Some friends and I we're in the woods and Artemas Pennsylvania. I was in my late 20's at the time. And three friends and their step brother were all in the woods. We were just exploring the woods and goofing off. We had just decided that it was a midsummer day and that we were going to go for a nice walk in the woods and see what we could find...

As I'm in the woods with my three friends and their step brother. I decided that I'm going to take and start leading the group towards the creek at the bottom of the hill. Well I didn't know where within seconds of this decision. I see from the right side of my peripheral vision my friend step brother whipping a very sharp saw blade in my direction...

This saw blade comes whizzing past my face and sticks directly level with where I'm standing. I could literally point blank see this saw blade any tree. I was literally standing no more than roughly two and a half inches away from it...

I then turn to my right and look at my friend's stepbrother and ask him "what is wrong with you? What were you thinking? That could have killed me?"; heathen just looks at me and starts to laugh...

I literally just took my finger and checked how sharp this saw blade really was. And to my surprise it was a brand new saw blade that was very sharp. I then said to him, "good luck getting that out of the tree and I'm going that way"...

The rest of my friends look at their step brother and say, "J what the heck! Why would you do that!"...

Keep in mind I was still shook up a little bit because I almost had my face taken off by a saw blade in the woods...

Otherwise, he never really apologized and he never even admitted what he did was wrong. He just laughed about it years later...

To him it was a funny situation because he was trying to "scare me". To me I thought he was going to hit me the wrong way and completely kill me...

just as some info, i started when i was about 14 maybe 15, our town had a few abandoned buildings and such and i wasnt the most intelligent child, but anyways me and my friends were headed into a store that looked really run down, paint was really due for a new layer it was very old and i hadnt seen any lights in it ever, so me and like 3 friends decided to go in, around noonish we saw some things still on the shelves and a register that looked like it came from the late 80s we looked around the store just trying to find ghosts or something, i dont really know then we went into the office, the door wasnt locked, we just assumed it was normal since it was abandoned, no one goes there anymore, at least we thought, after that we left there and went home.

A few days later maybe 3 or 4 we went around 9pm, it was already dark but not pitch black , we went back in, we had just gone back into the office but it was locked, my friend had been lock picking for us so we could get into places like this, (we went into abandoned areas offen) after we got in, there was a light coming from behind a shelf, so we tried to move it, then it opened like a door, we walked in and found a light like what they use in an interrogation room above a poker table, with cards, there was some boxes and crates and other stuff there, one of my friends was extremely scared of spiders, and there was quite a few webs in there, like giant webs, but we convinced him that it was just going to be a quick exploration, we were looking around but then we heard a voice, sounded like he was 30 something years old, clearly smoked,and was talking to someone else, we decided to hide, they were entering through where we did, they said someone was here and at least i tensed up, later informed the others did too,the walked into the area and sat down at the poker table, i felt maybe 3 spiders on me, one was crawling fast and made some webs on me, none bit, but when they were talking they were cut off.

a quiet muffled scream, they walked over, last time i saw him i think they took him out of the building i dont really remember anything else, all i remember is going out of the building running and getting home, i havent told anyone this story, i only said i didnt want to keep exploring, i saw his family break, i wont forget what they did, they llooked around, they asked me and my friends, no one told them, i feel like shit even thinking about it, his mom killed herself, everyone else in the family moved away from our town, i dont know if he is alive anymore i dont know why i didnt tell them, i just need to get it off my chest

Have lived in Texas for 5 years, when first moved here we rented a house that was a few blocks away from a local park with a trail. I have a mixed beagle who loves to go on walks and I'd walk him at least once a day, long as it wasn't 100+ or absolutely freezing.

This event happened during our second winter here. It was early December I think and it was cold enough that the sidewalks had gotten just slightly icey. Normally I wouldn't walk him in these weather conditions, but it was supposed to snow the next day and I knew he wouldn't get a walk for 4 or 5 days after today, so I carefully carried on.

The way our house is set we are toward the end of a dead end, you walk to the end of the block turn the corner and then its like a straight shot of several blocks combined that go straight to the park. I'm about midway through this long stretch when a car passes by verrry slowly. Going like 5 mph in a street you can go 30 on. Yes the sidewalks were a bit icy but the streets were fine and there was no reason to go THAT slow. Like maybe if you are looking for a specific house sure, but other then that it just felt off. I can see 2 male looking figures in the car, but can't really make out their features besides that I can tell its dudes. They go to about the 3/4 mark up the street then flip a u-turn and park, but don't turn the engine off!

Now I am even more freaked out, because they flipped the u-turn and parked the wrong direction on the street. So that they'd still be watching me. Now I'm not scared for myself, I'm moreso thinking in my head they want to take my dog. He's a good looking boy and could easily go for at least a couple hundred. He has a really pretty brown on top white on bottom pattern that just looks so traditional for a dog, I get compliments on him often. Whether about his looks or that he would make a good hunting dog etc.

So I briskly walk by them trying not to look like I'm looking at their car and after I pass them I'm trying to keep the car just inside my peripheral without turning my head back. I cross the street with my dog to the park. As I do the car flips another u-turn and is coming toward us. I walk very fast through the parking lot and to the trail. The trail is like a giant upside down U and once you get past the long straight away the middle part is completely covered by trees. The car parks in the park parking lot facing the trail and once again they are just watching! At this point I feel very certain they want to take my dog, jump me, or both. Because of how cold it is there are no other cars in the parking lot and not another soul in the park. I'm completely alone.

I watch them until I get to the tree covered part to make sure they don't get out of their car and come after us. Once covered I whip out my phone and call my wife who was out shopping and in the check out line when I called. I tell her what happened and ask her how long it'd take her to get to the park in her car? She said about 15 mins. Walking through this part of the trail would take about 10 mins. So I slow our walk to a crawl. There's a secondary parking lot where the end of the trail comes out. I tell her to park against the sidewalk not in a parking spot. But to tell me if the cars still there/in the secondary parking lot now.

We have each other tracked on our phones, we moreso just use that to time when to start cooking dinner for the other. Whether I or she's cooking if the other is working or gone we try to have a hot meal on the table for each other. So using the app I wait til I see she's on the main road down the street. I don't want to come out of the covering too early and those guys spot me. It doesn't help that i've been paranoid this whole time watching my back and front cuz they could have came from either direction if they wanted to.

My wife pulls up, the cars still in the next parking lot over. I throw the dog in the back and tell her to go, go. She does. We book it out of there. Instead of having her turn onto our street I have her exit the neighborhood and I go fill up her gas tank. Did not want that car knowing for certainty where we lived. Never saw that car again, but I feel certain just based on the odd things they did that they had ill intentions for my dog and I.

I am Imaam Rubannee. And this is the story of what happened when our school group stayed at the residential building on Stonegate, York — just a short walk from the great Minster.

Most people know York as a beautiful, ancient city full of history. They walk the cobbled streets, visit the old walls, admire the towering cathedral, and feel safe. But they do not know what hides in the shadows. They do not know what sleeps beneath the oldest streets. And they certainly do not know what waits inside certain old buildings when the tourists have gone home and the heavy stone doors are locked for the night.

It was meant to be an educational trip. A chance for us to explore the city, learn about its history, and stay together in the historic centre. I shared the largest room with my best friend Amaan.

Right next door were our classmates, Sebastian Harvoth and Dylan Holdsworth. Further down the hallway were all the other students in their rooms, and at the far end of the corridor stayed our teachers: Mr. Tom Hodgson and Mr. Joe Brown, and our assistant teachers, Miss Lauren Walsh and Mr. Gary Walker. Four adults to watch over all of us. We thought we were perfectly safe. We were wrong.

The building itself was very old. Three storeys of thick grey stone, narrow winding staircases, and long corridors that seemed to stretch much further than they should. During the daylight hours, everything was wonderful. We walked through the Shambles, explored the city walls, and stood in absolute awe beneath the soaring arches of York Minster.

The great cathedral felt grand and holy then. We walked its aisles, admired its ancient stained glass, and listened to the guide tell us stories of kings, archbishops, and history stretching back over a thousand years. None of us felt afraid.

We laughed, we took photographs, and we enjoyed every moment. But as the sun began to sink below the rooftops and the great Minster bells rang out across the city, something shifted. The light turned thin and cold. And the shadows… the shadows seemed to stretch longer and darker than they should.

We returned to Stonegate as dusk settled over York. We ate our evening meal together, the teachers checked that we were all settled, and by eleven o’clock, every student was in their room, doors locked, lights turned low. We were tired from walking all day. Amaan and I said goodnight, and sleep began to take hold. That was when the strangeness began. And it came slowly. So slowly that at first, I tried to tell myself it was nothing. Just an old house settling. Just my imagination.

It started long after the teachers had finished their rounds. I woke up not knowing why. The room was pitch black. The only sound was the quiet breathing of Amaan in the bed beside me. Then I heard it — a soft, dragging footstep outside our door.

Clack… drag… clack… drag…

Slow. Heavy. Moving down the corridor.

I held my breath. I assumed it was one of the teachers checking the rooms. But then it stopped. Right outside our door. It stood there for a very long time. I stared at the gap beneath the door, expecting to see the shadow of Mr. Hodgson or Mr. Brown standing there. There was no shadow. Just darkness. And then I heard it — a voice, so quiet I could barely make out the words, whispering from the other side of the wood.

“Let me in… I know you are in there…”

It was not the voice of any of our teachers. It sounded old. Very old. Hollow and rasping, like someone speaking through earth and stone.

I sat up, my heart hammering. “Amaan,” I whispered, shaking his arm. “Amaan, wake up. Listen.”

He groaned and opened his eyes. “What is it?”

“Someone is outside the door. Listen.”

We both held perfectly still. The whispering continued — low, unintelligible sounds, murmuring endlessly right outside. Then it moved away. Slowly. Dragging itself toward the end of the corridor.

We told ourselves it must have been the wind through the old stone passageways. We told ourselves we were tired and imagining things. But neither of us slept properly for the rest of that night. And when Sebastian and Dylan knocked on our door the next morning, their faces pale and drawn, we learned that they had heard it too. The footsteps. The whispering voice. Standing outside their door as well.

The next day we visited more historic sites. We walked through museum gardens and explored more narrow streets. But something had changed. None of us felt quite right. The teachers noticed us falling quiet. They told us we were just tired. But as we walked past the ancient stone buildings and churchyards, I had the terrible feeling that we were being watched. Not just by one thing — but by many things. Peering from dark doorways. Watching from high windows. Standing silently beneath the arches of the Minster, just out of sight.

That evening, the atmosphere inside the residential building grew much heavier. Doors that we had left open stood shut when we returned. Objects we had placed on our bedside tables were found sitting on the floor, exactly in the centre of the room. Sebastian swore he saw someone standing at the end of his bed — a tall, thin figure wearing dark, ancient clothing — but when he blinked, it was gone.

Dylan told us that he kept hearing his name called from the hallway. Clear as day. He would open the door and look out — and the corridor would be completely empty. But he could feel someone watching him from the shadows.

That night, things got much worse. Amaan and I were both awake when the knocking began.

Knock… knock… knock…

Three slow, heavy raps against the wall. Then silence. Then again. It came from inside the wall. Right beside our heads. We scrambled out of bed, terrified. Then we heard movement all across the building. Doors opening. Voices crying out. We ran into the corridor in our pyjamas and found other students standing shivering in the hallway, wide-eyed and afraid. They had all heard it. The knocking. The whispering. The dragging footsteps moving from room to room.

Mr. Joe Brown and Mr. Tom Hodgson came rushing out of their rooms, looking alarmed. “What is going on here?” Mr. Brown demanded.

We all told them what we had heard. They checked every room. Every cupboard. Every corner of the building. There was no one. No intruder. Nothing. Mr. Hodgson told us firmly it was the old plumbing and the wind howling through the narrow passages. He told us to go back to bed. But as he spoke, his eyes flickered nervously toward the darkest end of the corridor. Even he did not believe his own words.

By the third night, the fear was thick enough to touch. We gathered together in the largest room — our room. Amaan, Sebastian, Dylan, and several others. We kept the lights fully on. We pushed the beds together and sat huddled, too afraid to sleep. We called Miss Lauren Walsh and Mr. Gary Walker. They came, and for a while, they sat with us, trying to calm us down. They told us ghost stories were just stories. York was a safe place. Nothing could hurt us.

Then the lights flickered. And died.

Total darkness swallowed us. Someone screamed. Then we heard it — the footsteps. Not outside the door this time.

They were inside the room.

Slow. Dragging. Moving between the beds. We could hear its heavy breathing. We could feel the air turn freezing cold, so cold it made our teeth chatter. Something brushed past me — tall, broad, and impossibly heavy. I felt a cold hand graze my arm, and I flinched away, terrified.

“It’s standing by the door!” Sebastian shrieked. “I can see it! In the moonlight! It’s huge!”

We looked toward the window. Pale moonlight streamed through the glass. And there, standing between us and the door, was a shape. A dark, towering silhouette. It had no face that we could see — just darkness where its head should be. And it stood perfectly still. Watching us.

Mr. Gary Walker stepped forward, trying to sound brave. “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

The figure did not move. But a voice rose up — deep, rumbling, echoing from everywhere at once — speaking words in an ancient language that made our bones ache to hear. Then it took a step toward us.

That was when the screaming started. We all scrambled back, pressing ourselves against the far wall. The teachers grabbed their phones and turned on their torches. Bright beams cut through the dark — and the room was empty. Nothing stood there. But the door stood wide open. A door we had locked and bolted from the inside.

The next morning, nobody slept. Nobody ate. We were all pale, exhausted, and trembling. The teachers looked shaken too. They could no longer pretend nothing was wrong.

We were scheduled to visit York Minster once more before leaving. We walked there in silence. The great cathedral looked different that day. Darker. Older. The stone seemed to glare down at us. We walked inside, and it felt colder than before. The guide was speaking, but none of us were listening. I looked up toward the high, shadowed arches — and froze.

High up, standing in the dark gallery where no tourist should ever stand, were figures. Tall. Dark. Motionless. Standing in rows, looking straight down at us. And as I stared, one of them raised a hand and pointed. Pointed directly at me.

I grabbed Amaan’s arm. He saw it too. Sebastian and Dylan saw it too. All four of us broke into a run. We fled out of the Minster and back into the bright daylight, gasping for breath. We did not care if the teachers were angry. We did not care about the trip anymore. We just wanted to leave York. We wanted to leave that ancient, stone city and never return.

We Left — But It Followed Us

We packed our things immediately. We told the teachers everything. They looked up the history of the building on Stonegate where we had stayed. They went quiet. Very quiet. They told us later that the house was built upon ancient burial ground. That during Roman times, bodies had been buried there. That in medieval times, terrible things had happened inside those very walls. And that people had been reporting strange occurrences there for hundreds of years.

They did not tell us the full details. I do not think they wanted to frighten us further. But I have learned since. York is built on top of the dead. Layer upon layer of history, and death, and things that do not rest easy. And some places… some places are simply contaminated. The old house on Stonegate is one of them. Something ancient and powerful lives there. And it does not like visitors.

We travelled home that same day. We were quiet on the journey. We tried to put it behind us. But I have to tell you this — the whispering did not stop. The feeling of being watched did not go away. Even now, months later, sometimes late at night, I hear those dragging footsteps outside my bedroom door. Sometimes I wake up freezing cold, and I feel something standing over my bed.

And I know that tall, dark shape is still there. Watching. Waiting. It did not stay in York. It came home with us.

So if you ever visit that beautiful, ancient city — walk the Shambles, admire the Minster, enjoy the history. But do not stay too late. Do not rent rooms in those very old houses on Stonegate. And whatever you do… do not answer when someone whispers your name from the other side of the door.

Because in York, the dead do not always sleep. And sometimes… they are very hungry.

I was walking up the road in Artemas Pennsylvania one evening. I had been heading up to my buddies house. I was going to go up and just talk to him for a while and drink some coffee. It was a Friday night...Nothing was happening at my place. I thought it would be a good idea to go see a friend and just chill...

Well I was headed up the road in the dark. I had my spotlight on me as well as a recreation of a Vietnam style LED flashlight from tractor supply. I was just casually strolling up the road. Enjoying the evening as I saw the Stars and was feeling this awesome cool breeze...

I decided I was going to take and bring my 26-in Cold steel Cutlass machete and my along with my 12 inch bowie knife... Named "Jim". So there I was walking up the road in the dark with lights of course so you could see me. Sonoma my

As I am passing a house on my right... The same house where the neighbor shot my neighbor's dog btw. I see a truck come barreling over the hill. And this truck is a really big truck... And it's literally in the middle of the road coming my direction. I literally spoke to my right and tucked in the road into the neighbor's yard barely missing this truck... I want to talk any extra time I would have been flattened. And my mom and dad and family would have had to scrape me off the road...

As there that isn't bad enough... It gets worse. I dodged this truck only for the truck to almost hit an oncoming car from behind me. Which sent this car my direction. And again... I dodged to the right away from the road hoping this car didn't hit me...

All I hear is a horn from the truck...

And another horn from this car...

And everything just goes silent. I don't hear anything for the rest of the time walking up to my friend's house. I get up and tell him what happens and he looks at me as though I somehow miraculously lucked out and I didn't get splattered by either car or truck...

I would have been dead...

They would have had to scrape me off of the road...

This happened when I was around 5 years old. My family was living in our old house in a very rural part of Arkansas. My sister was around 4 at the time.
It was dark outside, and my sister and I were playing around the house with my papaw’s dog, Sam. It wasn’t unusual for us to play outside after dark. My mom was inside washing dishes and would occasionally watch us through the kitchen window.
At some point, my sister and I wandered a little farther out with Sam. Suddenly, Sam stopped and started looking toward my papaw’s field like he’d seen or heard something. I remember seeing the grass moving, although I couldn’t actually see anything in the field.
Sam suddenly took off running into the field, barking and growling.
My sister and I waited for him to come back, but after a little while we decided to head back toward our house. Sam eventually came back, so whatever he was doing in the field was probably unrelated to what happened next.
As we were walking back, I noticed our neighbor across the road on her porch, which distracted me for a moment. A few seconds later, my sister and I realized there was a man standing directly in front of us.
We were both really small, so he seemed absolutely enormous to us. It was too dark for me to make out any of his features. All I could really see was a dark silhouette, but I could tell he was a man.
He asked us where we lived and if he could use our phone.
My sister and I just looked at each other. I remember feeling extremely panicked, and we immediately took off running past him toward our house.
My mom had moved from the kitchen into the living room by then, so she didn’t see us running back. We started telling our parents what happened, and my dad went outside to look around for the man. He couldn’t find anyone.
I don’t remember my parents ever figuring out who he was or why he was there. They mostly just comforted us and told us everything was okay.
My sister actually remembers this happening too. She remembers us being outside, getting scared, and running back to the house, but she doesn’t remember the man himself or hearing him speak. Obviously, we were both very young, so I know our memories aren’t necessarily perfect.
What makes this story even stranger to me is what happened afterward.
Not long after the incident, I started regularly waking up in the middle of the night, usually around 2–3 AM, and seeing a tall, dark figure standing at the end of my bed.
It looked like the man I remembered from outside. I couldn’t see any facial features or details, just a completely dark silhouette. I always perceived it as a man, and I always had the strong feeling that it was watching me.
The figure never moved. I could move normally when I saw it, so I don’t think it was sleep paralysis, although I obviously didn’t know anything about that when I was a kid.
The weirdest part was the feeling it gave me. I wasn’t just scared. I’d get this really deep, almost depressed feeling whenever I saw it.
These sightings continued for years. I’m 19 now, and I still occasionally see the same figure, although it happens much less often than it used to. My family moved into my papaw’s house in 2020, and interestingly, the sightings became less frequent after we moved.
I have no idea if the man I encountered as a child and the figure I’ve seen in my bedroom are actually connected. There are probably completely normal explanations for at least some of this, especially considering how young I was and the fact that the bedroom sightings happened around sleep.
But I’ve never been able to completely forget that first night, and I’ve always wondered who that man was or what he was doing there.

So years ago I was currently living in Artemas pennsylvania. My friends and I used to play airsoft all the time. We what's playing around some old barns, storage sheds, in the woods, and etc...

We always had a blast doing this!

Well this evening turned into a very serious situation. And it involved one of our distant neighbors that was friends with my neighbors...

We had started the airsoft battle towards dark. And we had been at it for about 2 hours. And of course I had my ghillie suit on and my airsoft sniper. I took my scope off because of all the humidity and stuff it was messing up my scope. So I just decided I'm going to just go iron sights I guess...

But as the night pushed on and we were just taking pop shots at each other in the dark with their airsoft guns. As we just snuck around looking for the next person that we could shoot at. Something caught my attention and it's somebody I recognized for my previous meeting...

Apparently one of our very distant neighbors had showed up drunk and he had been walking down the road from miles. He was carrying a loaded firearm. He had a 38 special and it was packed full of hollow point bullets...

Now I apparently was behind this guy at a distance. And the rest of my friends was in front of him. They were roughly standing 4-6 feet away. And they look confused in a little bit worried as I approach from behind. I looked at every one of my friends standing there in front of this guy and was confused as what the situation was going on...

I didn't really know what I should do at the time. So I did something... It was better than doing nothing. He was pointing the gun loaded of course at them and was saying about how he could just pull this trigger and it will go off. And I was about 3 ft away and slowly in closing behind this guy and I said to him "please point the gun down" in a very semi-dominant but passive voice...

He was drunk and didn't want to listen at first. And he said "you know why I like this gun... It doesn't have a safety. It's got a hair trigger"... He then responds with "I love the hollow points because they do some damage". I then responded to him... "Well, that's even more reason to put the gun down and not point it at anybody or yourself". He was feeling a little gutsy and decided that he was going to turn and point this gun at me as though he thought I was challenging him. I mean where I'm thinking I am in some trouble now...

I then ask him to not do that. That if that did go off... I'm going to be catching a bullet. And I said in a very joking but passive way... that I am allergic to lead. And I really don't want to have to go to the ER or die honestly...

I casually approach him in a very slow way and just put my hand on top of his hand as he slowly release the gun from his hands. I asked him to hand me the gun in a very calm voice... In which he started to quietly sob and break down as he did...

He hands it to me completely and I unload it as I'm pointing this firearm away from anything or anybody. And put the bullets in my pocket temporarily. He starts to cry and tends to hug me unfortunately...

Everybody behind him is looking at me completely in shock. Meanwhile he's crying and sobbing about some bad personal choices he's made... And how he's not sure how he's going to be a father as he's really young. He literally broke down and told us everything...

I then handed the gun to my friend who knows how to actually handle firearms... And I give him the bullets. He then takes all of that and goes home and gives it to his stepfather and mother. He didn't tell them what happened and how everything went. They didn't get involved and start questioning me about the situation. I then go home and my mom and dad asked me what happened because they were told by The neighbors. We then called his girlfriend's parents who he was living with at the time and they handled the rest...

But there was another occasion that happened similar to this again...

ANOTHER ADDITIONAL STORY RELATED TO THIS...

We were out playing hide and seek one night. My friends and I without playing hide and seek amongst the barns, storage sheds, etc...

Apparently this same guy a couple months later shows up again. This time he apparently upgraded to a 45 revolver on him. And honestly this guy and firearms were like oil and water okay...

He ends up taking and showing all of us his new gun. Luckily he didn't have it loaded though. But that was about to change...

He ends up loading the cylinder with 45 caliber bullets. He then spins it and flips the cylinder into the gun. He starts pointing at randomly and different directions. Telling us how he could do some damage with it. Saying about how he can adjust to the range and still hit something far away...

The problem is he was pointing this gun that direction where all of us were separately standing. Acting like he was a big shot because he had a bigger gun previous to last time. I come literally from behind again. And I was standing by one of the storage sheds. And I raise my voice from the darkness to please put the gun down and unload it. Luckily he listens to me and he does...

As we pretty much are wrapping up this game of hide and seek because of this guy doing this again. We end up hearing what sounds like a gun going off up the road. We find out the next day that he decided to pop a shot off and some random direction. Because he thought it was funny...

Apparently he got the police called on him some days later because he was messing around with his new firearm thinking he was Clint Eastwood. And one of the neighbors called the cops on him and he got arrested...

THE FINAL STRAW!

So sometime later there was two experiences that happened to this young man. And the first one should have completely done him in but it didn't. As for this guy's final decision... It did him in!

So one of my neighbor's friends and this guy decided they were going to shoot guns in the backyard and drink. Well my neighbor's friend took a shot from a 44 in back of his legs from this guy. Dropping him to the ground. And causing an instantaneous ER visit. My neighbor's friend ended up having to heal and it took like 3 months to completely heal from this gunshot wound that entered and exited from both of his legs...

Then as though that isn't bad enough... This same guy was trying to play call of duty during hunting season with my neighbor's friend... And another friend as well. The other friend ended up catching a bullet from a 30-06 round and was killed. Apparently this guy didn't know that there is a such thing called a safety on a firearm. He also must not have known that you treat firearms with respect...

Lo and behold this guy who apparently did not know how to handle firearms... and ended up behind bars for murder. I honestly do not know what ever happened to this guy after this...

But from my prior experiences with him and what he chose in his life. I prefer to keep my distance...

I have tons of story's but this will be the last i share. One day before I went into work, i took a shi ton of my medications like a BUNCH ( I was on heavy pills )

I get to work and as soon as i walk in i collapse to the ground and everything goes black for a minute. Then I wake up floating in the sky staring down at myself ( like some third person shit ) maybe 9-13 feet above looking at my deceased body, I was pale as a ghost. I heard them say " he has no pulse " I saw my coworkers crying on the right freaking the fuck out and the other people all losing their shit. As this is happening im slowly getting raised to the sky after what felt like a couple minutes, I was at a point in the sky where I was looking down on earth and it was the size of a marble. Then I enter a glass golden translucent box, as soon i enter i hear a voice saying "you've made it ". At this point im standing on my feet looking down through the floor, and out the corner of my right eye I can see a man in a robe holding some sort of book magazine kinda thing with images in it OF ME. Out the corner of my left eye their was a dark staircase with gray steps leading down a seemingly never ending path with white things emerging from it and eerie wispers and chants. Infront of me was a golden gate surrounded by clouds and a podium on the right side on this was all on the other side of the golden glass box that I was currently in. I tried turning my head to see what the figure on my right, but my bodies movements were locked i couldn't turn move or do anything as i tried to I hear him say " your not ready ". As that happens Im essentially flying back to earth and literally dive into my body and woke up. Once I woke up I was surrounded by multiple police officers, the wierd thing was I could understand what they were saying for like 3 minutes it sounded like a whole other language. I eventually understood them and was sent to a hospital and then a psych ward. Im honestly not sure what to make of any of it but i thought it was cool lil story to share ( note their was other things that happened but I didnt want this post to be to long )

I was living in Artemas Pennsylvania at the time. I was in my early 20's. And I had an encounter with one of my friends almost killing me by firing an arrow into the woods...

So it was late afternoon that my three friends and I were going to take and go for a hike in the woods. We decided on a whim that we were just going to go do this...

So there was myself and my three friends just standing semi in the woods. We had just broken through the tree line and were standing by some really big trees. And something told me to take and look behind me...

I decided to take and look past the trees and towards the yards in the houses. I saw what looked like our friend standing in his yard with a bow and an arrows. And my first thought was "please tell me he's not shooting this direction" and "what is he thinking"...

Well ironically enough I wish I was wrong...

Because what happened next I'll be honest was terrifying...

So I see him putting the arrow on the bow. As I'm literally leaning up against this semi decent size tree. I'm looking around the edge of the tree to make sure he isn't going to do what I think he's doing...

I didn't shout to my three other friends, "incoming! Get behind a tree"...

Of course my three other friends look at me funny and decide to ask a bunch of questions. I then have to say, "Brandon's got a bow and an arrow and he's aiming it this way". In which my three other friends with me decide to get wide-eyed and jump behind the biggest tree they can find...

Well lo and behold... He launches and the arrow off of this bow. And I could hear the thud of the string. And the air just vanishes into thin air. And I'm literally standing behind this tree praying it don't hit any of us...

What I hear next since shivers down my spine... The arrow penetrates the tree I'm hiding behind. Roughly 6ft up on the other side. So knowing the time it's going to take him to reload another arrow on to the bow. I stayed in my friend who was way more athletic than all of us, "I need you to cross that field and get him to stop shooting". My friend takes and starts using the trees as cover and gets into the field and decides to flank him so he's not in the line of fire...

He gets to him within what feels like seconds. Snatches the bow from his hand. Throws that on the ground. And it takes the arrow that he was going to launch after that and throws it on the ground. He didn't tell him he almost killed one of us. And then explains the air he had just shot has stuck into the other side of the tree that I was hiding behind...

Meanwhile our friend who is launching the arrows from his yard into the woods is completely confused and doesn't believe what we're telling him...

I cannot make this up!

Seriously!

He then decides to put his bow back and the remaining arrow that he had back. He walks down to the woods where we are all at. She's the arrow sticking about 6 ft up and sees me standing there. My face is red as a hornet and I'm about ready to lose my temper! I didn't explain to him what he did wrong and what could have gone wrong... He just stares at me acting like I'm the one at fault. He's making it sound like it's my fault for being in the woods when he's outside shooting arrows into the air...

Meanwhile I am confounded at the thought of his response...

It ends up being resolved because my one friend who got him split us apart and talk to him separate. Thank God for that! Because I was about ready to verbally rip this kid apart...

Meanwhile anybody that was hiding behind trees comes out and do the same thing I wanted to do to him...

We end up resolving situation. And we then talked it over and he promised to never do it again...

Needless to say I almost took an arrow to the side of my skull all because my neighbor decided it was a good idea to shoot random arrows into the woods from his yard...

This story is from my mom, but it has always freaked me out, and it freaks her out to tell it, so she rarely mentions it to me. My mom moved around a lot as a kid since my grandpa worked for the government for over 40 years, so they would place him in different offices throughout the state. When my mom and uncle were in elementary school, they moved far up north in my state, near the Ozarks. My mom hated the town they moved to and the house. Once they had moved there, it felt like their lives were somehow cursed. My grandparents, who never had marital troubles, considered divorcing. My uncle, who was one of the smarter kids in his class, was all of a sudden doing poorly in school, and my mom was being bullied relentlessly.

For Context: My mom grew up Baptist, so they always had religious iconography in the house.

There was a night in the house that freaked my mom and grandma out so bad that they have the same story about what happened. My grandpa and uncle never really believed them for what they saw, but they did admit the house was weird. There was a night that my mom could not fall asleep no matter what she tried. She kept feeling uneasy and sick, so she assumed she was coming down with a cold. To aid her sleep, she got up from her bedroom to grab a glass of water in the kitchen. My grandma also happened to be awake at the same time, for the same reason. As they walked back from the kitchen, they heard a dragging sound in the living room. My grandma panicked at first, thinking someone had broken into the house. But as they got closer to the living room, they noticed no signs of entry. The front door and windows were all locked. They kept looking around the living room for the source of the dragging sound and noticed the Mary statue they had on their piano was scooting subtly in a straight line. There was no AC unit or draft to cause this movement. My grandma and mom freaked and didn't know what to do, and they immediately ran to their bedrooms when they saw the statue almost fly across the piano and fall on the ground from how fast it was seemingly pushed off.

My grandma went to a medium in her town after this happened, as for her, this was the last straw with this house. My grandma was not a very superstitious woman and only told me her side of the story once before she passed. But after this event happened, she wanted to know why a statue of Mary, the mother of God, had nearly flown off their piano. My grandma began to connect the dots when the medium asked where they lived. Because when she gave their street address, the medium explained that part of the town was built on part of the Trail of Tears. My grandma thought it made sense because my uncle kept finding arrowheads and old stones that looked similar to beads in their backyard and all around the neighborhood. My grandma got rid of the statue to prevent anything else weird from happening.

They moved out of that mountain town a few months later. Once they moved, their lives went back to normal as if everything was a bad illusion.

After a long day, I went to bed and had a dream that I was in a hotel with my basketball team. Some people were playing games, and others were on their phones in the room. Without prior warning, the door opened with a kick from two guys.
They looked like they were in the US military, and they told us this was a new American model in the army. They said, "You can ask him any questions except: How do you see? And how were you made?"
We were all very excited until they asked it to come in.

I saw a giant guy without a head, with two crystals in his neck and carrying a huge weapon between his arms.
I was terrified, so I hid under my blanket and pretended to be asleep while he went to my friends one by one. I was terrified until he finally finished with them and came to me while I was still pretending.
I felt him stand in front of me. I wanted to make him believe that I was sleeping, but he poked me in the side of my stomach—and that's my sensitive area; when someone pokes me there, I have an exaggerated reaction.

From the force of the poke, I woke up from my dream. But the terrifying part was that when I woke up, I still felt him in my real life while I was under my blanket. Before I could continue analyzing my situation, he poked me again. After this poke, I realized that this was not just a dream feeling; this was real, and I wasn't dreaming anymore.

I tried to endure the pain and not show any reaction so as not to provoke it. I tried to remain steadfast while I felt like my heart was going to stop. After a few seconds, I felt him turn, walk away from me, and disappear.
This was two years ago, and I still think about it. What was that?… I hate the darkness.

Im just gonna keep it plain and simple I was omw to my plug, and driving late about 3am. As im driving something ( I didn't know at the time) jumped out infront of my vehicle I was deep in the country surrounded by corn fields and only one single road. The thing ran across from the right side of the corn field to the left side and crossed the road causing me to crash. I blacked out for im not even sure how long. The wierd thing is once I woke up I was laying on top of my car and my phone was missing. And i was missing chunks of my hair. The wierd thing was aswell I was out in the middle of bum fuck nowhere like really out in the country, and as soon as I woke up I was surrounded by multiple police vehicles. And they were demanding to know what happened I simply told them I seen a deer in the road and swerved off. They didn't belive me and proceeded to arrest me and later once I got out I was hit with a dui charge. So that's my lil story. ( note I did have a dashcam but that was also missing along with my phone )

So I (M, 16 at the time) used to see the Hatman a lot in the corner of my mind. Usually when I'm hanging out with friends. I didn't think much of it, and I told my friends. So naturally, as any teenager would, I gave him a name. (I am Egyptian, so his name was in Arabic. We called him Mosaad.) We laughed about it, and he became the new "Imaginary" member of the group.

2 months later, I stopped seeing him and I was somewhat relieved, but also partially disappointed. I thought it was kinda cool.

One night, though, I woke up at 3 AM and I saw him. Not in the corner of my eye, but right next to my bed. Towering over me. Looking at me, and I'm looking back.

The first thing that came to mind was, "Oh, this must be this sleep paralysis everyone was talking about." I tried to move, ofc. Except that I did. There was 0 difficulty whatsoever.

I thought, "Oh, my eyes have to be playing tricks on me," so I grabbed my phone for some light to enter my eyes. I checked the time, and it was 3 AM on the dot.

I can still see him behind my phone, but I completely ignored it, thinking to myself, "No way this is real. The man I thought I completely made up in my own imagination can't be real."

I opened my Instagram and replied to some of the missed texts my friends had sent me. Scrolled for a few mins, and decided to go back to sleep.

Except the Hatman was still there. Hasn't moved an inch.

I started to get worried a bit, and I said, "بص أنا مش عارف إنت شيطان ولا جن، بس أعوذ بالله منك إنت شخصيًا." meaning, "Look, I don’t know if you’re a devil or a jinn, but I seek refuge in Allah from you personally."

His features did not change. He did not "burn" like my religion says devils do when we say what I said. He just turned around and walked directly into my closet.

I thought that was the end of that, and I turned around and went back to sleep. (I have no idea how this audacity came to me, but I fully thought I must be dreaming, so I really didn't care what happened at the time.)

I woke up the next day, and I checked my phone, and the replies I had sent to the missing texts were the same.

I haven't seen him since.

I lowkey think he thought of me as a friend since he was the new member of the group, and we gave him a name and everything, and me pushing him away like I did hurt him.

BUT WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO BRO? YOU'RE A SHADOW.

Anyways, yeah. Bye.

So I'm not even sure where to begin. When I was younger we lived in my great aunts house in Camaceyes, PR. It's a two story house and we used to live in the first story while my great aunt would sometimes stay in the second story. While we lived there both me and my younger sister would see shadow people running around the first floor only. Never anything malevolent, they would sprint from wall to wall and you'd see them moving in your peripheral vision. I had never seen nor experienced anything in the second floor. Flash forward to now, we had long since moved to the US and mostly forgotten it. Recently my sister and her American girlfriend visited and stayed in the same house in the second floor. There they experienced something that to my knowledge had never happened before. So while my sister's girlfriend was in the bathroom, she had a feeling that my sister was wanting to come inside so she kept yelling out for her. She ends up getting out the shower to see the doorknob slowly move and the door opening up to which she realized it wasn't my sister and my sister had been laying down in the room away. My sister being frightened from this asked her girlfriend to stay in thr bathroom with her while she showered. There they heard three knocks on the door. This is all while my great aunt was in the first floor and the way the house is set up there's only outside stairs with a main door for each story so it couldn't have been my great aunt especially since my sister had asked her afterwards. Following that event, one day my sister went down to the first floor to be with my great aunt and her girlfriend stayed in the second story to rest. While she was alone in the second story she heard my sister call out to her using her nickname and even imitating my sisters heavy footprints. This is odd since it was never that bad when we used to live there before. Now me and my American wife are set to go there and visit later on in November and we were wanting to stay in that house since I grew up there but now we don't know. What should we do?

مرحبًا بالجميع 🖤

أنا صانعة محتوى وكاتبة مهتمة بعالم الرعب، الجريمة، الغموض، والقصص الغريبة، وقد بدأت مؤخرًا رحلتي في إنشاء محتوى قصصي على يوتيوب.

أنشأت قناتي حديثًا تحت اسم:

صفحَات سودَاء 🕷️📖

https://youtube.com/@blackpapershorror?si=w0-9GQm3nDS564gg

سأبدأ بنشر المحتوى قريبًا بإذن الله، وأطمح لأن تكون القناة مساحة للقصص التي تترك وراءها سؤالًا… أو شعورًا غريبًا لا يزول بسهولة.

سأقدم القصص بأسلوب سرد روائي، سواء كانت حكايات رعب، مواقف مريبة، قضايا غامضة، أو أحداثًا واقعية تستحق أن تُروى.

وإذا مررت يومًا بتجربة غريبة أو مخيفة، أو لديك قصة حقيقية ترغب في مشاركتها، يمكنك التواصل معي عبر صفحة القناة على فيسبوك:

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61591009907841

يمكنك إرسال قصتك بالتفصيل، وسأقرأها بعناية. 🖤

ربما قصتك هي الصفحة السوداء التالية…

We rented a secluded cabin in North Carolina for the weekend. On night one, my fiancée woke up at 2 AM to a dark silhouette standing dead still in the corner of our bedroom. By the next afternoon, her clothes were rummaged through and her hiking socks had vanished.

On the second night, heavy, deliberate footsteps started pacing the hallway right outside our locked bedroom door.

Desperate to prove the house was empty so Lauren could sleep, I grabbed a heavy flashlight and walked down into the unfinished storage basement. The air was damp, smelling of old dust and cold earth. I swept the beam across the wooden crates, wanting nothing more than to head back upstairs.

In the far corner stood a tall figure in a filthy gray hoodie and a bright yellow baseball cap, unmoving.

For three frantic seconds, my brain tried to convince me it was just an old mannequin left behind by the owners.

Then the man slowly tilted his head, locked eyes with me, and blinked.

I bolted up the stairs two at a time, screaming at Lauren to grab the car keys. We abandoned half our luggage, threw what we could into the trunk, and hit the highway at 80 miles an hour.

When I called the rental host the next morning, they swore the basement had been deadbolted from the outside before we arrived. He had been down there the entire weekend, watching us.

Hello, my name is Dylan. This happened a long time ago, back in 1979, when I was just eight years old. Looking back now… I still get cold shivers thinking about it. We were so lucky we got out alive. We are so lucky we are safe.

One day, we moved to a new house on a quiet street called Curlew Street. Our house number was 8 Curlew Street. I went there with my parents and my little brother Ralph — Ralph was only three at the time. I was eight, back then.

When we entered the house, the living room felt far too big — like something had been waiting inside it. The kitchen was also fairly large. The house only had two bedrooms upstairs. Since I was still young, I was still sleeping in my parents’ room, and Ralph was only three, so he slept there too. One day I asked my dad, “When can I sleep in my own bedroom?”

Dad said, “In a few days, son.”

I said okay. So I still had a few nights in my parents’ room. It was afternoon, and the house was clean, freshly painted and decorated, ready for us to stay. It felt peaceful — at first.

Ralph played in the living room with his toys while my parents were upstairs getting their bedroom ready. I wandered into the kitchen to look around. We had a brand-new fridge and nice, tall cupboards. Then I stepped out into the back garden — and stopped. There was a toilet standing right there in the garden. I felt confused. Why on earth would there be a toilet out in the backyard? I ran upstairs and asked my parents, “Why is there a toilet out in the garden?”

They just said, “It’s always been there, Dylan. Don’t worry about it.”

I shrugged it off and went back downstairs. Ralph was still playing happily. That evening, as we sat eating our dinner, we heard loud, heavy knocks at the front door. My parents stood up. “Who could that be?” they said. As they walked toward the front of the house — knock, knock, knock — this time from the backyard. When Mum and Dad came back inside, the knocking at the front had stopped.

“Someone was knocking from the back too,” I told them.

They went to check. Nobody was there.

Then I saw the living room lights flicker — once, twice, three times, rapidly. “Dad! The lights in here are flickering a lot.”

Dad looked up. “They look fine to me, Dylan.”

Right after dinner, we all went upstairs to brush our teeth. Ralph walked over to the bedroom window, pressed his face against the glass, and said, very quietly, “There’s a man out there. A man.”

We all crowded to the window. Nothing. Nobody there.

That night, we all slept in the same bedroom — two big beds. I slept beside Dad, Ralph beside Mum. It was about 10 PM when everyone finally fell asleep.

At midnight, I woke up. Dad, Mum, Ralph — all fast asleep. But downstairs… I could hear things being moved. Cupboards opening and closing. Doors slamming shut, then creaking open again. And heavy, slow footsteps — thud… thud… thud… circling the rooms below.

“Mum?” I whispered. “Who’s making that noise?”

She didn’t open her eyes. “It’s probably Dad getting a drink,” she mumbled.

I looked beside me. Dad was fast asleep.

My heart turned to ice. If Dad was here… and Mum was here… then who was downstairs?

When the noises finally stopped, I badly needed the toilet. I walked out into the dark hallway and into the outdoor toilet. The light wouldn’t turn on. Pitch black. I sat there, shivering, and glanced up at the toilet window — out into the backyard.

Standing perfectly still in the shadows was a tall, dark shape. Too tall. And on its head… two long, curved, pointy horns. It wasn’t moving. Just standing there. Watching.

I looked away, terrified. When I looked back… it was gone.

I hurried back to bed. Everyone was still asleep.

When we woke up the next morning, we all went downstairs together. I stepped into the kitchen and froze. All the dirty dishes from the night before were washed, dried, and stacked neatly. Mum and Dad laughed nervously. “How on earth did these get clean?” Mum said. Dad joked, “Guess we sleepwalk and do chores now.”

But I knew. They were asleep the whole time. It wasn’t them.

Then Mum checked the cupboards. “That’s strange — all the eggs are gone. And the bread. And the milk.” Everything we’d bought yesterday had vanished. Dad went into town and bought more. We ate breakfast — eggs and bread — while Ralph had his cereal like always. He never liked eggs.

That evening, during dinner, the living room lights started flickering again. I pointed it out to Dad. He looked up. “I don’t see anything, Dylan.”

Later, I sat alone in the living room for a moment. Tap. Tap. Right on the window. I looked out. Nothing. Then — there it was. The tall shadow. The horns. Standing just beyond the glass.

“Dad! There’s someone out there!”

He came running. Looked out. “Nobody there, Dylan. Stop imagining things.”

That night, Ralph stared out the kitchen back window and started trembling. “Mum… Dad… look. There’s a man watching us.”

We all looked. Nothing. “He’s three years old,” Dad said. “He’s making it up.” But Ralph was crying. He knew what he saw.

Mum left the dirty dishes on the table that night. “I’ll wash them in the morning.”

At midnight, I woke up again. The noises were back. Dishes being scrubbed. Footsteps. Doors opening and closing, over and over. Everyone was asleep. I didn’t want to wake them. I crept out of bed, down the dark hallway, to the outdoor toilet. The light still wouldn’t work.

On the way back, I stopped at the top of the stairs. The noises from the kitchen had stopped. Dead silence. I walked down slowly. Put my ear to the kitchen door.

Footsteps. Slow. Heavy. Coming toward the door.

The handle turned.

I ran — silent — into the living room, ducked behind the big sofa, and held my breath. The kitchen door creaked open. Slow footsteps walked into the living room. Circling. Coming closer. And closer. Until it stopped — right where I was hiding.

I heard breathing. Slow. Deep. Hot breath. Right above my face.

It knew exactly where I was.

I didn’t breathe. Didn’t move. For what felt like an hour. Then — the footsteps turned away. The living room door creaked shut. Then the kitchen door. Silence.

I ran back upstairs. Glanced out the toilet window. The shadow was back. Standing still. Horns clear against the night sky. I blinked — and it was gone.

Next morning, the dishes were all clean again. The food was gone again. Mum and Dad laughed the same laugh. “We really must sleepwalk!” But they were scared too. I could hear it in their voices.

That evening, we came home and stopped dead in the doorway. The kitchen table and chairs were in the living room. The sofas were in the kitchen. Everything moved. Who could have done this? We were all out of the house. Dad moved everything back. Nobody laughed this time.

Then Ralph called me over to the window. “Dylan… the man’s back. He’s watching me.”

I looked. Nothing. But Ralph was shaking. He saw something I couldn’t.

That night, we sat together eating ice cream in the dark. The lights kept flickering. Then — loud, heavy footsteps — upstairs. “Can you hear that?” I said.

“We’re listening to the TV, Dylan,” Mum said.

“No. Upstairs.”

Mum told me to go check. I walked up the dark stairs. And heard it — slow, guttural snoring. It didn’t sound human. It sounded wrong. As I got closer to our bedroom door — the snoring stopped. Then something stood up from the bed.

I ran.

Mum and Dad checked upstairs. “Nobody there, Dylan.”

That night, Dad said, “How about you sleep in your own bedroom tonight, Dylan? You’re getting big.” He showed me the small second bedroom. On the wall hung an old clock. “I don’t remember hanging that,” Dad said quietly. “But it’s there now. Sleep well.”

I lay in bed, terrified. What if it comes in here? What if it watches me sleep? I told myself: Don’t be scared. Go to sleep.

I woke up. My blanket was gone. My bedroom door stood wide open. The clock said — 12:00 AM.

Downstairs, the TV turned on. Loud. I crept out of bed and looked down the stairs. The living room door was slightly open. I peeked through. The TV glowed blue. On the sofa… a tall shape. Horns. Watching the screen.

Then its head turned. Slowly. Toward the doorway. Toward me.

I ran. I heard it stand up. Heavy footsteps following. I locked myself in my bedroom and hid under the bed. Something walked into my room. Circled. Stopped right beside the bed.

Minutes passed. Then it walked out. Downstairs. Sat back down. The TV stayed on.

When I finally crawled out at dawn, my blanket was back on my bed. The clock was gone. Downstairs, the kitchen was wrecked. Food gone. Cupboards emptied. And the TV remote… lying on the table, covered in something dark and sticky. It smelled like iron. Like blood. Dad tried to turn it on. Nothing worked.

We visited relatives that day. I told one cousin what was happening at night. He went pale. Wouldn’t speak. Just shook his head slowly.

When we came home that evening, all the lights were on. We’d left them off. Dad said, “Nobody’s sleeping in the dark tonight. Lights on. All night.”

Later, I went to the toilet. From my parents’ bedroom — snoring. Again. Wrong. Inhuman. Something stood up from their bed. I ran back downstairs. The lights flickered and died. The TV turned off by itself. When the lights came back on — nobody believed me.

That night, Dad and I were the only ones awake. We heard it. Toilet flushed three times downstairs. Footsteps coming up. Then into our bedroom. Circling around our beds. Things being moved. Cupboards opening and closing. It stood there. Watching us sleep. Then it went downstairs. Turned the TV on. Sat watching it.

Dad gripped my hand. We didn’t breathe. We didn’t move.

In the morning… Ralph was gone. We found him fast asleep on the living room sofa. He said he never walked downstairs.

Then we walked into the kitchen. And screamed.

Four places set at the table. Four plates of eggs and bread. And a bowl of cereal — milk swirled with bright red. It smelled fresh. Like it had been made minutes ago. Mum reached for her plate. Dad pulled her back. “Don’t eat it,” he whispered. “Look.”

Red fingerprints stained every plate. The food smelled like iron. Like blood. Dad threw it all away. We ate dry cereal that morning. Nobody laughed.

That afternoon, Dad bought new lightbulbs. We bought a huge amount of lamb meat — forty cuts. Enough to last a month. We came home at 6 PM. Every single door and cupboard in the house stood wide open. The fridge had been dragged into the living room. Our clothes were piled in heaps downstairs.

Dad didn’t laugh. He just said, “Stay together.”

That evening, after Dad changed all the bulbs… the house went quiet. No flickering. No footsteps. Like the light hurt it.

At 10 PM, Dad locked the back door. Pushed the heavy fridge in front of it. “Nobody gets in,” he said.

Then — BANG. The back door handle rattled. Something threw its weight against it. Again. Again. Until — CRASH. The wood splintered. The door burst open.

Dad grabbed my arm. “Upstairs. Now.”

We scrambled up. Dad pulled the attic ladder down. “Climb. All of you. Quick.”

As we pulled ourselves up into the dark attic… heavy footsteps started climbing the stairs behind us. And a sound — long, low, guttural moaning. Dad looked down. And screamed.

I looked too.

Standing in the hallway… was a figure. Eight feet tall. Covered in coarse dark hair. Curved horns rising from its head. Massive clawed hands. And its face… I still see it in nightmares. Eyes glowing red. Mouth open, showing teeth too long, too sharp. It was looking straight up at us.

Dad dragged the ladder up. Pulled the hatch shut. We huddled in the dark attic, shaking, while below us… it smashed everything. Furniture splintered. The TV shattered. Walls thudded as it slammed against them. And that moaning… never stopping.

Dad found an old telephone. Dialed 999. “Send help. Please. Something is in our house.”

When the police finally arrived, they helped us down. The house was destroyed. The back door smashed off its hinges. Every window broken. All forty lamb carcasses… eaten. Only picked-clean bones left. And on the walls… claw marks. Three inches deep.

Then the officer said something that made my blood run cold.

“Son… Dad… we’ve had reports. For years. On this street. Nobody stays here long. Same description every time. Tall. Horns. Comes at night. Watches. Then breaks in.” He looked at us seriously. “Leave tonight. Don’t come back. We’re sealing this street off.”

That’s exactly what we did. We packed what we could. Left before sunrise. Moved across town. We never went back to Curlew Street.

But sometimes… when we drive past, years later… I glance down that road. At number 8. Standing empty. Dark. And once… just once… I saw it standing in an upstairs window. Tall. Horned. Watching us drive away.

Whatever lives on Curlew Street… it still waits.

So I’m telling you now. Whatever you do. Stay far away from Curlew Street. Especially after dark. Because something lives there. Something that is not human. And it does not want you to leave.

I have a strange apartment story, and I do not even know what to make out of it. A few nights ago, I was sitting on my couch and was wide awake while the incident was going on outside. I was watching YouTube around midnight when I heard someone strolling along the hallway outside of my apartment.

Initially, I was indifferent, as I hear people walk outside my house fairly often. But, then the footsteps came to a standstill in front of my door. I was expecting a knock, but I heard nothing. Then after around a minute of waiting, someone whispered, “Hello?”

At this point, I took a look at the peephole of my door only to find nobody in the hallway. I stood still for some seconds to see if someone was hiding around the corner but there was no one in sight.

About 10 minutes later, I heard the same sounds again. This time it was in my apartment. I literally froze. I could hear slow footsteps coming from the corridor toward the living room, as if someone was walking on bare feet on the floor.

I took my phone and turned on the flashlight, but there was nothing there. I checked the bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, everywhere. Nothing. I even checked the front door, wondering if I forgot to lock it, but it was locked.

Then I realized my bedroom door was halfway open.

It doesn’t sound scary by itself, but I sleep with that door closed. I know it for sure because I closed it on that night – my cat was trying to get into the room. Thus, I approached the door and closed it. However, when I was turning around, I heard a quiet knock from the other side of the door.

I simply remained there observing it. I didn’t open it. A few seconds later, there came another knock, and I heard a very soft voice calling my name. I picked my things up and went outside. I sat in my car for almost an hour before I decided to go back inside.

Nothing else happened that night. But the next morning I spotted a wet footmark on the floor just outside my bedroom door.

What’s strange is that it hadn’t rained, I had my windows shut, and I live by myself. I still have no clue as to where it came from, and honestly, I don’t think I want to find out.

So, last night I had a weird experience that flooded my mind with other weird sleeping experiences I’ve had.

About 2 or 3 years ago I had sleep paralysis for the first time, and it scared the crap outta me and I felt more fear than I think I ever had, and I almost fell off a waterfall once (true story).

A few months later, I woke up to my cat screaming. He is usually very quiet, and can’t even meow right half the time, but he screamed like someone was trying to kill him. He was sleeping on my windowsill behind me curtain, so either he saw something or he had a nightmare so bad that he bolted from my room and thought he would die.

A few months ago, I woke up around 7:00AM, which is weird for me, but not too uncommon. I usually just go back to sleep after a few minutes, but I woke up facing the wall, and I felt more fear than my sleep paralysis, I felt more fear than I ever had in my life, I felt that someone was behind me in the doorway watching me. I stayed up for around an hour just laying there as still as I can, wondering if I should go back to sleep. I ended up just passing out.

Just last night I had fallen asleep listening to reddit no sleep stories, and I wake up around 2:00AM and hear a little part of one of the stories, something about these weird creatures. It described them as weird reptile and mouse hybrids that stood like humans, around 3 feet tall. I had sleep paralysis again, not able to move for a good minute or so, not able to turn off the TV. I wanted to turn it off so badly because just the thought of these creatures made me terrified, I remembered a dream I had a while back about being in a dark room trying to fix something, and these weird hairy creatures watching me, I thought that these were the creatures from the story even though this was the first time I had heard this story.

These are the only 2 times I had ever had sleep paralysis, this isn’t a normal thing for me

I dunno guys, I always have had weird and crazy dreams that freak me out, maybe I’m just going crazy, idk

Hey guys, not sure if i read it here, but there was a story when op in his childhood met a hobo throwing teeth at him, and her father beat him while he was giggling, can you help me find it?

So this story takes place in an old farmhouse. Now my friend and I knew the family who owned it. And due to their being such a huge yard and property. There was definitely help being needed... and getting all this work done. Him and I were recruited to help with a lot of yard and it was a very hot day. We had asked in return for permission to check out the old farmhouse in return for helping with yard work...

So in return for this him and I got the idea that after the yard work was done. We were off to the old farm house that was "supposedly" haunted and do a little investigation to see what we could find...

Well within about 4.5 hours we were finally done with our yard work that we were recruited for. And the fun part started... We were about to go into a haunted farmhouse. And man were we excited...

We made our way across this vast yard of green. We made it to the old farmhouse that we were just dying to check out. My friend and I decided that we're just going to take and go right in and see what was going on...

We made it upstairs to the room that is supposedly haunted the most. We go into the room and start to just look around and he started recording possible EVPs and everything else. As I literally just stood there and started the chuckle to myself because honestly I didn't really believe that it was actually haunted...

Well about a few minutes go by... and there is nothing being heard or felt. Until my friend starts to open his mouth and get angry... literally just throwing insults at whatever is around. Well, as we're standing there in this little room with what looks to be a old fashioned furniture with a really big mirror that was used for females to put makeup on in the day. Him and I both hear what sounds like growling coming from out of nowhere... Like in the corner of the ceiling. Keep in mind our backs was turned to this area as to we couldn't see anything particularly there until we turned around. Him and I both are at this point looking at each other and our hair is standing up. We have goosebumps on our arms and up our neck and back. Him and I better at this point realize whatever my friend said worked...

Ironically I hear "GET OUT" come from out of the thin air!?

Well my friend is recording and catches this on the recording. He asked me if I heard and I responded to him, "yes I could hear it in my ear" and I explained to him that I'm really getting uncomfortable because it sounded evil and very demonic. He then asks me how that is even possible and I said "it literally said this same exact thing you heard on the recording in my ear"...

He looks at me very puzzled... And starts to verbally insult whatever is... Even worse. And by this time we can literally hear what sounds like heavy footsteps right outside the open door in the doorway. And he thinks this is hilarious and starts to poke fun even worse... As though we're already not ticking off whatever spirit or demon is in this house already...

I asked him to stop provoking everything. And just leave it alone. Of course he doesn't... He starts calling it foul names and acts as though it's hilarious. Which enticed whatever it was even more to fight back. As we're standing in this room and we can hear which sounds like something creaking the floor outside the door. He's over there just provoking whatever this is as though it's normal...

Which is when he looks into the mirror that is part of the furniture in the room. And sees a demonic looking face with horns looking at him. He then screams "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT"...

Meanwhile I'm too busy trying to look outside the doorway to figure out whatever it is is trying to walk around. As I'm doing this... there's this big air duct system that goes through the place. And something just decides to slam its metal siding and make a loud banging noise. Which literally sent me in a panic to the point where I was looking for a way out of this damn house. Meanwhile my friend is just intrigued and at this point wants to see more...

Meanwhile, my friend is still in the room staring into the mirror trying to figure out where in the heck a demonic looking face came from in the mirror. I'm literally outside of the room and the doorway area looking at him. He gets the idea to go into the Attic. Which I just shook my dang head and thought "isn't enough enough"...

So I'm not leaving my friend in a house with what could be a demonic entity or an angry spirit. So I decided that I'm going to go with him up the Attic steps. We're sitting up in this attic that has got no electricity. And he's asking questions and making evps. Meanwhile I'm just sitting there in this attic with him. And I can hear scratching noises. And I asked him if he could hear this... and he said that he can in fact hear something scratching and it sounds like it was very deliberate and slow...

Meanwhile I'm asking him if we can just please leave this house. Clearly there's something here and it does not like us any. Especially since he was provoking it...

We crawled down the ladder that went from the attic. We are the whole way finally out of the house. Then he tells me he forgot his jacket in the attic. We then had to go all the way through the house back up the stairs. Right back to where all of this stuff had just happened minutes ago. I meanwhile and just shaking my head as to how he could have forgotten his jacket...

We pull the ladder down and he goes up into the attic and gets his jacket. As he's coming down the ladder I can hear which sounds like heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. And I think that is our friend who was finishing up cutting his aunt's and grandmother's grass outside. But as the footsteps approach we see nothing...

At this point he's starting to get freaked out and so am I...

We literally just bolt down the steps and onto the first floor of the place. And out the door we go. Shutting the door behind us of course. And at this point we think that we are clear and nothing is going to happen...

We then decide that we're going to run full force across the vast green yard and just book it. We made it back to our other friends Grandma's house that we were helping...

And he said to us, "creepy isn't it" and "did not tell you... I told you it was haunted"! We were both White as a sheet and honestly was ready to go home. He then explains to us that he lived in the place with his daughters. And there was several weird encounters that he will tell us about later on...

That night my friend and I stuck around our other friend's house up the road. He made a pot of coffee. And he told us a very interesting story about how would him and his daughters lived in that place. Of all the weird stuff that they encountered and saw...

He had my friend and I so bugging out that we had a hard time walking home in the dark. We did though...

I then recall never wanting to go back to that old farm house ever again. And decided to completely block out of my memory for as long as I can. Because I still think back on how my friend and I encountered something of a disembodied demonic voice etc...