On my 12th birthday I was on the way to the bike shop to get a new bike, I was with my dad, his girlfriend and my brother. We was still about 10 minutes away from the town center, so no where near the bike shop.
Some random, old, creepy looking guy came up to us, looked down at me and said; "You buying a bike?" I looked at my dad, confused and kinda scared.
We told him that we were on our way to buy a bike. He then started going on about how I MUST get a helmet and wear it ALL the time! We was a little freaked out but we just assumed he was a weirdo and just forgot about it.
A few hours later I was riding through the park on my new bike and I fell off. I didn't fall very hard and landed on grass so it was cool. As I went to get up brush myself off, I looked up and he was just standing there, looking disappointed and shaking his head.
He thing shook his index finger at me and said; "I told you to wear a helmet."
At this point I just s**t myself and rode as fast as I could home! What is even weirder though is the fact that I have moved about 40-50 miles away since then and I still see him every once in a while.
I don't believe in guardian angels but it just creeps me out.
My story doesn't involve anything paranormal but it was equality as frightening when it happened to me.
I was 10 years old and it was the day before Mother's Day and my dad had taken my older sister and I to the mall to get her a present. This was like a weeknight though so the mall was pretty dead aside from a bunch of 'mall rats', as what my dad called them. They were just either really old people that sit on the benches and stare at people or gothic teenagers who have all the piercings and mohawks and stuff.
Anyway, the shoppings done and I have to go to the bathroom. My dad and sister wait on a bench and I walk thru these double doors that opens up to a long corridor and leads to the bathrooms all the way at the end. I walk down down and peak inside the bathroom, there are only two stalls but for some reason the main door is propped open. I go in anyway because I really had to pee. So there I am, sitting on the toilet doing my business when I hear voices coming down the corridor. They sounded like a group of the teenage gothic mall rats.
I stand up flush the toilet and am about to open the door when I hear one of them come into the bathroom. I freeze because I thought it was weird for a guy coming into a girl's bathroom. There was a moment of complete silence and then I see a pair of black heavy boots approach my door. Then without hesitation this guy just starts shaking the door really really hard and violently all while making some sort of weird animal like noises.
I sit back down on the toilet and almost start crying because I have no idea what's going on. The guy looks in the cracks in the door and I can see that he has one of those huge septum rings and it freaks me out even more. I hear the other guys that are standing in the corridor outside of the bathroom say "just grab her leg from underneath" and so this guy starts sticking his hands underneath trying to grab me but I pulled my legs up on the toilet and start hitting his hands with my little purse.
Then he goes into the next stall and tries the same thing. The entire time he's like grunting and making weird sounds...I was so freaked out. I also couldn't speak for some reason. I was like frozen and my mouth couldn't form any words. Then I hear one of them say something about a cop car parked out front so they all leave thru a side exit.
I sat on the toilet paralyzed with fear and my squeezed eyes shut for a good 5 minutes trying to convince myself that it all didn't happen but when I opened my eyes again I could see the bootprints on the tiles of floor and it made me more scared. Finally, my sister comes in asking me why i'm taking so long and i burst out of the stall, crying my head off and booking it down the corridor and back to my dad.
It was October of 2003 and the day had been a calm, uneventful one. I had just fallen asleep and the lights in the house were all out. I remember being shaken from my sleep to the sight of a shadowy figure hanging out on the stairs, only half of it's body was visible. It quickly ducked down and I heard whispers. "He's still awake, we gotta wait."
These entities, spirits, demons, what ever you want to call them, were planning on "getting me" that night. I quickly started screaming for my mother, who didn't believe me when she came to my room to comfort me. So there I was, all alone, in my dark room, with two entities trying to get me.
I tried to go back to sleep, but again, was quickly shaken by my feet and saw the two figures in the stairwell. I flipped over and covered myself in my blankets, but I felt something breathing on me, the sound of the heavy breathing shook me to the core; I cried for my mother again.
She came this time, and only told me to not think about them and they would go away. They never went away, the voices I heard, talking to each other about how they were coming to get me, how they were going to wait 'til I fell asleep.
This is when the music started playing, it sounded like an ice cream truck was coming through, or circus music; but who drives an ice cream truck and sits in front of someone's house at 4 in the morning? I will never forget that night.
Being woken up every time I even got close to drifting to sleep, the music, being paralyzed by the fear of getting out of my bed and what might be waiting for me. I later came to know these figures as "The Man with the Hat" and "The Tall Dark Figure". There was a third entity that stayed in the basement of the house that my brothers and I all saw at one time or another, crawling up the stairs to the kitchen, slowly.
A part of me wants to go back to that house and face my fears, but in reality, re-telling this story brings me down to my knees in fear and uncertainty.
On the paranormal side of things, I grew up in a house that was (years after we moved in) found to have a hidden torture chamber behind a false wall in the basement. A lot of unexplained things happened during the 14 years we lived there. One that particularly stands out happened when I was in my last year of elementary school.
My youngest brother left when my mom went to work and she would drop him off at pre-school. My other siblings all were in junior high or high school, and left earlier than me, as their school started an hour earlier than mine. My father left before everyone, at 5 am every morning for work. So, I was always the last one to leave on school days.
One of my brothers, who was later diagnosed as bipolar, got into drugs the year before, so my parents put a deadbolt on their room to stop him from taking money/things to sell. It was always locked when they left, and this morning was no exception. I left as usual, got about a block and a half away, and realized I'd forgotten my math book. I ran back. I'd been gone 3, maybe 4 minutes, but upon opening the door, so much had changed!
My parents bedroom door was wide open, the stereo on (it hadn't been on when I left). The door beside their dresser, which led to a 2nd story porch was also open. Nobody in the room, nobody on the porch.
Worse, though, was the door to the attic being open. It was never left open. I peered through the doorway, and halfway up the stairs was our dog. She was a teacup poodle, small and very sweet...but right now she was standing, shaking on the stairs, her teeth bared, emitting a very low growl.
I went up as quietly as I could, keeping my eye on the dark blob of shadows at the top of the stairs. I'd just gotten to where I could reach her, when it felt like a breeze hit me, carrying a sickly sweet but rotten smell, not unlike the bottom of a well-used garbage can. There were no open windows in the attic. I reached down to pick up the dog, and when I looked up again, the shadow blob had moved. Scared now, I snatched the dog and ran down the stairs, slamming the door shut. I ran down the other stairs to the first floor, still holding the dog, and out the door.
I never told anyone about it. When I went home that day, my parents made no mention of their door being open or the stereo on, so I'm guessing that things were set right before they got there. For the rest of that school year, I went to my friend's house every morning to walk to school with her after my siblings left.
When I was 16 and learning how to drive, I had something happen to me that I can't explain and still creeps me out a bit to this day.
I was out in a driving school vehicle with the driving instructor. We were probably an hour into the two hour session. It wasn't my first time driving and it wasn't my first time driving with one of the school's instructors, so I was pretty calm and relaxed and pretty much knew what I was doing at this point.
Anyway, we're headed down this road and approaching a Stop sign. It's still light enough to see what's coming without headlights so it's not like it's hard to see. I was probably going maybe 35-40 mph. It was in a residential area, but on the edge of it. No homes were along the road I was traveling or down the cross street with at the stop sign. It was a 4-way stop because as we approached, I remembered seeing people stopped on the cross-street waiting.
Maybe 200-300 yards away from the Stop sign, the driving instructor says to me "Make sure you stop at the sign ahead."
I think to myself "Why would just remind me to Stop at the sign?" And then say out loud "Yep!" just to humor her and be nice. It's still pretty far away, so it was a pretty odd reminder.
The next moment I consciously remember is being on the same road but being 200-300 yards past the Stop sign. I don't remember stopping. I don't even know if I did or not. I have no memory of it. (We've all had the auto-pilot thing where you just suddenly realize you're 5 miles down the road on the interstate going 60 mph...but this isn't that kind of experience.)
Just as my conscious mind picks up and realizes that we're past the stop sign and I have no memory of the past 2-3 minutes, the driving instructor turns to me and says "Did we Stop at the sign?" I looked over at her, and we both knew.
We didn't even need to say it. We both knew. It didn't need to be discussed.
Neither of us remembered if we stopped at that stop sign. We don't know what happened for those 2-3 minutes.
I went to the very top of Breckinridge, a part where you have to hike to get to. This was labeled as extreme terrain. Unfortunately I dropped in where there were too many rocks and boulders to get down.
There wasn't much snow that season.
I couldn't find a clear path to get down that I could get to, so I did something very stupid and took off my board to try and walk to a place where there was a clear path down.
I slipped and slid down like 40 to 50 feet of rocks, boulders, and snow. It really seemed to go in slow motion. It's the only time in my life where I genuinely thought I was going to die.
When I reached the bottom I was surprisingly not hurt at all. It must have been my adrenaline. All I had was a big tear in my jacket and a sore ass. I was so relieved that I wasn't hurt that I laid down in the snow. Then I heard people saying, "Oh my god!" and some just screaming.
So I sat back up immediately because I was thinking, "they probably think I just died." Eventually I just grabbed my board and snowboarded down the rest of the mountain.
I was more embarrassed than anything, and pretty grateful I wasn't dead.
Like a lot of kids, I had an imaginary friend until I was about 9 or 10. I don't remember playing with him, but I do vaguely remember going to see a psychiatrist about him.
I described him as looking like me (red hair, glasses) and having the same birthday as I do, and I called him G because my first name starts with a G, according to my mother. As I grew up, G faded away.
Fast forward to my 20th birthday. I came home from college for a dinner with my parents and younger siblings.
We're joking around about our childhoods when my sister mentions G. My dad gets quiet and my mom goes pale. She demands we drop the subject.
The next day, after my siblings had gone, my parents sit me down and explain that I had a twin brother who died when we were about a year old; he had a congenital heart problem and passed away during surgery.
They had elected not to tell me, although they couldn't really explain why.
My mom kept the letters G and I wrote to each other (mostly scribbles) and all the pictures I drew of he and I playing. She thinks I was with my brother.
When I was about 10, I went on summer vacation to the black sea with my mom. I couldn't swim back then, and never learned after what happened.
I was our first day there and we went out for a swim, my mom got me those inflatable things you put on your arms. The plan was to enjoy the day and I was excited to learn how to swim. The weather wasn't too great, but the water felt okay. It all changed very fast.
We got pulled away from the shore by a rip current and the sea was about to storm. The waves got higher and no matter how hard we tried to get back on sand, the sea only pulled us further and further away and to the side. And on the side was a concrete wave breaker.
My mom started getting physically tired and I could see sparks of panic in her eyes. We held to the concrete and there was no way to get away from the water and on top of the pier.
The waves were getting stronger and stronger, all the people from the beach disappeared, we shouted "help!", but even if someone was nearby they wouldn't hear us. The waves were very loud, smashing against concrete underneath the pier just a couple feet away.
Suddenly, a lady appears in the water next to us, we had no idea where she came from. She tells us that there's a ladder on the other side of the pier and, while we're doing our best to hold on to the metal on the side of the pier, she disappears.
Again, we didn't see where she went. The waves are at its hardest, and the only way for us to survive is to swim underneath the pier where the waves are hitting the concrete. We have just one chance at it, we patiently wait for a few-second window between the waves, swim under the pier to the other side and find a ladder. Up to this day we don't know who the woman was, but she saved our lives, and that day I decided that I'm going to make sure my life was worth saving.
I was at a cabin trip for a weekend with my uncle and his friends, i had just turned 13 and he wanted to take me on a "man trip" so they were having beers and relaxing after a good snowboarding session, so i asked him if i could have a beer, he just threw a six pack at me and sai "drink all you want" and i had like 5 beers, and started feeling a little dizzy (as i now call it "drunk")
so i went outside the cabin for a piss, and it was dark as fuck and we were in the middle of the woods with no lights, i was pissing and started walking in the wrong direction.
It was dark as f**k and it was snow everywhere so i couldnt find the cabin, i started panicking and running around the woods for about 20 minutes, i was so afarid i started crying, after a while i heard a car coming, i ran out to see if he could drive me back,
it was a pickup truck with a weird looking man in it he asked me what happened i told him i was at a red cabin not far from here, he told me to wait in his car while he called the cops, i entered his truck he took out the keys and locked the car and left, the car was pretty old,
so i couldnt open it without keys, and the inside locks were busted, i thought was gonna get killed and cut into little pieces the car was filled with porn mags and beer, i have never been so scared ever.
i was in the car for about 15 minutes then he came back with my uncle and his friends, opened the car and let me go. I was so glad to still be alive.
They weird guy was just laughing and told me to "wait a couple of years with the alcohol" and left. My uncle gave me 50 euros and told me to never say anything about this to my parents.
So in april 2011 i went to see the movie insidious.
That old lady that followed the main character really stuck in my memory. skip forward a few months, pretty much forgotten about the film, my friend links me to a picture showing how to have a lucid dream.
I had been interested in the subject so thought i would try it out when i went to bed.
Ended up having a bad allergic reaction (hayfever) at about 4pm so i lay down on my bed with a wet towel on my face to recover.
i decide i might as well try to lucid dream then as im lying down anyway.
Anyway, after lying on my bed completely motionless for about 20-30 mins i began to imagine my room, but at night, and with the woman from insidious standing at the bottom of my bed. S**t. me. up.
I tried really hard to stand up, but felt pinned to the bed, took me a good 20 seconds to get up. that was my first experience with her.
I grew up in a large suburb outside of Houston. It was during the early 90s when a lot of farmland settled by the original German immigrants was being bought up by developers and turned into new homes. My family lived at the very end of our subdivision, and past my house was a great expanse of farmland, flanked by thick woods, and old decaying wooden shacks from the 1800s.
Every day on my walk home from school I would pass by a particularly overgrown old shack, which I guess must have at some point been a house, which leaned like it would fall over at any minute on its tired old foundation, and just beyond it was a long row of fence. It was my daily commute to and from elementary school, and I’d walk by it, pick up interesting rocks and things, and I never thought much of it. There was always construction while the subdivision was expanding, so they had dug long trenches for what I suppose was for sewer, and erected electrical lines through the farmland.
Beyond the fence was a small lake, which I had often snuck in to explore and catch frogs, but after an encounter with a water moccasin, which is a species of pit viper, I decided to stay clear of it. The farm had cows which would meander through the meadow, and one large black horse.
A storm had rolled in during the previous night, and I remember that the clouds were so thick and black that it felt like night when I had arrived at school. It didn’t take long before the storm was in full force, and the power had gone out at school. Our teacher decided to have us all sit together on the floor and read to us for the rest of the day, which was fine by me.
The storm had passed, but the darkness lingered when I got out of school. I walked the now muddy path in the strange darkness past the crooked house, and beside the aging fence, each step becoming more and more difficult as the mud collected on my shoes. That’s when I heard a thrashing. The cows weren’t there, but I remember clearly that old black horse. I remember thinking that it was sick, or injured, or something.
Its black coat was slick, and steam was rising off its body in the cold air. It was kicking its back legs wildly, and violently slamming its face into the muck. It had a weird look to it, not like it was panicking, but like it was calm, and it didn’t look to be out of breath. Again it slammed its head into the mud, and kicked out its legs, then shook its head from side to side furiously. I stopped to watch it; looking back I wish I had just kept walking. I remember that after a minute or two it stopped and looked up at me, the grime sliding off of its face.
It must have been in a matter of a second, because I had no time to react, and the horse had charged towards me. It didn’t jump over the fence, but instead lowered its massive head and tore through the gap between the fence boards.
The wood cracked and splintered as its muscled body strained and its long neck extended through the gap. The horse savagely lashed out and started snapping at me. With its entire body covered in huge, swollen muscles it would recoil then slam all of its weight back into the fence, attempting to break the boards. It did that again, and again. Its enormous, broad teeth came inches from me, and I fell out of my shoes backwards, leaving them stuck in the mud. It’s a miracle that the fence was holding it back.
I could see it clearly now, the horse was burned, badly. The skin around its mouth had been seared off, and tendrils of pink, bloody skin snaked its way over its face like a spiderweb. The absence of skin made its teeth seem even larger, its black gums exposed, and its mouth frothing with spit that I could feel hitting me in the face. At that moment I was absolutely terrified that this horse would kill me. I remember wanting to get up, but the thick mud had me trapped.
I also remember the smell. It was like sulfur—a mixture of wet animal, burned meat, and singed hair. But what has stuck with me the most were its eyes. They were cloudy like black ink poured into milk. As it struggled to reach me through the fence its nostrils flared, and I could feel the heat of its breath on me, its teeth snapping shut over and over, the clacking noise of the heavy teeth slamming together was deafening.
I left my shoes and ran home. I remember my mother screaming at me about the mud when I stormed in. I told her about the horse that had nearly killed me, and that I had left my shoes there in the mud. She grabbed me by the arm and was going to make me take her back there to get them, but I cried and screamed not to go, so she went alone.
When she got back she had my muddy old sneakers in her hands, and she told me that she saw the horse. It was dead. A farmhand was dragging its body behind a tractor, and he told my mom that the horse had died earlier that day. One of the power lines that had been installed running through the meadow was knocked over during the storm, and the horse must have been near the lake, because it had been electrocuted and killed. He said that it had died instantly beside that lake when the power went out hours ago.
One of my close friends lived next to a house that was always vacant. It would sell, people would move in, and then one day they'd be gone and the house would be up for sale again. One summer, when the house was listed again and the last family had moved out, we decided to go take a tour and eat some Jack in the Box we had picked up. We weren't very smart sometimes and thought it would be cool to play chicken with whatever was haunting this house. My friend was really skinny and crawled through the dog door that led straight into the kitchen, then opened the back door for me.
We went through all of the rooms and it was pretty nondescript, just a typical 50s style bungalow house with a similar layout to his home, lots of pretty woodwork and built-ins. After we determined that the house really wasn't that creepy after all, we sat down in the dining area, on the floor, across from a little horseshoe shaped nook with a kitchen table and built-in bench. It was dusk out but the windows didn't have curtains and it never got that dark in our city, anyway.
At this point, we had been in the house for maybe 25 minutes and after we finished eating we stayed sitting just to hang out and talk since we weren't spooked out at all. All of a sudden, mid-sentence, completely out of nowhere, my vision went black and I felt this eery coldness wash all over me (I'm getting chills thinking about it), a feeling so thick I felt like it penetrated my through my body down to my bones.
At the very same moment this happened, my friend screamed. I virtually could not see anything and was groping around trying to find something to grab onto and I felt so unsettled and ..cold.
There's really no other word for it. After what felt like hours, I felt my friend's hands in mine and he pulled me to my feet and drug me through the house to the back door. He kept pulling on my arm and I still couldn't see anything. We got outside and slowly ..you know that feeling when you get a whole body shiver and it runs down your spine? As soon as I was outside, that's what I felt, except this was a whole body shiver that started at the tip of my toes and went all the way up to my scalp, and unexpectedly and suddenly I could see again.
My friend was as pale as a sheet and looked absolutely terrified. I felt off and sort of, gross, I guess is the best word, and in shock. I told him that I couldn't see at all until I was outside, that it felt like I had been enveloped in blackness. He was just staring at me and I finally asked him why he had screamed.
He hugged me and told me that he pulled me out of the house as soon as I started reaching around like I was blind because a little girl who was completely black, and yet see through, crawled out from under the table we were across from and sat on top of me.
“A few years ago, a couple of friends invited me to their cabin up in the Rockies to help clear some trees that were threatening the building. We were going to be out there two nights, and the first night was mostly making sure the cabin was in good shape, sorting out bunks, then beer and poker till the wee hours.
I got cleaned out about halfway through, so I get up to go to the bathroom. There isn’t a bathroom, though, only an outhouse a short walk away.
Now, this place had a small porch, so there were two doors to actually get out. I walk out on to the porch, and say hi to my buddy who was having a smoke. I open the outer door and just…stop.
I can’t move. My legs will not walk, I can’t even move my arms or head. I have the sensation of a large hand, fingers spread, pressed against my chest. My friend asks me what’s up, so I tell him. I can’t move. Something is keeping me here. I’m not allowed to leave.
I stayed like this, kind of battling the feeling, for a few minutes. It never goes away. I finally decide that I don’t need to pee that badly and that I want to go back inside. The hand takes itself off my chest, and I can move. So I go back.
The people inside ask me how I made it so fast, and I tell them the truth. They kind of glance at each other like they know something, but never tell me what. The rest of the night, everyone else is free to use the outhouse. I don’t bother trying again until the sun comes up.
The part that bugs me is that the hand on my chest wasn’t meant to frighten me. I was never in danger from that hand. It kept me there to keep me safe. Which only tells me that there was something else out there waiting for me. Specifically.”— VoxDraconae
28. I heard a little girl’s laugh come out of a doll
“We were looking at houses to buy, and found one that was absolutely perfect as well as affordable. It had a guest house which would’ve paid for the monthly mortgage if we decided to rent it. The only problem: One of the upstairs rooms washaunted.
It’s hard to explain. The rest of the house was charming and just our style, but one of the rooms upstairs had an overwhelmingly off-putting vibe that my husband and I both felt independently of each other. It felt like the room itself was angry or even evil. At the very least, it didn’t want us there.
I tried to write it off as being disoriented by the odd slope of the ceiling because the rest of the house was fine, and even though we were mutually creeped out, we decided to give it a second look with my husband’s parents. We did not mention the issue to them, choosing to focus only on the house’s good qualities. This was not only because we didn’t want them to think we were crazy, but also because my mother-in-law has claimed to be sensitive to the paranormal and we wanted to see if she’d react.
And she did. She was loving the rest of the house just as we had, but as soon as she walked through the doorway of the creepy room she backed out and said, ‘Ohh no. No no no. There’s spirit in here.’
We tried to sell her on our ‘oddly angled loft ceiling’ theory, but she didn’t buy it for a second. Admittedly it didn’t hold up very well. There were two rooms upstairs, one of which had a tiny door which lead to a large open storage space with a round window being the only source of light. A small hidden attic room can be a creepy thing in itself, but it didn’t have the same frightening vibe as the second room which was otherwise identical except it was missing the tiny door.
So, when everybody else was checking out the detached apartment, I went back upstairs with my camera for one final experiment. I stepped through the doorway into the room with the creepy vibe, and turned on my camera, making sure that the flash was turned off to avoid dust-orbs. ‘If anybody is in here and you want to prove that you’re real, I want you to show yourself for this photo,’ I whispered.
At that point, several(?) glowing orbs about the size of baseballs appeared in front of me and began moving rapidly in a circular formation. One appears in the photo, though it is not nearly as impressive as the actual sight. (My theory is that it was only one orb as seen by the camera, but was moving so quickly that it appeared to be several, kind of like a strobe light effect.)
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, as I had never witnessed anything like this before. As soon as I clicked the button, they disappeared. ‘Okay…’ I whispered quickly, ‘I promise I’ll leave after this, but I need to take one more photo to prove that you aren’t dust or something. Do not show yourself for this photo.’ Nothing happened. Only seconds after the first photo, the 2nd one had appeared normal.
I ran down the stairs and out the front door. ‘We are NOT buying this house,’ I said to my husband, and we left shortly afterwards.”— NeedsMoreTuba
“Had a remote control car for Christmas which I’d spent most of the day playing with.
Comes to bed time and I put the car on the floor under my desk underneath my raised bed (had ladders up to it) and the controller on the desk.
Now both the car and the controller had on/off switches that obviously had to be on for the car to work.
Anyway, I go to bed as normal and fall asleep.
Wake up in the early hours of the morning to a dim revving sound and bumping, followed by my dad huffing, getting out of bed and saying “CAJones95, what are you doing playing at this time?!”
Dad proceeds to come into my room, where I am half-awake in bed, with the car driving forwards and backwards on its own, with the switch off, and the controller in the exact position it was in, with the switch also off.
Didn’t think anything of it at the time, but looking back its creepy as fuck to me.”— CAJones95
“When I was younger we lived in a 110 year old victorian house. Everyone would notice weird things.
I was home alone organizing the silverware when I dropped a fork on to the table only to have it bounce once and fly at the wall like someone slapped it. I still have no idea how you can drop something straight down and have it launch horizontal for 5 ft
my parents when they first bought the house turned off all the lights (5 floors if you count basement and attic) My mom did the top 2, father did the bottom, they met in the middle, went to the first floor, left, got to the car and noticed not only was the 3rd floor light on but the blinds were now up.
We had a seesaw, my mother turned on the light and saw it violently going up and down.
I was in the basement and felt a hand brush down my back. I jumped and turned and saw no one there. I convinced myself it was just my shirt moving weird. As I went up the steps I heard giggling.
When I was older I was sitting on the couch and heard my dad say “What the fu waTCH OUT” right before a framed puzzle we had fell on me. My dad said he saw it lift itself off the hook
we had a Mastiff, A Rottweiler, and a German Shepherd. They refused to go to the attic.
Our entrance had two sets of doors. The front doors, then a small room, then the second set of doors. We never locked those doors as it was two large bolts that went into the floor and then a 3rd bolt that held the two doors together. Locking it was very hard with a key so you could only do it from the inside with considerable force. We came home one day and the door was locked with all 3 bolts. In other words our completely sealed house was locked from the inside. My mother flipped, grabbed us, and ran to a payphone to call the police because if that door is locked then there is someone in the house unless they left via a second or 3rd story window. 3 cop cars came, they unlocked the door with my mother's key and swept every last inch of the place down to one of them going into our crawl space. Nothing. Not only that my mother's gold necklace was laying on the table and all the windows were locked. We had a family friend who is a cop and one of my uncles who is a cop come spend the night. Next morning everyone is up and my uncle goes to leave only to see that the door is again locked from the inside. We removed those locks that same day.
Mastiff was laying next to me while I was watching TV. Suddenly he jumps up and backs into me. He’s growling and snarling while staring up the steps. The other two dogs run in and immediately have their ears go back and their mohawks go up. This went on for several minutes. Our German Shepherd started inching toward the steps and did a little lunge nipping at the air bearing his teeth. about 5 seconds later I heard what sounded like someone full sprinting up the steps of the first floor from the landing to the second-floor steps, then the third. I called my mom from the house phone. While on the phone I heard what I can only describe as a wail from the 3rd floor.
Years later, parents are divorced, I’m with my dad for the weekend. I helped him clean the 3rd floor. We put the toys in a large toy chest from the closet they were in. While we are brushing our teeth I go pale. I’m hearing something so I shut off the water and ask my dad to listen. We both are completely quiet. The sound starts again. it’s the sound of clink clink but a bit of rhythm to it. I couldn’t place it at first then said ‘Dad I think that’s the xylophone’ we go up and the toy chest is open and the xylophone is on the floor.”— suitology
Once I dreamed that I was at a large amusement park type place. It has some rides and some obstacle course things, like a rock wall and a ball pit.
About 6 months later I dreamed about the same place. Then again 6 months later. It was always dark outside but there were many lights. They kept moving stuff around; every time things would be different but it was still the same place. The place was showing signs of age that were much greater that a year. It looked like it might have been 15 or 20 years. Things were beginning to rust.
I had to convince myself that if this place existed that I had never been there awake.
That place always had a sinister feel to it, as if there were something going on that couldn’t be seen. It felt like being lured away from or into something. It was as if I were to stray off the path I could easily become lost or trapped and that if I were there then I was already off the path. There were never any ride attendants, nobody selling tee shirts. Just people seemingly having fun.
I forgot about it.
A year later I was laying in my bed at my father’s house. Suddenly I was there again. I couldn’t believe it. That time it was totally an abandoned amusement park, beyond repair and completely deserted. Grasses growing through the sidewalks and the buildings being also overrun with vegetation. Everything rusty and broken. It was still dark outside and the place was lit up with artificial light, no longer bright. Old style yellow light bulbs. All the colorful lights were gone. Apparently the place had expanded quite a bit before falling into total decline. There was at least one badly dilapidated concert hall. When I had dreamed about it before there before there were no indoor concert venue.
Although the creepy factor had increased, I wasn’t afraid that time. If there were ever anything to fear about that place I guess it had fallen into decay as well. Whatever it was would no longer work. Fluid would have leaked into the parts that were supposed to be dry and would have come out of the parts that were supposed to have liquid inside them. It would be totally bound up with age in whatever back room corner it were last stored and it would have trees growing up through it.
It was very interesting how I felt about that series of dreams.”— JesterofToms
“I’ve posted about this before. I was about 7 or 8 and my family was staying a few nights at my paternal grandparents’ home in the woods. I always hated that place as there was this unnerving sense about the place. Dad said it was because I was used to living in suburbia but like, there weren’t even any real animal noises.
No bugs buzzing, no birds, nothing at night. It was like a dead zone, but even more than that, I always felt like something was out there, beyond the yard.
I slept in a bedroom with my little brother, sharing a bed. He would sleep at one end, I the other, facing the window. This particular morning, I woke up and the room was suffused with the golden glow of morning, shining through the curtains. It was actually kinda pretty. And then I saw it.
The shadow of a deer against the window. It looked almost like it was pressed against it in profile. It had massiveantlers, and was just standing there. I stared in silent awe.
And then it changed.
In one smooth motion, the deer reared up on its hind legs, and just…shifted, and was now a man. The man was clearly well built, and not either of the two adult men in the area (dad had a gut, granddad was built like he was made of bricks, this thing was more raw power).
It stared to the side for a moment before striding off with purpose. I remember being frozen in fear. It was the sheer sense of wrongness, of power, that made me afraid to draw any attention. I don’t think it even knew I was there.
Amusingly, I now live in the woods not too far from there. But my woods are so different, it’s like night and day. Animal life abounds, it gets so noisy at night (So many frogs and foxes). No sense of something watching.
I want to tell myself it was just me half awake, but I dunno.”— Kii_and_lock
38. My room faced a graveyard and something scratched on my window
“When I was a young boy in Canada (5 or 6 years old), my dad and I went to one of his friend’s house for some reason. I was running around the backyard pretending I was an airplane while they hung out inside talking.
I ran over this wood enclosed hill ready to ‘make my landing’ when the boards caved and I fell through in to what I later found out was an empty water well.
As I was falling, I heard a voice in my head say something like ‘grab the rope’ or ‘grab the wire’, so I did.
My dad later told me a shock ran down his spine telling him to go check on me at almost that exact moment. When he got over the hole he saw me down the well hanging for my life.
He climbed down the rope and grabbed me, and later told me he legit had to force my foot out of my shoe to get me out, because my shoe was stuck in the brick wall of the well.
We both later found out that the guy who owned the well was confused because he didn’t have any kind of rope leading down, due to him taking his out since no one would fill it that time of year.
To make it creepier, my mom called this house minutes after this happened because she felt some kind of shock also and was worried about us.
I still believe to this day that I have some sort of Guardian Angel, and I hope I can some day make it proud for its efforts.”— Nujabliss
40. We heard an evil voice inside of our dorm room
“I was a freshman in college in 2004, where my high school best friend and I shared a dorm room in a suite that housed four. Our dorm was new; it was built the year before we came to school. A few weeks after we started college, he and I were laying in our respective beds, both of us falling asleep (he may have been asleep at this point–sleep never came that easily for me).
Lights were out. Laptops were closed. We didn’t have a TV in our room (the tv was in the common area outside our room). In 2004, we only had Nokia brick phones, so no one was playing on their phone from bed. Like I said, lights out.
Anyway, as I was just drifting off to sleep, right in that twilight phase between consciousness and dreaming, I awoke to what sounded like a loud mix of twisting metal and powerful electric current. It was coming from inside my dorm room–just feet away from within the empty space between the foot of my bed and my roomie’s bed. As soon as the noise began, I also heard a voice.
At first, I couldn’t understand what the voice was saying. Not because it was quiet–it was LOUD. But the words were unintelligible gobbledygook. Imagine the Tasmanian devil from Loony Tunes–just speaking total jibberish–except this voice was very angry. It sounded malicious. Evil.
The voice cut right over the loud metallic/electric sound, and reverberated as if it was coming though a large PVC pipe. Eventually, I understood the words ‘C***SUCKERMOTHERF***ER’ and a few more curse words. The voice and the clanging went on for maybe a total of 10 seconds.
Then everything went silent.
I laid in bed with the covers over my face for what seemed like forever. Eventually either I or my roomie asked the other if they had heard he voice. We both did.
At some point one of us mustered the courage to turn on a light and check out the room. We thought maybe someone had been playing a prank on us. We checked for speakers in our air vents, checked our laptops to see if some pop-up ad had played a sound, and explored other scenarios. We eventually asked the guy in the room next to us if he had heard anything (he was a quiet guy and we didn’t suspect him of prancing us). He hadn’t.
To this day I have no idea what that was.”— jhnygtr
41. A hand grabbed me inside of my basement bedroom
“I live near a set of woodlands, and foxes do scream and bark at night (especially between 2am and 4am on the nights where I have to wake up at 5:30am).
A few months ago, the foxes did the call of their people at the usual time of 2:37am.
They fell silent around 20 minutes later. Okay, a bit odd because they usually go on for 40 minutes, but whatever, I’ll go back to sleep. This was during August, and they tend to go on for two hours maximum.
10 minutes later, there was one last scream, but this time, it sounded more… human. You know in the movies where the female lead gets attacked and she screams bloody murder?
That’s what that one scream sounded like to a T. Needless to say, I did not go back to sleep and resorted to watching the sunrise from my window.
The next morning, my brother came into my room and asked if I heard that scream as well, because it woke him up.
When I said I did, we both went to the woods and looked around in there for any signs of foul play. Nothing came up, and the police didn’t bother with doing an investigation.”— BonLee64
“I’m convinced my childhood home washauntedand that ‘he’ lived in my room. I thought I was nuts until years after I moved out when my dad took my room and he started having the same experiences. It’s tough to choose just one.
Pets would refuse to be in my room, cats would claw at my door desperate to get out for seemingly no reason. I never slept well and always had the light on. It would always start with tapping at my window.
As I would drift off to sleep, it felt like someone punched my pillow and I’d shoot up, terrified. Often I would wake up with my hand aching because I had been tightly gripping the sheet all night.
I tried taking a stand and saying out loud that this is my room and ‘he’ wasn’t welcome here.
A sheet of paper then lifted off my dresser, curved in the air, and slipped behind the dresser. Never found it.
Once I was home alone when I was 13 or so. I was reading a book in my room when it sounded as if someone threw a box against the wall in my closet with all their strength.
I called my grandfather to come get me and tried to go outside, but my parents had locked the iron gate on the door (ghetto neighborhood) and didn’t leave a key so I was trapped inside until my grandfather arrived and found me pressed against the gate.”— Witchundertones
48. A speeding car completely vanished from the highway
“My friend and I were driving up to Acadia national park in Maine for a camping trip a few summers back. We were driving in the middle of the night.
Somewhere in New Hampshire I nodded off while my friend was driving.
I wake up about an hour later and my friend tells me a car has been following us for the past 20 minutes. I brushed it off because we’re on a highway there’s only one direction to go.
But my friend stopped the car in the middle of the highway there’s no one on the road but us and the other car. We wanted that car to catch up to us it was about a mile back.
The other car stops as well and then turns off its headlights. We’re flipping out.
We hit the gas and start driving, the other car turns on its headlights and starts driving again too.
We’re speeding and the car is keeping up. We pull off at the next exit and stop at a gas station. From there we could see the exit and the highway… a car never passed or got off the highway.”— Reggiesanchez
49. I heard someone whispering my name while staying in an ancient cottage
“When I was a kid, I was staying in this really old cottage with my family. I woke up and went to the bathroom around 3am.
While I’m sitting on the toilet in the tiny bathroom, I suddenly hear my name being whispered behind me. I kind of shake it off, since I figure I’m still sleepy and maybe it’s the trees from the open window. I go about my business for another 10 seconds before I hear my name being whispered again, much louder.
There was no mistaking it this time and there’s no doubt it’s coming from something right behind me. However, behind me is just a thick wall to the outside.
I finished up as fast as I could, all while my name is still being chanted/whispered behind me. The sink was directly across from the toilet, and above it there was a mirror.
I washed my hands while looking at my feet because I had this terrible feeling that if I looked up I’d see whatever was chanting my name. I ran back to my bed and I don’t think I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night for about six years after that.
I still can’t explain who was saying my name, the cottage was small and I could see everyone in my family asleep in their beds on my way to the bathroom. On top of that, the cottage was in the woods, so even if it was a random creeper, I don’t know how they would have known my name or that I would happen to go to the bathroom at 3am.
Ugh, still creeps me out. We’ve had weird experiences in that cottage, but that was by far the worst for me.”— thatoriginalclone
“Elementary school, 3rd grade. Played a game of tag with my friends. Climbed up the side of the stairs in front of the school’s bowling alley.
As I pulled myself up, there was a sudden pain that shot up and down my legs then slowly went up my spine.
I lost all feeling in my legs. I could feel my heart beating intensely as it was getting harder and harder to breathe. I couldn’t scream or say a word.
I was laying down the marble floor and I remember this kid staring at me.
I reached out with my right arm and I lost feeling in my arm too. I felt like I was passing out. I remember a bright white light then nothing. I remember hearing myself breathe.
Then regaining control of my arms. Crawled to a spot where I sat myself up.
I just looked at my feet. I was sweating profusely. I felt really cold. All of that happened, it felt like a long time but I think it was just 5 minutes. I still don’t know what happened to me. I also never saw that kid at school again. I am extremely paranoid it might happen to me again randomly.”— TheSixthPistol
I had just moved back to my home town after attending an art school for two years. The only apartment I could find was a really dumpy loft over a warehouse for 50 dollars a month. This was in 1971, way before these kind of apartments were cool. This was cheap even for back then and though I wondered a bit about that it wasn't totally out of the norm. It did have tall windows and skylights, so it worked great for a studio.
Since it was a loft it was a big wide open space with the bathroom being the only room. There were two other doors, one to the stairs down to the street and the fire escape door that had one of those fire alarms on it if you go out of it. The bathroom was like a box/cubicle with a shower and sink and toilet.
I had been living there for about a month when one night I woke up and went to use the bathroom. The door had a small slide lock on it and I always locked it out of habit. Just as I was about to leave I heard heavy footsteps walk up to the bathroom door and I watched in horror as the doorknob turned and rattled, shaking the whole door.
It was the first time in my life where I was so scared that I actually felt my body go completely numb. I thought for sure that someone had gotten in and I was now going to be raped and killed. The lock was a little whimpy thing a granny could have broken. The doorknob rattled several more times then something hit the door really hard. I then heard the footsteps walk away and go down the steps. I heard the door to the street open and close, then silence.
I think it took me nearly 30 minutes to get the courage to leave that little bathroom. When I finally did I turned on every light in the place and went to inspect the door to the street. There were three locks on that door, two of them could only be locked from the inside and those were locked. Nothing could have come in or gone out that way. I even checked the fire escape but it was locked in a similar way.
I couldn't sleep the rest of that night.
As it turned out that was the scariest thing to happen in that loft. After that, I would hear footsteps and doors open and close all the time, and a few other not so scary things. That place convinced me and quite a few others that these things were real. I ended up living there for three years and would have stayed longer but the place got sold and the new owners wanted to move into the loft themselves.
They only lived there 2 months before moving out....the pu**ies
My family moved into an old house (200+ years) when I was 10. Uncle (weird guy) was going to help us move in and when we got inside the house he got all weird and left.
Always avoided coming for birthdays etc. We always joked he saw a ghost and for some reason, we nicknamed the ghost Billy. When my little sister started talking she would say really weird things, like asking if we can shut her door at night so she doesn't have to see the boy walking down the hallway. F**king creepy.
Anyways we thought she was also just being a big weirdo, so we continued to have this Billy the Ghost joke. Something would get misplaced "must be Billy" yadda yadda.
A few years later we ripped up the flooring because we wanted to go back to the original hardwood that had been covered up forever ago by old owners, and if you know anything about old houses you know they used to insulate the floor with newspaper when newspaper just became a thing.
Decided to read some articles for fun, some talking about the first ever refrigerators, really cool things like that. Until we got to the creepy part, a mentally challenged boy named Billy who lived in our home, died while playing outside of it.
I saw a lot of s**t growing up in that house but I'm not a huge ghost believer. The newspaper was a f**king creepy coincidence though, given that for years we had an ongoing Billy the Ghost joke.
Uncle also ended up telling us years later that when he pulled into the driveway and was outside of the house he just got this awful feeling.
This happened years ago when I was around 17. One night I was up late watching TV and fell asleep on the couch. I woke up at around 4:30AM and went to bed, everything seemed normal.
The next morning, my mom asked where I had gone the night before. I was real confused.
The night before, she and my dad had been woken up by the sound of the front door of the house closing. They went downstairs at 2:00AM and looked outside.
My car was not in the driveway. They figured that I'd gone to give a drunk friend a ride home or something so they weren't worried about it. My dad sat on the couch (the same one I had fallen asleep and woken up on) and ate a midnight snack, watched some TV, and went back to bed around 2:30AM.
We figured out that I had fallen asleep sometime between 12:30AM and 1:30AM because that's when the TV show I remember watching as I drifted off was on.
The soles of my feet were extremely dirty, as though I'd been walking around outside with no shoes on.
So, I disappeared, with my car, for a few hours that night. I have absolutely no memory of what happened, and if mom hadn't said anything that morning I wouldn't have even known it happened.
I grew up in 2-story house in the Philippines. Upstairs, there was a huge playroom, and 4 bedrooms. When I was around 11 years old, me and my babysitter were hanging out in the playroom. She went to the bathroom, and I got bored so I went downstairs to check out the fridge. I heard her come out of the bathroom, and she started screaming my name. After the 3rd time, she stopped. I thought she figured out that I was downstairs. After a few minutes, I saw her coming down the stairs.
As she looked at me, she froze and just stared at me. I asked her what's wrong, and she said she just saw me in the playroom before she went downstairs. She was really freaked out about it, and I don't know--I used to not believe in these things so I just laughed at her.
The second time it happened, I was probably 16. I was hanging out at my brother's room cause it's the room with the fastest internet. And then I heard my 6-year old brother (I have 2 brothers) calling me and looking around for me, I didn't answer back and just waited for him to find me. I saw him go in my room, and then he got quiet. I thought he was looking for something and just found it.
As he was walking out of my room, he saw me in my brother's room, and he just froze and stared like my babysitter. I asked him what's wrong and he said, "Why are there 2 of you?" And that's when I freaked out and ran to my mom's room. She laughed at us, but I remember sleeping in her room that night.
The last time it happened was when I was 20. My parents went on vacation with my youngest brother, so me and my other siblings had to stay at my grandparents night. The first night they were away, me and my sister decided to go home and get more clothes. We were both in my room, cause she likes to borrow some of my clothes, and I told her that I'm going to take a shower.
That's when she left and went to her room to pack more clothes. I went to the bathroom, and started brushing my teeth. As I was about to get in the shower, my sister walked in the bathroom, and she looked at me so weirdly. And her face turned pale, so I asked her what's wrong. She said she went back to my room and she was talking to me, but then she had to pee so she went to the bathroom and found me there. We both looked at each other, grabbed our stuff, and left.
I still don't know why or what it is, but it still creeps me out when I think about it.
My parents had just had their first child, my oldest sister, Cathy. They had been living in Italy at the time (my dad was in the Air Force) and had brought her back to the US to introduce her to the grandparents (my dad's parents).
So their first night there, my mom was asleep in the front bedroom, jet-lagged. My dad had gone out to hang out with his brothers. And in the middle of the night, this woman walks into my mom's room, waking her up. She sit's down on the bed and says, "Shh, it's ok!
I just wanted to welcome you to the family." My mom was scared, obviously, but figured this was some relative or family friend or something that came over.
The woman walks over to the bassinet where my baby sister was sleeping. "Is this your daughter?" My mom nodded. "She's beautiful! It's lovely to meet you both."
And then she leaves. My mom wakes up the next day and is having breakfast with my grandmother when she brings it up. "Who was the woman that came over last night?" My grandmother had no idea what she was talking about.
My mom told her the whole story and my grandmother asked what she looked like. My mom said, "She was tall, had long white hair and was wearing a blue dress." My grandmother's face went as white as a sheet.
She rummaged through some old pictures and pulled one out. "Is this her?" she asked my mom who nodded in return. "That's MY mother! She's been dead for 20 years and we buried her in a blue dress."
In 2002 I lived in the east SF bay area with my husband, and 2 toddlers. I was grieving over the sudden death of my mother a month before.
She'd had at major heart attack and died @ 52 yrs of age. On an average day, I left my babies at home with my husband to run a quick errand by myself.
I drove a block over through downtown Hayward to hit up the grocery store. I was on my way home and stopped at a red light waiting to make a left turn.
The intersection had all blind corners so it was difficult to see oncoming cars. My light turned green I glanced both ways waited the appropriate second and stepped on the gas pedal... It would not move. I tried again, nothing. The car behind me honked.
I looked down under my pedals quickly to see if something had possibly rolled under the pedal and found nothing.
I looked up and suddenly a huge work truck loaded down with equipment ran (his) red light at what must've been 50mph. I was stunned.
I gasped, quickly pulled myself together, stepped on the gas pedal and it worked with no hesitation. Suddenly I smelled my mother's favorite perfume... Really amazing experience.
When I was 6 years old, I had a cat named Buster. Buster was actually my step-dad's cat, but because I never had a cat before, I claimed him as my own. Suffice it to say,
Buster didn't like being hugged and coddled all the time by a little child, so he hated me. He avoided me at all costs. He was also an outdoor cat, so he would often spend most days outside and then come in for the night.
One night, Buster didn't come back in the house. We usually fed him at night, so I was worried. Our area was also well-known for an abundance of coyotes.
My parents were being a bit hush-hush about Buster's disappearance, but I didn't get the hint. That night, when I was drifting off to sleep, Buster jumped onto my bed. He lay down by my head and let me pet him until I fell asleep. Honestly, I was shocked because he had never done this before.
The next morning, I triumphantly walked downstairs and related to my parents that Buster now loved me because he slept in my bed during the night.
My parents looked at me inquisitively and sat me down at the breakfast table to let me know that while they were outside the night before, they had found Buster's body in the alley behind our house. They thought he had been harassed by a coyote. But, he was dead, so he couldn't have slept in my bed that night.
To this day, I like to think that Buster just wanted to say goodbye and thank me for trying to love him in the only way a child knew how.
"When I was a kid, my grandma gave me 10 Barbie dolls she got at a yard sale. I didn’t like Barbies very much, but these particular ones were weird. They were from the '60s (this was in the late '80s). Some of them had their eyes blacked out, majority of them didn’t have anything on, and a few of them had writing on them that I couldn’t read. They creeped me out, so I put them in a box in the back corner of my closet with a bunch of stuff piled on top of it.
After I got them, I would have this reoccurring dream about a little girl named Rose who would tell me that my dolls 'weren’t supposed to be not wearing clothes' and that the ' dolls would get us in trouble.' She would then dress them and line the dolls up on my bed. Rose scared me.
She was always dirty, had blacked out eyes like the dolls, and smelled horrific. Sometimes, I could still smell her when I would wake up from those dreams, but I didn’t tell anyone about her because the dreams were so scary and real.
Usually, the day after I had that dream, we would come home after being gone all day (no one would be home at all) and those dolls would be dressed, lined up side-by-side on my bed. Just like the dream.
My mom would always be unsettled by the discovery (because no one would have been home to do this) and because the dolls creeped her out, too. After this happened several more times, I finally told my mom about my dream. She tried to hide the fact that it freaked her out, but I could tell.
The last time I had the dream, I told my mom about it right when I awoke from it.
Before we left for the day, my mom locked all of the dolls in our shed that we had in the backyard. But, when we got home that night, those dolls were all lined up on my bed, completely dressed. We took the dolls to the dump the next day and I never had that dream or saw/smelled Rose again."
When I moved into my childhood home at age 5, I couldn’t sleep the whole night through for the first two months because I was convinced the house would 'burn down.'
I was never afraid of fires before that, but I insisted on popping the screens out of all the windows, I asked for a fireman’s ladder for my birthday, and for Christmas, I showed my friends how to escape out of my window in case of an emergency, etc.
Still, there was never a fire while I lived there.
I moved back into that house in my early twenties, after my dad had his first of three heart attacks.
I ran to the pharmacy one day, when I suddenly got a call saying, 'The house is on fire.'
When I rolled up, the fire looked exactly how I imagined it would as a kid. Luckily, everyone survived."
"Back in high school, I lived with my sister and her girlfriend in a very well-secured house.
One day, my sister told me they were going out for a bit, so I stayed home to watch over the pets (we had my cat and two puppies in my room, and two older dogs in my sister's room).
My sister's girlfriend had a super loud Jeep, so I always knew when they left.
Like 20 minutes later, there was an aggressive pounding on my bedroom door. At first, I thought it was my imagination, but my cat started hissing at the door, the puppies started whining, and the other two older dogs started barking really loud.
The pounding on my door continued and I was really freaked out.
I plucked up the courage and decided to go out, but there was no one there, and when I checked the back door and the front door (both were made of metal), they were locked.
This happened, like, four more times until I finally just moved out."
"I am an only child (and the only granddaughter on both sides of the family) and also a child of the '90s, so, long story short:
My childhood was filled with trips to department stores to get professional photography done for my grandparents to hang all over their houses.
I hated this ritual, especially as a toddler, and would frequently cry and throw tantrums when I was plopped down in front of a stranger with a camera.
Once, during a particularly bad meltdown when I was one and a half (and not speaking much yet), my screams became very distinct, saying, 'M’aidez! M’aidez!' (Which is 'Help me!' in French). Nobody in my family is French.
No one had ever spoken French to me (that we know of). Fast-forward 12 years to middle school, when I randomly became obsessed with French culture.
Within a startlingly short period of time, I picked up the language as naturally as if I had spoken it my whole life.
My family always jokes that I must have been French in a past life, but I'm still like...wait, was I?!"
"I'm blind. This is relevant to the story, I promise:
When I was a little girl, I would always ask my mom when my dad was getting home from work. He got home at a different time every night, so, naturally, my mom would always say she 'didn't know.'
Anyway, one day, I asked my usual question and got the usual 'I don't know' from my mom before going into my room.
As soon as I entered my room, this voice said, 'Your dad will be home in 15 minutes.'
I was freaked out. My mom remembers me running out to her, shaking and crying. I told her what happened and she panicked, thinking someone was in the house. She grabbed my younger sisters and took us all outside until my dad got home — in exactly 15 minutes.
My mom told my dad what happened, and he went in the house to check. There was no one there.
After this instance, the same 'man' spoke to me several more times. He told me his name was 'José,' and that he didn't want to hurt me — only protect me. My mom always tells me that I would say he was 'holding my hand, walking with me, so I wouldn't crash into anything.' He never once hurt me."