RIVER bottoms.

How old are you to have been watching Jonny Bravo in 1st grade?

Im going to relate this the best I can as I was a kid when it went down and much of it didnt dawn on me till later in life.
We have a camp in the Pocono Mountains that my family has frequented since before I was born. It used to be a very secluded area. The kind of place where you could shoot guns whenever you wanted and really did fear wandering off and getting lost in the woods.
My siblings are all older than me by 10+ years, so as a kid I was a tagalong/Mascot to my sibs and their friends and they got up to all forms of mischief. One day some of the hippie types ran back from a hike telling of mad dogs and people in the middle of nowhere cutting down trees with a chainsaw. There was something white up in the tree they were cutting but couldnt get a clear view of it with all the running for their lives they were doing.
Knowing the area in question, everyone said they got lost and came upon someone else s camp, but they were persistent and "Knew" something fishy was going down and claimed they were in heavy back country with no roads or trails.
Being that it was not firewood season and that we could hear a Chainsaw in the distance on the wind every now and again, some of the group, on a lark realistically, loaded up rifles and beer and went on the lookout for an adventure of some sort. I know that this might seem odd, but with it being the "70's" and all, it would pass for normal.
We drove around for about an hour, stopping every 5min to listen for the saw but we couldn't "get there from here", so we went back to the cabin. On the way back we had to cross a creek and noticed that someone had drove down the creek bed and out of the woods recently and turned onto the road towards our camp.
Once back at base we prodded the hippies into taking us back along the path they took (down a long valley) figuring that they had just got spooked by someones dog or whatever, but lacking something else to do.....
These guys took us down the trail they found, but at the first sign of dog prints they got wigged out and boot scooted back to camp, telling us it was only another 1/2mi. OK, at this point things are becoming more real, as we ARE in the middle of nowhere and sure enough, theres some prints.
Two of the guys with rifles start scanning the brush every 50yrds or so looking for any sign of banjos or chainsaws and dogs, but theirs nothing. We lost the trail we were on, the dog prints, we were no longer in the valley we had followed and went at least 1 mile further than where we left the hippies.





After another 20min searching we decided to go back and find the trail and return to the cabin, end this wild goose chase and get some grub. We headed in a rough estimation of the proper direction and walked for about a 1/2hr when one of the guys spots something white up in a tree off in the distance and were like BINGO!
Not even thinking about a damn thing we go charging off towards this bag in a tree, come busting out of a swamp right on the edge of someones old abandoned camp! We hesitated when we first saw the roof of the camp, but once we realized how run down the place was, it felt OK to go investigate.
And this place was run down. Outhouse laid flat, front wall of the cabin was falling in all windows were missing, trees growing through the roof. Then we noticed things were a bit amiss here. There were trash middens everywhere with some containing only cans, others colored glass, and one containing nothing but Bones. Also off to one side there appeared to be 3 old graves with headstones made of local shale. These were sunken in and relatively shallow, one was only 3' long and must have been for a child.
Discovering all this shit out in no mans land was so odd that we momentarily forgot about the thing in the tree. When we refocused ourselves we noticed that the thing in the tree was a large burlap bag about the size of a duffel bag and stuck in broken branches about 100' off the ground. The tree that it was lodged in had been cut and felled with a chainsaw, but it had hung up in a nearby tree, which was partially sawed through but still standing.
Now at this point were all wondering and speculating on how this thing could have got so far up in a tree and why whoever wanted it down was willing to go to such great lengths to get it down. So being children of the "60"s, we did the rational thing and started to try and shoot the thing out of the tree. After about 20min of this and having expended all our available ammo we split for camp. We hit that tree with about 3 dozen different loads from .22 to 30:06 with no effect.





The next morning we awoke to the usual hangovers and around coffee we all recalled someone driving past the cabin in the middle of the night, slowing down, then leaving several times. Since its not strictly a private road we brushed it off and started laying plans to go investigate the run down cabin and the burlap bag some more.
We had taken better way points on the way back so it was easy to find the old cabin this time out, and were very surprised to find not only two trees cut down when we got there, but a third also and no bag to be found anywhere.
We looked around and saw nothing more than a bunch of trampled weeds and an old ass two man saw. Whoever these people were they were so concerned about being found out that they not only came back in the middle of the night with a hand saw to finish the job, but we were sure they were scouting us out with the drive by's!
We were freakin wigged out at this point and made a bee line back to familiar ground.
We kinda laughed things off as the work of our imaginations when we regained sight of our camp, but were still a bit spooked and since it was Sunday we decided to pack up, lock up and head for home.





Then we noticed fresh dog shit out behind the cabin and We GTFO quick.





We had loaded up and drove about 20min everyone babbling about the possibilities of our experience and wondering what to make of it. Then we started to get to a road that took us out of the woods when we spotted the burlap bag draped over a forestry sign.......And it looked to have blood on it!





Not believing what we were seeing we got out and looked and sure enough, there was a slightly bloody burlap bag with about 3 dozen bullet holes in it and.............a well worn child's shoe in the bottom.
This put us all in a quandary as how would you explain what you did in a situation like this, A Fucking kids shoe? Do you report it? How do you explain it after having shot the shit out of the very same bag? We drive the 150mi back home with nary a word spoke in either vehicle.
The next morning my brother got a frantic call from his Buddie that was with us.
The guy found the matching child's shoe in the back of his truck that morning while unpacking.
Make of this what you will.





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This is either straight out of a movie or the freakiest shit I've ever read. Fuck this, fuck paramedics, fuck that story, fuck my full body goosebumps, fuck this thread, fuck arfcom, fuck going to sleep later. This story fucked my life up right now lol. Dude. Just tell me you're kidding so I can be normal again.

NOW we're getting somewhere...

I remember OP dam-b story from before.
camped around there all the time as a kid.
when I was 12 or so was camping with a friends family woke up to a church group singing campfire
gospel sound church hymns and stuff like that. single guitar playing whole group singing.
just barely light out. fog all across the water. we would drift in and out of sleep listening to them.
we woke up talking about it. the entire group was gone and zero signs of the camp fire
considered it weird but not freaky or chilling...

to add to this thread. the house we bought a year ago
makes zero noise. it doesnt settle,pop,bang, nadda, nothing
drives my wife crazy. we have a running joke about maw maw haunting it
because its so silent you expect something to jump out. wind can be blowing and you dont know it until you look out a window
not sure if its related to the silence but me and the wife both dont sleep through the night unless worn out tired

also not complaining but even in texas heat the house stays cool and its not due to insulation
its just the same insulation crap you would find in any house. no explanation for it just odd

That post did kinda age me, didn't it?



19



 

I live in a house that a chronic chain smoking lady died in.....once in a while I  still smell fresh ciggy smoke now and then ( we dont smoke) and she unscrews light bulbs enough that you have to tighten them up...

It would bug me but I dont believe in that shit and attribute it to having too much lsd and waay to many shrooms from back in the learning days.
Besides, she dont bother me much...

Why the FUCK did you have to say that???? God I hate this thread lol...

oh fuck that.....the baby monitor thing and the swinging light would have been enough to make me start going back to curch!

That one is the best one yet!  Keep them comming!

A story that is in the familiy for more than 60 years... told my my grandma.


My great grand father came back in Italy after 1 year working in belgium, in a mine.. that was the late 40's, after the war.

He arrived at the closest train station at 5pm, and had to walk 2 hours to reach the base of the mountain his village was at. it would take another 45min to reach his home were his wife and his daugters (including my grandma) were at.

Well.. My great grand father stopped at the village down the mountain (where my grandfather is from, btw) and had a couple of drinks in a Bar there, with old friends he hadnt seen for a year...

at 9pm, it was dark already and he decided it was time to go..

He started the climb... part of it is throught a wooden area.  After 20min of walk, in the woods, and in the darkness (he only had a lantern borrowed from the bar owner) he spotted a figure lying down at the next turn of the trail...  He slowly went ahead asking . "who's there ?" "are you allright" ?  

The figure didnt seem to move..  He carefully reached the man lying down on his flank, and with the baton he used to walk, slowly hit him on the shoulder trying to wake him up.. No reaction at 1st.. but then the guy slowly woke up..

It was a guy from his own village, a friend he knew for many years, and that had also been working in belgium (not in the same area though) for the last months,,

The guy (we will call him Piero) told him he came back from Belgium today, but that he was very tired during the ascent, and decided to take a nap a couple of hours before, and just fell asleep longer then expected.

He told my grandfather that he was too tired to finish the climb  and that he would sleep there for the night.  My grand father told him no way, that this was nearly winter and that it would get too cold during the night. He said he had to come with him. The guy replied that he didnt fear the cold, but my grandpa insisted and they both hiked to the village.

When they reached the 1st houses, they both went their ways, as the guy lived in the lowest part of the village, and my Ggrandfather a bit higher.. They shook hands, and they wished themselves a good night... My G grandfather told him to be carefull for the last hundred meter because the trail was narrow and the guy had not lantern of his own. The guy replied that he didnt fear much anymore...

When my grandfather reached home, he was welcommed by his wife and daughters.. After everybody was quiet and they started talking about the trip.

My grandfather explained he came in later then expected because he had met Piero on the way and that he had to walk him home too...


At first my great grand mother thought he was mistaking with someone else, but my grand father insisted.  My great grand mother insisted that it was not Piero, but my GG father was 100% positive..

she then proceeded to tell him that Piero was dead, and that he had been burried in Belgium 2 weeks earlier....

My grand grandfather didnt believe it, and he said my GG mother that they would go to Piero house to confirm it...

They went.. They only found his widow there, who got all shook up by the story..

My grandma insist that from this same day, my great grand father hair went gray...  and that he wouldnt go to the outside comodities alone for months during dark hours...

Y'all boys weren't out there eatin em mushrooms were ye?

When we were still dating, my wife had an encounter in the house her parents were renting...

It was being rented by a preacher. He was not a nice man and was resentful that he was not allowed to renew his lease. He cut the cord for a freezer in the basement before he moved out. My wife's family moved in and thought nothing of it... just that he was mean. Fast forward a few weeks and my wife was feeling strange feelings... hearing things... sensing things... she was spooked but there wasn't anything she could do. Her parents didn't believe her... they wouldn't move. What really freaked her out was this: she was sititng at the dining room table and talking to her younger sister... there was an empty grocery bag on the table top. It was plastic and crumpled into a ball. She said that her and her sister sat there as the bag began to rustle like someone's hands were quickly kneading it. Scared the hell out of the two of them.


Years later my wife and I are drivng out in the countryside... our daughter is in the back seat. She looks out at a picturesque area (we had just crossed over a bridge) and she says "this looks just like where I died".
Wife and I were like!!!
Interrogating wasn't really successful because our child was 3... but the best we could figure out is that she was reincarnated... she'd been in a car that went off a bridge into a ravine and caught fire and died. Not sure if I believe that conclusion or not... but our daughter hadn't seen anything like that on tv.


A couple of days after my wife committed suicide... I was outside my house and looking in the picture window. I thought I saw her ghost pass through the living room... might have been her in a white gown and her long auburn hair... or it could have been a flicker of movement as the A/C kicked on and moved the window shears... I dunno.

bump

Yeah, that must have been it.

Here ya go OP.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K6qDOprU-Ps&feature=related

This. Holy shit.

I forgot one, though it is more just kind of an interesting second hand story I heard.

dude,....sorry to hear

I was back in the woods with a pair of buddies at an old abandoned gris mill. The place really looks like somewhere ol' leatherface would hang out. Anyhow, I had just hopped up onto a 5' wall, friend #1 was struggling to get up on it while friend #2 was pushing him from behind. Out of nowhere, some Charles Manson guy walks out of the woods with a machette in his hand, raised above his head. Charles Manson guy is walking directly towards friend #2's back. All I could do was grunt repeatitively and point towards Manson guy. Friend #2 spins around and raises his shirt, exposing the 38 S&W he was carrying mexican style. Manson guy spun around and walked back into the woods without saying a word.

It was a beautiful fall Sunday afternoon. Bright, sunny, and about 70 outside. Me and my room mates, (my future brother in law Phil, and our friend Mitch), were just relaxing watching another disappointing, but fairly predictable Lion's loss.

Since it was the Lion's there wasn't much exciting to talk about and we had been sitting there in silence when, suddenly we heard a door slam upstairs. It slammed VERY hard like someone did it deliberately. We all looked at each other and Phil said, "What the fuck was that?" and got up to go up and look.

There are only 3 doors upstairs. One on Phils bedroom, and two, half size doors that lead into opposite ends of a crawl space.

When Phil came back down he shrugged it off and said he wasn't sure what had happened. (At the time, he would have never looked to an explaination of a "super natural" kind.) So, I pushed the issue, asking if it was his bedroom door. He said, "No, my door weight is blocking it open." He had a break drum from an old muscle car he used to own that he used to hold the door open.

I then asked if it was a window slamming shut. He said no to that also because all the windows, (two of them, both in his room), were locked. I then inquired about the half doors for the crawl space. He informed me that those were still blocked by the fold out cot we had put up there last week, and his old reclining chair.

At that point we just let it go as an, "Oh well whatever." kind of thing.

A few weeks later, it was early morning. I was laying in bed and I woke and was thirsty and had to pee. I got up, noticed the time, just after 7 AM on a Saturday morning. I remember it becasue I knew I had to get up in another hour to go golfing in a golf scramble. I left my bedroom which was dimly lit by the rising sun, but adequately lit that I didn't need a light on and, could easily make out everything in the room. I had to be careful, I had regripped my golf clubs the afternoon before, and I had them layed out on the floor.

I went into the bathroom, pissed, and headed for the kitchen. I flicked on the light, got my drink of water, and headed back to bed.

My bed is postioned in the corner of the room. I layed back down and rolled over to face the wall. Before I even got comfortable I felt someone sit down on the opposite corner of the bed. I rolled back that way and no one was there.

At that point, I became extremely alert. I knew I had not dreamed it because the clock only read 5 or 6 minutes later than it did when I had just got up. I knew I wasn't half asleep because I was too aware of all the things I had just done in those last 5 or 6 minutes.

So, startled, and unsure, but not yet scared. I layed back down facing the side of the bed I had felt something sit on. Just as I got comfortable, and closed my eyes, I felt someone sit on the opposite corner AGAIN!

I flung the covers that way and lunged for a tackle on whichever of my dick head room mates was fucking with me. Nothing there.

Now I got up, turned on the light, and looked around. Nothing, no one.

I checked the bathroom, and the kitchen, (both only a few quick steps from my bedroom doorway). Nothing.

Again, I went back to my room, rechecked it, closed my door, and layed down to try and relax. As soon as I closed my eyes, I again felt someone sit on the opposite corner of my bed.

This time I slowly rolled over and saw something I will NEVER forget.

She was of average height and build. Her hair was dark, but not black. Her face was pale, but not ghostly pale. She was wearing an "old time" blouse, like something Laura Ingels Wilder would wear. The high collar with the ivory colored sillouhette style broach at the neck. Long sleeves, with the frilly cuffs. Just like you would have seen a woman wear in the old west. Then her skirt, well, it wasn't there, nothing was there. From just above her waist all the way to the floor, was nothing but a blur. Not a smokey cloud, not a billowing fog, just a see through blurr.

At 6' 1" and a solid built, (muscle not fat), 200 lbs. I am big, but I am not a tough guy, but not a pussy either. I had delt with intruders in our home before this. WHen that happend I was scared, but I had a phone in hand and a bat in the other, and two room mates that were both bigger than me.

...but at that very moment I let out a scream that would have made Jamie Lee Curtis in Haloween sound like a man.

After my scream, the woman looked at me smiled and was gone. No "POOF", or fade, just gone, like she had never been there.

My scream had not awakened my roomies, but I was WIDE awake, and just tried to act like it didn't happen. I got ready for golf, gathered up my things and sat in the living room, watching TV, trying to ignore the thoughts that were swirling about in my head. My room mates got up, got ready and we left. I didn't speak a word of it to anyone.

A month later, the three of us had gone away for the weekend and my sister came to the house to stay while we were away. When we returned early on Sunday morning we found her sitting in the living room with a bat on one side of her and Phil's 870 laying across her lap.

She proceeded to tell us that at around 7 AM that morning she heard foot steps walking toward Phil's bedroom door. She sprang from bed thinking we were home early and it was Phil. She threw open the door and, nothing.

She shrugged it off to being half asleep in the early morning hours. She shut the door and went back to bed. Not 2 seconds after she closed her eyes, more footsteps. She grabbed the 870, racked it and aimed at the door. She waited a full 3 minutes before realizing she should grab the phone to call 911 if she had to. She had left her cell downstairs. So she said, "If you are out there, I have a loaded shotgun aiimed at the door! If it's you Phil, stop fucking with me!"

No response. She went to the door, and flung it open. Nothing. She bolted downstairs, grabbed the house phone, her cell, and back up to the bedroom she ran, locking the bed room door behind her. She sat in the chair directly across the room from the door. Gun across her lap.

She awoke to more footsteps and when she opened her eyes she saw...

When she described what she saw, I literally got weak in the knees and fell down. I was white as a sheet and could not breath.

Yes, she described EXACTLY what I saw a month earlier.

As I said, I had told NO ONE what had happened to me.

When my sister finished, and everyone had helped me into a chair and back to the color of the living. I then told my story of "Laura's Ghost", (as we now call her).

Everyone was stunned.

Except Mitch. He was quite unimpressed and fairly bored with both stories. He's not dumb, or "slow" but very matter of fact and simple in his ways. Not one to get overly excited about anything. He's like Snuffelufuagus from Sesame Street, if he had graduated high school.

...and without missing a beat when my story was finished he simply said,

"I see her all the time, in the basement."  

We of course we called him on it, "Bullshit, your being a sarcastic ass!"

"Nope, I'm serious, I've seen her 3 times down there."

Six months later Mitch and I moved out, two months after that my sister and Phil were married. They still live in that house. No incidents until recently when my two and a half year old nephew was heard talking to himself, like he's talking to someone else.

My sister asked him "Whatcha' doin' little man."

"We play tractors." He LOVES tractors, they play together with his tractors all the time.

She said, "Ok." and went to take a seat.

He stopped her by holding up his hand at her and saying "No, not mommy, the lady."

Like most small children, I was afraid of the dark. The house I grew up in was a single story almost rectangular design with a slight angling of the house. The garage was at the southwest corner and the master bedroom in the southeast corner. From the garage it runs through the kitchen and dining room which are side by side. The kitchen, being on the left, opened into a long hallway leading back to my bedroom and finally the master whereas the dining room opened into the living room. The living room and long hallway being divided by a wall, when I was told to go to bed at night the walk to my room always involved going down that long hallway. Many times, when told to do this, from the kitchen I would see a figure standing at the edge of the darkness by my room. I could never see the face, but it was terrifying. My parents would never believe me. Of course not. Why would they?

Some years later, my parents would take in my aunt Velma who was a missionary. This was toward the end of her life battling cancer. I should be more specific that the "hallway" in question was actually a stretch of a narrow room. Eventually, we fitted that space with a small fullsize bed and there is where Velma slept. That poor old woman was plagued every night with the most horrific nightmares which were never discussed with me. I was a child of about 8 or 9 by then. Velma eventually died, but her experiences reinforced in my mind a notion that something was not right about that area of the house. I never liked having to walk through that space in the middle of the night even as a young adult. My mother related to me a portentous dream she had one night about sensing an evil presence in that area of the house and this from a woman who had never entertained my childish notions nor had any inclination toward dreams of that nature.

My parents have since remodeled the house and closed off that area leading from the kitchen. New paint, curtains, etc. It is the first and only house they have ever lived in. It is the house I grew up in. They purchased the house from a couple who basically let my parents have it if they agreed to simply take over the payments. My parents later told me that after I had moved out, they were visited one day by an old woman who just showed up at their door. She asked if she could come inside and look at the house. My parents obliged and it was only afterwards that she told them who she was. She and her husband had built this house. Her husband had designed the house to catch the crosswinds - something about being cooler in the summer and warmer in the winter. He was deceased now and she was widowed. Then she left.

I had one very memorable experience in my room as a child which I will save for a later post.

Lame story bump.

A couple of weeks ago, I was in bed sleeping when I hear a loud bang. I didn't really think much of it since I was sleeping with my windows open and I live right off of a main street. A couple of minutes later I hear my dogs going crazy, so I drag myself out of bed and flick on the lights. I immediately notice that my closet door is open, which is weird because I always leave it closed because I can't sleep with it open. I walk over to the door and close it. This isn't the first time that I've woken up to it being open (I mentioned it happening in one of the ghost threads). When I turned around to walk back to my bed I noticed that the mattress case that I keep extra blankets in is sitting on the futon next to my bed. This freaked me the fuck out, because I keep it on the top shelf in my closet wedged against the wall and there is literally no explanation as to how it got out or how my closet doors opened. Needless to say, I didn't sleep the rest of the night.

Now that is what I'm talking about. The world is full of mysteries we may never unravel.

When I was about 12 vcr's had just came out and everyone rented them with movies to watch. Well, two of my buddies and I where sleeping over at my house watching scary movies and pigging out on junk food. We had just crashed on the living room floor where we fell asleep while watching T.V. I started having a very disturbing dream about a Werewolf type creature made out of a vapor like substance and it had glowing red eyes. It was like low crawling toward me from the front door of the house. I remember tossing and turning in terror as this thing inched closer when finally something tore me from my dream....it was a man at the front door looking through the window tapping on it calling my name! Freaked me out! Turns out it was one of my brothers friends who's car had broke down and he walked to our house to use the phone.

Elba area?



 

these threads always give me the willys

Bump  

These may be a long read but I think they are both worth the effort. Both of these are true, I would swear it before God Himself.

 1997, I had just gotten out of the Marines and I was working for an auto glass company making deliveries at night to small auto body shops up and down the Oregon coast. My route took me from Portland all the way down to Gold Beach every night via Pacific Coast highway. Beautiful drive in the day time but at night it's a windy, dark, dangerous road with sheer cliffs on the Ocean side that are not survivable if you go through the guardrail. One night I'm heading down PCH in my company van doing my normal route. I was somewhere north of Lincoln City in the middle of nowhere along a particularly nasty stretch of highway so I was going pretty slow and taking my time. It was early in my night so I wasn't tired yet, so I can't chalk this up to hallucinations. Anyway, I come around a bend and on the drivers side of the road, the side with the cliff, I clearly see a young woman wearing red shorts and a white tank top standing next to the guard rail. I had my brights on so I could see her very well, plus it was a rare rainless night on the Oregon coast so visibility was perfect. I knew there was absolutely NO reason for a girl to be walking along this area of highway in the middle of the night unless something bad had happened. I'm thinking car wreck, so I immediately slam on the brakes and hit my four way flashers and pull over. It took me about 100 meters or so to stop so when I jumped out I grabbed my maglight and started running back to where I saw the girl. When I got to the spot where I saw her there was nothing there, no skid marks, no damaged guardrail, and most importantly, no girl. I shined my light over the cliff but couldn't see anything, I called out as loud as I could but got no response. I walked up and down that stretch of highway for about 10 minutes thinking maybe she had fallen or passed out but I found no evidence of anybody being there. About that time I got the chills and headed back to my van and continued my route. To this day I will swear on a stack of bibles that I CLEARLY saw a girl in red shorts and a white tank top standing by the guardrail of that highway. Lot's of fatalities over the years along that road so who knows.

 Same job about 6 months later. I was coming home after a long shift, making my way along HWY 18 towards McMinnville, Oregon. The sun was just coming up and it had just stopped raining,  I was tired as hell but I only had one more stop and then I was done. About a half mile ahead of me I see a 80's model Chevy pickup coming towards me start to hydro-plane and cross into my lane. He hit a purple Dodge Caravan mini-van head on and both vehicles immediately spun around and stopped. I could tell from my vantage point that the impact was severe and this was going to be bad. I stopped my van right behind the min-van, grabbed my little first aid kit and headed up to see if I could help. I went to the van first and opened the passenger door. The female driver was unconscious and I knew right away that she wasn't going to make it. She had a horrible head injury and the steering wheel was pushed back into her abdomen, pinning her against the seat. She was in agonal breathing, which if you've never heard it, kinda sounds like snoring. I knew I couldn't do much for her but I had to try anyway, so I climbed up next to her and stabilized her head while I tried to keep her airway open. I talked to her and tried to re-assure her but I knew she was a goner. FD eventually showed up and got her out and flew her to the hospital. They kept her on life support long enough for her husband and kids to say goodbye. I went to the funeral and met them, that tore me up. I had nightmares about that accident for months after ward. Anyway, to the creepy part. About two weeks after the accident I was in downtown Portland heading to a bar with an old high school buddy. We hadn't been drinking yet but we were planning on getting good and drunk. As we were walking towards the bar ( McMinnimans in downtown) I see a nasty old homeless guy sitting on the sidewalk with his change cup in front of him. He was mumbling incoherently to himself, apparently drunk or just crazy, I don't know which. I was feeling generous that night so I dropped a 1 dollar bill in his cup. As soon as I did that, he looked up at me and in the clearest, most somber voice I've ever heard he says " She knew you were there."  And then he started mumbling again, like he had a moment of clarity and then lapsed back into insanity. I fucking froze, just stared at him for a second not knowing what to do. I didn't say anything about it to my buddy but all night I was freaked out and drank like a fish. If anybody wants to verify this story, look for a news report of a fatal accident outside of McMinnville, Oregon on or about November, 17th 1997 on HWY 18. The womans name was Christy, or something similar to that. She was 37 years old and a mother of two. I think her husbands name was Ken but I'm not sure.

 

I was just coming here to do that.

I took care of a tiny ancient lady at one point, I mean like 65 lbs tiny.  She used to be a cult leader and scared the bejsus out of a ton of people.  Like eyes rolled up in the back of head bat shit insane spouting latin and other horrible shit insane all the while scooting around in her wheelchair.
I watched her grab this fat bastard who was under 6' and 350+ lbs grabbed his ham wrist and crushed it, then flung that fat bastard over hand a good 10' away like she was flinging a rag doll.  I was scared shitless seeing that, but she smiled and got all huggy with me..

I also watched her fling this giant whale chick over a railed up hospital bed, and a teddy ruxpan fly across the room smashing the whale in the head.  I swear that bear was fucking evil it spouted shit like the crazy old lady.

I loves me some creepy thread!

Tag for when I have time to read it all.

Yeah, I guess the second one isn't really creepy so much as weird, but honestly it made me feel better about the accident, like I actually DID make a difference to somebody, even if it was only that they knew somebody cared and tried to comfort them.

It had happened a few days, everyday, before I asked my wife if she heard it.  We were sitting at the dinner table-my wife, her son and me.  I could hear the sound of multiple people talking.  The words were too muted to understand but loud enough that they could be heard.  Thinking my bonehead stepson left his tv I ask him.  He says that's it off.  There were only 2 tv's in our home-one in our master bedroom which is down the hall from the kitchen and one downstairs.  The sound of the voices was upstairs.  My wife asks why I inquired about the tv.  I'm hesitant to explain as it appears I'm the only one hearing the voices.  I ask her to listen.  When she does, she turns white and says she hear voices.  The voices were loud at this point but still unintelligible.  We heard the voices on and off for about 2 weeks.  My favorite cat, who was sick the time, died at the end of the two weeks.  When he died, the voices stopped.  I can only fathom that there is some link between life, the voices and death.  It really creeps me out to think about those unintelligible voices.  Anyone have any ideas?  I have more stories but must go to bed.

Yeah.....it's like we are stupid or something. Funny thing is I used to live in a new house and was such the last time I read one of these thread. No way that house was haunted. Now I live in a house that was built in 1912, generations have lived and died here.... and it is making all sorts of sounds tonight!

Some believe in residual sounds.

Is this here one of them "I have faith in the devil" threads?

No, just personal stories that might give folks the heeby jeebies.

Hell if I know. Whichever involves the Rites of the Priest. At least, that's what it was referred to.

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I would just like to say RIP to Swindle here (he's not really dead, but banned.)

Reminds me of the Simpson's episode where they think there's an alien in the woods. Turns out to be Mr. Burns, who was glowing because of his years at the nuke plant

 

Oh fucking fucking fucking fuck!!!

Well, as if the story wasn't creepy enough, your comment sure made it so.

This is the stuff that keeps me up...waiting for my three demon spawn to freak me out.  I had a twin brother who died when we were young.  One of my kids so much as speaks his name and I am a believer.