to have to introduce Adam to my grandparents. Don't get me wrong, they were great people, but traditional. Adam wouldn't have met up to their expectations regardless of how smart he was. Our date turned out to be at a local upscale bistro coffee shop.

It was by far the nicest place I had ever been and I loved it. We shared a set of appetizers and finished the meal with coffee and dessert. Most of the boys I knew couldn't even say biscotti, let alone know what a bistro was, so I was impressed. The real surprise was after dinner when he took me to the large park on the edge of the city. We got there after 10, so we had the place to ourselves. We sat on a bench next to the lake and told each other the story of our lives. Once we were cuddled together, Adam looked over to me and placed a clumsy but tender kiss on my lips. It was the epitome of romantic. I always thought that I was above such tripe, but I discovered that when you fall in love, things such as this lose their

cheesiness. We sat in silence for many minutes just talking in the beautiful scene. Then Adam began to speak in a quiet but concise voice. That was the first time I've ever kissed a girl. The tone of his voice was so cute I was unable to stop myself from letting out a small laugh. I told him I wasn't laughing at him. I had just found the honesty of his confession so sweet. I couldn't help myself. About the time I got the last word from my mouth, I felt the sudden stinging sensation of a slap across my mouth and chin.

A warm throbbing feeling continued to grow just below and my nose and the salty taste of blood filled my mouth. I don't think... no, I can't do this right now. It's still too painful. Everything that happened is my fault anyway. Here we are again. It looks as if I've lost the battle against my masters. I had hoped that if I managed to put off finishing this story the doctors would let it slide for at least the remainder of the year. Unfortunately, I was warned that if continued to put off what they called the inevitable, they would be forced to drug me and make me relive it in my personal sessions. I'm not sure at this point which choice is worse, but I know by choosing to tell it here, I have some control on how the story is told. So, this is the option I've chosen. Once I realized I had been hit, I was frozen.

Even though I could taste the blood in my mouth, the shock of being slapped by someone I loved was confusing. I know I was mortified to look at him in the face. The wait for another strike was agonizing, but it never came. At first, I thought he had ran away away but when I turned to look at him, his face was a frozen mask of shock. He looked as if though he had been the one who had been slapped but once he realized I was facing him, the mask changed to one of fear and regret. I was at once overwhelmed by a blast of apologies and excuses. Despite all that was going on around me, all I could do was tell him to take me home. The apologies continued, but once he surrendered to the fact that his words were hopeless, he could only say, okay. On the walk and the long drive to my house, neither of us spoke.

I don't know his thoughts, but when it came to me, I was still on a level of shock almost to the point of catatonic. As I walked to my front door, I could hear a string of muffled words coming from the car, but I was in no state to hear them or even care what they were. He slowly drove away and that was the beginning of the end. I was unable to even comprehend what had happened for two days. My phone had been assaulted by calls from Adam since at least Sunday morning. I made no effort to listen to the messages he left and once my box was full, the calls increased. I'm unaware of what occurred at school that Monday and honestly don't know when

I got home. It wasn't until that night that I began slipping from my stupor. The fact that the guy I love more than life itself had slapped me hit me far harder than he ever could. The dam broke free and I cried myself to sleep that night. I had no desire to go to school the next day so I didn't. Besides being psychologically destroyed, the idea of explaining to my friends what had happened made me physically ill too. I returned to school Thursday but refused to answer my friends what had happened made me physically ill too. I returned to school Thursday but refused to answer my friends questions until they decided to let it go and stop asking. Adam's calls continued but became less frequent as the weeks dragged on until they all but stopped. I had

decided that if he did call again that I would answer. The time had finally arrived for me to confront him about hitting me and explain in clear terms that our relationship was over. Regardless of how sad it made me I knew I would never be able to respect myself again. It wasn't long before he did call and I answered just as I had planned. His voice was filled with joy and a tinge of surprise. Before he could say much I interrupted him and let him know that any sort of relationship that we had had been ruined by his behavior and hung up the phone. The rest of the week was quiet and my courage to tell him everything was

over gave me a new hope that I may possibly survive this breakup. Unfortunately Adam wasn't going to let that happen. He left me alone for a few days before he decided to take things to a new level. I felt that if he called, I was strong enough to deal with anything he had to say to me, but I was wrong. Look, I know I made a mistake, but it's your fault I did it. You shouldn't have laughed at me. I've given you plenty of time to get over it, so let it go so we can move on. His voice was so cold and what I could best describe as commanding. It sent a chill down my spine. I was so shocked at his inability to accept the situation the best I could say was,

No, I'm sorry. We're done. And I hung up the phone, still somewhat confused. His ability to push the blame onto me so easily had me honestly bewildered. I couldn't fathom how someone so intelligent could be so sensitive. I actually caught myself asking if I was indeed at fault for his actions, but blew that from my mind quickly. Things went back to radio silence for a few days until he called with his ultimatum to me. Look, I'm sick of this. Either we get back together

or I'll be forced to do something terrible to you and everyone you love. Without you, I have nothing to live for anyway. I could tell he had been crying. He tried to hide it, but the wavering in his voice gave it away. Yeah, sure. It was all I could say before I broke out in laughter and hung up. I was in awe of how someone could know someone such a short time and be so obsessed with them. That was the moment I realized I was over him and I could smile for the first time in a long time. Life luckily returned to what it was before and Adam faded

away. Each year around my birthday my mother would come into town and take me out to dinner to celebrate. My relationship with my mother is somewhat complex. I view her just like a normal child views a parent despite only seeing her at the holidays. It was decided when I was much younger that I would live with my grandparents because of the nature of my mom's job. She worked for an insurance company assessing damage claims made by policyholders. Therefore she was only around home a few days a month. Put this together with a deadbeat dad I hadn't seen since I was two and it only seemed natural I live with my mom's parents. My mom showed up the night before my

actual birthday and slept over. The next evening we went to our favorite restaurant in LA. We spent our evening catching up and that meant I told her about my brief but whirlwind romance with Adam. She was supportive of my decision to walk away and reminded me of my plans for my future, none of which had room for a relationship. Our evening was great as usual and after dessert we made our way back to my grandparents' house. My mom's plan was to spend the night and give me my present in the morning. I was perhaps the happiest and most excited I had been in a long time. When we entered the house, it was oddly silent. It was a Sunday, so my grandfather was usually parked in front of the TV watching football until 10, and my grandmother was either sitting with him

or doing something in the kitchen, but none of this was happening. The lights were off in the living room, which made my mom and I even more nervous. So as we entered it, I switched them on and that's when we saw it. Now from this point, you'll have to rely on what others had told me because when I saw what had been done, well, it all stopped there. Apparently Adam tied both my grandparents' hands up and shot them them as if this wasn't horrible enough he scrawled who's laughing now on the living room wall in their blood my mother informed the police of my history with Adam and the threats he had made I was unable to answer any other questions

they may have had after a three-day search the police got a call about a young man's body being found on a bench near the lake at the park. It was Adam and he had shot himself. In his warped mind it was probably a way to ruin a special moment for me or maybe he wanted to die at the last place he was happy. I can't even begin to imagine what was going on in his shattered psyche that awful night. I'm still not sure if I should be happy I was out that night or not. That was it. Adam was dead so there was no one to try for the crime so the police and everyone else involved moved on. Well, that is everyone else but me. My mom admitted me a few days after the murders. It was obvious that I wasn't handling the whole situation well and I've been here ever since.

It's been almost a year since the death of my grandparents and Adam. If there is one thing I have come to learn here is that these doctors, these people in charge, don't know anything. Writing down all the wretched things that happened and what led them to happening has only made me feel worse. Also, it has just reinforced what I have always believed, all the way back to the night it all unfolded. All this, everything that happened, is and was my fault. The following incident occurred in the late 90s when I was living in the states attending uni. I was about 19 at the time and like most girls of my age, thought that nothing bad would ever happen to me.

To be fair, I had managed to grow up without experiencing any real problems that I couldn't handle. Looking back, I guess I had been sheltered from the world and this had made me somewhat spoiled. Carrying this mindset with me to university did me no good and caused me to put myself in a situation that could have ruined my life forever. Like most of the other girls in my dorm, I enjoyed having a good time. Studies had their place and some focused on them more than others but almost all of us living there liked to party now and then. New Orleans is known all over the world for its party atmosphere and its many bars and clubs play a large part in that atmosphere.

It's a heaven on earth for young people looking for somewhere to have a good time and blow off steam. A group of us girls had the goal of going to every bar and club in town or as many as would be possible in the four years we would be there. It was a lofty goal in any university town but in New Orleans it was more of a quest. The weekend after the Christmas New Year's holiday had ended and the term was to begin a small group of us made plans to go out and party before school began that Monday. When that Saturday came around I was the only one of the girls that wasn't ill. Not being one to let other sicknesses get in my way of having a good time

I decided to go out anyway. We had planned to check out a small neighborhood bar just off of Bourbon Street, so that was where I started the night. It had the usual comfortable atmosphere you get from a neighborhood bar. I met a couple of the usual customers, mostly folks who lived or worked in the area, but the best part of the place had to be the cute bartender that poured me my first drink. I was invited to sit at the table with a couple of the other students I knew and we began catching up on how our holidays had worked out. They left the table a couple of minutes after I sat down because the couple they were supposed to meet there showed up and waved them over to join them at their table. Realizing I had yet to

even take a drink of my pint, I took a long slug leaving only the last quarter. It didn't take long before I started feeling very dizzy. My tolerance had certainly decreased over the holidays but I knew it would certainly take more than half a pint to put me under the table. There had to be something wrong but in my state I was unable to even form lucid thoughts. A pair of older men I didn't recognize joined me at the table. Instead of asking if I was okay they claimed to be friends of my roommates. When I stated that I felt ill they quickly volunteered to escort me back to my dorm. Before I could even react, the other two men whisked me out of the door of the bar and down the street. Through my glassy eyes, I attempted to focus on

the sidewalk and where they were leading me. Despite being at the point of near unconsciousness, I had the clarity to realize we were going in the opposite direction of my dorm. That realization filled my body with fear and caused me to panic. I began yelling in a slurred tone. No, no, not this way. Men quickly attempted to quiet me down and assure me they knew the way. The fear that I may fall completely unconscious must have given me a shot of adrenaline. There was no way I was going to let these guys take me to God knows where and do what else or worse. The L sounded more like screams this time. A group of college-aged men walked past us and I took my chance. Help me! Help me! It was the best I could muster, but it did its job.

The group approached us and began asking if I was okay and what was going on. The two men with me tried to convince the group that I was just acting crazy but the college guys didn't buy it. Hey how about we call the cops and you can explain the situation to them. Upon hearing this the two men ran away without another word. The college guys stayed with me until the police and ambulance arrived. They explained what had happened to the officers and I was taken away to spend the night at the hospital. When the police followed up, I told them what I could piece together from my still murky memory. Unfortunately, I was unable to give them any idea of who had drugged me. All we could be certain of was that my drink had been the source of the drugs, but who had actually done the spiking, no one could say.

The investigation ended up going nowhere since there was no clear suspects or information. I was forced to continue with school uncertain if those two men would come after me again or try to victimize other unsuspecting women. The semester ended and I flew home unsure if I would return in the spring. I made the decision to return and I'm glad I did considering I would go on to meet my future husband Jerry in my final year of university. The two gentlemen that attempted to abduct me were never arrested as far as I know but it did come to light later that the cute bartender that poured my beer that night was being paid by the two unnamed men to drug the drinks of women that they pointed out to him. All these years later I am still very aware of how lucky I was that night

and how bad things could have went. If I'm ever blessed with a daughter I will be sure to tell her that story when the time is right to ensure she does her best to never put herself in any position where she could come across any man like those two I met that night. I want to make it clear that I'm not posting this story here to scare anyone. It's one and only purpose is to remind you all that you are not almighty. You can be hurt and there are men out there just sitting and waiting for a chance to take advantage of the smallest mistake. If you want to go out and have fun and blow off some steam, please do and enjoy yourself. However, keep the story in mind and let it serve as a warning. Please, always bring at least one friend along with you anytime you plan on going

out. You never know, you may be the one that ends up saving a life. I was a jail nurse for about three years in a correctional facility that housed approximately 1,300 inmates. Loved the job. Would have stayed longer, but administration sucked. But that's another story. I work night shift and have had some creepy stuff happen that just could be rationally explained.

I worked both booking and infirmary, but the majority of the incidents occurred in infirmary. Okay, so I was there maybe a month, not a new nurse, but new to corrections. Anyone who has spent any time in a jail will tell you that when those heavy doors slam shut, it is a very distinctive, definitive loud sound. So to get into the infirmary, you have to have a key or be buzzed in by central control So I'm sitting at my desk and I hear the metal door outside my office click Like someone from central has unlocked it And it opens about halfway and then just slams shut Now in my office there is a huge glass window

So the nursing staff can see any inmates that are about to enter So when the door slammed I thought it was just the officers messing around and I jumped up and went to the window and no one was there. I called central and the officer that answered sounded like I just woke him from a sound sleep. I said haha very funny. He had no idea what I was talking about. And I knew this officer and I was surprised that he would go along with any type of prank because frankly he was kind of a jerk with absolutely no sense of humor. So I just thought it was some mechanical glitch. I sat down and everything just like changed. It felt colder and I felt like I was being watched. I was just all around uncomfortable.

I took my stethoscope from around my neck and put it on the desk and left my office to go into the medical department. I stayed in medical for a few, talking to the staff in there and then went back to my office. When I walked in, I went to grab my stethoscope off the desk to check an inmate and it wasn't there. I looked on the desk, on the side side underneath. It just wasn't there. I should mention that when I left my office I did lock the door as per protocol and I'm the only one on shift with the key. Now I think I'm going crazy so I start looking everywhere and I cannot find it. Now in my office there is a large closet that holds all supplies, this is also locked, with the key being on the set of keys that I carry.

Later in the shift I needed to go into the closet and get something. I really don't remember what and sitting in the middle of the floor is my stethoscope. I picked it up and the heavy metal door outside my office clicks again, opens halfway and slams shut. I locked the closet, locked my office and went out for a smoke. I was scared but I had responsibilities and patients to look after so I go back in. And I swear the whole atmosphere felt lighter, it was warmer and I just felt more comfortable. After my shift the central officers

rewound the tapes for me and I saw the doors just open and slam shut with not a single person near them or in the hallway. I wish I could say that was the last time that happened or that I got comfortable with it. I didn't because each time it happened it seemed that the doors slammed harder and that uncomfortable feeling lasted longer and longer and it felt almost like being stalked. Things that went missing were found in different parts of the jail. My pen case and the woman's wing, my med sheets and solitary central control room, my portable blood pressure cuff in the kitchen. And each and every time something of mine would show up in some other part of the jail, the officers and I would look at the tapes and see no one. Remember I said I felt like I was

being stalked? Well, that's because all these things happened to me, but no other nurse who worked nights. Not one other nurse who worked on my days off had any doors click or open or slam shut. Their stuff didn't disappear and then reappear somewhere else. It was just me. Every officer and every one of the medical staff who worked there well before I got there swore up and down that this type of incident never ever occurred before. It got to the point for me that I just started staying in my office. I just got all my stuff that I needed for my shift and sat at the officer's desk. I did that until I left there and got another job. I haven't had anything like that happen again. In sixth grade, I'm a senior now, I had a friend.

To preserve her own anonymity, I'll call her Jenny. I grew up outside of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, near New Cumberland in a borough called Le Moyne. The streets are very close together and everyone lives near one another and Jenny was no exception. I would walk over to her house and watch television or anime with her, as kids do. I don't remember exactly how the topic of her ghost came up, but we were all very invested in the paranormal. Jenny, me, and our whole slew of friends. Now, if you've ever been to Le Moyne,

you would know that most of the houses are old and were added on, refurbished, remodeled, expanded. And most of these old houses are now townhouses. I think this is why Jenny had two closets. One closet was always closed for the most part. It was deep and it was always dark. The closet Jenny actually used to hold her clothes was on the opposite end of the room. This is why she never used the first closet.

Jenny's room was always very cold, unnaturally so. The room would open and close often, and it just generally didn't feel right. Jenny had shelves across the length of her room, and on those shelves were the creepiest porcelain dolls, still in their boxes. Heirlooms from one of her relatives, I think. I never asked for specifics. The dolls would move in their boxes. They would turn one way or the other, always when we weren't looking. Repositioned enough for us to note a definitive change in their pose. It was spooky. Jenny called her ghost Mandy and said she was a little girl. Jenny also had a young sister, probably three or four at the time, and Mandy hated her. She would be scratched frequently. If her sister was in the room with us,

we would be scratched too. We wouldn't notice them until later as they didn't hurt, but I think they hurt her sister. They were on our arms for the most part, looked like someone clawed us, and looked like they were scabbed over in the way it cuts to after a couple of hours, at least three of them. I think Jenny's sister got them on her back and they were a lot less superficial. It got so bad Jenny's mom forbade Jenny's sister from going in her room. I had a phone back in 2012, one of those phones with a full keyboard that you'd turn on its side and slide up. I took a picture of Jenny's open closet once and unfortunately I no longer have the picture as the phone is probably in a landfill, but it clearly showed a girl's face partially

hidden by the clothes Jenny had hanging, mostly fancy stuff in her dad's old suits. Eyes, nose, lips, hair, the whole nine yards, just her face peeking out, almost shyly. There wasn't any real malice in her gaze, not that I remember, she was just there. Well, Jenny's ghost became common knowledge among our friend group, so we decided to have a sort of junior seance, so to speak. I think there were seven other people that came over for this. It was a whole planned out event, but we knew better than to bring a widget board. Seven people plus Jenny and I, so nine total. We agreed to go into the closet in shifts. Six would go in at once, then four would exit and the others would enter,

since there wasn't a whole lot of room. It was big but not big enough to hold nine 11 to 12 year olds at once and a couple of our friends fancied themselves psychics. It was all very juvenile and we were excited. I was one of the three who wasn't inside the closet at the time. Convenience I know. The other two and I were pressing our ears to the door and hear what they were saying when all of a sudden we hear screaming and beating down the door, bowling us over, scrambling out of there. Apparently one of the girls who believed she could talk to the ghost placed her iPhone 3 or 4 or whatever she had on a little shelf in the closet and said, if you're here with us, move this phone, or something to that effect. According to another friend who was in

the closet, she had to repeat it a couple of times. It was all very muffled, the door was really thick and we couldn't really make out what they were saying, which is why we didn't hear what happened until they started screaming. Before the psychic friend could finish asking again, the phone apparently chucked itself across the closet and smashed into the wall, like someone had thrown it. That's when they came out. Needless to say, we were all well and spooked and decided to call it a night. We never spoke about Mandy again.

My friend Jenny's ghost is something I still struggle to explain, to this day. This happened on Tuesday. I keep going back to it, trying to find an explanation, so I thought I'd share it here. To set the scene, I work in an office on a floor with other offices that all share the same set of two bathrooms, one for men and one for women, and a hallway that connects all the offices. You have to type in a code to get into the bathroom, I guess to prevent people from other floors or outsiders using your bathroom. Each bathroom has three stalls and hand washing stations plus air hand dryers. The ladies bathroom receives enough traffic from the different offices that it's rare

to be alone in there. For this reason, I rarely poop at work. On this particular day, I had an urgent need, so I fast walked to the bathroom, hoping that, by some miracle, the bathroom would be empty. On my way there, these two ladies, presumably from other offices, were walking down the same hallway to the bathroom, talking to each other loudly. Their loudness was irritating me, and what was even more irritating was they sped up to walk at a pace to follow me into the bathroom, so that they wouldn't have to punch in the code. I was annoyed, but I couldn't very well slam the bathroom door in their face, so I let them in, and we each proceeded into the three stalls. I remember the thud, thud, thud of all three of our bathroom doors closing and the click of the locking. They stopped talking

after going into the stalls and I proceeded to focus on my business. At some point I realized the bathroom was too quiet. The usual noises you hear from fellow bathroom stall mates such as grunting or sighing or just the shuffling of clothes, was not at all audible. I was weirded out, but figured maybe they were just staying really, really still and quiet for some personal reason. I finish up and left the stall to discover that both of their stalls were empty. The doors were open, and no one was there. The stall doors squeaked a bit more when you opened them and I hadn't heard that. No one was at the sink and I hadn't heard either of them wash or dry their hands.

There was only one entrance slash exit door to the bathroom and it makes a noise as well so I would have heard it if they had left. There is no way to leave that bathroom without making some sort of noise, so it was like they had just teleported out of the stalls. I washed and dried my hands and exited the bathroom, contemplating how they could have just disappeared when I saw them. They were walking down the hallway towards the bathroom, walking and talking exactly as they had been when I had been heading into the bathroom. I ended up holding the door open for them again, except this time it was for them to go in after me and not go in with me.

It's so mundane and it's the first time anything like this has happened to me. I don't know them at all and I don't remember their conversation. It was some boring, personal stuff. I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts and theories. I work on the top floor of a building, 6th floor. The building I work at is a government organization with all ministries of the government and over 4,000 offices. I've worked there for a couple of months now and I know the place pretty well. It was on a Monday, the 10th of December 2018 around past 11am when something strange happened.

I'm posting this to find out if it has ever happened to someone else because I'm really confused and almost nobody believes me or takes it with the level of seriousness I think this deserves. I'm in my office going through my daily work routines when I get a knock at the door. I habitually respond with a, come in as I usually do. The client comes in and I process a few papers for him when I notice I didn't have the stamp needed to authenticate the documents in my office. I tell the client to give me a minute to go downstairs to get the stamp. I leave him waiting for me in the office. The elevators are at the end of the hallway to the left of my office,

ten seconds away. I take the elevator downstairs and without wasting any time, I greet the lady in the office I was going to get the stamps from, just around the corner from the elevators, and I tell her the agenda of my being there. She directs me to take it from the countertop, of which I do, and right away leave and go back to the elevators. I get in and I press the button for the six floors I always do. At this time, I say it's been about two minutes since I'd left my office. As it goes up, I'm alone in it,

I look at the display counting floors going up as I reluctantly do all the time. Then, when the elevator reaches the fourth floor, power cuts off. Although it's become pitch black in the elevator I eventually locate the control panel and I press the emergency button and right away a voice comes on the PA system asking me which floor I'm on. I tell the guy the fourth floor and about a minute he shows up. While he has manually opened the doors, power comes back up and I open the doors and he asks me

which floor I was going to. I told him the sixth. He told me I could use the elevator to proceed to the sixth as electricity was back. I press six again and the elevator closes and it starts rising again. Looking at the LCD as usual, the elevator passes through 5 and reaches the 6th floor. The doors open normally and I proceed to go on to my office. As I was leaving the elevator, I feel it has suddenly become a bit colder than it was before, blazing heat in the summer this side. I could say it had almost become cold, but I didn't make a big deal out of it. When I reach my office door, same number on the door, I open the door and get in only to find that the guy who was waiting for me, not there, but a lady I've never

seen before sitting behind my desk on my computer punching away keys. Now very confused, I just briefly pause and look at her. She looks at me with surprise and also asks if she can help me the same way you'd ask someone just walking into your office and just looking at you without saying nothing. I asked her if this was office 6162, my office number, and she said it was. Now extremely puzzled, I look around to scan the office and I notice it has exactly the same furniture as mine and the same setup as mine. Not knowing what to say or do, I tell her, I'm sorry, I'll be back soon, I forgot something. I step out into the hallway and I look the door to find it really is my office and I am on the right floor. I just decided to go back to the elevator, not sure why, and I

get in and press 6 again. At this time I'd say it's been about 5 minutes or so since I left my office. The elevator closes for a brief second and opens up again without going anywhere. Only this time, the guy who works at reception I'd passed on my way down, just outside the elevators was now sitting there, sitting down as he was the first time I went downstairs. I get out and take the same route to my office now deciding I'd just confront the lady. When I open the door to my office I find the guy who had been waiting for me to get the stamp sitting where I'd left him, alone with no one behind my desk. Before I even say anything, he says to me, I thought you were no longer coming back or you decided to go for lunch.

I say to him, why would you think that when I just stepped away for like five minutes to get this stamp? Then he says, man, you've been gone for more than 45 minutes. You left before 12, it's like... Oh, jeez, it's 12.35. I completely freaked out. I stamped the papers for him, and he leaves. When I sit in front of my computer, I realize I had actually been gone for more than an hour. I was 100% sober that day. I had only had a cigarette on my way to work that day.

Still sitting there, blank-faced, I quickly note how hot it's become again, as it was that day. I start recollecting my thoughts and try to see what happened. The first thing I note is I'd never seen the guy who came to rescue me from the elevator before, even though I know most of the workers just by seeing them. I brushed it off because it's a slim chance I know all of them since this was a big place, but I'm sure I've seen everyone who works in my wing. It was a bit out of place. I know you're wondering why I didn't check the neighboring offices. Well, there's an explanation. That day I was the only one in my department around. Others were at a workshop and others were on a field day.

The only person who was there was one of the bosses that I generally don't talk to. Another thing I remember once I was thinking about is I don't remember seeing anyone at the reception area when I got lost. I also remember that the woman was wearing a heavy cardigan, one that you wouldn't wear in the blazing summer at this time. Other than that, everything was in place. If there's anyone who can try to explain to me what happened or if it once happened to someone, please let me know. And don't tell me I was high or something like everyone else.

I'm from Zimbabwe, in case you were wondering. I work as a dietary aid at an assisted living facility. When most people hear that phrase, they think of a nursing home, cold, clinical, and filled with delusional screaming, but the reality is actually a lot different. The facility in which I work feels more like a lavish hotel, almost like a big, cozy house. Assisted living is often seen as the first step towards complete dependence, with complete dependence being a nursing home, as most of our residents can function entirely on their own, but may need a bit of help with mobility, memory, or simply don't have the ability to take care of their own homes anymore. Thus, we have a wide variety of residents, some of whom are only in their 60s and are

nearly independent, up to residents reaching 100 who need to have nearly constant assistance. One of our residents, we'll call her Barb, was one of the former. She was one of the younger ones, able to administer her own medication, get herself up in the morning and remember meal times, and just generally able to think straight and care for herself. I've had my job for about a year now and started when I was 17. Barb and I have always had a pretty close relationship, with her always asking about my grades and my home life and always showing me pictures of her grandkids and what not. She had a very teasing, snarky and sarcastic attitude about her, one that I found humorous

and enjoyable, especially whenever I returned the favor with my own sarcasm. Overall we were always pretty close. Naturally when you work in a facility in which multiple people in the past have died, you expect some hauntings. I'm certainly not a psychic or anything but I am often able to tell when a place is haunted just by a strange feeling that I get. The first time I recall this happening was after the death of my friend's mother. Her house had a completely different feel and I was unable to sleep there anymore.

She thought I was stupid until she woke up one morning to see her mother standing in the doorway. As I said, I'm not a psychic, but I am a bit sensitive to the paranormal. The first time I entered the facility, even in all of its warmth and energy, I got that sort of off feeling. Co-workers warned me that it's not rare to hear voices in the kitchen and to see pots and pans go flying, which would eventually become almost a weekly event for me to witness. Some people were scared to be alone in the kitchen, but I honestly never felt that. Even knowing that the place was haunted, I simply didn't feel as though I was in any danger. If anything, I felt less alone, as though I were in the presence of residents I hadn't had the chance to meet. A few days ago, I was doing dishes in the kitchen

before dinner. My fellow aides had not come in yet and the cook was on break. I noticed that there was a lot more strange activity than usual, whispering from the back mop room, hanging pans swaying in the non-existent breeze, and movement just out of the corner of my eye. I ignored it, as this was still something that I was accustomed to. The only thing that I had found odd was that Barb had approached the kitchen door and was staring in at me, as though she wanted something. Usually around this time of day she would let me know that the coffee on the coffee bar had gone cold and that it was time for me to replace it. She was very picky about the temperature of her drinks. I nodded, running back to start a new pot and opened the door to let her know that it would be ready momentarily. She was gone. I looked down the hall into the dining room and into the living

room but she was nowhere to be seen. I found this odd since this was usually the time she would settle into the dining room but I didn't pay it much thought. I went back to doing dishes and eventually felt a hand on my shoulder. Thinking it was the cook who was one of my good friends who would often sneak up on me, I looked down and realized the hand was not his. It was dainty and wrinkled, olive colored like Barb's. I turned around, and no one was there. This was definitely weird. Barb knew that the kitchen was off limits to residents, and she wasn't one to play tricks, despite being funny and sarcastic. How could she disappear that fast? I assumed it was one of two things, either my imagination or perhaps just a paranormal aspect I hadn't yet witnessed. After all, it wasn't that far-fetched given that I had already been hearing

and seeing things today. The day went on as usual. We served dinner, got the kitchen and dining room cleaned up and prepared to leave. I did find it a bit strange that Barb wasn't there for dinner, however, usually she never skipped. Maybe one of her family members had taken her out to eat or something. As my fellow dietary aides and I were heading to the elevator, we passed by a group of residents in the sitting area, who told us goodbye as they did every night. But one of the residents stopped us and asked if we heard the news. None of us had, apparently, and he went on to explain.

Barb died that morning. Naturally, we were all shocked. What happened? She was young and seemingly healthy. News of deaths usually made it to dietary staff last due to patient confidentiality and whatnot, but to have gone the whole day not knowing. We were used to death but it didn't make it all that much easier. As I was clocking out, however, it hit me. Hadn't I seen Barb earlier that day? In the afternoon? I was venting to my mom about the death and how it affected me personally.

I also told her about what I had witnessed today, since she's a believer in the paranormal as I am. I told her how much it hurt me, especially since the last thing I had told her was see you tomorrow, the previous night, and she died before I could see her. What my mom replied with, though, made me feel immensely better. Maybe that's why she visited you. Maybe she wanted to see you one last time before she passed on. As much as I miss Barb, I'm truly grateful that I got to see her one last time, even after she had passed. It makes me feel good knowing that she may have been thinking of me and what I said to her the night before. Just to give you a mental idea of the house, it was a very old house way out in the country that had an even older abandoned house right

behind it with no more than a foot and a half separating the two. We were pretty much surrounded by fields and underground caves. To start things off, I'll let everyone know that I had my own room in the house, but I only ever slept in the room maybe a total of five times the entire time we lived there. The last time I ever tried to sleep in there, something happened that made me refuse to sleep in there ever again. I had been laying there for just a few minutes, tossing and turning about, going through the usual difficulties of falling asleep. Dad was in the living room just a few feet away watching TV. I roll over to my side to find that the pillow next to me has an indentation on it. Now, plenty of things have already happened in the house to let me know that it was haunted,

so I didn't just brush it off like some might. I was already freaked out, but nothing too major. I flipped the pillow and fluffed it back up, hoping that was the end of it. It wasn't. I feel something brush against my arm. The arm that is closest to the pillow. My eyes burst wide open and I see the pillow has an indentation again. As I lay there frozen, my entire bed started to shake. Not violently, but enough that I could feel it. I bolted into the living room and the first thing my dad said to me was, what just happened? He could tell by how white my face was and how wide my eyes were that I had been freaked out. After that, I started sleeping on one of the two couches in the living room.

We would always hear the screams of little girls in the fields behind the house at night, but never could find anything upon investigation. Dad asked the person that he was renting from about it and was told that everyone reports that, as well as a lot of the other strange activity. One morning my dad woke up with a pack of his cigarettes with all of the cigarettes except for one in the middle flipped upside down. It was a brand new pack, minus the one that he had before to go to bed the night before. He swears up and down that he knows that it wasn't like that before.

Every single night there would be footsteps pacing back and forth down the long kitchen, which was right behind the living room. The sounds of high heels at first, then it would switch to heavy boots. This would usually go on from about 12 to 2.30 or 3 in the morning. I watched a lot of late night infomercials on the TV because of that preventing me from falling asleep. If you didn't wear socks to bed, you would wake up to someone tickling your bare feet. The computer chair, also in the living room, would sometimes lean back on its own, ever so slightly, then rotate a little bit as well. Not a lot, but enough to notice. One night, when I was just about to fall asleep,

my remote-control gravedigger monster truck that was in the living room moved about three feet on its own. My dad heard it as well, since his bedroom door was open and there were no other walls between the living room and his. I laughed and told him that was a good one. He told me that he didn't do it. I didn't believe him at first but then realized that the remote control for it was in the living room with me sitting on the other side of the room. Then he also pointed out that the battery wasn't even in the truck and that it was in the living room with me sitting on the other side of the room. Then he also pointed

out that the battery wasn't even in the truck and that it was charging in the kitchen. That one freaked me out too. We also went to investigate the abandoned house behind ours and it legitimately looked like someone just decided to leave and not take anything with them. We did film it but before I get your hopes up, the recordings have unfortunately been lost and are long gone as this was several years ago. We managed to catch several orbs, what appeared to be a face in one of the mirrors, and a rocking horse starting to rock on its own just as we were leaving the room it was in. I was posting in another subreddit about a scary experience with a human I had while walking home late from a job after getting off the last bus to my part of town, and it

reminded me of this experience, which still gives me chills and I've never been able to make any sense of it. Before this I have not had any paranormal experiences and I have never had any after this. I've always believed that a person's spirit can exist in a limited space between life and death, but I never believed in demons or anything of that nature. This happened maybe six or seven years ago when I was working swing shifts, meaning I'd get off of work at 12am and usually wouldn't be home until at least 1. I didn't drive yet so I was taking the bus and had to walk about a mile home every night, but I was used to it and had lived in the neighborhood for two decades

so it rarely felt unsettled walking around late at night. My house sits directly on the southeast corner of an intersection at a four-way stop. I was standing on the northwest corner, waiting for the light to change so I could finally get home, make some dinner, wind down and watch Netflix till I went to sleep around 3 or 4am. Since I was working swings regularly, I was very awake and used to keeping odd hours, so I'm certain that my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. The lights I was standing at often takes a long time to change and people sometimes come flying down the hill so I waited patiently. My iPod was dead and so I was just looking around waiting to cross. I glanced down the street to the east of the intersection

of a winding road that went into the main part of town. There was a big bank of blackberry bushes growing between my house and my neighbors house and I noticed them moving slightly. We have a lot of raccoons in the area so I didn't think much of it. Right before this light changed something shot out of the bushes. It was shaped like a human, but it was on all fours, rear end in the air, head close to the ground, but there is absolutely no way that any human could move so quickly on all fours. It was too big to be a dog, there's no wildlife in the area and if this

thing was standing on two legs, it would have been at least 6 foot 5, maybe 7 feet tall. It didn't run like an animal and it used its arms and legs independently of one another. It darted under a street light and it was all black, not dressed in black clothing or covered in black fur, but it seemed to be the kind of black that indicates an absence of all color and eliminates depth, more like a shadow. Just as quick as it showed up, it was gone. It had scurried down an embankment near some other houses. I finally realized that the light was green and I needed to get home, so I ran back to my house. I don't like walking in that area anymore and even driving through it at night still gives me the chills. To this day I have no idea what I saw. I know that it was something that I was not supposed to see. I'm glad that it didn't notice me noticing it.

I find that most paranormal activity can be explained with science and logic. What I've become more open about, however, is certain feelings that can't be explained. The feeling that someone is watching you when you're alone. The feeling of a person sort of half being on your shoulder when there's no one around. My tattoo studio was built over a hundred years ago. It was a bank originally. The original safe is in the basement. We have turned into a room where we draw, eat, nap, whatever. It's been bars, a bakery, and several tattoo shops before us. So, the feelings. I feel myself being touched. I feel like I'm being watched. Being alone at the shop is miserable for me.

I feel sick, physically, and anxious. I've been here nearly a decade. When you work somewhere long enough, you become accustomed to the quirks of a building. The sound the upstairs bathroom makes when the faucet is turned on, the difference in sound between the front and back door opening and closing, where a person would be in the shop by the sound of their footsteps. Occasionally I will hear the distinct sound of footsteps when I'm alone in the shop. I've heard a person cough as if to get my attention though I didn't hear anyone come in. I rushed up the stairs to apologize only to find there was no one there. I've had people, both

those who claim to be empaths or sensitives or psychics and those who don't even believe in ghosts mention they feel similarly. A lady once told me as she was getting tattooed, there's a man behind me, I feel him and he's angry. I got freaked out and asked her not to talk about it. She got to leave and go home, but I'm stuck here. I'd almost rather not know. So here are my more recent experiences, both of which occurred on the same day last week. I had a late appointment and my co-workers had left. A client had brought their son with them for a short appointment.

He was probably five or younger. The kid stood at the top of the stairs and peered into the basement. He says to his dad, Daddy, the basement is haunted. I was like, dude, get your six cents kid away from the stairs because he's freaking me out. As I'm leaving, I lock the front door. I turn off the lights and go to leave through the back door. As I'm walking out, the phone rang.

I assumed it was my boss calling and asking why I was there so late, so I went to answer. Right as I placed my finger over the answer button, the ringing stops and the phone read, Line in Use. Swear to God, I felt my blood turn cold. The line in use means that someone had already answered the phone, but I was alone. The lights were off. I hit the end call button about a hundred times and tossed the phone away. It rang again six times then went silent. I said forget this place and went to leave and realized I left my keys in the basement. No thanks. I called my boss and told him what happened.

He's not real hip on the ghost stuff but it freaked him out too. I told him he needs to come get my keys from the basement for me or I was quitting and in that moment I was completely serious. He drove from the next city over as I waited next to my car in the freezing rain so that I didn't have to be in the building. I don't know, I just the building. I don't know, I just felt it. I felt something was wrong. That was the first time I'd ever had anything happen that was more than just a feeling or uneasiness or offhanded comment from a client. Someone once told me spirits can be attracted to places where blood has been spilt. I don't know if any of that

is true. Maybe everything that's happened can be explained, but I'm not going to be here alone ever again. I grew up in a smaller city outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Even though Pittsburgh is a well-known big city, the areas outside of Pittsburgh are often rural. My stepdad's house was an old farmhouse on one of these country roads. You should know that I am the youngest of my mom's four children, so by the time I was born, we didn't live with my stepdad anymore and I grew up in the city area about 15 minutes away from my step dad's house. Even though my mom and step dad weren't together anymore, they were still very close and we would always spend time at his house, especially during the summer time because he had a huge

in ground pool that I loved to swim in. I don't really know much about the history of the house other than it was built in 1910 and like I said, I am the youngest of my siblings, so my two brothers and my sister actually lived in my stepdad's house for years before I was born. My sister is the oldest at 42. My oldest brother is 37 and my younger brother is 32, while I'm the youngest at 24. I was a surprise baby when my mom was 40 years old.

Only reason I explain all this is because my siblings lived there for years and have many of their own paranormal stories that they used to tell me about this house. Most of the stories were feelings that someone was watching you, or that they thought that they would see shadows in the dark. Nothing really that spooky or original that couldn't be explained as my siblings just trying to mess with me. My mom even had mentioned some similar stories where she felt like there was something bad in this house, but nothing that I can remember in great detail. I think it's important to explain the layout of the house because the location inside is a key factor in whatever was haunting us in this house, at least it seems like it to me.

There were two doors to get into the house, one on the front with a big porch that we didn't really use because it was directly off the road and we had a long driveway that led up to the other door that was on the back of the house. So when you enter from the back door, you would walk into the kitchen first, then would lead you past the basement door on the left and into what we called the front room. The front room is where my experience took place. It was just a big space that I guess could have been used as a dining space or something like that and on the other side of the front room was the actual living room with all the couches, TV and fireplace. But on the left side of the front room there was a small closet under this spiral staircase that would lead you to one of the bedrooms upstairs. If you kept walking straight from the front door, you'd get to the bathroom and that was the end of that house

from that direction. If you walked into the living room on the right, you would get to where the front door was. If you walked into the front door, you were looking directly at the regular stairs to get to the second floor, not the spiral stairs I explained before, and on the left at the bottom of the stairs is the master bedroom that my mom and stepdad slept in. There were three bedrooms upstairs and each room had different colored carpets, so we always just referred to each room by the color. At the top of the stairs, there were two of the bedrooms directly to your left and right. On the left is what we called the green room and to the right was the blue room. From the blue room was the door to get to the last bedroom that we called the pink room.

So you had to either walk through the blue room to get to the pink room or you could go up the spiral stairs from the front room to get there. The pink room was my sister's room when she was younger and all of her paranormal stories involved the pink room. Not only did that room creep all of us out, but I think every single one of us had fallen down those spiral stairs at some point, if not more than once. They were kind of dangerous because the steps were pretty steep, but weren't long enough to fit your entire foot onto them, even as a little kid. I remember vividly when I fell down those stairs.

I'd been hanging out in the pink room watching Barney when I decided to go downstairs. I was only maybe three or four years old at the time, but I don't remember tripping on anything or missing one of the stairs. I just fell very hard all the way down the stairs as soon as I started walking. Almost as if someone pushed me. No one really thought anything of it though because we were kids and what kid hadn't fallen down the stairs at some point. Anyways, now that you have a little background and understanding of where in the house I'm talking about, I can finally explain my paranormal experience. I think I was maybe four or 5 at the time and this happened probably around 1999 or 2000. I was getting over some kind of cold and I was still coughing a little bit but otherwise I wasn't very sick.

But at night, the coughing would get worse and it would keep me up. At the time, I slept in the middle of my mom and stepdad in the master room. I kept waking up coughing and asked my mom to give me a drink of water on the nightstand since I was in the middle and couldn't reach it. After waking my mom up a bunch of times she eventually got annoyed and told me to get up and get some water from the kitchen. Not wanting to get in trouble again I got up and went to the kitchen. I think it was probably around 2 or 3 in the morning and no one else was awake in the house. I drank the water standing in front of the refrigerator and left the glass in the kitchen when I was done. As I started to walk through the front room to go back to the master bedroom I heard something that stopped me in my tracks. The front room and the

living room didn't have any walls dividing the rooms but we had one of the couches there that kind of separated the room. The sound was coming from the little closet under the spiral stairs. There was some kind of stick propped up against the door to the closet, maybe a broom handle with the broom screwed off. I was stopped with my back against the couch so I was facing the closet but was closer to the living room as far away as I could be from the closet. I heard a man's voice, not a voice of anyone I knew or know to this day. It definitely wasn't my stepdad's voice. It sounds pretty cheesy now, but the voice asked, Who is in my house?

Very loud and angry. There weren't any TVs on, and no one else seemed to have heard it but me. As scary as the voice was, it wasn't as scary when the closet door started shaking like it was going to open up and the stick fell down. At this point, I was scared out of my mind and booked it back into the master bedroom with my mom and stepdad who were still fast asleep in bed. The next morning, I told everyone what happened and the stick was still laying on the ground like I remember it from the night before. Naturally, everyone thought that I was just making it up and probably knocked the stick over by myself or just dreamed the whole thing but they still looked in the closet anyways to try and make me feel better. Of course there was nothing there but I feel like the fact that the stick was on the ground in the morning and

not propped up like it was before was proof enough for me that it really happened. I never really had any other experiences like that after that night but I always felt like someone was watching me in that house. That is, until my stepdad died in 2006. My stepdad was a Vietnam veteran and had definitely seen some stuff in his day. He was always a good person but was someone you never wanted to mess with. He wasn't scared of anyone. He passed away of lung cancer, but after he passed, it was like the evil force that was always in that house just went away. Shortly after my oldest brother got to keep the house and still lives there to this day, he never talks about any strange occurrences.

My theory is that whatever was in that house was forced to leave whenever my stepdad passed, but I always wondered who that man was that spoke to me that night. I moved into my flat about a year ago and weird things have been happening that really are messing with my head. Small things at first that I just brushed off, but lately ramping up to bigger, more frequent things that I just can't explain. If anyone has any ideas I'd really appreciate it as currently I'm left with either my flat is haunted or I'm having a psychotic break. So, I live in a town that is a bit of a mecca for alternative people seeking spiritual experiences, and the town itself is very old and thought to be of great spiritual significance. The big hill I live on, however, was one of the last places to be inhabited,

and before my building was built in the 80s, there was apparently nothing on the spot. I've been told that there had been a bit of difficulty keeping tenants here with a huge turnover in recent years, but mainly because of an unpleasant character who lived in one flat for a long time and caused a lot of bad feeling. Just to set the scene, as I'm pretty sure nobody died here, nothing truly horrific happened as far as I know, and there's no long history to the particular building, so why something or somebody would be attracted to haunt my place, I do not know. So small things at first. In the first six months or so, I kept finding the hot tap running in the bathroom sink, usually when either my ex or my mom were staying over. Usually I blame them as different house, different taps than they're used

to and there was never anybody in the bathroom to see the taps being turned on so easy solution. They just forgotten to turn them off fully. My mom is particularly creeped out by this as she swore it wasn't her and often jokes that I'm a magnet for creepy things as so much weird stuff happened in their house when I lived there as a kid, and still today the lounge door has an eerie habit of swinging slowly shut when I'm over. It was maybe two months ago that something really freaky happened that scared the bejesus out of me. My bedroom is at the front left of the building with the bedhead along the left-hand external wall, a big bedside cabinet to each side. So basically as I lie in bed,

on the left side, the bedside cabinet on my far right is on the external detached corner of the building. It was maybe 2am as I'm rubbish at sleeping when I heard a scuffling that sounded like someone rummaging through paper from that corner. At first I ignored it, probably badgers outside, I don't know, chewing on the building. Do badgers even do this? Or my upstairs neighbor doing something that threw the noise in a weird way so it sounded like it was downstairs. But no, it happened again, and it was definitely in the room. I freaked out quite a lot and scrambled for my bedside lamp and turned it on just to have it immediately turn itself off

again. At this point I honestly thought this is how I die. I've seen too many horror movies and although it might not be the most dramatic thing to happen, living alone and hearing something in the room with you at night in the dark is absolutely terrifying. I can't explain how the light turned itself off as it has a switch that's either on or off. It can't be balanced between the two settings so it can't flick itself off if it's half on, if you know what I mean. After switching it back on, no sleep was had that night. I was quiet for a week or so. Next, I went away for a weekend.

When I got back, I found my alarm clock on the floor about a foot away from the edge of my bed. I'm really house proud and probably would be a massive pain to live with, but as I live alone, can keep everything in its spot to my tidy little heart's content. There's no way I would leave something lying on the floor like that. It's one of those mental old-fashioned ones with bells on top, and I know from past experiences that it makes a lot of racket if you drop it on wood floor so I can't have knocked it off without noticing. The back was off and the batteries were lying across the floor. So weird but not too terrifying. I managed to pretend that didn't happen either so I wouldn't be too scared to sleep in my own home. Then over the next two weeks things kept happening.

A couple more with the clocks too. First the time kept changing. Not consistently running slow but like it was being set to a new time and then running happily from there. New batteries. Nobody had touched it and it hadn't happened before these recent occurrences. Then for the first time the bathroom hot tap turned itself on while I was in the room. Actually in the bath to be specific. One minute, not on, next minute, out of nowhere blasting hot water. Then I found something else on the same bedside cabinet with the back off and batteries out. I have a makeup mirror surrounded by lights as I do my makeup when I get out of the shower

and don't want to terrify my neighbors by opening the curtains. I don't move it, let alone knock it in any way that would jolt the back off. Then this week, another pointless clock thing. I always time my wake up and journey to work exactly so I don't get in early because I'm actually pretty lazy. I have a five minute walk, get there on the dot and sign in every time at exactly X time. This time I get there and my assistant manager points to the clock and makes an ooh you're early special occasion type remark.

And I was. Ten minutes early. Exactly ten minutes. When I had left home, five minutes in the future. I told him his clock was wrong. I can't remember what he replied, but I do remember saying to him, yeah, right, because all my clocks are wrong. I was so certain that, you know, Oakham's razor and all that, his clock had to be wrong because it would be too stupid for every clock in my flat to be at the exact same wrong time, including my phone. But as I discovered when I got home that night, they all were.

I had to Google the time as literally every clock of mine showed the same time. I didn't actually realize you could still manually adjust the time on smartphones. I'm of the generation when we had to set up all that stuff with every new phone we got in the late 90s, early 2000s. I'm of the generation when we had to set up all that stuff with every new phone we got in the late 90s early 2000s, but since smartphones I have literally done nothing to set up phones apart from transfer all my stuff onto my new handset and one go and bingo, phone set up. I have just never had to look for that setting but when I did, 10 minutes fast. As was my battery powered alarm clock. As was my microwave.

These things are so small and utterly pointless individually, but taken together, it's just weird. I'm easily spooked as a general rule, and I have to not creep myself out or I'll never be able to sleep there again. But it's so odd. Helpful colleagues have suggested I try to talk to whatever it might be, but honestly, I'd rather call a priest or burn it down. I'm not communicating with anything that might be there. I've also been advised not to burn sage and try to eject it as it might make it angry, which I really do not want to do either. Any thoughts? I have a carbon monoxide alarm so hopefully it's not that. Also, hopefully I'm not finally cracking up mentally. I don't have rats or mice either to explain the weird scuffly noise in the bedroom. I had mice in a previous rented place and there

are no signs here. Is all this too insignificant and easily explainable? I just don't know what is happening. Throughout middle and high school, I was never considered one of the popular people, but I got along with almost everyone. I would smile and talk to those who were shy and didn't have as many friends because I used to get bullied quite often and knew how it felt to be an outcast. One day of the summer of freshman year I received an Instagram DM from a guy a grade above me who we'll call Sam. Sam had always been someone with little to no friends, had a reputation for being weird

and a bit creepy, and got picked on for his looks. Like I said, I was nice and got along with almost everyone, and despite the rumors about him being weird and creepy, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I messaged him back and we began having a completely normal conversation about school and plans for the summer. I felt bad for him because of the things people would say about him and since he wasn't making me uncomfortable I saw no harm in talking to him. Over the next couple days Sam and I continued messaging on Instagram and the conversation stayed normal. During one of our conversations about school he asked what my schedule was since he was a grade ahead and could tell me whether or not my teachers were good and what to expect from

the classes. The first facepalming decision I made was sending my schedule to Sam which I would later want to smack the crap out of myself for. As summer went on Sam and I were still messaging on Instagram when he asked for my number. I still wasn't getting any creepy or weird vibes from him, so I gave it to him. During summer, Sam and I were still messaging each other, but as the end of summer was approaching, he was beginning to annoy me. If I didn't respond to his text right away, he would message me over and over until I finally did. He began wanting to talk to me 24-7 and would act upset if I was busy and unable to talk. This only got worse once school started. Before

messaging him I would barely ever see him in the halls but now it was like I was seeing him around everywhere. He then began to walk up to me at my locker in between classes and without asking started walking me to some of them. Sometimes he'd be waiting outside of my classroom doors when the period would end to walk me to my next class and then other times he'd be waiting outside my classes to talk with me until the bell rang to start the period. It's important to mention that I was dating my current boyfriend at the time and had never once asked Sam to do any of this. At the start of this he would only walk me to a few of my classes or be waiting outside the door of some of them to talk with me. Over time he began walking me to every single one,

waiting for me outside every single door. See why I said I would want to slap the crap out of myself for giving him my schedule. I began feeling uncomfortable by this but me being nice I didn't want to hurt his feelings by telling him that. Second facepalming decision. I started leaving my classes early so I wouldn't have to see him or be walked to class by him. Since I started leaving classes early he literally began to memorize the way I'd walk to my classes and would meet me at random spots in the halls. I then started to walk different ways to my classes to try to prevent seeing him. Sam ended up catching on to this so he started leaving his classes early to wait outside

my door just so he could walk me to mine. Around this time I was even more uncomfortable and started responding to his messages less and less. I still didn't tell him to stop or that he was making me uncomfortable and I really wish I would have just put my big girl pants on and gotten it over with. I barely ever responded to his messages as the year went on which made me think that he would catch on to the fact that I didn't want to talk to him anymore or have him walk me to my classes. No.

Eventually I became so uncomfortable that I would have one of my friends walk me to and from every single one of my classes in the hopes that he would just leave me alone. Again, no. I figured that a normal person would see that I was with my friends and didn't want to talk to him but Sam just never took any of the hints. I got to a point where he was constantly messaging me asking why I wasn't talking to him and I began dreading going to school because I just wanted him to leave me alone. As a last resort I stopped responding to Sam altogether and then blocked and unblocked him on Instagram since I'm private and he would no longer be able to see my profile. I also would completely ignore him when he'd walk me to my classes and only pay attention

and talk to my friends. I hoped the silent treatment would show him I no longer wanted anything to do with him but again it didn't work. He then would just trail behind me and not say a word and just follow my friends and I to my classes then turn around and walk away once I got there. He was creeping me out to no end but I still didn't tell him to stop or to leave me alone. The middle of sophomore year I had to have my boyfriend intervene who messaged Sam and basically threatened him that if he didn't leave me alone that he would regret it. My boyfriend is a big guy and protective over me so this finally got Sam off my back.

The rest of the year went smoothly and I felt like I could finally breathe again. The last month of sophomore year I got a message from a number I didn't have saved just saying hi. I asked them who it was and all they said was a friend. You guessed it, it was Sam. He kept messaging me throughout the day which just consisted of me responding sporadically and ignoring him. For the rest of this to make sense I have to explain my schedule. I got another text from Sam when I was in study hall asking me what class I had next period and told me that he was going to walk me to it. I had gov which I didn't tell him and told him that my friend was already walking me to class and that he didn't have to. He responded with saying, that's fine we can all walk to class

together. At this point I was fed up with being nice and blatantly said I didn't want him to walk me to class. He completely disregarded what I said and responded with being nice and blatantly said I didn't want him to walk me to class. He completely disregarded what I said and responded with, see you in the hall. Now I feel like how I felt in the beginning of the year and I'm dreading walking to class. I usually walked up the stairs right across from my study hall, down that hallway and then would make a right and stand and talk to my friend before class started. When study hall ended I walked to class and told my friend I couldn't talk and legit ran to my gov class.

About 5 minutes into gov I got a text from Sam saying, why were you running? My anxiety is through the roof now because I realized two things. I never told him that I had gov as my next class which meant that he still had my schedule memorized or kept my schedule in his phone even after we stopped speaking. And two, I never once saw him at any point while walking to Gov and he knew I ran to class which means he was standing and just watching me. I ended up having three guys walk me out of class and out of school because I was so anxious of seeing him and blocked him on every social media possible. Something I should have done a very long time ago but never did because I was still just trying to be nice which is facepalm decision number three.

Sophomore year ended and Sam didn't contact me or bother me again and I finally thought it was over. A month into summer I get another text from Sam which made my blood run completely cold. All it said was, you have lovely skin. I can't wait to wear it. This was the final straw for me. I was done being nice. I messaged him back and told him he was a creepy weirdo and to never contact me again. I kept his number and saved the messages in case I ever needed to go to the police to get a restraining order, but for a while I was absolutely terrified. I have no idea if he actually meant what he said or if he was just trying to get my attention so I'd respond to him, but he got my attention.

I haven't spoken to him since responding to that creepy text, but junior year we had lunch together and he death stared me every single day. He worked at my local McDonald's and whenever he was working he would stare at me and my grandma down every time we went there. He's direct messaged me several times on Instagram which I unblocked him on for more evidence in case I ever needed to go to the police. I took screenshots of the messages and the one completely baffles me when he says he can't remember what he did to me in the past. He's messaged me on my birthday two years in a row now and I feel like it's going to continue for the next few years. If anyone is ever in this situation and someone is making you feel this uncomfortable, do not feel bad for sticking up for yourself and telling them to leave you alone. Don't make the same mistakes I did and go through something like this because you don't want to be

rude or mean. Stand your ground and don't allow someone to do this to you because it isn't okay and no one deserves it. For some backstory, I'm an Australian female and this event happened when I was 16 years old and currently 19. I had this best friend, Sarah, who had a pretty crazy family, the abusive toxic type. She had been kicked out of home at 15 and I had allowed her to stay at my house. Little did I know that she was kicked out for doing meth. I no longer speak to her as of three months ago but that's a story for a different time. I had let her stay over one night because she had nowhere else to stay and all was well. I remember it being a weeknight because we had school the next day and were going to take the bus together the next morning. We were just laying around watching a movie, doing nothing really when Sarah's face went completely white.

She turns to me and says, my sister told my mom where you live. Her sister had dropped off some clothes for Sarah outside my house a few hours beforehand. I was confused as to why she was so worried due to not knowing her mom personally. I kind of brushed it off not thinking anything of it but Sarah was fidgety and anxious throughout the night, so much so she had notified the police. Then the doorbell rang. My mom, a sweet old lady who wouldn't hurt a fly, answered the door to, you guessed it, Sarah's mom. She smelled strongly of alcohol and stood next to her husband who did nothing but sit back and watch the next few events go by. Sarah's mom, who we'll call Amanda,

starts off by asking my mom if someone by the name of Emily, which is my name, lived here. My mom obviously said no, not knowing who this person is and feeling suspicious that a drunk older woman wants to speak to a 16 year old girl. My mom being so nice is confused when Amanda blows up out of nowhere. Bring Emily out here. I want to see her. Your daughter's harboring an addict. Give her back to me. She continues to scream profanities at my mom about me. Keep in mind I have never met this woman in my life. During all of this, my sister, brother, and sister's fiance walk up to the door and start talking back to Amanda which probably made it worse but I know they were just trying to defend me. I was hiding behind a wall in the hallway talking to the police throughout this because I had no idea what this woman would

do to me if she saw me. I suffered from extreme anxiety in relation to confrontation and violence and was having a panic attack to the operator. I honestly don't even remember what they were saying to me and if I was even talking to them in coherent sentences. She starts targeting my sister's fiance. Who are you and what are you doing with my daughter? She goes back and forth with him then targets my older siblings shouting horrible things to them as well. Both of my siblings also suffer from extreme anxiety due to childhood trauma so my sister was having a panic attack throughout this whole scenario as well. She then goes back to my mom, this time insulting her.

Where's your husband? Amanda cackles in a witch-like manner when my mom tells her she doesn't have one. I can see why. Ugly you are. Ugly. She continues to insult my entire family through screams. I'm sure the last house in the court could hear her if she was screaming so loud. Her screaming lasts a while.

It was probably 20 minutes of her just screaming insults and asking for Sarah. It felt like hours though. My mom starts to get fed up and opens the door which had been between the two of them throughout this entire thing. Amanda grabs my mom by the throat and pushes her up against our brick wall. My brother almost immediately runs out. Get off my mom! He practically spits in her face. Her husband, who hadn't spoken a word throughout the entire thing, grabs Amanda. It's not worth it, let it go.

And with that, he grabs her by the arm and pulls her back into the car. Thankfully, that's all that happened that night. Mom deciding not to report her to the police. I know this doesn't sound too intense or scary, but it was honestly terrifying in the moment. Having a stranger come to your safe place and verbally assault you and attack your mom is the last thing you want to happen. This was a small event that took place last summer in my home of Staten Island. I lived in a community with a bunch of parks and a pool in the center of it all.

I was going to meet a friend to smoke and take my girlfriend at the time out for lunch, so I decided to post myself on one of the park's many concrete garbage pail covers. I look at my surroundings and notice a small boy and a man old enough to be his grandpa. I felt something was wrong. I come from a family of cops so my blue blood is kicking in. My eyes were fixed on the man. Six foot one, brown eyes, fair skin, salt and pepper hair that was thinning and a red and blue tablecloth button up shirt. My gut said watch him, so I did. The entrance to the playground was adjacent to me on the left side.

The man and the child were making the right turn to come to the entrance as I lit my smoke. I noticed the distance between them. The kid didn't even acknowledge this man. This is where it hits me. The kid runs into the playground. The man keeps walking past the entrance. I broke sight to watch the kid run in. When I returned to the man, he was looking at me.

My gut feeling gave the sense that he was a predator. As we locked eyes, he smiled the biggest grin, like a malicious child with his hand in the cookie jar. He began to make an exit out of the park, which is adjacent of me on the right side. I ran to the kid and politely asked him, Hey bud, you know that man in the red and blue shirt? The young man looks up, saying, Yeah, he told me he'd take me to the park and get me ice cream if I was good. I realized that I may have just prevented this child's abduction.

I walked the kid back to his block which was only about two minutes away. I reported it to my family and the police and spread the news about this man throughout the neighborhood like bad gossip. Since I moved away I still remember that wide smile and predatory gaze and hope that creep hasn't taken anyone else. My name is Standa and I'm an 18 year old student from the Czech Republic. On the 28th of December of this year, I woke up at 1pm and I already knew this day was going to be incredibly boring. I texted my friends on our group chat if they wanted to go out to have some fun and drink and smoke, and the conversation went like this.

What's up dudes? What's up? What are you doing? You wanna go out? I got some really nice plants. You don't even have to ask where and when. Sure, hey, I'm in too. 3pm at the park. They all agreed and we went to do our stuff. I showered, had a breakfast and packed up my stuff. Vodka and about 4 grams. Grabbed my keys, light up a cigarette and went out. Since the park was about three miles from my home I was too lazy and just waited for the bus. Bus arrived, I finished my cigarette and hopped in. I noticed that two gypsies were looking at me like they wanted to rob me. I didn't pay much attention and just ignored them. At my stop I jumped out and went where we were going to meet up with my friends. Maybe after 200 meters I noticed that they were right behind me.

I said in my head, wait, they're not actually going to rob me or do they? I started to get a little nervous so I texted to Martin. Hey man, some gypsies are following me. What? Are you sure? Yeah, they're on me since my bus stop. Just go to the park, we'll wait here for you. Okay, I said to myself and turned around.

They were much closer now, about four meters behind. I started getting scared. After maybe two minutes, I felt a hand on my shoulder and somebody say, Don't turn around or I'm going to shoot you. I was like, What? Shoot me? I immediately ran away. They began chasing me. I ran through bushes, fences, and literally everything to lose them. I think I even ruined someone's flower garden.

After maybe five minutes of running away, I heard gunshots being fired. They were flying bullets near my head. The real adrenaline pumped in and I started running even faster and faster than before. I made it to our meetup spot and they were looking at me like what is your problem dude? I told them that they were following me and firing at me. Right as I told them this I heard behind me, don't move. I turned around and saw the two gypsies. What do you want? Your wallet and your phone, now. Alex and David started giving their stuff and then Martin spoke.

Screw off, I'm not giving you my wallet. What did you say? Your wallet. Just give them your freaking wallet, man. No, I'm not giving you my wallet. Gunshot. He shoots Martin in his leg. While Martin was screaming in pain, he pointed the gun at us and I knew I had to do something.

I pretended to give them my wallet and phone. When the one gypsy without a gun came near me, I hit him in the face as hard as I could and threw my stuff at the shooter's face. I immediately jumped at him and tried my stuff at the shooter's face. I immediately jumped at him and tried to grab his gun. Gunshot. I didn't even care if he shoots me or not, I just began to beat the crap out of him. When I was finished I grabbed the gun and turned around to the second gypsy. David started screaming, dude you got shot. I like, what is he talking about? Then I saw it. They made contact.

The bullet was just under my armpit and thankfully it was only a scratch, but a deep one. I pointed at the second gypsy and told them to call the cops and an ambulance. When the cops arrived, they saw me with a gun pointing at the two gypsies. The officer screamed out for me to stop. I told him it's okay that I was just waiting for him to arrest them and unfortunately I myself was tackled in the process. Long story short, the gypsies got arrested. Martin is still in the hospital and I only required a few stitches. I'm still angry that nobody called the cops after they heard the initial gunshots.

They probably thought it was just fireworks, I guess. It's that time of the year. This story includes me, Mike, and my girlfriend Kayla. We are 19-year-old students from Europe. We've been together for two years and this story happened the day when we had our second anniversary. My girlfriend always wanted something special to do instead of going to dinner. As I planned, I know, boring. She wanted to go camping somewhere.

Her parents love camping and everything about it, so she got it from them, I guess. The day before our anniversary trip trip we got everything we needed. Tent, blankets, not sleeping bags, pillows, food and basic survival things. My stepdad loaned me his pickup truck that he loves so much and calls her Jenny. I have no idea why he named his car and I never asked so. I put my things in the car, including my 1911 which I got from my grandfather, and drove to my girlfriend's house. When I arrived, she did the same thing. Gave hugs to her parents and we were on our way. We drove like 7 kilometers behind her town to the nearest forest. I parked my car somewhere safe and we went hiking for about 1.5 kilometers into the forest.

I found a great place with an old campfire so we decided to put our tent there. We put our things in the ground and started collecting wood for fire. After maybe 20 minutes we collected enough wood for the night. We had a great night, talking about stuff, relaxing near the fire and looking at the stars. After 11pm we went to the tent. We were kissing and getting intimate and after 1am we decided to call it a night. Here comes the scary part. Kayla wakes me up. First thing I noticed was her scared face so I asked her in my sleepy voice, what's wrong? She didn't say anything and pointed outside. I was listening and heard nothing but when I wanted to say anything I heard giggling.

I felt goosebumps all over my body and immediately took my gun out and just waited. After maybe 30 seconds I heard cracking sounds right behind her tent. Kayla grabbed my arm as hard as she could and almost started crying. I told her quietly that everything will be okay. After I said that I heard someone saying in the scariest voice that I've ever heard in my life, Do you really think that? My heart dropped out of my body and I said loudly,

What? Who is that? It was quiet for maybe two minutes and after it they said, I'm going to kill you both and immediately stabbed me in the back through the tent. Kayla started screaming so loud that my ears were ripping off. After that he went to the entrance of the tent and tried to open it. He opened it halfway and before he opened it full I fired at least three shots. I heard him screaming in pain and began to run away as the sound dissipated. We put on some clothes and I told Kayla to run to our car

as fast as possible. When we sprinted out of the tent, Kayla started screaming again. I pointed my gun and a flashlight to where she was looking and I swear to god there were three men. One of them, the one I hit and two others who were looking at me dead in the eyes. It took a second for me and I noticed that one had a knife and the other had an axe. They didn't care that I had a gun and charged at us. I fired two gunshots at one and screamed at Kayla to run. We ran so fast that we were at my car in about five minutes. We hopped in the car and I started the engine. As soon as I started my car I saw the one guy swing his axe into the hood of my dad's pickup. I immediately drove away still with the axe in the hood. Kayla was crying. I drove to the nearest police station. When we arrived, before I left the car, I collapsed due to the blood that I had started to lose.

I woke up later in the hospital with Kayla, both our parents and two police officers. They told me I was unconscious for a little over ten hours. They already questioned Kayla about what happened and she told them everything. One police officer told me that they had found two of them hiding in the forest and the other one was laying dead near our tent, from the two gunshot wounds to the chest. After both officers went away, Kayla's parents thanked me so much for keeping their daughter safe. A few days later, I finally got home with a new scar on the bottom right of my back, pretty close to my kidney. The doctor said I was lucky. I can't imagine what would have happened to Kayla if she didn't wake me up that

night. So yeah, that's my story and I hope no further anniversaries involve camping. Ever since I was 7 or 8 years old I have had encounters with the paranormal. I'm 21 now and the activity hasn't stopped. Something that makes this a bit strange is that I've moved 6 times since I have first started having these encounters so it's not simply a haunted location. Am I just sensitive or has something been following me for the past 13 years? I'm not sure. While I have many stories from my childhood, I wanted to talk about schnookums. Yes, I named whatever is haunting me schnookums. I figured this would help me be less afraid of it, but

it hasn't quite worked out so well. Shnookums stepped into the picture after my fiance and I moved into our current apartment in the summer of 2017. I should note that we are not in an apartment complex but in a small above garage apartment attached to my landlord's home. Shortly after moving in, my fiance found a job nearby. He typically works from 11am to 9pm so when I'm not in school or at work, I'm usually home alone. Once I started spending more time alone at the apartment, strange things began to happen.

It started one afternoon last fall. I was in bed reading, waiting to pick up my fiancé from work, and all of a sudden I could hear my dishes being thrown around my sink, almost like someone was violently swirling their arm around trying to stir my dishes, if that makes sense. I was scared but I needed to go investigate. Not a dish was broken or out of place. Also important to note that my landlords weren't home so they couldn't have been making the noise either. Thoroughly freaked out I ran back to bed. On another day reading and waiting like before I heard what sounded like someone jumping

and landing on my living room's wooden floor at bare feet and walking in almost slapping steps over onto the tile floor of my kitchen and stopping abruptly by the sink. I could see nobody there. I freaked and did what any strong independent woman would do. I called my mom. She told me to go buy crosses to hang up on my wall, so I did. That did zilch. For the longest time I was the only one who was experiencing anything inside the apartment. feel watched and not that feeling of some random creep staring at you on the bus or something but like someone with violent and dark intentions was eyeing me like prey. It makes me feel the kind of fear that makes my entire body run cold. Aside from that I would occasionally have my hair pulled or hear breathing behind me, things like that, and always when I was home alone. I was frustrated because my fiance didn't really

believe what was going on although he did admit to me later on that he feels watched sometimes as well. What finally got him to believe was when his brother, D, stayed with us for a couple of days this past June. Our apartment only had one bedroom so when D came over he had to sleep in the living room on our futon. By the time I picked him up from the airport and got him settled in it was really late so he slept almost immediately. The next morning I got up early and went out to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and to my surprise Dee was already awake. I said good morning and asked him if he slept okay then he told me that he felt like someone was watching him all night,

and that when he turned the lights off and went to bed, it sounded like someone walked up right behind him and snapped their fingers in front of his face, but nobody was there in the room with him. When my fiancé heard that, I think that's when he finally started to take this schnookums thing a little more seriously. I'm going to cut this story short since I've already typed so much but there are two other things I'd like to include before I finish. One, I'm now starting to see white orbs in and around my bathroom semi-regularly and two, I guess it might be important to mention that I live across the street from a cemetery.

I also lived beside a cemetery when I first started having experiences in that house, 13 years ago. My name is Savannah, I am 21. I was 8 years old when this happened to me. I am a Christian, so to simply put it, I do believe in supernatural occurrences and believe there is a veil of supernatural beings that we cannot see. But sometimes, somehow, we do get to see and experience things the human eyes are not supposed to see. On this day, it was an irregular day. I went to school, came home, did my homework and played in my room for a while I had my dinner and before too long it was getting late and it was time for bed I took a shower, brushed my teeth and hopped into bed

My mom tucked me into bed up to my cheeks and soon I was asleep Sometime in the middle of the night I had to use the bathroom so I rubbed my eyes, stretched and got out of bed. I walked out of the room and immediately noticed the light from the bathroom because my mom always kept it on at night for me. It was bright even though I had not looked up yet. What happened next happened so fast but felt like time had stopped.

I looked up and there was what looked like my mom. It startled me just a bit because I wasn't expecting her to be standing there. I called out to her, Mom? But she didn't reply. Instead she gave me this big grin. She just stared at me with wide eyes with that big forced grin. It sent chills up my spine.

I felt scared and didn't understand because if it was my mom then I shouldn't be feeling this overwhelming fear. Mom? I said again but really scared now because she was still grinning wide and now she had her arms outstretched like she was going to give me a hug. She started to glide toward me. Didn't walk but glided and the second she started to glide toward me I backed up and ran into the living room. I was confused. Why was my mom trying to scare me? I was freaking out and thought my mom had gone crazy. I was about to run out the front door if I had to but when I looked back she wasn't there. What was even freakier was there lying on the couch was my mom about seven months pregnant with my baby brother at the time. Whatever I had just

seen in the hallway was not my mom because my mom had been peacefully sleeping unaware of anything that had just happened. I jumped onto the couch with her and buried my head in the covers. She was surprised and was asking me what was wrong but I was too scared to say anything. I tried to convince myself to go back into the room because she was pregnant after all and I didn't want to stress her. There was hardly any room for both of us but I remember begging her not to make me go back into my room. I was extremely scared out of my mind. I started crying until I just fell asleep from exhaustion. The next morning on the ride to school I got the courage to tell my mom the thing

I saw and to my surprise she actually believed me. She was worried but stayed calm and let me know that she was there for me and believed me and I love my mom for that. What I think I saw was a demon or an evil spirit trying to take the form of my mother to get me to be afraid of her. I am very close to my mom, she is like my best friend, so I think it tried to take her form because it was someone I trusted so much. It was just so creepy how it looked just like her from her shoulder length hair, dark skin, her hospital uniform uniform and even the gap in her teeth which I remember distinctively because of that sinister smile it gave me. But every time I

remember that demonic smile it sends chills up my spine. This was definitely one of the creepiest and scariest moments of my life, just remembering how my heart dropped the moment I realized something evil had taken the shape of my beloved mother. Well, it's a feeling I never want to feel again. I don't know what its intentions were, but thank God in heaven when I turned around, it was gone. I have a situation that could possibly turn very violent soon. I figured if anyone would have helpful advice for me it would be this group. It begins with my grandma. A few years back she did foster care. One of the last kids she fostered she ended up adopting.

We'll call him B. He is currently 12, almost 13. He has two other siblings and is the youngest of them. They are in group homes. Their birth parents would beat his older brother with a bullwhip as he had witnessed. That is pretty much the extent we know and his siblings are pretty messed up to say the least. When B was first adopted he was good. I have a brother his age and they get along well. There was no problems. In the last year or so although things have taken a turn. B has one chore as my grandma owns a farm. His chore is to feed two bales of hay to the animals.

This takes maybe five minutes. He also has a gator, a sort of go-kart with a lot more power to complete his task. You cannot even explain to him the faster it's done the faster you are done and can do what you want. He will not do it. He lies saying he did it when he is not. It will take him eight hours. He has no empathy and is defiant and is becoming very violent and concerning. It is getting to the point where he is being like this to others, not just my grandma. She has punished me,

taking away electronics and his beloved possessions, even gone as far as to spank him. He doesn't care. An emotionless face. He also has been going as far as to steal my grandma's phone out from under her in her sleep to use for games. He also steals remotes. Personally, I have caught B talking to himself or someone you cannot see. It is very unsettling and he will just stare with emotionless eyes. I'm not exaggerating on any of this. It's

becoming violent and we are concerned for my grandma's safety at this point. Also, just recently my grandma told us that he had set fire in the basement where he sleeps. They were able to put it out and I'm not sure if it was on purpose but at this point with his other behavior, it's almost definite that he did. He also has been on therapy for years with no luck or help. B also was on medication for ADHD but was taken off and seems better off in that way. My grandma does not want to send him off because she loves him as he is her son. Even at that point we wouldn't know what steps to take. We also had a police officer talk to him. He also stayed at his house as he is a son his age and B became almost like he is with my grandma to them. He didn't care, it didn't affect him. He came from a very bad home, lying, manipulative, no empathy, emotionless,

defiant, beginning violent, stealing, sneaky, doesn't care what happens to the animals which sounds like a recipe for disaster. We are very concerned for my grandma's safety. This is just what I know. There could be more. Please, anyone with advice, steps to take, or a similar experience would be greatly appreciated as we don't know what steps to take. No one else fully believes the extent to which this is and also doesn't know what to do. Because how can you be so terrified of a 12 year old? When I was 8 and living in an apartment I saw something strange one night.

To give some context I was in kindergarten and living with my parents in Middle Tennessee. At the time, I had one sibling, my sister. I should also give some context to the layout of this apartment. It was in an area with other apartment buildings surrounding it. Ours was number six. When you walked inside our apartment, you would have been immediately in the dining and living room and to the left was the kitchen. Then there was the hallway. The first door to the left in the hallway was the bathroom. Straightforward was my parents room. At the right turn the corner made to the left of walking down the hall was my sister's room and then straightforward from the hallway corner turn was my room. Alright so when this event happened it was about 1.30 at night. I woke up to go use the bathroom and walked out of my room and into my sister's to check and see if she was okay.

I then walked out and into the hall and turned the corner to see this grotesque version of my sister. This creature had a torn gown on. It also had grey bumpy skin, long pointed ears and a shark-like mouth. This thing growled like what you could imagine a demon would. grey bumpy skin, long pointed ears and a shark-like mouth. This thing growled like what you could imagine a demon would. I in my 8 year old mindset was terrified. I turned around and ran in my parents room crying. When I turned around it wasn't there anymore.

That's all I remember as I don't remember what happened next. But if any of you know what this thing was that I saw, please let me know. After doing a mild amount of research, I've come across this term called a doppelganger. Have any of you experienced anything like that? This happened when I was about 5 or 6 years old when I first moved to Michigan from Florida. I'm 25 years old now and I'm a male. My dad was a big hunter when I was growing up.

He loved getting new bows and everything that goes with it. Please keep in mind that I was very young so I had to ask my mom about a lot of the details. My mom didn't find out until years later that my dad made this deal with the devil. He had told her one night when he was drunk and crying but during this time my dad was having a bad hunting season. He had went about four times without getting anything so he said out loud that if he could get a big deer he would trade his soul and he did end up shooting one of the biggest deers of his life. About a week after that, my dad was taking a nap on the couch after work and my mom was sitting in the living room. We had one of those huge wraparound couches so they were both on it.

She said he woke up and just stared at the ceiling. She went to ask if he was okay and when she saw his eyes, they were a dark yellow. She then yelled at him and it snapped him out of it and he had no memory of it even happening. Life went on normal for about a month after that, until one day we saw a black looking burn on our wooden door that led upstairs. It was at head level, it just kind of looked like a burn at first but that would change over the next few weeks. It started to take the shape of a demonic, twisting, smiling face with sharp looking teeth. Eventually my mom got sick of looking at it and decided to put a picture of Jesus over it, which covered it for one night. The next day the whole

thing started to grow a body with three snake heads like cobras on its chest. After that we started sleeping upstairs and me, my mother and father and sister slept in the living room and every time we would go by that door we would hear our names being whispered like it was trying to get us to go upstairs like it was taunting us. At this point my mom and dad started fighting all the time. It got really bad to the point my dad ended up cheating on my mom which led to them splitting up. I also want to note that I had a bunny rabbit named Buster that was the sweetest rabbit ever. But when this all started he went insane and started attacking everyone and even

bit me and my dad multiple times to the point we had to put him in his own room until one day he got out and attacked our mail. After that we had to have him put down and it was very sad. The house got so bad that when you walked in you could feel a dark presence in the house and every time we saw the demon on the door, it had a different face. One day it would be smiling, and another it would have an angry face. Stuff started to move around the house. We would hear stomping from upstairs. It got so bad we had to call my uncle who was a pastor, and him and his other two pastors came and blessed our house,

and tried to get rid of the demon, which didn't work. Eventually we just moved out of the house because we couldn't take it anymore. I know some people will wonder why my mom or dad didn't just remove the door or replace it but my mom said that she was worried that if they did that it would make things worse or it would just show up on another door. To this day I don't know what became of that house or if it still even there, or if another family had to deal with it as well. This was a very traumatizing time in my life, and it would not be my last paranormal encounter by far, but those are stories for another time. Hey friends, thanks for listening. Be sure to subscribe and click that notification bell to be alerted of all future narrations. If you got a story, be sure to submit them to my subreddit, or Let's Read Official, and give and receive feedback from the community,

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