1. Going Up?
I was in Taiwan, just a young traveler exploring the bustling night market. I spotted a sign for a net café nearby in this old building, and I thought, why not drop in and quickly check my emails? The entrance had this eerie, dark hallway that led to a small, slightly dodgy elevator. But hey, that's pretty common in Taiwan, right?
As I stepped into the elevator, I noticed something strange. It was surprisingly new compared to the rest of the worn-down building. And get this, the floor numbers were a bit odd, no number four because it's considered bad luck. So, it went from 1 to 2 to 3 to 5 to 6. No big deal, I thought.
I pressed the button for the 6th floor where the net café was supposed to be. The elevator started moving, but when it stopped, something stopped me from stepping out. It was bizarre—total darkness outside the elevator, like the floor hadn't been touched for decades. All dusty and furniture covered in white sheets, giving off that haunted vibe.
Now, I knew I must have hit the wrong floor, but here's the thing—none of the indicators on the elevator showed which floor I was on. Everything was off, except for the button I pressed. Creepy, right? But it was about to get worse. In the distance, I caught sight of a figure moving towards the elevator. My heart raced, and I frantically started pressing the close door button.
Just as I pressed it, the elevator plunged into complete darkness. I'll be honest, at that moment, I was ready to pee my pants. But before I could even react, the lights flickered back on, the door closed, and the elevator shot back to life. Phew, I was finally at the net café.
I practically ran to a computer to gather my wits, and then I had to share this freaky encounter with someone. So, I went up to the cashier's desk, and her face turned pale as I recounted what happened. Turns out, I wasn't the only one who experienced this. Some co-workers and customers had mentioned similar spooky stories.
Here's the kicker, the building had six floors, but the fourth floor had a dark history. It used to be a hair salon until one employee tragically took their own life. Even after that incident, the salon continued operations, but weird things started happening. People claimed to see figures in the mirrors, hearing strange noises, and even the water used for rinsing hair turning red like blood. Spooky, right?
Needless to say, the salon closed down pretty quickly. In an attempt to rent out the fourth floor, the building owner dropped the price like crazy, but no one wanted to take it. Supposedly, several accidents occurred during renovations, tools ending up in strange places, a mirror mysteriously shattering, and even a worker getting their hand caught in the elevator door. Creepy stuff.
Eventually, the owner gave up and closed off the fourth floor. They even got the elevator company to replace the panel, making sure the elevator could never go to that cursed floor again. I mean, it didn't even have a button for it! But, here's the chilling part – sometimes, despite all efforts, the elevator still takes people to the fourth floor. The doors open, and some, like myself, have seen a shadowy figure lurking in the darkness.
Believe me, it's a hell of an experience that still gives me goosebumps whenever I think about it.
2. Dressed Up Ghost?
When I was younger, a couple of my friends and I decided it would be a good idea to explore an abandoned house down the road from us. From the outside, it looked like your typical spooky abandoned house with vines growing everywhere, peeling paint, broken windows, and missing roof tiles. When we went inside, it was just as bad. Cupboards were broken, walls were rotting, and the floorboards were creaky and cracked.
To be honest, we didn't really feel scared or get any particularly creepy vibes from the place, even though we were expecting it. So, we left feeling a bit disappointed. But, that's when things got interestingly terrifying.
As we were walking past one of the windows, a man appeared inside the house. He was well-dressed, well-groomed, and appeared to be in his 60s with a black dress coat, a white shirt, and a black tie. The crazy part was that we didn't hear him approaching or even see him inside the house before that. It was like he just suddenly appeared out of nowhere. When he stared at us through the window with a blank expression, my friends and I immediately took off running all the way back home as fast as we could.
I'm pretty sure it was just the property owner who happened to be there while we were exploring, but it was still one of the most frightening experiences of my life. A few years later, the Fire Department burned the old house down in a controlled burn, so if it was something paranormal, it's gone now.
3. It’s Coming From Inside The House
I've got a story to tell you all about this girl my friend knows who used to babysit for some people. One day, when she was babysitting, she put the kids to bed at 9 p.m. and then settled down to watch some TV. While she was watching, she started hearing some noises coming out of the basement- pans falling and things like that. She figured it was just the washing machine or something, so she didn't pay much attention.
But then, she heard the noises again a little later. At that point, she decided to call the authorities to be safe. The lady on the phone told her that there would be a patroller dispatched to her area and would be there in about 20 minutes. Well, that didn't quite go as planned.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. When she opened it, there was actually a full SWAT team outside! She was confused and asked, "I thought they were just sending a patroller..." One of the guys responded, "After you hung up the phone, we heard a second phone on the line hang up."
It turns out that there was a man in the basement listening in on the conversation. The woman at the station waited and heard him hang up after the babysitter did, so they immediately dispatched a SWAT team to help her. The authorities went downstairs and caught the guy- apparently, he was wanted for multiple cases of assault.
It's crazy to think what could have happened if the babysitter hadn't heard those noises or made that call- it gives me chills just thinking about it.
4. Two-Faced
I've got a super weird story to tell you all, something that happened to me back when I was working at a gas station 16 years ago. It was just a regular day when I saw a teenage couple coming in to get some slushies from the back of the store. As I was watching them, I couldn't help but notice that the young man had a very severe facial deformity. It was a shock to see.
But then, something even stranger happened. When he looked at the girl, he looked perfectly normal in profile. Confused, I thought maybe I had just imagined it the first time. But then, every time he turned to her, his face was normal. It was only when he turned to face me that his face became distorted like a terrifying gargoyle. It was like a Halloween mask, seriously not an expression anyone could possibly make.
The weirdest part was what I felt deep inside me when he looked at me and finished paying. I felt a massive black cloud of hate inside me. It was like someone had poured liquid hate into me. I can't explain it, but it was just the worst feeling ever. And they just left, without ever knowing what happened.
Honestly, I still can't explain it to this day. It was just so different and terrible. I kept looking at the girl to see if she could see what I saw, but she didn't seem to. It's a memory that still haunts me sometimes.
5. Of The Shadows
So, my uncle had this pretty remote place. Almost eight acres of just pure country living. His neighbors were a hike away, so you didn't just pop over for a cup of sugar. One summer in eighth grade, I stayed with him, and he told me this story that totally freaked me out.
He had a bunch of animals—like three hunting dogs, a bunch of pigeons, chickens by the dozen, a few goats, and this one horse. Every night, he'd do his rounds to check on them all, just part of his routine. But this one night, things got super weird.
The dogs started losing their minds, barking like crazy. At first, my uncle didn't sweat it too much and kept heading back to the house. But the dogs wouldn't quit. He's waving his flashlight around, and there's nothing. He's at the back door and they're still at it, so he takes one more look over his property. That's when he spots this shadowy thing way out in the fields.
He figures it's a coyote or something, doesn't think much of it, and heads inside.
But get this—the very next night, he sees it again, closer this time, near his barn. His brain's telling him it's that coyote after his chickens, right? But then, as he steps toward it, this thing stands up on two legs and bolts into the dark field.
He told me he froze right there, totally spooked, then yelled out, "Hey!" He didn't chase it or anything, but his dogs were on edge for nights afterward, just going nuts.
He tried to shake it off, telling me maybe it was just some drifter, but come on, his place was way out there. It didn't make a lick of sense for some random person to be out there. It's one of those things, you know? Just really bizarre.
6. Is Anybody There?
I used to work with this older lady. She was around 70, and since our job was mind-numbingly dull, we'd chat to pass the time. She could spin a yarn like no one else, but there's this one story that still gives me the heebie-jeebies.
She tells me about when her grandma died. They buried her in the backyard in a wooden box, which was pretty normal back then. Years later, the family has this plot in a cemetery and decides to move grandma over there.
She stops here, and I'm all ears. Then she drops this bombshell on me. She goes, "When they took the lid off the coffin, their eyes went wide." Why? The inside of the coffin had claw marks all over it. Turns out her grandma had been buried alive. Can you imagine? Just the thought of it sends shivers down my spine.
7. A Dark Upbringing
Man, when I was a kid, my family was all about that hippie life up in the Northern California woods. Think no cell phones, no internet, not even a TV or electricity. So what do you do? My buddies and I would just roam the woods all day, pretty much doing our own thing.
So, there was this guy, Dennis, in our group. He was a year older, and I totally crushed on him. He was this fun, goofy dude who taught me how to ride a dirt bike. We'd zip around on his bike, exploring every nook and cranny of the place.
One time, we're out and about on the bike, and Dennis says he needs to grab something from his house. I'd never been, but my brother had, and he came back with stories about how Dennis's dad gave him the creeps. He was cool with Dennis's guy friends hanging out but did not like girls coming over. Gave my brother the willies so much he never went back.
That day, Dennis makes me wait outside his house, saying "My dad, Ken, would be really angry if I came in." They lived in this out-of-the-way trailer, fenced off, with this dog outside just barking its head off at me. And there's Ken, just glaring at me through the window with this super grumpy look. Totally weird, right?
Dennis finally comes back out, and we just take off. I tried to ask about his dad once, but Dennis wasn't having it. Shut me right down.
Fast forward a couple of years, we've moved away, and I've lost touch with Dennis. Then, when I'm like 14 or 15, my mom sits us down and drops this bombshell. She says, "The kid we knew as Dennis was actually named Steven," and the guy we thought was his dad, Ken, had actually kidnapped him when he was seven. Can you believe that? Ken told Steven his parents didn't want him anymore, and the poor kid believed it because he was just seven, what else could he do?
Turns out Ken had been hiding Steven for SEVEN YEARS. It's just so messed up. Then, when Steven—Dennis, I mean—got too old for Ken, the creep kidnaps another little boy, Timmy White. But Steven, he's like a real-life hero. One night, when Ken's out, Steven takes Timmy and they hitchhike to the nearest Sheriff station in Ukiah. Steven walks Timmy inside and then tries to bail, but a cop notices him, stops him, and Steven just says, "I know my first name is Steven."
Long story short, they catch Ken. Steven's a hero for saving Timmy. But Ken, he doesn't even get locked up as long as he had Steven, because they don't want to put Steven through the ordeal of a trial. It irked me big time, but at least Ken's gone now. Passed away in prison.
To think, we hung out with Steven, never knowing any of this was going down. It's just insane, isn't it?
8. The Gentleman Caller
So, picture this: about five years back, I'm living downtown, right smack in the middle of a big city in the States. I've always been this night owl, so when my roommate, who was the complete opposite, hit the hay, I'd get this itch to do something. My solution? Long walks. Just me and the night. Did that for four years and never felt a twinge of fear, you know?
I'd even crack jokes with my roommate, saying, "Man, even the dealers around here are nice as pie." But then, this one night flipped the whole script. It's Wednesday, crazy late, like one or two in the morning, and I'm wandering close to this park they usually patrol, way out from my place. Super quiet night, barely any cars, and I'm the only one pounding the pavement.
This park's always a ghost town at night, and I decide to loop back to my apartment by cutting down this short side street when suddenly, I spot this dude. Way down at the other end of the street, there's this guy doing what looks like some bizarre dance. It's kind of like a waltz, but every "box" ends with this weird step forward. Honestly, it's like he's doing a dance-walk right in my direction.
Thinking he's probably drunk or something, I give him plenty of room on the sidewalk. But as he gets closer, I can't help but admire the guy's moves. He's super tall and skinny, rocking this old-school suit. And then, I see his face. His eyes? Bugged out, wild. And he's got his head all tilted back, staring at the sky with this mouth stretched into the biggest, freakiest grin.
No way I'm dealing with that. I decide to bail across the street. I take my eyes off him just long enough to make my move. When I get to the other side and look back, I freeze. The guy's stopped dead in his tracks. He's got one foot off the curb, lined up with me, still looking up, that insane smile plastered on.
I'm totally spooked at this point. So I pick up the pace, trying not to look away. But, you know, I've got to watch where I'm going. I glance ahead for a second, and when I look back, the dude's vanished. Relief washes over me for a hot second, until I spot him again. He's crossed the street and is now squatting down, and I'm almost sure he's watching me.
In the time it took me to glance away, this guy's moved like lightning. I'm standing there, just gaping at him, when he starts barreling towards me on tiptoe, like some cartoon character, but super fast. I wish I could tell you I bolted or whipped out my pepper spray, but nope. I'm rooted to the spot, watching the 'Smiling Man' advance.
He stops again, close enough to make me ditch my bike if I had one. I try to sound tough, you know? But all that comes out is this weak "What the...?" I can hear the fear in my voice, and it freaks me out even more. But the guy? No reaction. Just standing there, grinning at the sky.
It feels like an eternity before he finally turns around and starts his bizarre dance-walk away. I'm not taking any chances—I watch him until he's nearly out of sight. And just when I think I'm in the clear, I realize he's not getting smaller in the distance anymore. He's coming back, and now he's sprinting straight for me.
I've never run so fast in my life, not stopping until I hit a well-lit street. I risk a glance back and he's gone, just vanished. For the next six months, until I left the city, I never went for another night walk. Can't shake the image of his face, that look of pure insanity. It's something you don't forget.
9. Cabin In The Woods
So get this, my buddies were all heading to this out-of-the-way cabin, right? It's tucked away so deep in the woods there's not even a road to it—just a serious hike, nearly a whole day from where you ditch your cars. Work stuff meant I couldn't head out with the gang, but no sweat, I figured I'd just rock up later the same day. The only catch was, I'd have to spend the night solo because the trail gets mega dicey after dark and I wasn't familiar with it. But hey, I was pumped—never camped alone before.
I finally get to this spot in the woods, sun's dipping below the trees, and I set up camp in this little clearing, about 40 feet wide. I'm doing the whole camping nine yards, you know? Got my fire flickering, tent's all snug—a cozy one-person deal. I'm grilling hot dogs, toasting smores, real wilderness gourmet style. And I'm out there, a couple hours into the night.
Now, the whole time, there's this rustling noise off in the trees, skirting around the clearing. At first, I'm like, "Cool, forest creatures doing their thing." But as the night creeps on, it dawns on me, whatever it is, it's just looping around me. Seriously, it's doing laps. When I tune in real close, it's made like four or five rounds. So, curiosity piqued, I stand up to play detective, and just like that—the sounds book it outta there.
I'm standing there, thinking, "Must've been a fox, got spooked when I got up." Time for bed, I decide. I kill the fire and crawl into my tent. I'm half-dozing, in that weird in-between sleep, and I start hearing things. But then something snaps me to full alert. There's a voice outside, just a notch above a whisper. And I'm lying there, can't figure out if it's English or what.
I'm frozen there, don't ask me for how long, just listening, straining my ears, waiting for... I don't know what. Moon's giving off just enough light, and then I see something that totally messes with my head: a hand, pressing into my tent, right down by my feet. I completely freak, shoot up, and whatever's out there just bolts. I mean, they're tearing through the woods like a bat out of hell.
I didn't just sit there, you know? I grab my flashlight, zip out, and start waving it around. Nothing. Not a thing in sight. And I'm half expecting to see like a horror movie handprint on the tent, but there's zilch. Sleep was a no-go after that, forget it. As soon as it's light, I pack up at warp speed and hightail it to the cabin.
10. Imaginary Friend
So, I had this imaginary friend when I was a little tyke, name of Jessie. Fast forward to a couple years back, I'm in Ireland with my family, we're swapping spooky tales, and my mom drops this bomb about Jessie. Turns out, my imaginary pal might not have been so imaginary.
Get this, one day, little me tells my dad, "Hey, can you bring back coal for Jessie's gran?" Weird, right? I used to ask for all sorts of old-school stuff for Jessie. Everyone thought it was just cute kid stuff, until this one time we're at this field I loved as a kid. We get there, and I bolt—I mean, I'm gone. I make a beeline for this graveyard, right to this tiny grave, and just... freeze there. I'm staring at this headstone, and it hits me—it's got "Jessie" on it. Kid you not, my 'imaginary friend'... might have been a ghost the whole time.
11. Fast Forward To The Future
You won't believe this story from 16 years back. So, my sister-in-law and I were both expecting around the same time, and where I'm from, around 12 to 14 weeks into the pregnancy, you get this ultrasound to check on the baby, right? They can often tell you if it's a boy or girl then, too. She was a bit ahead of me and found out she's having a boy. Me? I was crossing my fingers for a girl.
Now, picture this: three weeks before my ultrasound, my partner and I are house hunting. We step into this old villa, the kind with a long hallway that leads straight into this lounge area, kitchen, and dining space that's set up like a 'T'. Bedrooms are off to the side. My partner's chatting with the real estate agent in one of those rooms, and I'm chilling in the lounge, not a care in the world, just a bit peckish.
So there I am, minding my own business, when out of nowhere, these two little brunette munchkins with floppy hair come barreling down towards me, giggling up a storm. They're dressed in those clothes kids wear when they're about to make a masterpiece with finger paint. And they're heading straight for me like they're about to zip through the kitchen to the yard. And that's when this weird thought hits me: "Am I seeing my future child and niece or nephew?" I'm squinting at them, trying to figure out who's who, feeling like I've stepped into some sort of twilight zone, but not scared, you know?
Then, in a snap, they're gone. Poof! Just like that. And here come my partner and the agent strolling back. And would you believe it? We bought that very house. Fast forward a bit, and there I am at my scan, and boom—it's twins! And yep, they turned into the spitting image of those floppy-haired little vision kids. Wild, huh?
12. Too Close For Comfort
So, back when my mom was about 12, she and my grandma were living in this trailer parked out back of a relative's place. My mom always caught this neighbor guy giving her the creeps, you know, just staring over at her sometimes. She thought maybe he was just a weird, lonely dude. Boy, was she wrong about him.
One night, she's alone in the trailer, and she hears this noise on the roof, like someone's tiptoeing over the metal, right? Super creepy. They're flat broke, no phone, so she books it out of there and into the main house without daring to check the roof. Her uncle goes to look later, and there's nothing there.
Weeks tick by, everything's quiet, and my mom starts thinking she scared herself over nothing. But then, every now and then, when she's by herself, weird stuff happens. It's like this pattern over a few months, just long enough between to let her guard down, and then it just... stops.
Okay, so, time flies, and out of the blue, one night, the trailer turns into an oven. My mom wakes up sweating buckets and thinks to go fiddle with the heater controls, but something in her gut says nope, bad idea. She high-tails it to her uncle's house instead.
Her uncle checks out the trailer and sees the lock's been tampered with. Peeks inside, but it's all clear. His wife insists they call the cops, and when they search the trailer, they find a real nasty surprise. A kitchen knife is just chilling behind a chair by the heater dial.
The cops think that creepy neighbor guy broke in, cranked up the heat, and was squatting behind the chair waiting for my mom to show up. Gives me the chills, you know? They couldn't pin it on him, though. Nothing to do but question him. The good part is, right after that scare, my mom and grandma moved the heck out of there.
And get this, like five years later, my mom's in a grocery store in the next town over and bam, there's Mr. Creepy. She doesn't stick around to see if he spots her; she just nopes out of there super fast.
13. The Second Opinion
So, my mom has this story she always tells us, about how her twin sister, who died when they were just kids, is kind of like her shadow, always tagging along. I've never really bought into it, you know? I'd always hit her with questions, trying to catch her out, like "What's she wearing?" or "How'd she follow you all the way from the Caribbean?" But then, this one time, things got real weird.
I was at work, and I totally spaced on my lunch, so my mom swings by to drop it off for me. After she handed it over, she wandered off to say hi to this guy jamming out with his guitar at the back of the place.
Next thing I know, this customer she just walked by does a double-take, drops to his knees, and starts doing the sign of the cross, like he's seen a ghost or something. I'm like, "Dude, you good?" And he's just locked onto my mom with this look of total shock, and he's all, "There's a woman following her." That hit me hard, man. My gut just twisted up, because come on, what are the odds? Too freaky.
14. Jeepers Creepers
Living out here in the sticks in the UK, I'm pretty much as far from the city buzz as you can get. It's just miles of flat farmland – great for walks, especially during last summer when we hit a scorching 33 degrees. So, I'm out on my usual stroll, about three miles from my house, and I come across this field.
It's full of crops – don't ask me what kind, but they're waist-high and this brilliant shade of yellow. It's like something off a postcard, so I had to stop and whip out my phone for a few snaps. I figured they'd jazz up my Instagram. I'm there for a good five minutes, just trying to capture that perfect shot.
Then I get moving again, but barely half a minute later, I turn back and there's this figure, all in black, smack dab in the middle of the yellow field. My first thought? "Oh, it's a scarecrow I missed somehow." I guessed it had just blended into the backdrop before.
I'm flicking through my phone, zooming into the photos to spot the scarecrow, but nope – nothing. I keep walking, keeping the field in my line of sight, and then the 'scarecrow' starts moving. And I'm like, "Okay, that's no scarecrow, that's a person."
And not just any person – someone's out there in full black, in this baking heat, making a beeline for where I was standing earlier. The whole thing's giving me major creeps, so I just book it until I can't see the figure anymore. It's bizarre, right? People don't just wander through fields like that, especially ones ready for harvest.
The only folks I ever see doing that are the farmers. It hit me that whoever this was must've been lying down while I was busy taking photos. I mean, they couldn't have made it to the middle in the short time I looked away. Super weird. I've never spotted anyone strolling through those fields, ever. It felt like I was in a real-life horror movie, like something straight out of "Jeepers Creepers" or something.
15. A Soul Left Behind
So, I got this gig clearing out an old place, and man, talk about your horror house vibes – cockroaches everywhere, and just a total downer of a job. The creepiest part? The basement. It always gave us the heebie-jeebies, like there was always someone lurking right over your shoulder. And there was this piece of rope just hanging from the ceiling – no idea why.
Then, get this – we find out in our last week there that the woman who used to live there had actually hung herself. Gives me chills just thinking about it. Safe to say, nobody was brave enough to head down to that basement solo after we heard that story.
16. Late-Night Ride
There I was, about to wrap up the night shift, right? Just counting down the last 15 minutes when—BAM!—this huge crash against one of the office windows nearly gave me a heart attack. I peeked out to see some joker had chucked a big ol' rock through the window. Weird thing is, it was past 11 at night in the industrial area, and it was like a ghost town with everything closed.
I shook it off, called security to give them a heads-up, and figured it was time to hit the road. But as I was leaving the building, I started psyching myself out, got to my car, jumped in, and zoomed off. Halfway home, I chilled out a bit... until it hit me—I hadn’t unlocked my car when I got in. It was already unlocked. Freaky, right? I did the whole cop-movie thing, searching the backseat with my hands, but, phew, nothing there.
Okay, so 30 minutes later, I’m on the phone with a buddy who's out having drinks, and I decide, "Yeah, let’s go." I grab my bike and start cruising over, just soaking up the night, when suddenly I hear another bike behind me. This dude comes up beside me real slow and gives me this creepy, wild-eyed smile—like something out of a horror flick. It totally threw me off.
And just as he passed by, it hit me like a ton of bricks: the guy was pedaling on my mom’s bike. No way, right? I pedaled like crazy back home, and guess what? Her bike was gone, and to top it all off, one of my car doors was wide open—the back left one. And I know I hadn't touched that door at all.
17. Bad Went To Worst
Way back when I was just a little kid in elementary school, I used to tag along to my mom’s dental clinic after school. My brother and I would hang out there, munch on an early dinner, and we’d all head home together in the evenings. But this one time, I asked my mom if I could head home by myself a bit earlier.
Everything seemed cool until it got dark, and I mean really dark, and there was still no sign of them. We always got home before nightfall, so this was just weird and super out of the ordinary. As the hours ticked by, I was freaking out, thinking all sorts of scary stuff. What if something terrible happened to them?
Sitting there, an elementary school kid all alone, I just lost it—started bawling my eyes out. Fast forward to midnight, they’re still not back. Can you imagine? Then, out of nowhere, at two in the morning, there’s this knock. I was petrified to open the door, but I couldn’t help myself. I just had to see if it was them.
I swing the door open, and man, the sight was straight out of a movie. There's my mom and my brother looking like ghosts—white as sheets, drenched from head to toe, barefoot, and trembling like crazy. We're just standing there, staring at each other until I finally blurt out, "What happened?!"
And then my mom tells me this wild story. They were on a passenger bus after shutting the clinic, and everything’s smooth until this crazy ‘thud’ noise comes from under the bus, right? It’s so loud, the whole bus shakes and they’re hearing metal grinding on the road. They stop, it’s pitch black outside, and they're all using flashlights from the bus crew to see anything.
The driver checks under the bus first, and the guy comes back looking like he's gonna hurl. He tells everyone to get off and find another way home. So my mom and brother, they sneak a peek too, and what they see is just... it's messed up—there’s a motorcycle guy, all mangled up under there. Just a gruesome, bloody mess.
We couldn’t sleep a wink after hearing all that. And just when we thought we’d start getting over the shock the next day, my aunt drops this bomb on us—her husband hadn’t come home that night. Turns out, the guy under the bus, that was my uncle. Can you believe that? Just, wow.
18. Shattered Fragments
My wife and I have this cute story where we met in this quaint little town by Lake Superior. When things got serious, we bought this cabin out in the sticks, like 40 minutes from civilization. Picture-perfect, peaceful—just us for a solid two years. But then, you know, we got that itch to be near family again.
On our last night there, we were feeling all sentimental, so we broke out these mason jars to toast to our next chapter. We hit the hay, leaving nothing but those jars out.
Now, get this: we wake up, and it's like a scene from a movie—those jars are not just knocked over; they're annihilated. Glass was scattered everywhere, and I mean everywhere—other rooms, window sills, you name it. Some of it was even smashed into this fine dust. How does that even happen?
And the weirdest part? We slept through what should've been a racket. To this day, I rack my brain about it. It's one of those things that just sticks with you, you know?
19. Gut Feeling
So I was 17, right? Dad and I just wrapped up this fishing trip, and it's pushing midnight, smack in the middle of fall. We're about to hop in the car, and outta nowhere, he's like, "I don't want you up front on the way back." We went back and forth for a solid five minutes. He wouldn’t budge or give me a straight answer why.
Finally, I'm like, whatever, and climb into the backseat. It's so dark outside, and we're barely two minutes on the main road when this car comes barreling towards us in our lane. Dad yanks the wheel, trying to dodge it, and the other car does the same dance. Right then, Dad drops this line that's just etched in my brain: "I knew it." Boom, everything goes black.
Next thing I know, I'm blinking awake to sirens and EMTs pulling me out of the wreckage. Everything's fuzzy, but I can still picture Dad clear as day, sitting in the wrecked car, waving at me with tears in his eyes.
Later on, I'm all, "Where's my dad?" And that's when they hit me with the news—he'd been thrown out of the car, didn't survive. And the other driver? Gone too. But here's the kicker—the guy had his own 17-year-old daughter with him. She made it because she was in the backseat, just like me.
Man, that was six years ago. Still feels unreal, you know?
20. The Familiar Becomes Unfamiliar
There I am, trying to catch some Z's at my girlfriend's place. We're just drifting off when she suddenly rolls over and hits me with, “Who are you? I don't know you...You have some strange eyes...You aren't the person I know…” And let me tell you, my heart just started pounding out of my chest. I mean, I couldn't shut my eyes for the rest of the night after that. It freaked me out big time. I was half expecting her to start screaming or something, or even come at me. Totally threw me off, man.
21. You Think You Know Someone
My dad once went on this camping trip to one of those low-key spots, you know, no camp managers or anything. It was still chilly early spring, so the place was pretty deserted. It was just him, his buddies, and this guy down the way in an old Chevy truck with this wild, cobbled-together camper.
My dad's the friendly type, so they wandered over to the other camper to say hello, make sure their group wouldn't bother him, and you know, just be good neighbors. The dude was chill, kind of a loner type, but thanked them for checking in.
He looked like he'd settled in for a while, laundry hanging up and all. Now, during the whole three days my dad's group was there, they'd just casually wave over to the guy, even had him over for morning coffee once. When they didn't spot him for a day or two, nobody thought much of it. They just enjoyed their time and packed up as planned.
On their way out, they drove past his site again, everything untouched since day one. My dad's driving, his friend’s in the passenger seat, and suddenly, the friend yells, “Stop the truck!” My dad had caught something weird in his peripheral too, but thought his eyes were messing with him. Turns out, it wasn't his imagination. What they'd glimpsed was downright chilling.
He really did see the camper guy, hanging from a tree, not just some trash bag fluttering in the wind. They got out, managed to call 9-1-1 with the little cell service they had. The whole scene was a nightmare. Dad mentioned this note, nailed to the tree with a hunting knife. He didn't have the stomach to read it but felt horrible for the guy. He always says he wished he could've cut him down, even though it was way too late to save him.
Cops and an ambulance came, took their statements, and let them go. But here's the real creepy twist—my dad was telling us this story years later, right there at that same favorite campsite of his. He made sure to wait until we were all grown before he spilled it, but man, it still gives me the creeps
22. The Worst Type Of Scarecrow
This story is straight out of a movie or something, but it happened for real like 40 years back. We're cruising through this super rural part of Indiana—just me, Mom, and Dad. I'm about 10, minding my own business in the backseat, when we go over this bridge and bam—I spot a naked woman tied to a tree. I'm like, "Dad!" and tell him what I saw. Without missing a beat, he flips the car and we're heading back.
And let me just say, I’m super thankful my dad took my word for it—kids' imaginations, you know? He could’ve just brushed it off.
We roll back over the bridge and, well, it turns out this property owner had some twisted sense of humor or warning, tying a mannequin to a tree and slapping a KEEP OUT sign above it. Talk about a twisted way to make a point, right? That image stuck with me for the longest time. Weird stuff.
23. Creep In The Night
There I was, living the country life, when one night it hits me—I totally spaced on grabbing the mail. Off I go into the abyss, because, no joke, there wasn't even a sliver of moonlight, just me and the soundtrack of crickets and tree frogs. On my way back from the mailbox, I hear my husband whistling. It's got that 'just stepped outside and walking around the house' vibe to it.
I didn't shout out or anything, just assumed he had his reasons and kept on my path, made my way up the porch, and went inside through the front door. Then, get this, my husband comes out of the bathroom. Talk about a mind trip! I couldn't shake the feeling because I swear it was human whistling right outside in the dark. Freaky, right?
24. The Unwelcome Bedfellow
For like five or six years straight, my husband had this super sweet routine. He'd get up way earlier than me, sneak over to my side of the bed, and plant a kiss before heading out. Never missed a single day. Then, I'd snag a bit more shut-eye before I had to drag myself up for work. He kept it all low-key, no lights or anything, to keep from waking me up. But one morning, after his usual goodbye smooch and the sound of the door clicking shut, things got weird.
Like, barely 10 to 15 minutes later, I got this eerie vibe, as if someone was creeping up to the bed. My first thought was, “He must've forgotten something... or did I just dream he left?” There was this odd sensation, kind of like a dark figure plopping down on the bed, the way he usually does, but man, it felt off... It was like this shadow was just itching for me to notice it... but no way was I giving it that satisfaction!
It stayed silent, so I just noped it to the other side of the bed and bolted to the living room. Flipped on every light I could find... and yep, doors were locked tight. Hubby was long gone for sure. Still dark out and here I was, heart racing, for no good reason that I could tell. But it spooked me big time. So I laid down the law with my husband, “From now on, hit that lamp when you kiss me goodbye!”
And I was dead serious about it. Never leave me in the dark again... like, ever. That morning just stuck with me, you know?
25. A Message From Beyond
This one night, things got super intense right outside our place. Like, at 2 AM, there's this huge ruckus that yanks us all out of sleep. My stepdad and uncle were still up, you know, having a few drinks, and they decided to check out the noise. And get this, we see this young dude just wailing on one of our older neighbors. Turns out, the kid was dating the older guy's daughter.
So, my stepdad and uncle jump into the fray, trying to break it up, and in all that chaos, the guy just stabs my stepdad. He staggers back onto the porch, collapsing, and I rush to catch him. My shirt's suddenly drenched in his blood, and the attacker bolts. We're freaking out, calling 9-1-1, the whole nine yards.
Now, here's where it gets super creepy.
We're at the hospital till the sun's thinking about coming up. We finally get home, and there's this message waiting on the answering machine. It's from my school friend, all teary, saying she's so sorry for ringing up in the wee hours. But she's all worked up about this dream she had—screaming, a big fight, and me? I'm covered in blood. She's practically begging me to call her back.
And the time on that message? Exact same time as when all the drama was going down. And this is like, the late 80s—we're talking no computers, no cell phones. I'm on the complete other side of town from her. She couldn't have had a clue about any of it. Totally bizarre, right?
26. A Father's Intuition
One time back when I was a teenager, living in the middle of nowhere Wisconsin—think cornfields and marshes and stuff—I was hanging out with my folks outside as the sun was dipping low, right? Out of nowhere, we hear this woman's voice from the woods next to our place yell out, "HELP ME." It was weird, kinda faint, almost like I imagined it.
I look over at my parents, and they're both giving me that look, like, "You heard that too, right?" My mom doesn't miss a beat, she just shouts back, "DO YOU NEED HELP? WHERE ARE YOU?" But then, it's suddenly super dark outside and everything goes dead silent. Gave me the chills, for real. Mom’s about to call out again, but Dad stands up, all serious, and is like, "Inside. Now." I'll tell you, I've hardly ever seen Mom drop something so fast to follow his lead.
27. Watching...Always Watching
Growing up, my house was just a stone's throw away from the corner, and behind us, there was this house with a massive privacy fence. We never bothered closing the blinds in the breakfast room since it faced the backyard, you know? So there I am, chowing down on my cereal, doing the whole '90s thing where you read the box because smartphones weren't a thing yet. It was still dark outside since it was crazy early.
I'm sitting there, and I can see my reflection in the window, right? As it gets a bit lighter, I start to make out the swing set right there in the yard. But as it gets lighter, I’m like, something’s off. The swing set looks super weird. And then it dawns on me… there's some creep on the swing, just eyeing me while I’m munching on my Cheerios. I totally freaked and just yelled for my lifeline, "DAAAAAAAAD!!!!!!"
Dad rushed in like a superhero, but the peeper had already bolted. Get this, a couple of years later, we found out it was the cop's kid from around the block. Turned out, he’d been getting his jollies spying on the whole neighborhood for ages.
28. The Place Under The Stairs
Not too long ago, when I was still hitting the books pretty hard at school, I rented this super old house with a couple of buddies. I snagged the basement as my pad and they were camped out upstairs. Man, some weird stuff went down when I was living there. First off, I had this new pup, only four months old, and sometimes, right after I’d hit the off switch on the TV for the night, he’d start fussing and growling at one corner like he’d seen a ghost or something.
He normally wouldn’t dare jump on my bed – rules are rules – but when he got spooked, he’d leap up and snuggle right up against me, eyes glued to that creepy corner. This freaky routine happened maybe five times in four months. But the real chills came just as the semester was wrapping up, right when I was about to peace out of there.
There was this tiny door under the stairs, straight out of a horror flick, leading to this little hole with a dirt floor. And for added spook factor, there was this ancient-looking piece of wood nailed inside that seemed like a chunk of a map or something. We always kept this one chair jammed in front of it, where I'd dump my coats, but we’d moved it the night before for some pals who came over.
Cut to me, it's around 8 pm, I'd just come down from raiding the fridge, and I'm about to head into my room when that little door under the stairs creaks open so slow, with this sound that could wake the dead, I’m telling you. I froze right there, could've been a statue, just waiting for some boogeyman to pop out.
I swear, I stood there for a solid five minutes, scared out of my mind. Finally, I bolted into my room, locked the door, and nearly threw my phone at my face trying to call my roommate to make sure I wasn’t alone. Ended up camping out in her room the rest of the night because there was no way I was going back downstairs alone.
I know what you're thinking: "It's just the wind" or "It's because you were stomping around upstairs." My roommates tried that line on me too. But nah, I've been spooked before, but this was next-level terror. The second I heard that creak and saw the door swing open, it was like every horror movie I’ve ever seen come to life. I just felt it, you know? Like something was in there with me, and it wanted me to watch that door open.
29. Backyard Lurker
I was 13 and pedaling over to my friend’s place like any other school day. My bike was practically part of me, and I’d always ditch it by her pool in the backyard. But this day, as I’m about to do my usual, my friend starts frantically waving at me from her porch. I thought, “Weird,” because her folks weren’t exactly fans of our bikes lying around, and their cars were gone, but whatever, I rolled up to her, and we hightailed it inside.
She didn’t waste a second, locked the door behind us, and hit up 9-1-1. Turns out, while she was in her room playing look-out for me, she caught some creeper hiding right by the pool, exactly where I would’ve chucked my bike. Freaky, right? I could've been nabbed. As soon as the cops showed up, the dude bolted and they never did catch him.
30. The Shadows
When I hit 14, life decided to throw us a curveball, and my family ended up getting booted from our place. We ended up in this emergency house thanks to a charity. It was a steal at 100 bucks a month, but we only had it for three months. That summer was extra weird because my mom and stepdad were on a break, and my siblings were bouncing back and forth between us.
The place? Super creepy vibes. During the day, it was just a niggling feeling like you’re not alone. Creeped me out, but I could shrug it off. But man, as soon as the sun dipped, it was like the haunted house came alive.
I'd hear this weird staticky music that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere, just filling the air. One time, I heard whispering, checked on my sisters and boom, eyes in the closet that just vanished. My bro? He noped out of there after one night. My room was no escape either.
There was this mirror on the wall, and sometimes, I’d flip over to face the window and catch these tall, shadowy dudes strutting back and forth in the reflection. My mom’s room wasn’t any better; those shadows got their steps in, circling her bed while we just watched, totally freaked.
Then there was this lunar eclipse. I was stoked to see it, but the minute I stepped outside, this wave of dread hit me hard. I looked up when the moon was all hidden, but something yanked my attention to the left. Saw these three lanky shadows cruising between the pines and bolted back to my room, diving under my covers.
Three long months of this stuff. We finally moved out when summer wrapped up. Mom and stepdad patched things up, and the siblings and I were all back together. We all agreed, that house on Acorn Street? Total nightmare fuel. Still gives us the willies whenever we pass it.
31. Dobby, Is That You?
Over in the ex-USSR countries, there’s this belief that every house has its own goblin, sort of like a household buddy or a pain, depending on whether you get on its good side. They even made cartoons about it! Now, not everyone’s buying the whole goblin thing, but then you have folks like my mom who totally do. She’s even into leaving out snacks for our invisible housemate—think milk and cookies.
Here’s why she’s convinced: when I was just a knee-high to a grasshopper in the late 80s, she tucked me into bed and then walked into the living room to find a fruit party had exploded—grapes chilling on the TV, peaches lounging on the couch, an apple playing solo on the floor. Just her and me at home, so she’s pretty sure the house goblin turned fruit ninja on us.
And there’s more. One day she walks into the kitchen, and the stove glass looks like it’s had a really bad day—shattered into a bazillion pieces. But here’s the kicker: it’s all tidied up into a neat little pile. No one else home but two-year-old me. So, no toddler shenanigans there. She’s had enough of these weird episodes that now she’s all about making nice with the house goblin every time we land in a new place.
32. Something In Common
I've been seeing people that, let's just say, aren't on the same plane as the rest of us, since I could pretty much talk. My folks were a bit wigged out by it, so they had me chatting with shrinks and such during my angsty teen years to make sure I wasn't dealing with schizophrenia or anything like that. Eventually, I started getting these messages from the other side and linked up with some ghost-hunting types to give them a hand.
I'm not just talking about vague shadows here; I can detail these specters down to the buttons on their coats. And, go figure, a couple of these persistent phantoms have been tailing me for ages. This one time, I was at this convention, dragged along by a buddy to see some medium do her psychic spiel. I'm the first to raise an eyebrow at that stuff, but hey, this time I was kind of thrown for a loop.
The psychic was up there doing her thing, and out of nowhere, she calls me out and makes me stand. And she's spot on about this spirit she says is sticking to me, describes her like she's right there in HD. And then, on another day, I'm just strolling to my cosmetology class when a classmate’s boyfriend who's dropping her off totally zeroes in on me and grabs her arm like he's seen a ghost—literally.
She fills me in later, saying her man has the same people-seeing party trick and he caught sight of a whole entourage ghosting me in the parking lot. And I'm just like, "I know; don't worry. They don't bother me most of the time."
33. Shower Time
So, there I was one night, waking up at 1 am to the sound of the shower running. I'm lying there thinking it's gotta be my brother, who usually comes in late 'cause of his night shifts, taking his after-work shower. It's going on for like half an hour and I’m wondering what on earth he's doing in there for so long. Finally, curiosity wins and I check it out, only to find the shower's on full blast, but no one’s there. My brother hadn’t even come back yet, and it's just me at home.
To this day, I've got zero clue who or what cranked that shower on. It's been nearly five years, and it still freaks me out big time. Man, just typing this up makes me wanna light up the whole house.
34. Don’t Talk About It
Back when I was about five or six, up in northern Alberta, my uncle was in charge of keeping an eye on me one day. He called me in for lunch, and I'm just sitting there, munching away in front of these big glass doors, when the dogs start going nuts outside. I look over and see this tall, weird figure. My kiddo brain figured it was the Grinch – because, hey, no one ever told me the Grinch wasn't a real critter, so I wasn't even scared seeing that thing lurking around. Turns out, my uncle caught sight of it too, but we just never talked about it... not until like 17 years later.
35. Plain Evidence
So, I was raised out in the sticks, surrounded by nothing but nature. We've got this massive stretch of land, complete with a ridge and this big ol' hill. One time, my cousins and I were adventuring way deep in the woods, and we stumbled upon this old white shirt. It was all stained with blood and hanging off a branch – kinda gave us the creeps. We figured maybe it was some hunter's shirt gone rag or something. But as we kept poking around, we found a pair of shoes.
And that's not all – there were socks, shorts, and undies shoved into this grimy freezer bag that was all moldy and dirty. The stuff looked like it might fit a small woman. We hightailed it out to get our uncles to check it out, and man, they were all chill until they actually saw the stuff. They just left everything as it was and were like, "Stay out of the woods for a bit, okay?" After that, nobody really brought it up again. But thinking about it now, that whole scene was majorly sketchy.
36. Home Sweet Home
This one time when I was like seven or something, I tagged along with my mom to her bestie’s place in some other city. It was just us three, nobody else. But here's the kicker – while I was there, I kept seeing this family just strolling around the house. They looked really burnt and they were fixated on me, which was super weird. There was a mom, a teen dude, and a couple of little girls. They even told me, “Come with us,” which I brushed off 'cause I figured they were just some other guests or something.
Fast forward a bunch of years, and I mention this to my mom, right? She chats about it with her friend, and man, does she drop a bombshell. Turns out, they had to bail on that house 'cause it was straight-up haunted central. She’d find her baby’s toys all out and about at night after she’d cleaned up, stuff would move on its own, and she'd wake up to see the sofa looking like someone crashed there overnight.
She even grilled her hubby about it, thinking he was messing with her, but nope, he was freaked out too.
37. Shadows and Silhouettes
Three years back, we moved into this place and decided, "Let's not stick a TV in the bedroom. We'll chill in the living room instead and give the kids their own space." That was pretty sweet for the first half a year or so. But then, I started to get this weird vibe from the living room at night. The lighting was off and it bugged me—like, the shadows weren't playing nice, always shuffling around.
I kept it to myself for a bit, all these odd noises and stuff, until I couldn't anymore. I told my other half, and boy, was he glad to hear he wasn't the only one noticing things. It totally looked like someone was pacing behind us on the couch, and sometimes, you'd catch a glimpse of a shape or something on the TV screen.
Now? We're pretty much nope-ing out of the living room when it's dark. But here's the kicker: we've got this spooky shadow that hangs out in our bedroom doorway. It's like this tall, dark figure just loitering there, but never comes all the way in. Totally gives us the heebie-jeebies. Even our pets are giving it the side-eye.
38. Blink And You’ll Miss It
It’s eight years back, and I’m chilling in my two-bed apartment with my two furballs. My girlfriend Elsa—that’s not her real name, but let’s roll with it—she’s usually over at her college, like 45 minutes away. But on weekends, she’d cruise over to my place and we’d hang until her Monday classes. We’re just doing our usual couple thing, not seeing each other much during the week and all.
So it’s Saturday night, and we’re posted up on the couch at 11 pm, diving into some flick—I totally blank on which one. We're just lounging, wide awake and totally clear-headed, having caught some z’s in the morning. We’re cracking jokes, yakking away, all cozy. The TV’s doing its thing, lighting up our little nook, and I’ve got the kitchen light on too, just for that nice glow in the room.
The kitties are snoozing on their throne, and everything’s smooth sailing. Out of nowhere, this crazy “Jump” goes down. You know how movies flip between cameras to show whoever’s talking? It's all smooth and instant, right? That's how this felt.
One second we're all laughs in the living room, and then boom—I'm parked on the edge of my bed in the pitch black, not a stitch of clothing on. My brain’s firing off a gazillion thoughts a second. Did something conk me on the head? Did I just blank out? Was I dreaming? And where the heck is Elsa? That’s when I hit panic mode.
I look over, and there's Elsa, right next to me, looking like she's seen a ghost, shaking like crazy. I'm in the same boat, trying to spit out words but only managing to stutter. Once it sinks in that we're not, you know, dead or anything, she whispers, "What happened?"
I didn't even want to open my mouth, thinking maybe it was just me tripping out, and I didn't want to sound like a lunatic. So I just stared at her. Then she's like, "Did you turn the lights off? Did you take our clothes off? Do you even know what's going on?" And man, I’m just as lost as she is.
We felt fine, no hangover vibes, no aches or anything—just scared out of our minds. I go for my phone, thinking maybe we need a doc, and that’s when I see it’s not 11 pm anymore—it’s 3 am. Four hours had gone MIA in that snap-of-a-finger moment.
The whole place is shut down, and we’re both in our birthday suits. We bolt to the ER thinking maybe there’s a gas leak or something. But the docs find zilch—no toxins, no bumps or bruises. Elsa even gets her head scanned, and it's all clear. I went Sherlock Holmes after that, digging into gas leaks, food poisoning, you name it.
What bugged me the most was that Elsa and I, we lost and found time together, like to the second, four hours apart. And there's nothing after—no aftereffects, nada. I couldn’t drop it, kept hassling Elsa about it, scouring forums online for any kind of clue.
Elsa, she’d freak every time I brought it up, just begging me to drop it. But I was hooked on finding out what went down. I'm no author or anything, so maybe I'm missing some details that would paint the full picture, show just how bizarre and heavy this whole deal was for Elsa and me. So, come on, someone’s gotta have a clue about what happened to us.
39. Let Me In
I’ve got this story from when I was around eight that still gives me the creeps. So one night, I was doing the usual—letting my dogs in from the garden. It’s around 9 p.m., and it’s super dark out. I pop the door open real quick, and my dogs just zoom inside. I slam the door shut and lock it tight, but right then, someone on the other side yanks on the handle, trying to get in.
40. The Break-In
This one time about a decade ago, in a different town, different state, I was up super late—like, pushing 4 in the morning late. Just chilling on a couch, munching on donuts with my then-boyfriend and a couple of our friends. We're all crammed in this extra back room of his place, pretty much just a couch in there, behind the kitchen and it leads to the backyard and basement.
There's this new mattress propped up in the kitchen, ready to move into the bedroom the next day, taking up all the space. You couldn't even grab a glass of water or zap something in the microwave, but there was this little blue nightlight that was on, giving off a glow. The rest of the house was all dark, right? Out of the blue, I see one of the cats jump down from the counter and bolt, which made me look into the kitchen.
And dude, I spot this shadow on the wall, lit up all eerie by the nightlight. I just froze, seriously freaked out. The shadow looked like some short, bald guy, being all sneaky—ducking and dodging, then booking it into the front living room. My brain’s screaming, "Crap, is someone breaking in?" I thought I was catching a glimpse of some creeper running by outside through the window.
So I'm freaking out to everyone, and as I'm talking, it hits me—there's no way I'm seeing a shadow from outside cast by an inside nightlight, especially not behind a huge mattress. And for the shadow to be that big, this outside peeper would’ve had to be like a giant or something. My heart was about ready to jump out of my chest.
41. A Lonely Departure
There was this one time I was out tearing through the Vermont mountains on my four-wheeler with a buddy, just having a blast, right? Suddenly my gas light flicks on and we're like, "Oh, snap!" We decide to book it straight down, skipping the trail to save on gas. But a little ways down, we stop for a breather.
There's this light dusting of snow everywhere, and as we're just standing there, we notice something super weird—just a pair of boots poking out of the snow. And then, it hits us... there's a whole body attached.
We're freaking out, pedal to the metal all the way down the mountain, and we ring up the local cops asap. Then we have to lead them back up to the chilling spot. They dig out a guy who had, sadly, shot himself. It was all sorts of intense. They had to strap the frozen body to something and then trek back down. Wild day, that was.
42. Horsing Around
My friend used to live in this kinda out-there, semi-rural spot when this wild thing happened. One night, out of the blue, the cops show up at her door. They're like, "Hey, just so you know, we're hunting down this guy who might be dangerous. We're gonna check your property, but you should totally lock up and keep an eye out." She's nodding along, a bit freaked out, right?
But get this, she only finds out later what the dude actually did. Turns out, he went full-on wild on a horse at some local barn. Like, the horse ends up with a busted leg and amidst all the chaos, the guy just vanishes into thin air. They finally catch the dude two days later, all holed up in a stormwater drain. Crazy stuff, huh?
43. The Ranch
Back when I was a little tyke, like six years old, my family was living out in this wild patch of the Southern California desert, right next to a Cahuilla reservation. We had this ranch with a few acres to call our own, butting right up against this small mountain. Now, my room, it had these big ol' windows that faced the mountain, which meant come nighttime, it was pitch-black outside. To cut through the darkness, we rigged up a motion sensor light over the back door, which you could see from my window. That door, it opened into a room we never used, but anyone who'd drop by would think it was the main entrance.
So there I am one night, trying to catch some Zs, when I hear this scratchy tapping on the window. It spooks me awake, and what do I see? These glowing yellow eyes and this big, dark, canine-like figure. Sure, we had coyotes, but this thing was huge, like a small man huge, and we didn't have wolves or anything like that. Plus, our family dog was a border collie, not even close in size.
We just locked eyes for what felt like forever. I'm rooted to the spot, and this thing? Just dead still. Then it starts scratching at the window again and marches—yeah, on two legs—over to the back door and tries the knob. The porch light blinks on, and there it is, this massive furry dog-man, just trying to invite itself in. That's when my heart really starts hammering.
I bolt out of my room, snag our Winchester from the living room—yeah, we kept a rifle in the case just chilling there—and dash back to my room. And would you believe it? That creature is still there, just peering in. It catches sight of the rifle and just takes off into the dark. I never found out exactly what that thing was. Heard about “Skinwalkers” way later, but I never breathed a word of this to my folks. You better believe, though, that Winchester stayed by my bed for a good while after that night.
44. The Great Escape
There I was, fresh off the high of a New York Giants game, just 12 years old and buzzing with that post-game energy. We're cruising by this creepy row of old, abandoned factories, and man, what I saw next was straight out of a spooky flick. There's this teenager, right? Dressed in what could only be called rags, with chains—yeah, actual chains—wrapped around him. He's limping away from one of those decrepit factories like he's just dodged the final scene in a slasher film.
I whipped my head around to tell my buddy's dad who was driving us, but by the time I got his attention, we were already too far past to get a good look. The whole thing was just bizarre. I mean, it's burned into my brain because what I saw that day... it was dead serious.
45. A Bloodcurdling Scream
My little bro and I were out there in the sticks, our backyard basically being 30 acres of woods that looked like something out of a wilderness survival show. We were tossing a baseball back and forth as the light was getting all moody and twilight-y. We were right on the brink of calling it a day when suddenly, bam! This blood-curdling scream rips through the quiet.
It was like nothing we'd ever heard before, straight out of a scene from the freakiest horror flick you could imagine. Think of the most hair-raising, spine-chilling scream a woman in a scary movie belts out—yeah, it was worse than that. Even thinking about it now, after all these years, I get the whole goosebump festival on my arms and a shiver down my spine.
Turns out, it was a mountain lion, specifically a lady mountain lion in the mood for love, if you catch my drift. Apparently, they sound like a woman meeting a grisly end when they're calling for a mate. Knowing that doesn't make it any less creepy, though. Picture this: two kids, by themselves, in the shadowy woods, hearing that kind of noise. Nightmare material, right there.
46. Wafting Through The Window
I was out living in the boonies, surrounded by nothing but trees and the kind of quiet you can only get when you're miles away from the nearest anything. It was one of those warm summer nights that just beg you to keep the windows wide open. There I was, just me, a gal on her own, when all of a sudden this wave of men's cologne comes drifting in. I mean, it was so strong, I felt like I was swimming in the stuff. And let me tell you, it freaked me out big time. I never moved so fast in my life, slamming those windows shut and locking them like my life depended on it.
47. Sick Or Seeing
There was this one time I was completely out of it, sick as a dog. I was pretty much playing this loop-de-loop game of conking out, waking up to pop some painkillers, munch on whatever I could stomach, and then zonking out again. But then, get this, I blink awake at like 2 or 3 in the morning, and there's this shadow dude just chilling at the foot of my bed. I'm staring at this thing, trying to figure out if I'm seeing things 'cause, you know, it's the middle of the night and I'm sick, but it's just sitting there, all shadowy and still, looking my way but with no details 'cause it's too dark.
And it's not just me! I was chatting with my cousin one day and she totally saw this shadow figure too. She told me about this time it moseyed off toward the garage, and she got this bright idea to follow it. But guess what? The thing just up and vanished on her. Wild, right?
48. The "Get Out" Run
I'm out at this crossroad, right? And when I say 'middle of nowhere', I mean like, if nowhere had a backyard, this would be it. So, I pull over to check my phone 'cause, you know, no one wants to text and drive. Anyway, I glance up and holy moly, there's this dude sprinting at my car like he's going for gold at the Olympics or something.
I didn't wait around to see what his deal was. I hit the gas so fast and peeling out of there like a bat out of heck. And in my rearview? This guy's still on my tail, arms waving like he's trying to flag down a plane or something. Mind you, this is happening a zillion miles from the closest dot of civilization, smack dab in the thick of a creepy forest, and the clock's just ticked past 3 am. Yeah, it was one of those 'nope' moments.
49. An About Face
I had this super weird thing happen today that's still got me a bit rattled. I was at this ear-nose-throat doc's office 'cause my throat was acting up. We're wrapping up my appointment, and the doc's scribbling out my prescriptions when suddenly, there's this knock-knock on the door. Some dude barges in without even waiting for a 'come in' or anything.
This guy was tall, had that kinda slouchy posture, maybe in his 30s or 40s, rocking the balding-blond look, decked out in jeans and a checkered shirt. I pegged him for the next patient, itching to get his turn, so I only gave him a quick once-over before looking away. The doc's not having it, though. She's like, “Sir, could you please wait outside? I’ll call you back in a few minutes,” without missing a beat on her prescription pad.
But the man didn't budge right off the bat. He just kinda hovered in the doorway. That's when, outta the corner of my eye, I see something off-the-charts weird about his face, like it changed when I wasn't looking. I had to do a double-take.
And man, what I saw was straight-up bonkers. His face was doing this bizarre glitchy dance, like when your video stream goes haywire. It was all shades of pink, kinda distorted and pixel-y. It was like catching a glitch in the matrix or something. But then the guy hightails it out of there before I can really wrap my head around what I'm seeing.
As he turns to leave, I see his profile, and it's like his face is flat, no joke, like a Lego dude. This whole thing was so out of left field that my brain didn’t even know what to make of it. I tried to shrug it off as sleep deprivation or some trick of the light.
Then, the doc and I lock eyes. She stops mid-prescription and asks, kinda unsure, “Did you see it? His face…” And I'm like, “Yeah,” but we just left it at that. She gets back to the paperwork, I head out, feeling a tad woozy. And the man? He's chilling in the hall on his phone, face all back to normal, like nothing ever happened. Weird, right?
50. Should They Stay Or Should They Go
I was in my early 20s, and let's just say I was on the hunt for some, uh, party favors. My buddy's girl claimed she had a connect and since I was just visiting, I ended up driving us out to this shack in the sticks. We get there, and this dude swings open the door, all smiles and welcomes us in. Everything’s chill at first. I score what I came for and I'm ready to bounce... but the host isn't having it.
He’s like, “Hang for a bit, will ya?” Then he insists we try this candy he’s got from his home country. I'm all for being polite, so I give it a shot—turns out to be this guava-flavored thing wrapped in banana leaves. Just my luck, I can't stand guava. Trying to keep it cool, I’m like, “Hey man, it’s not really my jam,” but he takes it mega personal.
Next thing we know, we're parked on his couch and he's got us watching “Goodfellas.” We’re about half an hour in when the guy takes a little detour and comes back brandishing a freakin' machete. He's ranting about how it's so sharp he could, “cut a man in half, it’s so sharp,” and he’s waving it around like he’s auditioning for a slasher film. I’m just sitting there, turning to stone, throwing eye signals at my buddy’s girlfriend because she's our ticket out of Crazyville.
I’m not even kidding, I was scared stiff. It’s like my body hit the mute button on fear. I'm running on pure adrenaline, just waiting for a chance to bolt. Finally, she pipes up, talking to Machete Man, and says we gotta jet. I'll never forget the look on his face, this wild, calculating stare like he’s thinking, “Should I let them go? Or...” But then he slaps on this wonky grin and goes, “Sure.”
And just like that, we were out, leaving machete man and his guava candies behind. Craziest night ever, I swear.
51. A Lingering Noise
Me and my mom were just chilling in our backyard. I know, it sounds super weird, but we were out there at 3 am—don’t ask why. Everything's all quiet and then, outta nowhere, we hear these whispers coming from the woods. Not gonna lie, it freaked us both out. We weren't about to stick around for a chit-chat, so we hustled back to the house.
But here's where it got super creepy. We make it inside, right? And we're doing this ninja walk around the house, peeking out the windows, and I kid you not, that whispering noise is like following us. Like it’s got GPS on us or something. We checked every corner, expecting to find someone, but nope, nothing—just that eerie whispering playing tag with us.
Never did figure out what that was all about. Just one of those things, I guess—whispers in the night and two spooked night owls rushing for cover.
52. The Giving Ghost
I was tossing and turning in bed, just trying to catch some sleep when suddenly, this super creepy voice inside my head goes, “I’ll do it for you.” And I'm like, hold up—I definitely did not think that. I’m as sane as they come and my brain at that moment was literally just a broken record of 'gotta sleep, gotta sleep.'
I’m not gonna lie, it totally freaked me out. So there I am, pinching myself, trying to make sure I’m not dreaming or something. I even talk to myself, like “C'mon, say it again if you're real.” And would you believe it? For like the 20th time, clear as day, “I’ll do it for you.” It's just looping in my head!
But you know what? After a couple of minutes, I just shrugged it off. I guess my mind was just pulling some late-night pranks on me or something. So, I just settled back down, snuggled into my pillow, and before I knew it, I was out like a light.
53. Flowers Of Evil
My grandma has this spooky tale that still gives her the heebie-jeebies. Back in the day, when my grandpa was still around, she got jolted awake one night by the sound of something going crash downstairs. She nudged grandpa, practically shoving him out of bed, and was like, "Honey, you gotta go check this out." So there he goes, trudging down the stairs, baseball bat in hand, ready for whatever.
And guess what? Right there in the middle of the living room was their flower pot, shattered into a million pieces. But here’s the kicker – it was a good 20 feet away from its usual spot.
Not a speck of dirt in sight to tell the tale of how it got there; just lay there smashed, smack dab in the middle of the floor. It's like it just lifted up and dropped from the sky or something. Weird,
54. Halloween Story
I was 14, and it was Halloween, the perfect time for a bonfire. My friend had this epic setup in his backyard, big space, woods all around – the whole shebang. During a little break from the marshmallow roasting and spooky stories, I wander off to a bush to, you know, answer nature's call.
I'm mid-stream when something catches my eye over in the trees, about 50 yards off. I snap my head around – nothing there. Shrug it off, right? But then, out of the corner of my eye, there it is again: a huge, shadowy figure. Look directly at it? Gone. Spooky stuff.
I remembered this nugget from science class: our peripheral vision can be super sharp in the dark. So, I try this trick, not looking straight at it, and dude, my heart practically stops. There's definitely someone or something just pacing the woods' edge, creeping on us by the fire. Freaked out, I bolt back to the crew and spill the beans.
The host kid wastes no time, books it to his dad. Next thing, his dad's out like a cowboy, gun and all, making a beeline for the woods. But he finds zilch. Nothing. I mean, could my eyes have been messing with me? Maybe. But man, I'm pretty darn sure I saw some lurker shadowing us. And it’s just so bizarre, because, like, who hangs around in the sticks, watching a bunch of kids at a bonfire? Creepsville, population that dude.
55. The Ghosts Of Christmas’ Pasts
Okay, throwback to 11 years ago. My ex and I were living on the fringes of the city in this ancient apartment complex that used to bunk Navy folks back in World War I times. So, it's Christmas Eve, right? And the vibe is straight-up Dickensian because all our neighbors have jetted off to spend the night with their families.
We're snuggled up in bed, just clicked off the lights, when suddenly upstairs, clear as a bell, we hear a door swing open. Mind you, this is a fourplex with one of those old-school staircases in the middle, so sound travels. After the door snaps shut, we hear the distinct sound of footsteps, two sets, making their way down those stairs and then - bam - the hallway door creaks.
Then, out of the silent night, a whisper cuts through, "Aww, let's come back later. They're already asleep." My ex and I are frozen, adrenaline pumping. I'm like, "Hey, the front door's closer to you," hinting she should check it out. But she's having none of it, throws back, "Screw that, you're the protector here."
So there I am, aluminum bat in hand, creeping toward the entryway, my ex practically riding piggyback, trying to peek over my shoulder. And guess what? Both the deadbolt and the knob are still locked up tighter than Fort Knox.
56. Mystery Music
Outta nowhere, this music shop pops up in my little town like some kind of fairy tale. I’ve been strolling these streets for a solid three years and, I kid you not, this place was like it just apparated straight outta thin air.
I wander in, right? And there’s this dude with a single bass guitar. Now, I’ve got a thing for bass guitars, so I pick it up, give it a whirl, and bam, it’s love at first strum. I walk out of there, bass in hand, lighter in wallet, feeling pretty darn good.
Cut to the next week, I'm back in town, and would you believe it, the store’s gone. Vanished. Like it decided to pack up and ghost everyone. The place is just an empty shell, all dusty windows and silence, looking like it hadn’t seen customers in ages.
But hey, now I’ve got this shiny new bass, so you know what? I’m down with the whole 'spooky ghost store' vibe.
57. Mr. Sandman
A while back, I got hooked on this app, right? It’s called Sleep as Android, fancy stuff. I even splurged on the premium because why not? It had this cool feature where it'd record any noise at night if it got loud enough—my snoring, or if I tossed and turned a bunch. I'd chill the next night, scrolling through the sounds it caught. It was all regular, everyday sleep noise, until one night, something seriously freaky went down.
It was early April, and I had the place all to myself. Just another night, you know? But as I'm listening back through the app, my snoring gets cut by this sound that makes my skin crawl—my doorknob jiggling. And then, clear as day, you can hear my door creak open. Man, I was equal parts confused and freaked out. Checked everything; the place was still locked tight, no sign of anyone popping in, and my landlord’s not the type to sneak in like some ninja.
After that? Nope, I noped right out of using that app. It's been gathering digital dust on my phone ever since.
58. Down The Rabbit Hole
My mom used to go to all her lady doctor appointments with this OB-GYN downtown Austin, right? This guy had his office on the 5th floor of some hospital building, and there was this nurse slash receptionist, Alison, who was a total gem. When I was a kiddo, tagging along to mom’s appointments was kinda like a mini-adventure. We’d make it a game, trying to spot the office, and the waiting room itself was a trip, all painted up like we’d stepped into a forest.
Alison was basically Mary Poppins to us rugrats, dishing out books and coloring stuff, and even putting up with our lame knock-knock jokes. We’d call her Alison Wonderland, and she never seemed to mind. Fast forward a bunch of years, I’m all grown up, married, and got a bun in the oven. Time to find my own OB, right?
Mom suggests checking out her old doctor, the one who was practically fresh out of med school when I was born. But here’s the kicker: the guy’s name is nowhere in the hospital directory. Weird. But hey, I’m not one to give up easy, so I figure I’ll just swing by the old office, especially since mom's in town and we're all feeling nostalgic.
We get to the building, all ready to take a walk down memory lane, and bam—we hit a snag. There’s no 5th floor. Huh. Must’ve remembered wrong, right? So, we head to the top floor we can find, which is the fourth. But no dice, no office. We're scratching our heads, thinking maybe we got the wrong place, but nope, we took the same old path from the same old parking garage we used two decades ago.
Turns out, this doctor, this Alison Wonderland, might as well be ghosts. They don’t exist, at least not according to anyone else. Mom, my bro, and I? We remember them clear as day. We’ve asked around, even poked the hospital staff for info, and nada. Checked our birth certificates, too, and they just say "Attending physician." So here we are, with this shared family memory of people and places that supposedly never were. How's that for a mystery?
59. My House
I was seven, and it was one of those nights where I wake up and my ear is just killing me. Figuring I should get some of that magical mom-care, I tiptoe out of my room, right? There, in the dark, someone's chilling on the chair in the living room. Now, it’s super dim, and my seven-year-old eyes are squinting, trying to make out who it is. “Mom?” I whisper. But this figure just shakes their head. Goosebumps city! I try again, “Mike?” hoping it’s my stepdad. Nope, another shake of the head.
That’s my cue—no way am I walking past this shadowy figure. I ninja my way back to bed, tucking myself in like I’m about to win a gold medal in the ‘hide under your blankets’ Olympics. I barely blink, and bam, the figure’s in my doorway, grinning like the Cheshire Cat and nodding like they’re at some silent disco.
Cue the freakout—I let out a scream that could wake the dead. My stepdad comes barreling out, baseball bat in hand, ready for the majors. But the room’s empty, except for the clothes that used to be neatly folded on the chair, now looking like they had their own little party in the living room.
60. Get Out Of The Way
I was on the USS Ranger, smack in the middle of the Pacific, winter '91. We're cruising from San Diego to Japan, and I'm on the hunt for some mid-rats because my stomach's growling like a grumpy bear. I'm weaving my way through the ship, right? And I hit deck nine's ladder well.
Now, I didn't think much of it at the time, but as I climb out at the forward mess decks, I’m met with a bunch of sailors looking like they've seen a ghost. Literally. They're all bug-eyed and jittery, asking me, “Did you see it?” I'm clueless, just thought I'd bumped into some foreign sailor because the dude was decked out in some old-timey navy getup.
But man, the story these guys had would send shivers down your spine. Turns out, I had a brush with the ship's legendary ghost—decked out in the same US Navy working duds he wore 40 years ago. He was just standing there, by the hatch, gazing into nothingness, sporting a white beard, clutching his dark blue sailor hat, and rocking those three chevrons on his dungaree shirt.
And me? I was just standing there, waiting for the guy to make a move so I could grab some grub. But he's frozen like a statue. My belly’s not patient, so I eventually just mutter, “Excuse me,” sidestep the guy, and head on to feed the beast. Little did I know, I'd just casually walked past the ship’s own maritime myth.
61. Straight Out Of A Horror Film
So, I'm clocking hours at the college info desk for AV duties, right? And it's never a solo gig; there's always another buddy on shift with me. It’s nearing the end of the day, 9:50 pm ticking close, when this girl comes hustling up to us. She's all worked up about some freaky noise she caught on her way out of the planetarium. Says it's coming from down the hallway, just around the bend from our little outpost.
She’s halfway down the spooky corridor when the lights start doing this horror flick stutter dance, and then bam, she spots what looks like blood droplets leading into the darkness. She nopes right out of there, quick.
We're thinking it's gotta be some prankster's spilled energy drink or something. But hey, we're no cowards, so off we go to play detective. The minute we hit the scene, chills. It's like we stepped onto the set of a slasher movie—lights flickering on low power, the whole wing casting eerie shadows.
And there’s this door, cracked open at the end, with this clang and rattle sneaking out from behind it. We eyeball this trail of 'blood', but it's all wrong. It’s more pumpkin than pomegranate, you know? Not the legit blood hue. Just as we're leaning in, this big bang echoes out of nowhere, and that's our cue—exit stage left!
We hightail it back and hit up the campus officers on the radio, quick to bolt the info desk shut after spilling the beans to them. And you know what? We never did get the scoop on that mystery.
62. Sleepover
Back when I was seven, I had the room-sharing gig with my sis. Only this one night, she was out at a sleepover and I was solo. Now, let me tell you, I was that kid who could freak out over a cartoon ghost, so I was miles away from braving through any sort of horror flick. Even “The Nightmare Before Christmas” was off-limits. And the dark? Yeah, it was like my arch-nemesis.
Nightmares were pretty much part of my nightly routine, which made everyone chalk up what happened to just another bad dream. But this? This was something else. It was like HD real in the middle of my SD life. I'm cowering under my covers, cause that’s what you do when you're a scaredy-cat, right? And then I go for a little peek because, frankly, my face is hot, and what I need is a gulp of cool night air.
And bam, there it is. Something straight out of the ‘nope’ pile. My brain, which hadn't even graduated to Goosebumps yet, labels it an alien, because honestly, what else could it be? Nowadays, I’d say it's more like the Rake or Mothman’s distant cousin. Picture this: a big ol’ noggin, like those classic Area 51 specials, but perched on this scrawny, stick-figure body. No clothes, skin all shades of ghastly, and it's under nightclub lighting, so who can really tell the color?
It's like a walking anatomy chart, everything’s visible. And there’s its manhood, just kinda there. Its mitts? Way too big for its spindly arms, like it borrowed them from another creature. And it’s angled all kinds of wrong, like gravity’s got a vendetta against it. But those eyes, dude, those peepers were deep space black, no stars, just shiny as if polished. They’re the only thing popping on its blank canvas face, set in these reddish hollows. And it’s just... staring. At me.
Frozen like a popsicle, I finally snap back and yoink the sheets over my head. What's a kid to do? There I stayed, a blanket burrito until sleep mercifully hit. Next day, I'm all about sharing my close encounter with the folks and they’re handing me the dream card. I was kind of a mini fiction factory back then, so I get the skepticism.
But this one? This memory’s glued to the inside of my skull. Whatever I saw wasn’t wearing a human suit, that’s for sure. Despite now being a bit of a horror junkie, there’s a part of me that’s just fine not putting a name to my childhood visitor.
63. Keeping An Eye Out
Back in the day, I shacked up in this crummy apartment smack in the middle of what you might call "gritty chic" if you were being kind. It was the kind of neighborhood where you weren’t surprised to wake up to the news that we'd kicked off the New Year with a bang – literally, with the first murder on the books right after the ball dropped, just three blocks down.
The joint was perched above this eatery, which wasn't half bad except for the fact that its dumpster was cozying up against our building. This meant anyone with a bit of a spring in their step could vault onto the trash receptacle and waltz onto the roof of the first floor. And wouldn't you know it, that roof was a stone's throw from my bedroom window.
One fine morning, I pull up the blinds and what do I find? An "EYE", buddy. Like someone played Picasso with the dirt on the other side of my window. Creepy stuff. After that little discovery, I relocated to the living room for my nightly sleep, snuggled up with my new best friend, Mr. Hammer.
64. Zombie Town
Me and a buddy were road-tripping from St. Louis to Nashville, right? And wouldn’t you know it, both our phones decided to die at the exact same time. Classic, huh? So there we were, cruising without GPS and, naturally, we took a wrong turn somewhere and stumbled into Cairo, Illinois. Man, that place was another level of bizarre.
It was like we rolled right into an episode of Scooby-Doo, minus the Mystery Machine. Every building looked like it hadn’t seen a paintbrush in a century, all peeling paint and crooked shutters, and the locals... they were just wandering around, aimless, like they were auditioning for "The Walking Dead" or something. Super freaky.
65. Ring, Ring, It’s Me?
I was chilling at home on a quiet evening, when out of the blue my phone starts buzzing. I grab it and, lo and behold, my eyes pop because who's calling? Me. Yup, my own number's flashing on the screen. "Must be some kind of glitch," I think, shrugging it off and hitting 'cancel'.
But then, it rings again. Same deal. I cancel it again, a little eyebrow raise this time. And then, bam, a third time. Okay, now the chills are kicking in. But hey, curiosity's got a grip on me, so I muster up some guts and hit 'answer'. "Hello?" I say. Dead silence. And then, there it is, this heavy, raspy breathing, like someone's trying to whisper from far away. Nope, nope, nope. I'm officially freaked out and I just slam that 'end call' button down.
66. The Thin Man
My folks' place is tucked away from the road, right? You've gotta trek through someone else’s land to get there. Nowadays, that means cruising through this park's parking lot to hit their driveway. Their spot is pretty much a cabin in the woods, but instead of creepy, it's next to a nice park.
Anyway, there I was one night, driving back around 10-ish. As I'm about to pull into their place, I nearly jump out of my skin. I hit the brakes so hard I'm surprised they didn't scream. Coming out of nowhere, there’s this towering, skinny shadow looming in the headlights. I’m not gonna lie, my brain screamed "Slenderman is real, and he’s got a bone to pick with me!"
Frozen for a hot second, my eyes finally adjust to the dark. And guess what? It wasn't anything from the horror flicks. It was just a big ol’ blue heron, all tall and majestic, probably wondering what’s for dinner down by the creek. Man, did it scare the "heck" out of me.
67. Who’s At The Door?
I was lounging on the couch one evening just waiting for my boyfriend to get back from work. He was gonna be home any minute. As I'm chilling, I notice the doorknob starts going all wiggle-wobble and my new puppy just starts freaking out. I'm like, "Cool it, pup," thinking my boyfriend will waltz in before I can even get her to chill.
But weirdly, the door doesn’t budge open. I'm there thinking he’s probably juggling his tools or something, right? Once the pup’s finally not in full meltdown mode, I pop the door open. And it’s like a magic trick – nobody’s there. Huh, weird. Maybe he dashed back to his truck, I thought. So, I close the door and hang tight, waiting.
A few minutes tick by, and I ring him up like, "Hey, where’d you disappear to?" He's all confused, telling me he's been yapping with his mom over at his folks’ house and he's still a solid 15 minutes away.
Now I'm feeling all kinds of spooked but try to laugh it off, figuring my neighbor’s had one too many and tried his key in the wrong door. But then, get this, the next day I hear some wild news. Down the street, some poor soul opened their door and bam – they’re tied up and robbed at gunpoint.
Was it the same person who jiggled my doorknob? No clue. Could that have been me? I shudder to think. I used to just swing the door wide open without a second glance. Talk about naive, right? But thank goodness for my puppy's timing and big kudos to my boyfriend for making me get into the habit of keeping that door locked. That night could've gone way different.
68. Wigged Out
So my 16th birthday rolls around, right? But it's no cake and candles day because my dad's been in a coma for two weeks and that's the day he dies – cancer. After that, my house turned into a scene straight out of a spooky movie, but there's this one bit that still sends shivers down my spine whenever it pops into my head.
It's about half a day before my dad checks out for the last time. He's crashed out on the living room sofa while my mom's bustling around in the kitchen, whipping up something to eat. The rest of the place is dead quiet; it's just the two of them.
Out of nowhere, my dad comes to life, not the peaceful wake-up you’d hope for, but like someone flipped a switch. He's yelling for my mom, loud and freaking out. He's not just ticked off; he's livid, shouting, "Beverly! Don't do that! Don't EVER do that again!" My mom nearly drops her spatula, bolts into the room all wide-eyed and asks what's got him all riled up. And he hits her with this: "Don't do that. Don't walk past me like that in that long, black wig."
I kid you not, sometimes I can't shake the feeling that he wasn't just seeing things. Like maybe, just maybe, he caught a glimpse of the Grim Reaper himself.
69. The Undiscovered Photographer
A few summers back, my sis and I were holding down the fort while the rents and the rest of the squad were out on the town for like half the day. We're just vegging out, watching Dr. Phil, when all of a sudden, we hear this weird jiggle-jiggle sound, like someone's trying to pick the lock. Now, every door in the house was locked tight, so I'm totally baffled. I go on a mini-safari around the house, checking every nook and cranny — nothing. Weird, but okay, false alarm.
Fast forward to the next night, there I am in my room, just lounging around in booty shorts and a sports bra — y'know, as one does — and then, 'click'. It's like background noise at first, doesn't really register. I'm lying there on my bed, facing the window, when 'click', there it is again. This time, it's got my attention. So I tug on a t-shirt real quick and march over to the window, ready to slam it shut, when my eyes catch something panic-inducing. There's this dude, with a camera, lurking outside like some low-budget horror flick villain, and the second he sees me spotting him, he takes off like a bat outta hell.
I let out this blood-curdling scream for my dad, who's instantly in hero mode, tearing down the street after this peeping Tom. And guess what? They actually catch the guy! It gets worse, though. The cops find he's been snapping pics of me doing just about everything, for months! And it's not just me; there are loads of photos of other girls too, all of us underage. They threw the book at him, locked him up.
Now here I am, 17 and every time I spill the beans on this story, I get that icky, gut-wrenching feeling, like eyes are on me, always watching. Creepiest experience of my life, hands down.
70. Bunk Mate
When I was around 13 or 14 years old, I woke up in the middle of the night with the urge to go to the bathroom. But here's the thing, I had a bunk bed with a desk instead of a bottom bunk. And for some reason, I started freaking myself out big time. I mean, I was imagining all sorts of scary scenarios like a man with a knife under my bed or a ghost girl with a torn face in the hallway. You know, the usual freaky stuff.
I tortured myself for a good 20 minutes before finally convincing myself to go to the bathroom. Slowly, step by step, I made my way down the ladder, fully expecting to feel someone grab my foot at any moment. I was on high alert but determined to make it. And then, out of nowhere, my mom suddenly appeared in the hallway and bumped into me. I completely lost it and collapsed in shock. I won't lie, there were tears and unfortunately, there was also pee. Yep, I wet myself right there in the hallway.
My poor mom was stunned and couldn't stop apologizing. But let's be real, she also couldn't stop laughing and teasing me about it afterward. I mean, who can blame her? It was a pretty ridiculous situation. Anyway, needless to say, I was grateful when that night was over and the sun came up.
71. Midnight Visitors
So, I've got this tale about my buddy's dad, Jack — straight-laced guy, not the type to spin yarns, so when he tells a story, you just know it's the real deal. Back in the 80s, Jack and his brother Tom were shacking up together, just the two bros in a house, nobody else.
Now, this one night, Jack's coming home and he strolls into the living room and — get this — it's like he's crashed some geriatric party, a whole bunch of old-timers sitting around yapping away. They all go silent as a graveyard when he walks in, giving him these weird stares as he passes through. No sign of Tom. Jack's thinking Tom's got to handle his, uh, 'elderly entourage,' so he hits the sack 'cause morning's got a job waiting for him. But he's lying there, tossing and turning, 'cause the chatter from the living room's keeping him up.
Finally, he's had enough, steps out to give Tom an earful about his loud friends. And what do you know, he bumps into Tom, groggy and annoyed, coming out of his own room. Tom's gearing up to give Jack the same talk — "Hey, keep your pals down, will ya?" Both are about to lay into each other when it clicks — they're both coming out to tell the other to keep HIS friends quiet.
So, they pad into the living room together, ready for a show down, and... it's dead quiet, not a soul in sight, just this lingering old musty smell in the air. Weird, right?
72. Ghastly Creatures
You wouldn't believe the ghostly shenanigans my family's been dealing with since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. So, this one night, I'm all cozied up in bed, deep in dreamland, and then... knock, knock, knock. I hear this little girl's voice, right? She's all like, "Open the door!!! Let me in, I want to play!! Open the door!!" And I'm lying there, half-thinking it's my sister pulling a late-night prank. But as the sleep fog starts to lift, I realize, nope, this ain't her. This voice is way younger, not a note of teenage sass, just this eerie, childish eagerness. Creepy stuff, huh?
73. Apocalypse Preparedness
I was practically raised in the Colorado Rockies. Me and a buddy of mine, both college kids at the time, decided to hit the trails for a backpacking adventure. It was one of those lazy weekends, perfect for a bit of exploring. We were wandering around the national forest, no real path in mind, a solid three hundred yards away from any marked trail, when we bump into something totally out of an adventure novel—a bunker, mostly buried underground!
It was like someone had sunk a 20-foot Tuff Shed and left just the roof peeking out. We only spotted it because of a sneaky sunbeam reflecting off these two little windows that were covered up with branches and leaves, like someone was playing hide and seek with a giant metal box.
We peeked inside those windows and got an eyeful of a pretty cozy setup—there was a cot, and not just a few snacks, but buckets and tubs of food, plus all sorts of supplies. It looked like someone was planning for the apocalypse or something. Eventually, we found the door, and guess what? There was a chunky padlock keeping it shut tight. That's about when the heebie-jeebies hit, and we decided it was high time to bounce. Meeting the local hermit didn't quite make it onto our weekend wishlist.
74. Weekend Warriors
This is a bit of a wild one from when I was 19 - feels like a lifetime ago, I'm 27 now. Back then, I was still with my high school sweetheart. He lived a couple of towns over, but every weekend was our time. My best bud Jill - she's known my guy Alan since they were knee-high to a grasshopper - worked with me at this medical supply factory, and man, did we cook up some crazy plans for the weekends.
This one time, we plotted an epic weekend adventure. We’d crash at Alan’s on Friday after our shift, then hit the road early Saturday for the day's quest. Friday came, and after punching out, Jill and I swung by our place to grab our guitars and gear for the night. We landed at Alan's, whipped up some frozen pizzas, and jammed out on our guitars while decimating a few game levels on Xbox until midnight.
Knowing we had a dawn start, we decided to call it a night. Jill crashed on the futon in the living room, while Alan and I headed to his room. Exchanging sleepies and night-nights, we all drifted off. Come Saturday morning, I shuffle through to the bathroom, passing by Jill, who mumbles something that sounded like a grouchy “good morning.” I nudged her to get up - it was nearly seven, and adventure was calling!
So there we were, piling into Alan's vintage '92 Taurus, ready to roll. But then, stuff got Twilight Zone weird. We backed out of the driveway - Alan at the wheel, me riding shotgun, and Jill in the back. And then - poof! The next thing we know, Jill and I are backing down the driveway again, but it's 6:30 pm, and we're in her car this time, just getting back.
We’re both all smiles, but then Jill’s face drops as she locks eyes with me. “What just happened?” she asks, and I can tell from her tone she’s not talking about the drive. Suddenly, that good-feeling fog in my brain starts to clear, and a chill runs down my spine because, holy smokes, I can't remember a thing about our day after leaving that driveway.
So we do the only thing that makes sense - we park back at Alan’s and storm up to his door, needing some answers. The door swings open, and Alan's standing there, looking like he's seen a ghost, and just whispers out, “Do you guys remember what just happened?” Nope, not a clue.
We sit down and try to piece together the night and the blur of a morning, but it’s like trying to remember a dream while you're waking up - impossible. We’re all a mess, tears and comfort breaks included, but our memories are just blank.
Here’s the kicker - we all remember planning something for that Saturday adventure. But what it was? Not a single clue. Our checklist was as follows: 1. Drive to Alan's. 2. Sleepover. 3. Early Saturday wake-up. And that's it.
We eventually chilled out enough to joke that it must've been an abduction, 'cause why not? We were all fine, no harm done. Things like this happen, right? Over the years, it pops up in conversation, but it's no biggie now, which is kinda weird considering how shook we were back then. We even call it our “abduction,” with a shrug, even though we're all still clueless about what went down...
75. Night Vision
One night I thought it'd be a cool idea to snag my kid’s night vision goggles. I mean, why not, right? There'd been these spooky howling sounds coming from the woods behind our place, and hey, if these toy goggles actually worked, maybe we'd finally spot the noisy critter. I stepped out, aimed the goggles into the shadowy treeline, and wow - it was like a disco for animal eyes out there. Eyes upon eyes, just staring back at me.
The thing is, in one spot, it looked like there was this trio of peepers huddled together. I'm trying to rationalize, right? Telling myself, "Okay, it’s just a possum with its little possum baby, and you're just not seeing one of the eyes." But then, in a moment that nearly had me toss the goggles into next week, all three of those eyes blinked. In unison. Nope, that was it for me. Night vision and woods? Never again. That three-eyed whatever-it-was can keep its creepy woodland VIP section all to itself.
76. What A Way To Ruin A Night
It was junior year of college, and me and the squad are just completely zoned out on a chill Saturday night, when out of nowhere, there's this hardcore knocking on the door. Not just any knock, but the kind that screams trouble. And all of us are thinking it's gotta be the cops, right? My heart's racing like I'm already picturing my bags packed and my housing gone.
One of the girls, brave soul that she is, heads to the door and what do we see? This wild-haired dude, straight out of a "crazy inventor" movie, and he's missing his pants, of all things, and he’s just hollering for us to let him in. Our brave girl pretty much shrieks, tries to slam the door shut, but this guy, bleeding and all, is half falling over her, babbling a bunch of nonsense with "PLEASE" thrown in for good measure.
Now, my buddy dashes down to help out, and there's me, completely useless, frozen like one of those cartoon housewives on a chair screeching at a mouse. My brain's just looping, "WHAT DO WE DO, WHAT DO WE DO!? OH GOD WHAT DO WE DO!?" and I'm internally yelling about calling the cops but also freaking out like, "I CANT DO IT I'M FREAKING OUT MAN. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MY HANDS!" Finally, one of us gets it together enough to call it in, explaining how this wild, pantless dude is busting into our place.
I'm still upstairs, not moving an inch, while my friend somehow gets the guy outside and is trying to keep the peace until the cavalry arrives. Cops show up, take Mr. Wild Hair away in an ambulance, and we're left there, door closed, back in the living room, trying to process the madness. And someone's like, "Is anyone else not baked at all anymore?" Spoiler: None of us were.
For weeks we'd rehash that night, and I tried to play down how I was basically the 'scaredy-cat statue' of the night. Then, get this, we find out our midnight marauder wasn't some random old homeless dude. Nope. He was a buddy of a buddy who'd gone on a seriously bad trip, ditched his pants, and made a break for it through some field. Life, man. It's wild.
77. Dirty
A year back, I landed this new place. Cozy little number with a quirk I wasn't exactly signing up for. There's this bathroom wall that's got a bit of a mystery—a collection of child-sized handprints. But get this: they're like those secret messages that only show up under a certain light, except these are made by what seems like water damage on the paint. The folks who sold me the house? Clueless. They gave me that whole 'no idea what you're talking about' spiel. How those tiny handprints got there, though, that's one for the books.
78. Peeping Tom
I love running! Every day, like clockwork, five miles. This one time, I'm just cooling down when there’s a knock on my door. Dude my age, about 27, is there asking about the vacant duplex next door. Normal chit-chat—neighborhood, the street vibes, the usual drill.
I'm playing it cool, doing the neighborly thing, but my dinner's on the stove, and I gotta hustle back. "Call the number on the sign," I tell him, trying to wrap things up. But then, out of nowhere, he drops this line: "Wait...do I smell pot? Dude, do you have weed in there?" I'm like, "No, I'm cooking salmon." And he goes, "Oh, cause if you were, I'd be totally down with that. By the way, you've got really nice pecs. Do you work out a lot?"
"Yeah, I guess...look, I really gotta go. If you have questions about the duplex, call the number on the sign," I brush him off. I watch him drive away and I’m dialing my landlord before you can say 'creepy'. "Don't let him rent next door," I say. Fast forward a couple of days...
It's a lazy Sunday night, I'm zoning out post-movie, and I think, a hot bath would do wonders for my soccer-battered knees. I drag myself up, and that's when I see it—the blinds in my bedroom are all out of whack. Probably my own doing, I'm not the smoothest sleeper. Then in the bathroom, the window's cracked open, blinds up. Friends must've done it for some ventilation, I guess. I fix it up, set a bath, and sink in with a kitchen timer set for twenty minutes.
There in the tub, my brain's looping the weekend's events, and a weird vibe creeps in. The blinds... Something’s off. Nah, I'm just spooking myself. But then, the weird dude's image pops up in my head, and the timer’s dragging its feet. Can't shake this feeling. With five minutes still to go, I snap.
Instinct kicks in. I'm out of the tub, toweling off, dashing through the house in the dark, pulling on some pants—no time for a shirt. My bedroom's still lit up, I swing open the front door. It's just me and the crickets. But, paranoia's got a tight grip. A quick check won't hurt, right?
So there I am, tiptoeing around the house. I reach the side where my bedroom window is, and that's when I see him—the guy from before, glued to my window, doing... something I wish I could unsee. Fury takes over.
"YOU SICKO!" I yell. He’s all, "AHHH!!" And we're into this absurd tango of him backpedaling, me advancing. "I'm going to catch you and beat the heck out of you," I threaten.
"You don't know me!?!" he's backing off now.
"I know exactly who you are, and I'm going to catch you," I'm closing in.
"Please don't hurt me. I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! Please don't hurt me!" Now he's in full flight mode, and I'm on the chase.
We hit the gravel, he wipes out, and it's game over. I make him get up, take his keys, and we're at his car, lies unraveling. I find his real ID in the glove box—different name than he gave me. Tears and apologies follow.
I'm too tired for this drama, so I make him scribble down his confession—yeah, the dude had been messing with my blinds all along. I note his plate number, make a quick list of his relatives' numbers from his phone, and send him packing with a "I never want to see you again."
I end up with a drink in hand, calling the officers, reporting the whole shebang. But the system fails—no follow-up, no report, nothing.
Then, can you believe it? He shows up a year later to apologize. I crack the door open, he's already backing up, hands raised. "I came to apologize," he says. I take his apology, warn him, and off he goes.
Just when you think you've seen it all, right?
79. Conserve Energy
There I was on a typical night, getting ready for bed with a shower around 10 p.m. in my third-floor bathroom. My shower's got those frosted glass panels—you know, the ones that make everything look like a watercolor painting gone wrong. As I'm lathering up, I catch a glimpse of something that looks like a hand. But here's the kicker: this hand was as dark as the night sky, and I mean, my family is as pale as they come, so it definitely wasn't one of us.
This hand, it didn't seem right, like it wasn't attached to a body, because the angle was all off, and you'd expect to see someone attached, right? And all it did was flip off the lights. Just like that, no dramatics, no sound, nothing. One second there's light, the next I'm in total darkness, with the soundtrack of my shower being the only thing keeping me company.
Let me tell you, I've never felt fear like that. Pure, visceral fear, the kind that seeps into your bones. It's me, the running water, and the pitch-black nothingness. Somehow, I managed to convince myself to step out of the shower and fumble for the lights. When I finally snapped them back on, the relief was unreal.
The whole thing still doesn't make any sense. My stairs are the creakiest, and you can hear someone coming from a mile away. But there was nothing. No one in my room, no one in the office, just silence. And whatever it was, phantom hand or not, it hasn't pulled that stunt again. Weird, huh?
80. Underground Prisoner
My brother and I, when we were just a couple of adventurous kids, had this abandoned house as our unofficial clubhouse. We'd been all over that place, every nook and cranny, except for one part — the root cellar. The door always seemed too daunting, even for our wild imaginations. But one day, we mustered up all the courage we had and knocked on that ominous door. What happened next is etched in my memory forever. Sharp bangs echoed from the other side almost instantly, as if whatever was in there had been waiting just for us. Never in our lives have we bolted as fast as we did that day.
81. The New House
I was just three when we moved into a brand-spankin' new house, fresh paint, fresh everything. Ours was the first family to dot the street with life, with construction crews still bustling around the neighboring plots. By the time I was four and a half, I had a fascination that was a little out there—I was convinced I could conjure up X-ray vision like Superman if I tried hard enough. This one night, the ritual was no different: Waking up in the pitch dark, staring at my Toronto Blue Jays clock, and realizing it was 1 am, I set my mind to see through the back of my hand.
I was about five minutes into my nightly concentration when a whisper sliced through the silence. I thought it could be my sister, whose room was just next door, so I doubled down on my efforts. But then, a man’s voice called out my name. I froze, pure terror washing over me. Dad worked night shifts and wouldn't be back till 4 am. My young mind couldn't comprehend; I was petrified.
The voice wasn't done with me. It laughed, a chilling sound that promised, "I'm going to get you," before everything fell eerily silent. Those five seconds felt like an eternity before I finally let out a scream that pierced the night and woke the whole house. Mom rushed in, all worry and soothing whispers, and stayed by my side until my tears dried up, close to half an hour later. I was too shaken to explain at first.
When I finally did, I wondered aloud if Dad was pulling a cruel prank. But Mom assured me he was still at work, and chalked it up to a bad dream. That didn't settle right with me; that fear latched on and didn't let go. From that night, I never closed my bedroom door again, and panic would grip me once a week, making me call out for my mom, a routine that lasted for years.
That incident turned me from a bold kid into one who jumped at shadows. And to this day, I can't shake the feeling that it might not have been a dream. My parents swear it was all in my head, reminding me the house was built on old farmland—nothing but crops for company before we came along. They still live there, and to this day, stepping into my old room when night falls... let's just say it brings back that chill. What it was, I still can't say.
82. Hungry
House sitting has its perks, but it also comes with its fair share of mysteries—especially when the home belongs to a family friend who's big into all things spiritual, like reiki and new age philosophies. The very first time I took on the role of house sitter, there I was, outside watering the plants, making sure everything was nice and hydrated. I'd made a point to close the front door behind me, which was the only door I'd left unlocked.
Once my watering duties were finished, I stepped back inside. That's when I spotted it—a half-eaten cookie sitting nonchalantly on the small table by the front door. Now, I was certain that table had been bare when I'd stepped out, and I hadn't seen any cookies resembling that one anywhere around the house. It was weird, not exactly hair-raising, but enough to have me scratching my head in confusion.
Upon her return, I brought up the cookie incident to the homeowner, half expecting a logical explanation. But all she did was chuckle and casually mention she "gets ghosts all the time." I'm usually the skeptical type, but in that moment, ghosts seemed as good an explanation as any.
Then there was another time, around 10:30 p.m., I was in the bathroom of that same creaky, character-filled house. Sure, the place had its quirks and would make the odd noise, but nothing major. This time, though, as I was mid-business, a loud knock rattled the bathroom door. We're not talking about a subtle house-settling pop, but a clear, deliberate bang. That sound had me on edge for the rest of my stay.
83. Scary Night Experience
I'm the kind of kid who treasures his sleep, the kind where alarms are mere background noise. My dad, well aware of my deep slumber habits, usually had the task of getting me up each day. But this one night was different. As I was lost in dreamland, I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder and the next thing I know, my covers are yanked off me, completely off the bed. Like clockwork, I sprang up, ready to face the day, figuring this was dad's way of saying, "Time's up." But when my eyes flicked open, the room was empty—no dad, no one. Just me and a chilling breeze where my covers used to be.
84. Taken
At 1:00 a.m., my phone jolted me awake with a call from my little sister. Considering she was an hour ahead, it was an unsettling 2:00 a.m. call. That gut feeling told me something was off as I fumbled for the phone and mumbled a sleepy "Hello?" What came through was a muffled plea, a woman's voice, maybe my sister's, sounding nothing short of terrified, saying, "Please, help me."
My mind raced to the worst scenario—had she been taken? Was this her only chance to reach out? I was no Liam Neeson, but I desperately wished for some of that movie magic to trace the call. Debating whether to hang up and dial for help, I chose to keep the line open, hoping for more clues.
Amidst the chilling soundtrack of muffled yells and screams, my heart pounded. Yet, in a bizarre twist, I suddenly picked up my sister's voice, clear as day but oddly calm, chatting about something. That's when it hit me—the unmistakable sound of a horror movie score in the background. There it was, the late-night butt dial during a movie marathon. My sister had unwittingly cast me as an extra in her 2 a.m. horror flick viewing.
85. Gone In The Night
Back in the early 80s, when the Hollywood Hills were my backyard, one night around 9 pm, the knock on my door could've woken the dead. I swing the door open to find this lady, completely beside herself, panting out, "There's so much blood..." She seems okay otherwise, no mess on her, so we usher her inside, trying to make sense of her story about someone getting hurt.
Without skipping a beat, I'm on the phone to the cops, and in no time, a pair of LAPD officers are at my doorstep, in uniform, badges and all. They chat with the lady, nod at us, and then they're escorting her out, saying she's missing, got a mental condition, and lives just up the block. Seems all neatly wrapped up, right?
Cut to half an hour later, there's another knock. I open up to see two different officers. They're here about my call—which is weird, because didn't we just...? They're scratching their heads because, according to them, they're the first responders to my call, which was logged 40 minutes ago.
There we are, giving statements again, describing the first pair of officers, the lady, and the whole nine yards. They're on the radio, back and forth, but nothing's adding up. No one knows who those first officers were. To this day, that night's still an unsolved mystery right out of the twilight zone.
86. Zombies Galore
There I was, post-zombie novel, wide awake with winter's midnight cloak wrapped tight around my building. My room was silent except for my dog's snores, a stark contrast to the undead chaos I'd just put down. But then, out of the stillness, came a sound that turned my spine to ice—THUMP THUMP THUMP—right on the windowpane across from me.
The thuds were insistent, the kind you'd expect from a determined fist knocking to come in. My dog leapt to his feet, barking madly into the dark. We shared a moment, the dog and I, trying to convince each other it was nothing. Calm eventually reclaimed the room, the dog curled up again, and sleep took me—albeit uneasily.
Next thing I know, I'm torn from sleep by an encore—THUMP THUMP THUMP. Same window, same relentless beat. There's me and the dog, both of us in a state, neither brave enough to peek through the curtains. The solution? A strategic retreat to the couch, blanket over heads, and wait for morning.
Dawn's light brought no clues—no prints, no marks, just clear glass and a question mark. Here's the fun part: my apartment's on the top floor. Six stories up and no fire escape near that window, just a whole lot of nothing. 'Birds,' my brain offered, a bit desperately. Birds with a vendetta against my window, apparently.
I hung onto that bird theory like a life raft all day at work, ignoring the oddity of birds knocking in the night. But then, just as the sun was setting and I was home again, that last nagging thought crept in. I checked the window, and my heart skipped—there was a screen outside of it. That chilling realization hit: whatever was making that noise had been inside my room all along.
87. Window Watcher
My friend, just a kid at the time, was in the middle of a living room adventure with her younger brother and sister. It was the kind of night that feels ripe for spooky stories, but they weren't expecting to become part of one. Out of nowhere, her brother's eyes went wide as he peered out the window and uttered, "Who is that man?" They all scrambled to see what had caught his gaze.
What they saw was straight out of a ghost tale—a white figure perched high on the telephone pole. It wasn't just sitting there; it looked like a man, and that man was watching them, his face split by a huge creepy smile. Then, just like that, he stood up, and with the poise of a diver, he leapt off. But here's the twist: he vanished into thin air before their eyes could even track his descent to the ground. The image was seared into their memories, so much so that her sister clams up to this day if you even mention it.
88. The Older Woman
Back in the carefree days of childhood, weekend nights were a treat. I'd snuggle into the couch, eyes glued to the TV until sleep claimed me. But one night, as slumber was just about to win, a strange noise pulled me back to reality.
Curiosity piqued, I peeked out to our front porch. There, the scene could have been plucked from a horror flick. An older woman, probably in her 50's, was out there. She sat on the porch swing like it was the most normal thing, but it was anything but. Dressed only in a nightgown, she was smeared with blood, a huge kitchen knife clutched in her hand. That image, chilling and surreal, is etched into my mind, fuel for nightmares that still pay unwelcome visits.
89. Deja Vu
Two years back, there I was at the bus stop, killing time with small talk with this lady waiting for her ride. It was just your average chit-chat, nothing out of the ordinary, except for this niggling vibe that something wasn't quite right. It's hard to put a finger on it, but that off-kilter feeling was as real as the bench I was seated on.
My bus finally rolled up, and I hopped on, finding myself the lone passenger. That's when a sharp "Hey!" broke the silence. I looked up to see a little girl staring at me, her voice tinged with familiarity. "Remember me?" she asked. There was something about her, a resemblance to the woman I'd just been talking with, only... younger. The air felt thick with tension, and her gaze seemed to follow me when I got off, the bus pulling away with her eyes locked on me through the window.
And I could have sworn I was the only person who boarded that bus.
90. The Ghost Of Subways Past
Eight years back, I was part of the crew that decked out a shiny new Subway restaurant with a top-notch CCTV system—16 cameras, capturing every nook and cranny, front and back. But a few weeks after they cut the ribbon, the place gives us a real head-scratcher. The owner rings us up, needing to snag some footage after an after-hours frenzy.
Here’s the scoop: He’s chilling at home when his staff hit him with a panic-drenched phone call. They’ve hightailed it out of there, swearing they’re done for good, and now he’s gotta lock up the joint himself. According to them, as they were wrapping up the night, some "ghost" decides to glide through the back wall, right through the kitchen, doing a floaty number over the chairs and tables.
So, I pop in the next morning to eyeball the tapes, and kid you not, it’s all there, just like they said. This wispy, white shadow just waltzes out of the wall and takes a leisurely ghost tour. On screen, you can see the crew lose their minds and bolt. This thing, whatever it was, meanders about for a solid two minutes before it makes a beeline for a wall and charges a camera.
This specter—or whatever you want to call it—goes full sprint, slams into the lens, even gives the camera a good shake. Then, poof, it vanishes into thin air. Me and the other two techs are huddled in the office, watching this unfold, and we’re floored. No words, just exchanged looks that screamed, "What the heck did we just see?"
We burned the evidence onto CDs and handed them to the owner, but man, I can't shake it. And for the record, I'm the last guy to buy into ghost stories—I’m a firm atheist, a skeptic through and through. But this thing, seen by three of us live and with enough heft to rock a camera? That’s a new one on me.
I've since moved on from that CCTV gig, and who knows where that footage ended up. I’ve scoured YouTube, and it's like it never existed. But that mystery? It’s one for the books.
91. Home (Almost) Alone
It was just another morning with the sun still thinking about rising, and my dad had just clocked in for the early shift. The house was silent except for the sound of him leaving and the occasional snore from my brother's room. Then out of the blue, this unfamiliar voice echoes through the house, telling the dog to hush up. Chills ran down my spine—I was dead certain we had an uninvited guest, probably a burglar who must've thought he'd found an empty house.
In full stealth mode, heart hammering against my ribs, I tiptoed to my brother’s room. I nudged him awake and whispered the news that set our hearts racing: "There's a stranger in the house." Without missing a beat, he's on the phone, whispering urgently to the authorities.
You wouldn't believe it, but in just two shakes, the place was lit up with the blue and red flashing lights of two cop cars, and there they were—four officers, ready for action, standing at our doorstep. And who's squirming on the other end of the line? Good old Dad. Turns out he'd looped back home to grab something he'd forgotten, and for reasons known only to him, he’d put on a “funny voice.”
We're talking fifteen years back, and to this day, my brother and I rib each other about who's to blame for the false alarm that turned our quiet morning into a scene right out of a sitcom.
92. A Nasty Surprise
I was just a five-year-old kid when I pressed my nose against the cold window, watching the snow give way to the first signs of spring in our front yard. That's when I spotted a girl, looking like she was just snoozing away in the garden. I scampered off to tell my dad, full of that innocent curiosity kids have. But the second he caught sight of her, his face lost all color. "Go play in your room," he told me, voice tight with something I didn't understand.
It wasn't until I hit 16 that I pieced it all together. I casually brought it up, "Remember that girl asleep in the garden?" Dad shot back with a blunt, "You idiot, that was a body." Turns out, she wasn't just some girl who’d nodded off; she was a corpse that had been hidden there, under the snow, for a good two weeks.
Back then, our neighborhood wasn't exactly the suburbs you'd dream of. She was probably some party-goer who'd ended up on our garden wall and never got up. The whole thing is pretty haunting when you think about it, a dark piece of my childhood puzzle that I never knew I was missing until that revelation.
93. The Cabin In The Woods
Back when I was ten, my uncle had this rustic cabin tucked away in the woods near Winter, Wisconsin. It was my summer adventure land, where I'd tear through the forest with my cousins. One summer dawn, earlier than any kid should be up, my uncle jolted us awake, muttering about fishing. The sky was a blanket of black; no hint of the sun's rays yet.
In a haze of sleep and confusion, we shuffled down to the dock. Without a word, my uncle shoved the boat off, and we were suddenly slicing through the water, the house disappearing behind us. There we were, three kids huddled under a blanket at the front of the boat, watching our uncle. He had this wild look in his eyes, scanning the shore with a flashlight like he was searching for a ghost.
We ended up at his friend’s cabin across the lake, stumbling inside like a trio of lost ducklings. Up in the loft, we crashed, while the adults locked up and disappeared until the sun was high. When they came back, everything we’d brought was packed up. It was time to leave, no fishing, no breakfast, just go.
Years down the line, my uncle let me in on that morning's secret. He was up at 3 AM when a chilling “Thok! Thok! Thok!” echoed outside. Investigating, he nearly had a heart attack as a jack pine tree thundered down, blocking our escape. And that wasn't the end of it. His flashlight caught a glimpse of a man, an axe glinting in his hand, melting back into the forest shadows.
Later, my uncle and his buddy had to saw the fallen pine under the watchful eye of a rifle, never knowing if the axeman would return. They never saw him or the axe again, but it was clear we'd been in danger. That's why we'd fled across the lake, why the cabin no longer felt safe, and why our fishing trip was cut short before the dawn even broke.
94. Crocodile Tears
I was 14 and out for a solo stroll on this dirt trail that cut through the woods like a scene from a postcard. There, out of nowhere, was this guy parked on a rock, crying his eyes out. I thought about asking if he needed help — you know, the human thing to do. But something about the situation felt off, and I decided to trust my gut and keep my distance. Fast forward three days, and there I am, planted in front of the TV, when this guy's face pops up on the screen. My heart nearly stopped. The news anchor was detailing how he'd done the unthinkable — taken the lives of his wife and little girl. It's the kind of twist you never see coming.
95. The Others
I’ve got this eerie piece of family lore that still gives everyone the shivers. When I was just a little tyke, I’d suddenly burst into tears, sobbing for my mom even when she was literally right there, trying to hug me. Every time she’d assure me, “Honey, I’m right here,” I’d scream back, desperate for my "other mom." Then, I’d describe this other woman, always clutching a bloodied hammer. It freaked them out big time. But the weirdest part? When I hit two, they sat me down for a little chat about it, and just like that, it was as if someone hit the erase button. I couldn’t remember a thing.
96. Calling All Angels
The day I wrecked my car, things took a turn for the surreal. Out of nowhere, this guy shows up, burn scars marking his face and hands. He pulls up to my window, checking in, "Are you ok?" Before I know it, he's right there beside me in the passenger seat, telling me, "I need you to know that everything happens for a reason." And I’m just sitting there, nodding, "I know." But then, in a blink, I’m back to reality, chatting with the other driver and the authorities. And the scarred man? Vanished. Not a soul around who had seen him.
97. The Conversation
Growing up, it was just me and my mom in the house. Like clockwork, every few nights, once she had called it a day and the TV's glow died down, I’d pick up on this murmuring in the kitchen. A man and a woman, they seemed to be chatting away, but it was this hushed buzz, you know? So soft I had to really focus to confirm the sounds weren't just in my head, though I could never catch the actual words.
This went on for years. I never brought it up to my mom, figuring she'd just wave it off as a kid's wild imagination. But after we moved out, I let the story slip. Turns out, she got chills because she’d been hearing the same whispered conversations all along.
98. I Can See It in Your Eyes
Me and my boyfriend's kid brother were biking down to the shops, just as the day was tipping into evening. There's this guy across the street, kind of shuffling along with a limp, head down, clutching a plastic bag. We're cruising onto the main road when he decides to play crosswalk chicken and ends up on our side.
The kid zips past him first and this dude looks up, cracks a smile at him. I'm trailing a bit, not really sweating it, until I see the kid pull up ahead, giving me this look like he's seen a ghost or something, right as I'm about to pass Mr. Creepy Smiles.
Now, as I glide by, I make the mistake of looking straight at him. And there's something off. Like, really off. He nods at me and where his eyes should be, there's just... nothing. Imagine black holes or completely dark eyeballs.
We huddle up around the corner, hearts hammering. The kid's all, "Did you see that???" and I'm like, "You mean his eyes?!" and he's nodding, "Yeah, it looked like they weren't even there!" We're just standing there trying to wrap our heads around it. If he hadn't felt the same weird vibe, I'd probably have brushed it off, blamed it on the sun playing tricks.
But contacts or not, it didn't sit right. We shared the tale back home, but you can guess how that went down. "Sure, sure," they said, but not a single taker for the truth. They still don't buy it, but me and the kid, we know what we saw.
99. I'd Rather You Didn't
There I was, just driving along with my little girl buckled in next to me, when out of nowhere she hits me with, "Dad, when I'm seven I'm going to kill you. No wait, when I'm eight." I shoot her a puzzled look and ask, "How are you going to do that?" She gives me this cheeky grin and says, "I'm gonna drive over your head with this car." Kids say the darndest things, don't they?
100. Something Much Worse Than A Ghost
I was seven and my brother was ten when this unnerving chapter of our childhood unfolded. It was another night when mom had dozed off on the couch, the TV casting flickering shadows around the living room. Dad was away working construction, his absence stretching out for weeks, leaving us to the quiet, creaking solidarity of our house.
Bedtime was a ritual, and that night, as mom shuffled us off to sleep, the stillness of the upstairs felt heavier than usual. The layout was simple: right to their bedroom, left down the hallway – his room one way, mine the other, bathroom nestled in between. At both ends of this hallway were doors, each leading to a balcony or porch, always locked, windows like ever-watchful eyes.
My brother had this uneasy habit, you see. He would wake up in the middle of the night, the floorboards betraying his small footsteps as he ventured to the bathroom. That night was different. He paused, halfway to his room, turned back and delivered a line that sent chills spider-walking down my spine: "I'm gonna try to pee before I go to bed tonight. The past few nights, I've been too afraid to walk to the bathroom. I keep seeing a man wearing stripes at the end of the hallway."
Mom, half-asleep or choosing not to fuel our fears, didn't react. But those words lodged themselves deep within me, a seed of dread that sprouted into full-blown terror, turning my nightly dashes to my room into sprints for survival.
Fast forward to my eighteenth year, mom and I were reminiscing about our old dog Max and his shenanigans. Out of the blue, mom mentioned the cops and a bag of dog food – a story that was news to me. I pressed her, curious about this police encounter I had no memory of.
Her accidental confession flowed then, reluctantly. She recounted a night when she'd awoken to the unnerving sound of someone outside her window. A man, staring in. Her reaction was to flick on the lights, grab my dad's pistol, and call the cops, sending the man running into the night.
I was trying to wrap my head around this revelation when it suddenly clicked. The man mom described to the cops matched my brother's nightly visitor – tall, white, striped shirt, jeans, dark hair. He wasn't just a figment of bedtime stories; he was real. The cops were on his trail, a murderer who had just broken out of jail.
It took years to connect the dots, but when I did, the realization was stark. My brother's innocent comment had been a dire warning. A murderer had lurked outside our windows, his intentions unknown, his presence a ghost story turned real, a shadow among the shadows in our quiet, creaking house.
