The Tape Library - Archive of the Paranormal & the Unexplained - Do Not Go To Rock Island: Terrifying But True Paranormal Encounters

Episode Date: December 16, 2022

I have three brand new real life ghost stories to bring you tonight. 3 stories of the the supernatural to keep you up all night. In the first case, we'll be learning the dark history of a remote island before hearing about the paranormal encounters this one witness experienced. Next we take a trip to a trailer park, and a young witness who begins to visit things he shouldn't be visiting. Before finally wrapping up with a haunting that might be friendly, depending on who happens to be in the house. Do you have a supernatural story to share? Drop me an email at [e-mail] You can check out The Tape Library in video form at www.youtube.com/thetapelibrary Sources - Case 1 - https://www.reddit.com/r/Ghosts/comments/zdln44/my_frightening_experience_on_rock_island_wisconsin/ Case 2 - https://www.reddit.com/r/Ghosts/comments/z7kmhu/the_black_horseman_my_encounter_with_a_shadow/ Case 3 - https://www.reddit.com/r/Ghoststories/comments/z6w2wj/the_old_man_in_our_basement/ Breathe with me- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IUV_Fuuo6VM Stock footage and additional audio courtesy of Envato, Canva and Ghosthack Tiktok - https://www.tiktok.com/@thetapelibrary Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/thetapelibrary Archive of the Paranormal, the strange and the unexplained. The Tape Library brings you the creepiest stories, to keep you horror junkies up all night. True scary stories of ghosts, cryptids, UFOs and true crime. Chapters. 00:00 Into 00:05 - Case 1: A Trip To Rock Island 28:26 - Case 2: The Black Horseman 38:43 - Case 3: The Old Man In Our Basement Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Tonight, I have another series of your real-life paranormal experiences to share. We've got three brand-new cases to investigate. And trust me, these are some of the best stories I've come across so far, all of which have only been reported in the last few weeks. So let's fire up the tape player. Make yourself a hot drink, turn off all the lights, and get yourself comfortable. For case number one, we're heading to Rock Island in Wisconsin,

where this witness had a terrifying encounter. This is going to be a good one. Rock Island is a state park located at the tip of Dorr County, Wisconsin, on Lake Michigan. It's a difficult place to get to. To get to the island, you have to take a car ferry from Ellison Bay to watch. Washington Island, drive across Washington Island to Jackson Harbour, and then take a pedestrian-only ferry to Rock Island. No vehicles or bikes are allowed on Rock Island. Even though the island is relatively smaller about 975 acres, it has an interesting history. In the early 1600s it was inhabited by a tribe of

Potawatomi Native Americans, as well as a small fishing village of European settlers. The two groups did not trust each other and did have a few bad encounters that almost led to violence. But for the most part, they've lived peacefully together on the island. By the 1640s, the Potawatomi had migrated to other parts of Wisconsin. Shortly after the Potawatomi had left the island, some settlers from the fishing village reported seeing a new group of people on the island. They seemed to be more white settlers, but they wore strange clothes and kept themselves. No one. one from the fishing village was ever able to talk to one of these new settlers, or even find out where they were living. It was around this time that strange things started to happen in

the village. Several animals, it's not mentioned what they were, maybe it was pigs or chickens kept by the settlers, were found slaughtered in the village and seemed to have been used to make markings in blood on some of the buildings in the village. On a different night, a building used for preserving meat burned down. The villagers felt that these things must have been done by these new people on the island and they intended to find them. But after a thorough search of the island included the wooded inland area, they never found a single person. These strange occurrences seemed to stop soon after the search and none of the other settlers were ever seen again. In 1836, the Potawatomi Lighthouse was built on the northern part of the island.

After construction was finished, the lighthouse was inspected, and it was reported back that the material of which the lighthouse and dwelling are made are of the best quality, and that the work is done in a substantive and workman-like manner. David E. Corbyn was appointed the first keeper of the light on December 19, 1837. Only three years later in 1840, despite the apparent quality of the construction of the lighthouse, David Corbyn started to complain that plaster started to fall off the building, and some sort of liquid would ooze through the cracks, leaving the house constantly damp. Corbyn was completely alone most of the time at the lighthouse, and some have said when visiting him that he would stare at a certain wall,

and sometimes spoke vaguely of the other visitors. In 1845, after eight years of relative solitude at the lighthouse, an inspector visited the lighthouse keeper and determined that while Corbyn was fulfilling his duties, he was acting strange. The official report says that the inspector ordered Corbyn to take a 25-day leave of absence, to find a wife to live with him at the lighthouse. However, some think that the inspector was startled by Corbyn's mental state, caused by years of solitude, and thought they would be best that he spent some time away from the island.

In 1852, Corbyn reportedly fell ill and died that December in the lighthouse. He was buried in a small cemetery just south of the lighthouse. The next lighthouse keeper also reported the surprisingly quick deterioration of the lighthouse. lighthouse. Some friends that have visited the new keeper say that he would talk of seeing the strange things in the house at night, but he wouldn't elaborate on what he had seen. In 1858, after only 22 years of service, the original lighthouse was torn down and a new one was built. From that point on the lighthouse keepers were required to have an assistant keeper, or a family with them at the lighthouse. No stranger

Currences were further reported in the lighthouse logbook, outside of strong storms and occasional shipwrecks, except on January the 20th, 1876. The keeper at the time named Betts reported that he saw two men attempting to road to the mainland from Washington Island. He wrote a terrible storm came up shortly after their departure, and they never made it to their destination. Over three months later on May 3rd, 1876, Betts wrote, the two men who were lost last January have been seen several times, once from Caney Lighthouse, and once from Jacksonport, the men were apparently frozen stiff and sitting upright in the boat among a mass of ice. At last account they were still adrift. There is not much hope that they will be found and buried. By 1900,

Most of the island's inhabitants left for better fishing areas on Lake Michigan. In 1910, a successful business owner and inventor, Chester Forderson, purchased all of the island, except for the land of the lighthouse occupied in the north. He used the island as a private summer retreat from his business in Chicago. Forderson is responsible for unique and mystifying buildings and structures that are still on the island today. On the south end of the island he built a giant stone hall that has a boathouse on the lower level. A stone water's howl was built on the east side of the island and an imposing wooden gate was constructed on the west end of the island. The Great Hall was used to store Fordson's immense book collection.

He had over 11,000 books and it's rumoured that he possessed some very rare books on the occult in his collection. Fordson died of heart failure on January 6, 1945, although some have speculated that he saw something that actually scared him to death. I couldn't find any writings from Forderson, however, that mentioned him experiencing anything strange on the island. After his death, multiple churches and universities were interested in this book collection, but he awilled it to the University of Wisconsin-Madison, providing that they had to purchase it for $300,000, which they did. Some of this history is hard to find on the internet, but there are a couple of binders in the Great Hall that has a lot of this documented. Forderson's personal papers are housed in the archive section of the State Historical Society of Wisconsin.

All of this history I gave is just to provide a little context for experiences I have had, directly or indirectly on Rock Island. In August of 2021, I took my first and last trip to Rock Island. After taking two ferry rides, I arrived on the island at 2pm. I had booked the remote campsite E, which is a backpacking site. There's a little over a mile from the dock. I took my time hiking out to the site to enjoy the scenery and took a couple of breaks just due to how heavy my pack was.

I was definitely packed more for camping than hiking. I got to my site, set up my tent, got everything situated, and started gathering sticks and driftwood from the beach, so I could start a fire. On my third trip back from the beach before I got back to my sight, I heard a single high-pitched squirrel noise come from the forest. It didn't sound close. It was such an unusual sound that I stopped in my tracks, and waited for a good 30 seconds.

waiting to see if it would happen again. It didn't, so I continued back to my site. When I got back, I began working on getting a fire started. The remote camping sites on Rock Island are pretty well spaced out. Sites C, D and E are grouped together, but there's probably 100 yards between each site. There's not a real trail connecting the three sites directly, but enough people have walked along the ridge between the,

the three sites that there's an obvious path. As I was setting some sticks up in my fire ring, something caught my eye, and I looked up, fairly far away. It looked like it might have been at Site D or a little further. It was a person running in my direction. My first thought was, well, that's odd, because like I said, it's not even really a trail they were on. Then my mind just went to, there must be something wrong.

and this person needs help. They got a little closer and it looked like maybe it was a woman in loose grey clothes, maybe in a hoodie. It was still far enough away that I couldn't really make out any details. I quickly stood up from the crouching position I was in. And just as I did, I heard that high-pitched squill noise again. It was behind me.

And it was much closer this time. This startled me quite. a bit, so I turned around to look behind me. I scanned the trees for a couple of seconds, but didn't see or hear anything. I turned back around because I knew that the running person must be getting close. But now they were gone. Again, I stood there and scanned the trees, but did not see them anywhere. I was so confused, I was kind of frozen for a few seconds. It was all very strange, but I was able to reason it out in my head. It was just a fellow camper from site C or D that was maybe running to the pit toilet that was a couple of hundred yards west of the sites.

I tried to forget about it, but it was really just bothering me. I did not like whatever that squirrel noise was, and I just felt strange. With some effort, I decided to let it go and started my fire. I had a quick meal on a couple of adult beverages and then decided to take a little walk. I hadn't seen C or D yet, so I thought I would have reached. check those out and see if I did have some neighbours camping nearby. Site D was empty. I did see the path that led from the site to the main trail, and pit toilet.

So that made me feel a little less uneasy about the runner. I figured that it maybe was someone from Site C that took a strange way to get to the main trail by going through Site D. It didn't make a ton of sense because I probably still should have seen them, but it made me feel better. I continued on to Site C and saw that there was a tent set up. I really didn't want to bother anyone, but I just thought I would go over with the excuse that I wanted to introduce myself as a camping neighbour from Site E, and see if anyone looked like they might have been the person running earlier.

I came up on the site and there was a couple sitting at the picnic table. Neither of them looked like they would have been the person I saw running. I introduced myself and I introduced themselves. They were both in their mid-30s. They were very nice and both seemed to be pretty drunk, but a quiet drunk. I didn't ask about the runner or the squealing noise, because I thought it might be weird. I wished them a good night and walked back to my tent. When I got back, I had a cigar and a few more drinks.

It got dark, and it started as a perfect night. The sky was clear, and I was just staring up and looking at millions of stars. I felt better about everything from earlier and felt stupid about the whole thing decided to get some sleep it was a long day so I fell asleep almost immediately at around 2.30 a.m. was woken up by a huge boom of thunder

it started downpouring the wind had picked up and the temperature dropped I love camping in the rain but I do not like camping in a lightning storm A pretty big storm came through When I was starting to worry The wind was whipping at my tent And the ground was shaking

From the thunder and lightning I did not feel good about being out there In a tent and felt very exposed The storm lasted for about an hour Before it became just a light, steady drizzle I was just starting to fall back asleep When I heard the squill noise again I opened my eyes up wide in the dark

And just laid their silence There was another loud squill noise, and it was pretty close. I knew there are no real dangerous animals on Rock Island. There are deer and porcupines, but nothing like bears or wolves. Knowing that still didn't make me feel better, though. There was something about the squirrel that I didn't like. I say squill because that's the best I can describe it. It sounded to me like a pig squill.

I honestly don't know that much about pig noises, but that's what I thought of when I heard it. An injured or angry pigs wheel. I continued to lay in my tent and started to hear footsteps outside. It was still raining so the sounds were a little buried in the sound of rain. But it definitely sounded like a somewhat large animal or human walking around.

I sat up in my tent and took a knife I had out just to feel better. In my head I just kept saying, you know it's just an animal, it's fine. There's nothing in these woods that can hurt you. I listened as the footsteps started moving away from my tent. I just sat there being still, holding my knife for maybe ten minutes, without hearing anything else.

I started thinking to myself, It's fine. It was just an animal. You're being stupid and you need to get some sleep. I was just about to lay back down. when there was a very loud squill and it was right outside my tent. It felt like my heart just stopped and a shiver went down my spine. My heart was beating so hard my entire body was pulsing and I felt it in my ears.

It took everything in me but I full stay, get out of here, not shouting, but as stern and mean sounding as I could at that moment. I didn't hear any more squills or footsteps at night. But I also didn't sleep. I just sat there in my tent for maybe an hour before I laid down. Eventually the rain stopped and I kept laying there until the sun came up. All that time reassuring myself that I was just being stupid. It was just an animal.

It was probably 7 a.m. before I decided I had to get out of my tent to relieve myself. As soon as I stepped outside my tent, I saw it at my picnic table, had been turned over and was upside down. When I saw this, I surprisingly calmly thought, Okay, this is enough. I'm leaving the island today. I checked my surroundings and nothing seemed out of place. I eventually reasoned with myself that the wind had blown the table over during the storm.

It still seemed a little strange, because the table was pretty heavy. And I felt like I would have heard the table flipping over, but that might have made sense. I made some cold instant coffee, had a bite to eat. and started to feel better about the whole thing, then decided to go for a hike. I admit I get easily scared when I'm camping by myself in the woods. Maybe that's natural. After I had some coffee and food and the sun came out, I realised that nothing I heard or saw was really anything that couldn't be explained, other than not getting a good night's sleep.

I was having a pretty good time. The reason I came to the island in the first place was to hike the seven-mile Forderson loop trail that has a lot of interesting things to see and I was excited to start the hike. I packed a few things in my backpack and started off. Fairly close to my site is the water tower. I have no idea how it originally worked or why it had to be a tower, but it's an impressive building with a fireplace that looked like someone had recently had a fire in it. A little further down the trail was a cemetery where two sisters and a few others are buried. It's believed there are still more buried here in unmarked graves. These are likely some of the settlers from the old fishing village.

The island has three cemeteries. There is one by the beach, and that's where Chester Fordson is buried. There's one on the eastern part of the island, where the two sisters are buried, and there's one on the northern part of the island, where the original lighthouse keeper, David E. Corby, is buried. There is also at least one Potawatomi burial area on the island, but no one knows exactly where that is. I kept walking on the trail until I came to a nice scenic overlook area with a bench, where I sat down and drank some water. I started to hear some talking on the trail ahead of me, but I couldn't see anyone.

There was a bend in the trail where the trees were thick, so I sat on the bench waiting for these people to come around the bend. The voices were coming closer, and they could tell they weren't speaking in English, but I couldn't place what language it might have been. both voices were very very deep and guttural then back in the woods i hear aloud and quick whew-hoo immediately both the voices i was listening to respond with their own i kind of smiled because it sounded like these two heard whatever it was in the woods and they were trying to be funny and mock it by responding i got off the bench put my backpack on and started walking in the direction further down the trail, where the voices were coming from. But I never did find these people.

The rest of the hike went very well. I visited the cemetery where David E. Corbin is buried. I took a self-guided tour of the Potawatomi Lighthouse. I passed a wooden gate that apparently used to be part of the larger structure. I walked by the Great Hall and the dock area from where I arrived on the island, visited some of the other structures on the island, came across the cemetery where Chester Forderson is buried, then finished a loop by returning to my campsite. It was a very nice hike with a lot to see, and wasn't especially difficult, but I was tired.

I did walk down to Campsite C to ask the couple I spoke with the night before, how they did with the storm during the night, but they had packed up and left. I was disappointed because I also really wanted to ask them about the squealing noises during the night. The rest of the evening was pretty uneventful. I built a fire, made some mills. had a cigar and some drinks. As soon as it got dark, I was ready for bed since I had so little sleep the night before. I got in my tent and quickly fell asleep.

I might have been asleep for about three hours when I woke up suddenly and was immediately fully alert. Nothing I was aware of called me to wake up, but I felt something was wrong. I sat up in my tent, and this part is a little hard to explain. A feeling of course.

complete dread washed over me. It was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. It felt like there was something in the tent with me. I could feel that it was angry, seething with anger, rageful even. I could feel its hatred for me. It felt like something very bad was about to happen, and I couldn't do anything about it. I started to shiver uncontrollably. There was a smell of garbage or rotten meat, and it got stronger and stronger to the point where I wanted to throw up, but couldn't because I was frozen. I had never felt so exposed and helpless. I stared forward at nothing, just frozen. The weird thing is, I accepted whatever was about to happen to me.

It was like my brain telling me whatever is about to happen, even if it's death. will at least be a relief. And then I passed out. At least I assumed I passed out. That's all I remember until I woke up at about 8 in the morning. When I woke up, I was laying outside my sleeping bag, on top of it, and my legs were in an unnatural and uncomfortable position. I was on my back with my left leg straight out,

and my right leg was bent and my foot was up against my left knee. My heart started pounding, but I kept thinking to myself. It was a dream. I'm leaving right now. It was a dream. I'm leaving right now. I packed up everything very quickly and started back towards the dock to catch the first boat off the island. Since the first boat from Washington Island doesn't arrive until 10.30 a.m. I had to kill a little time around the Great Hall and Dock area. I wanted to get off the island so bad.

But I did feel a little better just being out of the woods than I could see other people. I sat down on the bench a little to the east of the dock and lit a cigar. just to give me something to do while trying not to think about the night before. I was sitting a few minutes and scanning out over the water, when I was startled by someone behind me, saying, Hi, I jumped and was embarrassed when the person came around saying, Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to scare you.

I saw you spoken and just came to ask if you had a lighter. I felt like an idiot and told him that's fine. I just didn't sleep well last night and was kind of zoned out. A hand is in my lighter He thanked me lit a cigarette and then handed the lighter back to me We started talking about the usual things you might talk about Who was from the Madison area

We talked about the storms we've been having He seemed to be a real outdoorsy type of guy And talked about his plans to move to Washington Island It was a nice normal conversation And kind of took my mind off the night I had just had a little bit He seemed like a pretty nice guy Then naturally he asked me what sight I had been staying at I told him I was staying at Site E the last two nights.

He said he usually books that site, but I must have reserved it before him. He said he had to book Site D the last two nights. I was surprised by this, because no tent or anything was at Site D the two times of walk past the site. I told him this, and he said he comes to the island a few times a year, and you have to book a site, but he actually camps at different areas on the island.

I asked him where he camps, and he told me most of the time he camps in the East Cemetery. But he also likes to camp in the woods south of the lighthouse. He told me that he hikes about halfway down the Fernwood Trail, and just heads north into the woods, where he finds a place to camp. He said that one time he found the ruins of a small log house in those woods. He's going to try and find it again and camp inside of it. At this point I started to change my opinion about this guy,

and wanted to change the subject. But then he asked me, if I had heard the screeches in the woods. I took a second to reply I knew he was talking about the squealing I had heard I told him I had and asked him if he knew what it was this time he took a second to reply

and I saw his face change he looked as if he was thinking if he should tell me something like a secret with no expression at all on his face he said matter-of-factly a demon lives on this island under any other circumstance

I would have laughed this off but not after what I had experienced the night before. He looked at me and must have seen the anxiety and fear I was feeling. He surprised me by letting out a quick laugh. He asked me if I saw anything that night. I told him I hadn't seen anything and he stared at me like he was trying to figure something out. I felt like he could tell I had experienced something. At this point I was ready for the conversation to be over.

Then he told me he had seen something in the cemetery that night. now his face and mood kind of changed again like he was trying to confide in me I really did not want to ask the question but I knew he wanted me to ask it so I asked him what he saw in the cemetery but my voice was shaky

then I could tell he had changed his mind about telling me he actually looked at me with empathy and told me and told me that what he saw was hard to explain but if I was afraid in the screeching noises He didn't think I should go near the cemetery. I didn't say anything right away, but he said four words without any context.

Keepers of the flame. I looked at my cigar and the ash was long. I put it out and told him I was going to wait by the dock for the boat. He nodded and I started to walk away. After a few steps he said, Hey, I turned around to look at him. He just said, Don't come back here.

I turned around and started walking again. I don't know if that was a warning or a friendly suggestion, but I took it to heart. I was definitely not coming back to Rock Island. When I got home, I looked up Keepers of the Flame as it pertained to Rock Island. I found three things that he could have been referring to. The names of the Native Americans that lived on the island of Potawatomi could be translated to Keepers of the Flame.

The lighthouse keepers on the island were sometimes referred to as the Keepers of the Flame. Then there was a 19th century cult that was said to visit the island from time to time. They called themselves the Keepers of the Flame. I know that hundreds of people visit Rock Island every year and have a great time camping, hiking the trails, and exploring Chester Forderson's buildings. My humble suggestion is this. Do not go to Ruffington.

Rock Island. Still with me out there? I really, really love that story. We've still got two more cases to delve into. But I'm curious. Have you ever had a paranormal experience yourself? I'd love to hear about it. I try to read out all the stories that get submitted to me on the channel. So if you have a story to share, then you can find my email address in the description. Or you can simply leave a comment below. Okay. It's a story. It's time for case number two. This is an actual experience I had, and it still freaks me out to this day. Growing up, I have multiple little paranormal experiences.

I was always very skeptical, so the experiences I had I considered genuine, and I tried my best to explain them away, but I couldn't. Many of them would happen, even with company or family around to see it as well, so I knew I wasn't imagining it. As a teenager, I started getting a little too interested in the paranormal. and not being scared of anything. I got a little cocky at times. At some point I guess I started to dabble with something I shouldn't have.

So it got a bit too intense for me. We would talk about the things that happened or mentioned spirits or attempt to talk to presences I couldn't see. And it would, as I'd like to call it, stir shit up. So when I was a teenager I had this friend. He would be in mid-conversation with me and randomly trial off on some weird shit that sounded creepy and didn't make any sense. Then come to and not have a clue about what he had said.

Be like, whatever man, I don't know what he was talking about. Can continue on the normal conversation like nothing happened. Usually it ended at that, but when we were 15-ish, he went into one of these things, kind of like a trance or whatever,

as we were on the phone. He said something like, follow the tracks to your right and on your right again near the end you'll come to their resting place I'll explain the layout of where I was living because it's important for the next parts

I lived in a pretty nice trailer park off a main road and a small town heavily wooded and nowhere near town the main driveway came down the middle of the trailer park and dead ended at the rear a little past that dead end was an embankment and at the bottom was a railroad track that was very rarely used. To the right

it dead ended in some woods with the one side being at the back of an abandoned old mill. The other side had a pretty dense set of woods behind a neighbourhood. So I follow his weird cryptic directions after getting off the phone. It was late afternoon in summer. I head to the railroad tracks and head right towards the end. At some point before the end I hear footsteps in the woods on my right being curious I head up the embankment towards a noise there there but I did see a small graveyard curiously tucked away in these woods behind the neighborhood likely a small family plot ranging from the early 1700s to the very early 1900s it was only about 20-something markers I was intrigued and of

course brought that friend later and he was weirded out insisting he had no idea it was there. But he wasn't the lying type, so I believed him. It became a hangout spot of mine, as I was dumb and brave, and I would go there at night at all hours, acting fearless. Nothing really weird ever happened there, so moving on. Another day, another conversation, and my buddy randomly breaks into another trance. He says, head to the day.

the tracks, crossed them, and when you enter the woods, you will see him. My cocky self immediately does just that. Late afternoon once again. This time I head to the tracks behind the trailer park, but I crossed them, which goes through a bit of woods and comes into a clurring with an old mill on the left, a different one because it's an old mill town. On the right is miles of cut-out, of power lines, cutting through the woods supplying all the random neighbourhoods scattered throughout the area. Straight ahead across the street from the mill, there's a more dense wooded area, so following in these directions again, I head towards the tree line. The moments I set foot into the tree line, I hear branches snapping, and immediately see just a black shadow or silhouette

of a guy in all black, on a black horse, galloping through the woods away from me, and towards the left, disappearing into the trees. I was bit shocked as it was not common to see horses around my town at all. But being cocky and brave, I decided to head to where he came from, which was right to the edge of the tree line, following the cut out of the power lines. Near the edge of the tree line, I found an old collapsed horse stable, literally nothing else near it.

There was another neighbourhood about a mile in the direction of where he had disappeared, but nothing else around the stable. So being intrigued and a little freaked out, I go call my buddy and tell him. The following day I bring him with me to show my finding, because he just refused to believe me. And I was getting suspicious of him playing stupid possibly. But the most unbelievable part, as we entered the tree line where I saw the horseman the day before, we both saw him taking the same path as I did previously. Broad daylight, clear as possible, there was no way we both imagined it. Both of us were a little freaked out, but we continued on, and I showed him the stable also.

The strangest part of all was brought a couple of friends to see the stable when each time he appeared to us. So after finding the stable and hanging around the graveyard, things started to ramp up with the little encounters becoming much more intense. TVs and stereos were turning on by themselves multiple times, even in the presence of company or family. Intense fittings are being watched and just inexplicable moments of dread and terror for no reason. Hearing people having loud conversations or music like a radio was turned on in the other room, while home alone and literally nobody in sight outside surrounding my home. Stuff lying across the room violently. fresh handprints in the steam on my bathroom mirror after a shower.

I hear the distinct sound of my mum coming home, throwing the door open, tossing her keys on the table, and the cabinet and fridge slamming open and closed, while she made herself a drink. She was not a quiet or subtle woman. Just to walk out of my room to talk to her, and realised that nobody was there. Yet still one night, around two or three a.m.,

I got bored and decided to head down to the graveyard. I was feeling watched and just super uneasy. I was trying to be stubborn and refused to feel scared for whatever the hell reason. I was rebelling, I guess, telling myself I couldn't be harmed. So I get to the graveyard and all is normal and quiet. I hang out for a while and realise I'm being dumb. Decide to head home and get some sleep. I head back down the tracks towards home.

I get to where I need to head up the embankment to enter the driveway for the trailer park. I'm about halfway up the bank when I hear something Russell. I look up and I see the horseman on this horse looking down at me. Pitch black. Almost like a shadow in the dark. You can still see outlines of everything. It nothing reflected light. I hadn't heard of it at this time, but it was like how someone.

describe the shadow people. I remember staring at him for a few seconds in disbelief and shock, and the horse makes that little noise with his lips and I snapped out of it. I turned down the bank and ran along the tracks as I hear the hoofbeats following behind me. I turn up a shallow apart into the woods and next to the trailer park, weaving through the trees, trying to slow him down, until I reached the street and run to the trailer I lived in. which was at the front. I jumped through the door, down there bursting through the screen door

as I hear the hoofs thudding behind me. My mum was at work, so I was turning on every light, TV and radio in the place to try and make it loud or bright to keep whatever at bay, as if that would help. I sat on the couch waiting for my mum to get home, and I eventually fell asleep.

I woke up as she finally came home as daylight was coming in, I told her everything and she told me I shouldn't be messing around with this stuff. She believed me because she always had experiences and she told me about them regularly. Once the sun was finally up, I went to the embankment where I saw him, wondering if I had somehow imagined it all. Even curious if there was just a horse out in the area for whatever reason.

However unlikely, but just trying to find an explanation. I found hoof prints in the sand at the top of the embankment. and lonely in that spot. That's when I decided it was getting to be too much for me. And while not being religious normally, I started praying to make it all stop. And swearing I would stop messing around with it. It all kind of died down.

Until around when I turned 18 and suddenly it all just stopped. I haven't had a single experience since. Ready for one last case? I really enjoyed this next one. Even the title alone gave me a few goosebumps. If you've enjoyed this entry into the tape library up until now, then why not give the video a like? Every time you do it means we can share these real-life cases with more and more people.

And don't forget to subscribe. I'll be bringing you lots of chilling real-life tales and deep dives into more famous, horrifying stories very, very soon. And I wouldn't want you to miss out. case number three The old man in our basement For as long as I could remember I've never been able to escape the paranormal

Whether it be the television turning itself on at night As a child Or imaginary friends my older sister and I Could both see for years I've grown to become almost desensitized To anything out of the ordinary Out of all the things that have come in and out of my current home There's one being that's been there for as long as I can remember

and quite the odd one at that, for simplicity's sake, I'll just refer to him as the old man. He's often heard walking through the basement, mostly in the spare living room that connects to another spare room. He's not spoken a word to any of us, but he really seems to dislike my mother's best friend, as when she'd live with us for a short while, he'd bang on the laundry room walls when she was alone in there, and she'd swear up and down that he told her to get out. Nobody else had ever been told the same. Typically, the most we'd get would be a whisper calling our names.

And who knows if that was ever from him in the first place. So this was always perplexing to me. Personally, I think the old man is all right. He's been docile with my family and never moves things or bugs any of us. I've only seen him briefly here and there. The description I have of him matches what everyone else in the house has seen of him. Everyone, except for my mum's friend, can pretty much agree that he's harmless. When my room was in that spare room, connected to the basement living room,

I'd often come home to an empty house after school, and crash for a couple of hours while waiting for anyone to come home. Sometimes I'd be so tired from staying up too late, and having to get up so early. that I'd fall asleep with the lights on, and in those cases I'd wake up, 90% of the time, with the lights having been turned off for me. No one in my family ever omitted to doing this. And my parents really wouldn't have been the type to turn the lights off for me to sleep, since they found my messed-up sleeping cycle and daily naps to be frustrating.

With both of my siblings being gone most of the time around then, it was also unlikely that they'd lie about not doing that for me. so I can only assume the old man was the one who helped me with the lights. I've always wondered if perhaps he's some sort of guardian. Yet the way he acted towards my mum's friend contradicts that. Since she's by no means a bad person or deserving of it, though I can't even say for certain if the old man is the one who did that, since you never saw him when the walls will be banged on.

I wonder how many of you have had. a similar experience with a being, acting hostile to some and docile towards others. If you want to go back to the original post that these stories are taken from, I have included links to the original authors in the description. All stories have been included here with their permission. I think it takes a certain amount of bravery to share these sorts of encounters when you know so many people will doubt what you have to say, so give them some love if a story particularly resonated with you. So, are you done for the night?

Or do you want to hear some more terrifying stories? Check out the video on the left to hear all about the most famous haughty doll in the world. Or, click the video on the right, and you'll get three hours of terrifying true ghost stories. That's all for this entry into the tape library. Until next time, Pleasant dreams.