68 True Paranormal Stories Compilation | 5 hours of Ghost and Haunting Stories
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Four years. That's how long it took Democrats to ruin our economy and plunge our southern border into anarchy. Who helped them hurt us? Ruben Gallego. Washington could have cut taxes for Arizona families, but Ruben blocked the bill. And his fellow Democrats gave a bigger break to the millionaire class in California and New York. They played favorites and cost us billions. And Ruben wasn't done yet.

We'll be right back.

Carrie and the Republicans will secure the border, support our families, and never turn their backs on us. Carrie Lake for Senate. I'm Carrie Lake, candidate for U.S. Senate, and I approve this message. Paid for by Carrie Lake for Senate and the NRSC.

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Hello Raven, and happy new year. I commented the other day on YouTube about a story that you read, the one where the person heard someone breathing when they were going to sleep, and I said that I would write you as I too have had this experience. Please bear with me as this happened a long time ago, and 'tis a lengthy one. My whole life so far has been one long paranormal experience.

Non-stop from my earliest memories, and I'm in my 50s now. Like a circle, I cannot tell you when it began. It's just my life. It's something to do with the blood. That's what they say in my part of the world, anyway. But these things run in families, and it has certainly proved true in my case.

Some call it a gift, I don't always think of it as such, especially when you're a kid that's so frightened you dare not even get up to pee in the night. I'm at a stage now in my life where I've overcome the fear and either get annoyed at it all or actively ignore the nonsense. I'm not even going to try to convince anyone that I'm telling the truth, because I know that I am, and that's enough for me.

I don't need validation, and I'm too tired to massage the skeptics. I digress already, but only for a little backdrop to this particular occurrence. Like I said, I can't tell you when exactly the breather made its first appearance. I'm estimating prepubescence around age 10 or 11. It coincides with the nighttime visits from what I now know to be a hat man, but I don't know if they're connected or separate entities.

All I can tell you is that they exist. I'm going back to the early 1980s now. No internet, no information in the very small public library, beyond the story of Borley Rectory and Arthur C. Clarke's Strange World. No journals or magazines or TV programs on the paranormal. At least, not in my house. So, no. These people who insist the Hat Man is a phenomena born of creepypasta have got it wrong.

Before I get to my experience of him, I will tell you a little of what was going on otherwise. I used to have frequent nightmares, and usually the same general theme, Darth Vader in various ways terrorizing me. Now, I was a Star Wars fan since my dad took me to the cinema to watch the very first movie when it was released. I think I was 7 or 8. Neither Darth Vader nor any other character upset me at the time.

and it was surprising that it would be years later when these nightmares began. It was always the same kind of thing. It was his breathing. He would just stare and breathe, and I would be paralyzed with fear. Anyone who's had a night terror will understand the indescribable and irrational fear of that type of energy. I would often wake up to my bedclothes pulled up so high they were wrapped around my head, often suffocating, and they would be so tight.

Like, not just up over my head, literally wrapped around it. One time they were tied around my throat, and I did panic a bit, because it took me a while to get free of them. I wore night dresses back then, and they would always be pulled up to my armpits too. I always felt like there was something in the room watching me after I woke up, a very uncomfortable and frightening thing. It would sometimes dissipate, and sometimes hang around.

Just a quietly menacing presence. I would be petrified and unable to move at times. One night, I even tried to sleep in the built-in wardrobe just to feel secure and away from it. Strangely, I never mentioned these terrors to my parents. I was a considerate child, and I knew that they had their own worries, so it never occurred to me to add to them.

I was also raised to be somewhat stoic and resilient, so I didn't share problems easily. It wasn't apparent then, it's only in later life that I have wondered if this was the breather that I encountered later on, because the raspy way Darth would breathe was similar to what I would hear with my awake ears years later. I had reached the age of 12 or 13 when I first remembered the thing in the hat.

My father liked to socialize regularly, but my mother hardly ever did. She didn't like alcohol and she was a little reserved and company, but I persuaded her to go one New Year's Eve to the club with dad and enjoy herself. She didn't want to leave me in the house, but I convinced her that I was a big girl now and I would be fine, and the club was only at the bottom of our road, and I was responsible enough to come get them if I needed to.

So, reluctantly, she went. Turns out that she enjoyed herself playing bingo and would accompany dad more often from then on. That's when the thing in the hat would turn up, and I would regret trying to socialize my mother. That first night, I stayed up watching TV until it finished. Yes, I'm talking of the time when we had three channels, and they stopped broadcasting at midnight. I would have gone to bed earlier, but I kept getting a creepy feeling from outside the room.

and I thought that I kept hearing noises on the stairs, but every time I checked, there was nothing to see. I eventually dragged myself up them to the sanctuary of my room and went to bed. I didn't want my mom's first night out to be spoiled by seeing me scared when she came home. I told her not to worry about me, hadn't I? I had to prove myself. I was dropping into the haze of sleep. I could see the light from the landing under my door.

I heard my parents come home and my dad came up the stairs. I saw the shadow of his feet under my door, so I shut my eyes and pretended to be asleep. I wanted to show that I was responsible enough to get myself to bed on time. But dad didn't come into my room. I waited and waited, and then I peeped and saw him in the open doorway. I don't remember hearing the door open. He was in dark shadow.

I couldn't see his features at all, and he seemed taller. I wondered why he had a hat on. Pretty sure he didn't go out with a hat on. The only hat he had that resembled that shape was his uniform hat. He was an ambulance man, and in those days, they wore a kind of peaked broad hat. I don't know what the style is called. Kind of like an old bus conductor's hat. And why would he wear that to go out in? My dad was a very smart man of his generation.

Always wore a collar and a tie. Always fixed his hair even when staying in the house. This was not making sense. He just stood in the doorway, staring and not moving to the point where it creeped me out. My dad had never frightened me before, even when he was drunk. He was a happy drunk. I was about to pluck up the courage to ask what he was doing when I heard the dog downstairs get excited, and my mom and dad came home.

Mom asked Dad to come check on me if he was going upstairs to the bathroom. FYI, I tried to get the dog to sleep in my room, but she absolutely would not stay. The next thing I remember, the dark shape was gone, and Dad came up the stairs, full of joy and beer and a good night out. There were more incidents like this to follow, and many others ones besides, some far more frightening.

A darkness, bad luck, ill health and hardship descended on our family. And I do see that as the turning point, but I want to tell you now more about the breather. So fast forward. I'm 25 years old. My mother had died not a year since, and my dad was ill in the hospital. I had traveled a very long way from one end of the country to the other to come home. It was late, and I was exhausted.

The dog had passed not long after mum, and I was alone in my old room in the cold, dark, empty house. I flopped into bed, and was nodding off when I heard his breathing. At first, I thought it was me, or maybe the duvet as it rose and fell. I tried to rationalize it every way possible. I was stressed, I was tired, I was imagining it, etc. The breathing was timed with mine.

but just a split second behind. It was really weird, but at that point I was more curious than afraid. I stopped my breath to reassure myself that I was going insane, but the other breathing continued. It was undeniable that it was not me. I was so tired and full of grief that I didn't feel the least bit afraid at that point. I was angry, and I shouted, ''Shut the F up! I need to sleep!''

and it breathed once more and then stopped. It was not the end of it though. My dad came home and I cared for him until he passed away, not 16 months after mom. In that time, we had all kinds of stuff happening, and my dad always managed to find an explanation until one night the breather paid him a visit too. He still tried to rationalize it, but failed.

I had a boyfriend stay over with me one night, and I hadn't told him about the breather. We were just settling down to sleep when it came by the side of the bed, with its raspy, labored, all-too-familiar old man-type breathing, always timing its inhalations and exhalations with mine. It was bloody strange. I didn't say anything and tried to ignore it when the boyfriend said, "'Can you hear that?'

So, again, confirming to me that it wasn't all in my imagination, or a stress response. I have puzzled over this phenomena for years, and never found an answer as to what it was or why it was bothering me. I always wondered if it had a hand in my mother's death. She died in bed, age 54, of no known cause, though they spent six weeks trying to find one.

She was very susceptible to spirits, and this is where I get it from, and my children too. We've always been pestered by them. Plenty more things happened in that house, and after Dad passed, things got really hairy. But I think I've rambled on for far too long already, so maybe I'll write again another time. Sorry this was so long-winded. I didn't think it made much sense without all the details.

I really hope that someone out there can tell me what the heck the breather is, and if it's cursed us, how to break that. Because I do feel at times like I am haunted, and it affects my whole family, regardless of where we live. Thank you for reading this, Raven, and for providing a space to share. God bless, and best of wishes for 2024.

Hi Raven. I'm a new time listener to your podcast, as I've just figured out how to do this techie podcast stuff on my phone, and now listen as I do work as a painter and decorator. I have my own business, and it helps to make the day go by. I thought you may like to read one of my experiences. These events happened to me when I was aged 20, way back in the early 80s.

I still think about the experience all these years later, and the memory is still as fresh with me today as it was 40 odd years ago. And having bungee jumped and white water rafted and other crazy stuff in my lifetime, I still consider this to be the most terrifying experience of my life. I'm originally from a city in the north of England called Newcastle-upon-Tyne,

But this happened to me to start off with in Scotland, in a place called Ayr. I was working in a very British traditional holiday camp chain called Butlins, that were very popular here with families after World War II through the 50s, 60s, and 70s, before the expansion of commercial flights took people away to Spain and Europe, which resulted in the slow decline of these holiday camps.

However, they were still popular in the 70s and 80s, and had camps spread out over the whole of the UK. People would stay in these camps for a week or so, and would be fully catered for with food and entertainment for both adults and kids. I was working there as a waiter serving breakfasts and evening meals to the campers. At the camp, the workers stayed in chalets that were located at the very end of the campsite, in two-story blocks.

Each chalet housed two workers. It was all very basic by today's standards, but it was a great experience, and rather on the wild side. For a very shy and naive person as I was then, it was quite a shock, to be suddenly plunged into a culture of drinking in the opposite sex. Anyway, it was one particular night I was having a very, very vivid dream.

in which I was being chased by a very malevolent entity in a completely white and featureless landscape. This entity was very tall, maybe 7 to 8 feet, and for some reason was wearing a voodoo mask. I was terrified of this thing, and I was desperately trying to get away from it, when suddenly I found myself standing at the end of the chalet line that I was staying in. I felt totally confused.

How did I get here? It was completely real and lucid, and I would go so far as to say that I really thought I was bodily there. I looked behind me at the moonlit trees, and it seemed like the whole image was distorting, like a reflection would on a flexible mirrored surface that was being flexed outward. I thought, he's coming through, and started running down the chalet line.

I can remember standing outside my door and suddenly being on the inside. I have no memory of passing through the door, nor seeing myself lying in the bed. I jumped into bed and became rather groggy, half asleep, half awake, when I sensed the entity come into the room. It then climbed on the bed and laid down on top of me, and it felt like a heavy person lying on my chest.

I felt myself sink into the mattress. It lasted for maybe four or five minutes, and then I came fully awake. The next day, I was excitedly telling people of the weird dream that I had had. But as you know, there's nothing more boring than people telling you of their weird dream they had the night before, as the description never matches the experience.

A few months later, I was back in Newcastle, unemployed again, when I got an unexpected call from a friend who lived in Edinburgh, in Scotland, and who was looking for a flatmate to share expenses on a flat he was moving into, and he asked if I fancied living in Edinburgh. Yeah, sure, why not? So off I went with a few belongings and a backpack, and less than a hundred pounds in my pocket, along with a train ticket to Edinburgh.

Life certainly seemed a lot simpler in those days. It had been about three months since the dream, and I had pretty much forgotten about it. The flat that we shared was a one-bedroom flat with two single beds. It was nighttime, and I was asleep when I became aware of a dark shadow in the doorway of our bedroom. This was all in my mind's eye, and I was again in a half-asleep, half-awake state.

I remember thinking "he found me". Minor content warning for the next part. The submitter actually mentioned that I could edit this as it is a bit R-rated, and I will try to edit it slightly to keep it a little more PG, but if you don't wish to hear this, just skip ahead about 15 or so seconds. This time I was lying on my front, and this thing climbed onto my back.

and I again felt myself sinking into the bed, unable to move or shout out. It then, shall we say, assaulted me in a way that was extremely unpleasant. It again lasted for maybe four or five minutes, and I then came fully awake. I told my friend about it in the first stream, and tried to pass it off as a bit of a joke, but in the back of my mind, I was worried about it all. It seemed so real.

The thing that bothered me the most was the fact that I was in a lot of pain that day, and actually collapsed in the street, unable to stay upright. But I kept telling myself it was just a dream. However, the physical side of it was very real. Again, about three months passed, and it happened again, but this time I was fully awake and knew that this was real. I was asleep having one of those bizarre dreams we all have from time to time.

The kind of dream that makes you laugh in the morning and think, "Where the heck did that come from?" I remember the dream so vividly because I was snapped out of it so suddenly. I was lying on my back and someone grabbed my arm around my bicep. It was completely real and I opened my eyes and just thought, "Oh god, not again." I felt completely paralyzed and the only thing I could move were my eyes. I couldn't speak or move an inch.

The state that I later found out is called sleep paralysis. I then felt a person climb onto the bed and on top of me. I again felt myself sink into the mattress. There was no doubt this time. I was fully awake, and the sheer terror I felt was indescribable. Nothing has ever come close to that level of fear in my life since.

I shut my eyes, but I felt compelled to open them and see if I could see whatever it was that was on top of me. An act I still regard as one of the bravest things I have ever done. However, there was nothing to see, other than the ceiling. But the smell... All I can describe it as is all the worst smells you've ever experienced. Vomit, rotting flesh, excrement all rolled into one stench.

I was trying to wake my friend but was unable to call out. But I could breathe, and I started to breathe very heavily, and hoped the sound of my hyperventilating was enough to wake him up. I was desperate for someone, anyone to just drag me off of that bed, and would have paid anything they asked them to do it. As I did this, I felt a hand go over my mouth, as if to smother my sounds.

I just thought, "Shut up John, it'll go away soon." The experience lasted again about five minutes, and it slowly dissipated and I regained the ability to move my body. I lay there feeling tears roll silently down my cheek as I came to terms with what had just happened. As the day went on, my friend kept asking me what was wrong as my behavior seemed so off. I eventually said, "Okay, I'll tell you as long as you promise not to laugh."

and as I told him, I broke down with emotion, rather embarrassing for my friend, as he is a total non-believer in anything like this, and he just looked at me with a confused look on his face. Again, it was about three months later, and I had the whole experience happen again. The feeling of someone lying on top of me, the sinking into the bed, but this time was different. This time the entity started to whisper in my ear,

Over and over again, it said to me, ''Let me in, John. Let me in.'' I knew at the core of my being that if I just relaxed and opened myself up, this thing would enter me and my body and mind would be lost. I just knew that it would possess me.

I then had an experience which, at the time, I did not understand, but years later I saw it described perfectly in a book I was reading, as a full-blown kundalini experience. I felt this energy at the bottom of my spine start to rise upwards, through my spine, into my head, and then burst out of the top of my head with such force that it took my breath away,

In my mind's eye, I saw this entity explode into a million pieces. I honestly believe we all have this energy laying dormant in us, but it can take something extraordinary to release it. I just thought in my mind, a kind of knowing that this particular entity would not come back, and try that again on me. I must admit that my life has been one of rather high degree of strangeness.

something I put down to my mom's side of the family, who all seem to be on the spiritual side, as opposed to my dad's, who all seem to be of the belief that once you're dead, you're dead. These experiences do still happen to me to this day, but not to the extreme of the experiences I had then. My wife is under strict instructions that if she hears me in a distressed state while asleep, she is to wake me up immediately.

She has seen these dark entities during night time, once standing next to the bed, and once a dark shadow lying on my chest, and hearing it scuttle around the duvet. But that's another story. I may send some of my other stories one day, which range from more paranormal stuff to glitches in the matrix. Thanks for listening, Raven. Keep the stories coming, as I have a lot of walls to paint.

I have a story that isn't creepy by my standards, and I'm a 14 year old boy who finds most stuff creepy, but is definitely mind-boggling. Last year, on October, Friday the 13th, my school had this event afterwards that we do a few times during the year, which they call "fun nights". Although this night was not going to be fun afterwards.

I was having a few of my friends over for a sleepover afterwards, and we were ready to get all sugared up and stay up super late. But when we got back to my house, the usual route we took was barricaded off. I could see some flashing blue and red lights at the corner of my block. We were a block away from my house, so I could see the corner. But at the time, I didn't think much of it, because we get so much activity here that I was kind of used to it by now.

I had one friend who hadn't gone to the fun night, so he had his dad drive him to my house. I called him because he had texted me that he was there. We weren't quite there yet, because we had to go around the block to get to my street. When my friend picked up, I had asked him what was going on and said it looked like something happened with a bus or something. When we pulled up to my house, we all got out of the car and looked at the corner.

When we talked to some of my neighbors, it sounded like someone got ran over by a bus. We kept watching, until I realized that they were cleaning blood up off of the street. My neighbor down the street texted me asking if I was okay, because she had seen the person was roughly my size and was riding a scooter that looked a little bit like mine. I had told her that I was fine, and that I would talk to her later. When I told my friends about what she had told me,

My friend, let's just call him H, looked like he was about to puke. When me and my friends asked him what was wrong, he just looked up and said, "My brother rides his scooter all over town." I had met his brother a few times, and I thought he was a really cool guy. And yes, I could confirm that he rode his scooter all over. His brother was a year older than us, but we still had fun hanging out with him. When H got a call from his dad, his fears were confirmed.

It was his brother. We waited with him until his dad came to pick him up. When he finally did, he had talked to my parents quickly. When they came back in, they sat me down in the dining room and had told me that he had died on arrival. That's the first time I ever cried in front of my friends, but it certainly wasn't the last. Now, I'm not a religious person, but if a friend needed me to, I would pray for them, and that's what we did.

The rest of the night, we decided not to mourn, but to celebrate his life by having the most fun that we could that night. We did all the things we were planning on doing that night, and it was amazing. Now, yes, I know what you're thinking. This isn't supernatural at all, but I'm not quite done. That night, when everyone else was asleep, my friend, let's call this one C, told me that all he had wanted to do was talk to him one more time.

referring to H's brother. I had told him that that would be the best, and then we went to sleep. The next morning, my friend had told me that he had talked to him. I was surprised at first, but I've always been a strong believer in the paranormal and all that. I asked him what they talked about. He said that he didn't remember exactly what they had talked about, but that it was a nice conversation. I was a little jealous at first that he got to talk to him, but

but I knew that my friend was the perfect person for H's brother to talk to. Plus, I wasn't ready to say goodbye yet. That would come later. I really hope you enjoyed the story, Raven, as I've been wanting to share it ever since I started listening to your podcast on Spotify about three weeks ago. Keep doing a great job. Thank you.

Hey Raven, I just want to start with, I've recently discovered your podcast, and the first time I heard you read out, Hey Raven, I about jumped out of my skin, and it sent chills down my spine. My name is also Raven, and I genuinely thought you were speaking to me. Anyways, there's been three moments in my life that I cannot explain.

The first moment being when I was much younger, around the age of eight or nine. I was in my room playing with my cat. The house was empty. Both of my parents and older brother were outside. When all of a sudden, a very loud sound of static came blaring from my parents' room. I had quickly jumped up to go investigate. I peeked into their room and realized that the sound was coming from an old alarm clock.

The alarm clock was dusty, and had not been plugged in in a very long time. I was later told that there could have been batteries in it, but even if there was, who turned on the radio? Another moment, me and some friends had decided to try and use a Ouija board. There was four of us there. Two males, Jay and Ben, and two girls, me and Kate.

Ben and Kate took the Ouija board down to our chosen spot, which was a gravel spot next to an old forest. A small creek ran through the forest that I had once found an old arrowhead in the bottom of. So, we, of course, thought that seeing if we could contact any Native American spirits was a great idea.

While Ben and Kate took the Ouija board and some candles to our spot, me and Jay had walked up the road to another friend's house. I was dropping off a gift I had gotten him while we were out. On our way back to where Ben and Kate had gone, Jay had gotten some ways ahead of me, and I was trying to catch up. Then, out of nowhere, I heard the sound of footsteps. They sounded as if they were running up behind me.

but Jay was ahead of me, and no one else was out. Suddenly, my entire body was hit with these cold chills, and I felt stuck. I couldn't move, and then tears began to come down my face uncontrollably. I remember calling out to Jay, asking if he was messing with me, but he of course looked just as confused since he was ahead of me. Then the feelings started to ebb away, and I was able to move again, and catch back up with Jay.

We continued down towards Ben and Kate. When we grouped back up, Ben and Kate had left the Ouija board and candles on the gravel together, and we had circled up to figure out how to use the Ouija board safely. We came up with our game plan, and when settled, we finally turned to start. Jay went for the candles, but they were gone. We all began checking our pockets, but nothing.

Then we checked the surrounding area. The gravel, the bushes, the grass. Nothing. They were just gone. We never could find those candles. Another moment, I was riding in the car with my now ex-boyfriend one late night. It was cold and had snow on the ground, though it was not actively snowing when we left his house. Well, we came back to a roundabout in the road, and I blinked.

When my eyes came back open, we were at the roundabout entrance, and a car was coming straight towards us, with their bright headlights on. There was heavy snow falling on the headlights, and then I blinked again, and we were out of the roundabout. The other car was gone, and there was no falling snow. When I was around the age of six, my mom started to clean our church every week to help out.

During this time, we were renting a farmhouse where me and my two older brothers experienced quite a few paranormal events. But my parents never gave it the light of day, due to them being Christian and very conservative. One day, my mom was cleaning the church and my brothers and I tagged along since my dad was working. While my mom cleaned, we decided to play hide and seek since the church was empty.

Eventually, I was the seeker looking for my brother, and I remember walking down a long hallway. Since the church was closed, and my mom was just cleaning the room where the sermons were held, all of the other lights were off except for the emergency lights. When I was walking in the very dim hall, for some reason, I felt the need to look up, and from that moment, I can't get the image of what I saw out of my head.

There was an all-black figure around the size of a six or seven year old. The figure was crawling on the ceiling, so I was looking at its back, only it had noticed me, so it had twisted its head all the way around to see me. The face was blurry since it was dark, but I could make out an almost cartoonish smile staring at me, and I remember the eyes being not human-like at all.

The weird thing about this is, despite how creepy I remember the figure being, my six year old self was not scared at all. I remember thinking to myself, "How did my brother get up there?" and then I felt the need to leave the hallway. When I saw its face, I didn't feel my stomach drop, nor did I feel scared or threatened. I just felt like whatever I saw wanted me to just move along.

To this day, I don't have any idea what it was. My brothers called me crazy and said, "There can't be any demons in a church since it's protected by God." And my parents agreed. The older I get, the more I wonder if it was just a dream that made itself into a memory. It just feels so real when I think about it, and I'm able to describe it in such great detail.

I don't really remember any other times we played hide and seek, but this one sticks out. I know that children are more likely to have paranormal experiences, and my brothers also had things happen to them, but it was at the house. Why did I see something at our church? After doing some research, I found out that the church has been around since 1873.

And I remember that there is a cemetery on the land as well, with the same name as the church. I'm happy to talk about some of the other things that happened in the house, but I don't remember much. Really only the things that my brothers have told me. The house was very old and in the middle of nowhere. It was an old farmhouse that someone purchased and had renovated. The barn was a no-go zone and gave us all the creeps. The cows on the land also acted very strange.

And the house just had this weird vibe overall. Jack in the Box knows sometimes you're in the mood for a burger and sometimes a bigger burger. Starting at $3.99, the bonus Jack combo at Jack in the Box gets you fries, a drink, and a burger with your choice of one, two, or three patties. At Jack, every bite's a big deal. Order now at Jack in the Box.

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So, I don't want to make this a novel, but a little background. This took place in early 2016. I was going through an incredibly tough time emotionally and mentally. At the time, I lived in an illegal basement suite with my BFF. My bedroom wasn't a bedroom, really. It was like a big storage room. On the left, when you walked in the door, was the laundry area, with a very thin wall separating it from my room.

The wall didn't have a door, just an opening about 5 foot wide with no lights inside, so it was always shadowy. To the right when you walked in was a larger area of the room, my bedroom. It had about an 8 foot ceiling, and right by the door was a support pole in the middle of the room. On the far right was my bed, and straight across from the door and the pole was a built-in wooden shop desk.

So, I've always had vivid dreams, but this one goes beyond that. Beyond even the lucid dreams that I've had. In the dreams, my BFF and I were sitting on my bed in my room, chatting. Everything was fine until I suddenly got a cold and terrifying sensation. I didn't want to look at my desk. As my friend was talking, I felt a pool keep telling me to look, even though I was afraid to.

Eventually, I couldn't help myself, and I looked over at my desk. Crouched beside my desk on the floor was a girl. I don't remember much about her. Besides, she had long, stringy hair, but I was immediately drawn into her eyes. They were blank white, and unlike any eyes I've ever seen in real life, like they were portals sucking me in.

My friend, her voice, and the room around me faded until all I could see was this girl, and I felt this evil presence unlike anything I have ever felt. I was paralyzed from this darkness. It felt like it lasted forever, but at the same time, just a second or two before I woke up in my bed. It was dark, and I was scared as hell. I've marked this as sleep paralysis due to this next part.

When I opened my eyes, there was light coming through my bedroom door from my BFF's nightlight in the hall, for seeing the bathroom. I could see a silhouette standing by the pole near my door. It was not the girl. It was a tall, skinny, and completely black figure, like a shadow that I couldn't see through. It was almost absorbing the light instead of reflecting it normally, and it was tall and unnaturally thin.

It seemed to be stooped down to fit in my room. Although I couldn't see a face, I knew that it had a mouth and eyes and was looking at me. I was scared witless, but somehow, very strangely because I'm a wuss, instead of panicking, I thought to myself, "'Screw this,' and closed my eyes and fell right back to sleep. The next day, I remembered it immediately, but had no ill effects or any other encounters like it after."

Now this all just sounds like a typical nightmare or sleep paralysis and it probably was But what makes me personally believe this was an evil entity that visited me are three things One I had never and have never since had sleep paralysis - I was going through a very dark time the darkest time so far in my life and

and I believe I was very vulnerable emotionally and spiritually at that time. And 3. I have never been more sure of seeing and feeling pure evil as I felt when I looked at that girl. I have always believed in forcing negative energies away. Even if I don't always believe in them, I always tell spirits and ghosts, etc. to leave me alone. I don't need or want proof. I'm too scared. 5.

I think that's why she didn't attach to me, even though I was very vulnerable. Obviously, this is just my takeaway from my own experience. I would love to hear others' thoughts on it, or maybe someone has had a similar story, and I would love to read it. And thank you. Let me start this off by saying that it's kind of a long story to get to the point of it, so I am sorry.

I'm a 20 year old male and when I was 5 we moved from our trailer home deep in the forest and got a house closer to town. This would be the house that we stayed in for the next decade and more. My grandfather was a preacher and he took his wife and children, one of those children being my mom, on a mission trip to Belize, where they would reside for the next few years to come.

During that time, I've been told my grandfather had to perform an exorcism and had dealt with many spiritually traumatic events. My mother told me that when she came back to the US, she had a necklace that her friend in Belize gave her as a departure gift. This necklace seemed to be bringing in negative happenings. She said she would see figures move out of the corner of her vision, hear footsteps in the house when no one was home,

Even hear voices talking in vacant rooms of the house. She decided it was best to get rid of the necklace. So she did. And everything seemingly went back to normal. Fast forward to when I was 8 years old. I had separation anxiety very badly as a kid. Upon other forms of anxiety. I always knew if my dad was awake in the living room late at night playing his Xbox, or if he was in bed.

because I always would call out from my room to make sure he was there, just out of fear of him not being there. My older brother, my little brother and I all shared a room at the time. My dad said that when they first moved into the house, he always got chills going in there, and wasn't sure why. He said there was an old chair and a vintage recorder that sat on top of it.

He said that he couldn't explain why, but the room just gave him a creepy feeling. Anyways, one night, both my brothers and I had already fallen asleep, and my dad had turned off his Xbox and went to bed. There was a bifold door closed across the room from my bed that I was always afraid of as a kid, thinking that there were ghosts in it or something. So, that night, as I was struggling to fall asleep,

I watched that closet intently, almost fading into sleep when, out of nowhere, the open closet slammed shut by itself, as if a grown man had slammed it in a fit of rage. Now, I was terrified, and a bit shook up. Half hiding under my blanket, I stared into the closet all night. Nothing was in it. No one was playing a trick on me. There were no drafts in the room.

Needless to say, I became pretty paranoid as a kid. Fast forward to when I was 16, I had developed a bad stomach issue leading me to think I may have developed Crohn's disease. Afraid and googling symptoms all night, I started to fade asleep. I remember the last thing I could think that I was being punished for my wrongdoings. And when I fell asleep, I had a dream that I was in a two-story house that I didn't recognize.

and found myself running up the stairs, somehow knowing that my mother was in bed in one of the rooms. I ran into the room to find her, and saw her lying in the bed. She seemed sick, like she had a fever, and standing by her bed was a tall looming thing. In the dream I could see more details on this being, but once I woke up all I could remember from it was a black void and a tall figure.

I told it to leave my mom alone, and it turned to me and said, "My name is Baal." Baal being a real demon. I told it to f off and then I woke up. When I woke up, the entire house had flooded during my time of sleeping and having that dream. The septic system had completely back flowed through every drain in the house, causing a rough day of work to deal with the flooding and the plumbing.

and from that day forward I've had horrible stomach issues, and I can't help but remember that night every time I get sick and throw up. I still get those feelings that it's watching me when I sleep at that house. Thank you for your time, and I love your channel, Raven. Thank you. Hey everyone. I wanted to share a creepy experience that happened to me about a year ago when I moved into an old apartment with my brother and a friend for school.

In one of the first weeks there, I had a terrifying episode of sleep paralysis. It's not something that happens often to me, maybe a few times before, but this particular incident was by far the scariest. Picture this: My room had a queen-sized bed right in the middle. To the right, there was a huge built-in wardrobe covering the entire wall and the door that led to the hallway.

To the left there was a window that I usually left open at night because I enjoy waking up to the morning sun. I mention all this to set the scene. During this episode, I was sleeping on my side facing the open window. The night was clear and the moonlight streamed in. The moment I opened my eyes, I felt this overwhelming sense of being trapped. And there it was, right in front of me, hovering and looking down.

A man, tall, and completely dressed in white, with a wide-brimmed hat that caught my attention. I couldn't see his face. It was obscured in shadows. He wore a white dress jacket, shirt, gloves, and the distinctive hat. Initially, he didn't move or say anything, just floated there staring at the floor of my room. Then, suddenly, he started rapidly listing animated movies.

It might sound bizarre, but it freaked me out. I couldn't wake up, and I was seeing him clearly in my room. "The Little Mermaid, Snow White, Mulan. The Little Mermaid, Snow White, Mulan." Repeating without pause, until he sharply turned his head and locked eyes with me. That's when I screamed with all my might to wake up my brother. Managed to move, turned on the light with my heart racing and almost in tears.

I hesitated to tell my brother or roommate initially, feeling embarrassed and not wanting to scare them. However, two days later, while chatting after dinner, I spilled the beans. My brother's reaction left us both completely spooked. Fast forward to six months ago, during the summer, when my brother had a bizarre encounter. We live in an area with a lot of trees, minimal nighttime activity, and dim lighting.

As he was driving home calmly, about 30 seconds from our house, he saw a man at the stop sign, tall and dressed entirely in white with a broad-brimmed hat. It seemed odd, like he'd come from a costume party. What freaked him out was that as he approached the stop sign, the man raised his hand, signaling him to stop. Despite being in a car, my brother felt a chill and intense fear.

accelerating and parking at home while nervously looking back, afraid the man might follow him. He kept this to himself, thinking it might be a crazy person or his imagination. It wasn't until I described the man that he revealed seeing him months earlier in our town. I've searched online, but it seems like no one else has encountered him. If anyone has seen or knows anything, please, share your information. Hi, Raven.

I've been listening to you for the last six months, and I'm really grateful for your podcast. I've perused this subreddit a lot, but haven't posted until now. A lot of paranormal and supernatural stuff has happened my whole life, but none has really stuck out to me like this one. For context, my family has a lot of people who can sense spirits, or have had similar experiences. It sounds strange, but...

But on both sides of my family, I have had relatives who are intensely superstitious, or very in touch with their spiritual side, if that makes sense. My brother and I have had strange experiences for our whole lives, but perhaps were just observant or perceptive to weird things. This one seemed different to me, though. Two months ago, my grandmother passed away at around 3 a.m.,

She lived in Georgia, and I live in Massachusetts, a thousand miles away. I haven't talked to her in years because she had dementia and was not very lucid most of the time. Her health had seriously declined, and she was essentially on hospice care at my uncle and aunt's house, where she lived. The night that she passed, I was watching the X-Files.

I've watched the show since I was a kid, but I really only watched and rewatched seasons 1 through 6, because that's what we owned on DVD. Even since I've gotten older and have had access to multiple streaming services where I could watch the rest of the series, I just never did.

I've basically rewatched the series at least two to three times, and have watched some episodes more than ten times, just to put it into perspective. Anyways, for some reason a few months ago, I decided to continue the series from season seven on. This may have a spoiler, so if you're planning on watching the show, don't read it. I think it's been enough time to allow spoilers. However, the episode that I watched that night was about someone dying.

but it was very melancholy and somewhat hopeful. I believe it was Season 7, Episode 17. Without giving much away, this episode has an intense focus on collective unconscious and souls, and is super existential. What was weird was that I never stayed up that late watching TV, and this night I stayed up past 2 or 3 just to finish this episode, one that I had never seen before.

I remember feeling strange after watching it. Kind of sad, but also peaceful. Exhausted, since it was hours past my usual bedtime, I went to bed. The next morning, I woke up to a missed call from my dad. I already knew what he would say when I called him back. Once he picked up, he said that it was the call. The one everyone is anxiously waiting for when someone is on their deathbed.

and said that she had passed at around 3:00 a.m. that night. Perhaps it is just coincidental, but I can't help but think how weird it is that I happened to stay up that late that night, that I happened to decide to continue watching a series randomly one day, and that the last episode I watched before going to bed, around the same time my grandmother passed, was a very emotional one about the fear of losing someone you love.

But, let me know what you think. Hi Raven. I love you and your channel. I've been into Glitch and the Matrix stories for a couple of years now, and I like the way you tell stories and also your voice is soothing. Thank you. Anyway, I have a story that I wanted to share. The story takes place in the Midwest about 30 years ago. Man, I feel old. Anyways, this story involves two of my cousins. My little sister and myself.

To protect my family's identity, I will be using fake names. Okay, so here's my story. So, growing up, it was just me and my sister Jasmine. My sister and I are two and a half years apart, but we would spend all of our time together. My mom's sister, my aunt, has six kids. Five girls and one boy.

So, on the weekends, we would beg our mom to go spend the weekend at her sister's, so that we could spend time with our cousins. We were close to two of our cousins because they were close to our age. My cousin Tay was ten, like me, and her sister Lindy was eight, like my sister. So, it was a normal weekend, and we had plans to go exploring. That Friday, we were supposed to go to the movies, but all of us kept arguing about what movies to go see.

So, after my aunt calmed us kids down, we all decided to tell scary stories in a makeshift campfire in the living room. My aunt fixed up the living room. We ran to the bedrooms and grabbed all the sheets, pillows, and blankets that we could carry and took them downstairs into the living room. After putting the younger kids to bed, my aunt brought snacks for our story time. We were all supposed to have a turn telling a scary story.

So, my eldest cousin started the stories off. The night was so fun and the scary stories being told weren't that scary. That is until my uncle came home. Once he saw and heard what we were doing, he wanted to jump in and tell his story. My uncle sat down next to my aunt and started one of the craziest stories I have ever heard. This is when the mood in the room changed.

So, in my uncle's story, he said that there was a statue of the Virgin Mary that was supposed to be the protector of a cemetery right down the street from where we were. He described the statue as being big and white, standing on a stone slab in the middle of the cemetery, with her head bowed and her eyes closed with a book in her hand. He said that many people believed that the statue protected the real birthday of Jesus,

He said that Christmas was labeled as Jesus' birthday because no one can know the real date. He told us that him and his friends didn't believe it, so they tried to open the book in Virgin Mary's hands, but checked out. When he was done with his story, we teased him for being such a scaredy cat and not opening the book, since it was just a stupid statue. My uncle laughed it off, and we all ended the night.

Throughout the night, I couldn't stop thinking about the story that my uncle told. So, I made the plan to talk to my cousins in the morning because I wanted to go see this statue for myself. I finally fell asleep and woke up to my aunt cooking a big breakfast for us all. After all of us showered and went down to the kitchen, we sat down at the table to eat.

After breakfast, I talked to my cousins about going to the cemetery that their dad had talked about the night before to find the statue. My cousin, Tay, and I were all for it, but our little sisters, Lindy and Jasmine, were scared because of the unknown. Lindy said that she didn't want to go because her daddy said the statue would come to life. We laughed at her and teased her until she gave in. Then, we were headed out.

The walk to the cemetery didn't take long, about 15 minutes. We were talking about what we might see and how excited we were, when it felt like something was off. The feeling in the air changed a little bit, and I got a feeling of quick fear. I shook out of it when we walked up to the entrance of the cemetery. Tay walked in first to try and prove that she wasn't scared. Me and our sisters followed suit.

So, everyone knows how creepy a cemetery can be, but we knew that the park we always went to was on the other side of this cemetery, so all we had to do was get on the other side. The cemetery was pretty big, so it took some time to find the middle of it. My little cousin, Lindy, saw the statue first and sprinted straight to it. Since she was the youngest of us four, we couldn't lose her, so we chased behind her.

We all finally stopped running when we caught up to Lindy right in front of the Virgin Mary statue. Being a little kid, looking at how big this statue was to us, it completely intimidated me a little. The statue was big and white, just like my uncle had described. She was standing on a big slab of concrete. She looked like one of those small statues of her with the blue garments on. Her head was bowed and her arms were stretched out with palms up.

with the book hiding Jesus' true birthday resting in the palm of her hands. The book looked like a big dictionary, but it wasn't made of stone like the rest of the statue. It looked like any other regular book. There was a little plaque at the bottom of the statue that read, "Here stands Virgin Mary. She is the protector of this cemetery and the protector of the most kept secret in history."

"'The true birthday of Jesus Christ. "'This date is sacred and protected, "'and shall not be seen by the common man until thy father allows. "'Do not open this book, as you and your bloodline will be damned.' "'So we all stared at the statue for a good minute "'before Tay asked who was going to be the one to try and open the book. "'Jasmine was young, but not stupid. "'She protested, saying it said not to open the book.'

But we're here now. The rest of us wanted to see what would happen, so my cousin Lindy volunteered to open the book. We had to hoist her up because she was too small to reach the book on her own. And this is when things got crazy. While lifting my cousin up to the statue to open the book, the sky started to darken. Like a storm was coming, and there was a cool breeze that flowed through.

I don't know if I mentioned, but it was a beautiful, sunny summer day when this all took place. It felt like time slowed down in that moment. As I watched my cousin Lindy go to open the book in Virgin Mary's hand, I swear I saw it move. I closed my eyes really tight and thought, "No, you did not just see that statue move." I opened my eyes up and stared back at the statue. What I saw shocked me to my core. Virgin Mary did move.

Her head was bent down when we got to her statue with her eyes closed, hands open with the book in her hands. But when my cousin went to open the book, Virgin Mary opened her eyes, lifted her head, and started to step off of the concrete slab that she was standing on. And her mouth was starting to open to speak. But before we could hear what she said, we were screaming and taking off running out of the cemetery.

When we got out of the cemetery, we realized that we left my little cousin Lindy, the one who had tried to open the book. We were freaking out because we left her, but we didn't want to go back since we all saw that statue come to life. But we knew we had to go back and find her. So, after getting the courage to go back, we ran into the cemetery towards the statue and saw my cousin Lindy literally floating about a foot off of the ground.

I stood frozen as I saw a white, see-through figure holding her up by her shirt. Her sister Tay yelled out, "What the hell?" and the figure whipped its head towards us before dropping her sister and disappearing. We ran to my cousin, swooped her up, and high-tailed it out of there. We made it to the park and checked on Lindy, who now had a gash on her head, and we asked her if she was okay.

Once she assured us that she was okay, we all started talking all at once to describe what we saw. We all came to the conclusion that the statue did walk off the platform. Her head did lift up and her eyes did open, and she looked very angry to be disturbed. Lindy confirmed this when she told us that the statue told her to never come back to that cemetery again, and to never ever touch the book. I'm sorry that this story was really long,

I just wanted to make sure that I was as detailed as I possibly can be. I wasn't sure what kind of story this would be, if it would be paranormal or a glitch in the Matrix story, but I wanted to share it to see if anyone else had any type of experiences like this. I'm working as a custodian at my old school. I know, really living the dream, right? Understaffed, overworked, and underpaid, just like everyone else is right now.

There are perks to this job, however. I live two minutes away. Great benefits. And if something comes up on a Friday, I can come in Saturday to make up for it, without having to use any of my PTO or vacation days. One dreary Saturday morning, I was making up for the night before. Cold and rainy, just how I like it.

My coworker was supposed to come in as well to set up for a basketball game and to make some overtime. Or so I thought. I show up and I'm the only one in the entire school. Now, it may be a small district, but our school is pretty big for such a small community. We have grade school, middle school, and high school all under one roof.

I work in the middle school section of the building, smack dab in the center of the school. Middle school, get it? I was walking down to my custodial closet when I heard a toilet flush. Now this wouldn't be a big deal if the lights to the bathroom weren't motion sensors, as well as the toilets. I thought to myself, "Okay, I'm not even going to acknowledge that," and just kept walking.

Being all alone in a building that big, your mind is sure to play tricks on you, although I'm sure I look weird on the security cameras constantly looking over my shoulder or around corners. I get to the custodial closet, grab my cart and garbage can, and start on my normal routine. Two hours in, I have to go to the bathroom. I use a private one behind the kitchen in one of our three boiler rooms.

Each section of the building has its own boiler room, where we keep additional supplies. This will be important later in the story. I go to the bathroom and have my airpods in when I thought I heard someone walk in. I take them out, and I hear the sound of running water. I call out to see if someone else is in the bathroom with me, but I don't get a response. I finish up in the stall and open the door to see nobody there, but the sink is running scalding hot water.

Now, this is super weird, because this sink wasn't running when I walked in, and it takes forever for it to warm up, let alone get that hot. I washed my hands and noped out of there. Everything else went without incident, up until my last two hours. We hold off on cleaning the restrooms for last, for obvious reasons. You don't want to clean them just to have someone come in and trash it again, but

I was restocking the paper towel dispensers when I realized I was out of paper towels to put in them, so I head over to the boiler room in the grade school section of the building. As I unlock the magnetic doors to the grade school, I could have sworn that I heard someone slam the boiler room door closed. I thought to myself, "I knew it was my coworker messing around with me," and I walked over to the door that just slammed shut.

only to open it and inside the lights were off. I turned the lights on and looked around. There was no sign of anybody being in there since last night. There is a door that leads outside to the district office with a small window in it. At this point, I'm on edge and praying that if I walk over to it, I'll see my coworker outside laughing at me. I inch my way over to the window and see nobody outside.

As I'm looking out of the window pondering just what the hell is happening, I hear a loud bang behind me. At this point, I'm kind of thinking about running out of the door and just going home because something is clearly not happy that I'm here. I somehow muster up the courage to turn around, and again, nobody is there. But a whole case of Lysol is on the ground. Now, you're probably thinking, okay, so it's slid off, but no.

This particular case of Lysol had mold or something growing on the side of it, and it was covered in dust from having been sitting there for 20+ years before one of our coworkers died from complications involving COVID. We called it his case, but out of respect, I won't name their name. I inspect a little further on the top shelf to see if it did in fact slide off. There were no slide marks.

It was like someone picked it up, held it over the edge of the shelf, and dropped it. I didn't even put it back before leaving the boiler room and the grade school to escape to my closet for a breather. Since then, I haven't had a single incident. I've stayed from 8:30pm to 5:30am by myself and haven't experienced anything weird outside of the usual sound from something kicking on on the other side of the school.

I listen to your podcast at work, Raven, and thanks for keeping me entertained while I do boring, monotonous work for terrible pay. Well, thank you for sending your story in, because that was creepy. So, I live in a three-bedroom apartment with my husband and cat. We've been living here for a little over a year now, and in the past we've experienced some unexplainable phenomena, the most common being doors being opened after we've shut them.

We shut a door, we leave or walk away and come back and the door is fully opened. We've also noticed heaters being turned on and neither of us turning them on. We've brushed a lot of this off as we do have a cat, and so we're both ADDs, so we figure maybe we just forgot about opening the doors. But the more it happens, the more we question it. Because all of our doors have doorknobs, so it's not like she can grab them and twist them.

and we might forget things from time to time, but not as often as we've been noticing things. I've had it happen a couple of times where I'm showering, and I hear the door open, but I look, and it's shut. I've also experienced the door opening while I'm in the shower, and nobody is there. The apartment community is older, but the vintage magic tricks that my husband collects could be even older than that.

I told my husband the other day that if there is a spirit in the apartment, it's probably from his vintage magic trick collection. We joke about it from time to time. I don't know if spirits can really attach themselves to inanimate objects like they do in The Conjuring or not. If they could, you would think they would be generalized to where the magic tricks are located, but all of the instances have been throughout the apartment.

Anyways, the reason I'm posting this is because this morning, my husband woke me up early and asked what I wanted. I didn't understand what he meant because I was asleep, and he said that he heard me say his name. Later in the morning, he asked me if I remembered saying his name at all. I told him that I might have been sleep talking, but I don't usually talk in my sleep. Actually, I don't think I ever have. At least nobody has ever said anything about it.

I decided to look into spirits mimicking people, and I found here on good old Reddit that this is actually pretty common. If that was a spirit, what does it mean if a spirit is mimicking you? Should we look further into this, or am I being dramatic? I don't really know, but I don't feel scared or concerned by it.

When I was in high school, my English teacher took a group of students, approximately 6 to 10, myself included, to see the Crossett Ghost Light. Legend has it, this is the ghost of a railroad worker that was decapitated and is still searching for his head. Down a dirt road, over a hill, past a small line of trees, in the deep dark of rural Arkansas, you summon this ghost by flashing your headlights three times and then sit quietly in the dark.

There, a faint flicker among the trees, the green light swung back and forth. The ghostly lantern emerged onto the road and slowly swung towards our van. Closer and closer, the specter came and someone yelled, ''Go!'' My teacher floored it. The light vanished and we shot out of there, but not before I saw a shadowy figure. It seemed to be a man crouched or sitting by the trees. He appeared to be wearing a high-collared jacket.

Now, you may be thinking, "Oh, he's obviously the person creating the spooky sightings, or he was carrying the lantern." First, when my teacher sped away, we had driven through where the lantern had been seconds before. Second, the man/shadowy figure did not have a head. For those curious, my teacher and I both saw the headless shadow man crouching by the trees.

So, for any adventurous souls, if you go to see the Crosset Ghost, peer among the trees and maybe you will be lucky, or unlucky enough, to see the poor headless ghost too. Hi, I was hoping that someone on here could give me some advice, because frankly, I've gone from worried to terrified in the last few nights. I haven't been one for believing in the supernatural, but at this point...

I don't know what else it could be. I have brought this up with my family and they laugh it off like it's nothing, only reminding me that this is just "like I'm a child again." I apologize for any spelling issues as I wasn't very good with that kind of stuff in school. Some backstory: I'm 25, male, and I was self-employed as a joiner. I guess, handyman to you Americans. Unfortunately, I had a stroke back in April,

Until then, I was perfectly healthy, but due to work stress and a family gene linked to them, I had a bad one. This is all just context to why I recently moved back in with my grandparents. My rent wasn't cheap, and myself and my partner couldn't afford to keep living there without my income, so we decided until I'm better that we'll move back in with our families.

It really sucks, and I wish that she was with me right now through all of this. So, last month, with the help of my brother and father, we moved me and my dog into my grandparents' fairly large house in the countryside. They have three bedrooms, a bathroom, and a large living room upstairs and downstairs.

The kitchen, the dining room, the living room, another bathroom, and down a small corridor at the back of the house, two more bedrooms. It was basically like living in an apartment myself, without the worry of being in people's way, as my grandparents don't come downstairs unless it's to go shopping or for food. Now this is where things started to go from bad to worse. About a week ago,

I caught what we think was the norovirus and due to my current health, it unfortunately floored me. I was horribly sick and feeling tired all the time and just losing my will to live. So I would take comfort in the times that I could sleep. In sleeping though, I started to have this nightmare.

I was lying in the bed in my room, and I could feel like someone or something was watching me from the corner of the room closest to the window. I couldn't see anything actually there, but I know that something was. It unsettled me. It was like a stranger following you late at night, and you don't know their intentions. This keeps happening. Each sleep, the feeling was there.

In the last two nights, it's gotten worse. Saturday night was the first time that I caught a glimpse of it. Like a man. A really tall man made of pure darkness. Like Vanta Black in the heart of an abyss dark. He was standing in the corner of the room where I felt like someone was watching me. I felt like the entire dream was only a few seconds long.

I saw him and woke up immediately drenched in sweat. When I finally calmed myself down, I went upstairs to my grandparents' living room. I waited until they got up and I had a chat with them about my dream. When I told my grandma about it, she laughed and said that I sounded like I was five years old again, talking about the scary monster in my dreams. The same scary monster.

How, as a kid, I would complain whenever I slept here because there was a scary man watching me until I refused to sleep over. Hearing all this scared the living daylights out of me, and it makes me want to leave, but I have nowhere else to go. My grandparents' house is the only family that had space for me and my German Shepherd. Last night, I was determined to keep myself awake all night.

and maybe find a friend's sofa to accidentally fall asleep on. However, it hit 4am and I couldn't prevent myself from sleeping any longer, and I crashed. In my dream from last night, the man was moving, reaching out for me. You know when you have that feeling like you're in a dangerous situation? Like standing too close to a cliff's edge? I felt like that.

Like whatever this thing was, I could not let it touch me, or something very bad would happen. I'm not sure what, but something very bad. In my dream, I rolled over the bed and half stumbled into the door with a slam, as it was inches away from touching me. In the moment I slammed into the door, I woke up in the exact same position that I was in my dream.

with the exception that my dog was now there, hackles up, and growling angrily in the direction that thing was in when I was asleep. This all but confirms to me that this thing isn't just in my head. I don't know what to do, or where to go next. I'm kind of scared that I'm going to die. Does anyone know what this is, or how I can protect myself? Please, can someone help me? Update 1.

I appreciate everyone's support here. My best mate let me take his couch last night, and I had the best night's sleep that I've had in a while. Unfortunately, it's only temporary, as he's getting ready to go offshore again and his partner will be home from her holiday on Friday. I've taken a lot of your advice, and I've booked an appointment with my local GP. However, the earliest appointment wasn't until the 20th.

I reached out locally to a woman that my friend swears could cleanse the room too. She'll be able to stop by Thursday afternoon. I hope all the things that I've taken will help me move on from this. I just don't know if this truly is in my head, or if it's something more. I'll let you guys know what happens in a couple of days. Thank you all again. I apologize if this story comes across strangely...

or is way too wordy, but I'm not much of an author, so odds are that some of it may not make cohesive sense. I have never written this down, and I've rarely talked to anyone about these occurrences, but they are all burned very deeply into my memory. These are core memories from my childhood that will never leave me. When I was a very little girl, my father passed away from a very painful and destructive sickness.

I don't recall the exact sickness, but it hit him, and he was knocked down and then was gone within a few weeks. Because of this, we had to move in with my maternal grandparents, and the house that they lived in was a nightmare for me every day that I spent there. The house was like one of those creepy houses that you would see in an old horror movie. Not like a huge, old Victorian mansion or something,

Just like the obviously old with some very ancient architecture. I thought the house was the coolest thing when I got older. At least, how it looked. My grandma was into some weird things, so I think she liked to push the slightly creepy aesthetic. Of course, like I said, staying in the house itself was hell, but the outside appearance was pretty cool, I guess. I don't think things started right off the bat.

It was closer to when I was eight or so. Yeah, we lived there through my entire childhood. My first memory of the house was the weird sounds. At first, it was just weird, basic house noises. Or at least that's what I was told. Creaks, bumps, various sounds of steps and doors shutting. I remember telling my grandpa that I heard something walking upstairs, but he would tell me that I was just imagining it.

There was one day that my grandma and I were sitting downstairs at the dining room table. She was doing something and I was coloring. And I heard what sounded like normal steps upstairs, but then came the laughter. You ever hear a kid laughing when you darn well know that you're alone in the house? Yeah. It was enough to freeze my blood. Even at the age of, like, seven or eight. The first thing I did was look to my grandma to see if she heard it.

and I remember seeing the look on her face. She was staring at the stove with her eyes wide and a pale face. I think it was then that I knew that it wasn't just the house shifting, and that the laughing wasn't in my mind. I asked my grandma what it was, and she told me not to worry about it. I pushed it. I kept saying that she heard the laughing too, and after a while she smacked the counter and yelled at me.

"Anne-Marie, that's enough. Leave it alone. It was nothing." After that, whenever I heard things, I wouldn't tell anyone. I didn't mention it to them. I didn't tell them because I knew that they would just chastise me for it. Not long after the laughing started, I started seeing the shadow. I'm not talking like a shadow cast by something. It was a human shape, always slightly out of focus.

I would be doing whatever I did at that age, and I would always start to feel cold. It was a pure instinctual reaction, but I would get the chill and would look up and would always see the damn shadow. I noticed it more upstairs than down, so I started to sleep on the couch, and when my mom asked me why, I told her that I just didn't like my bed or something stupid like that. So, of course, they got me a new bed.

and I was told that I had to sleep in my bedroom. The first night that I had to sleep in there was one of the worst nights. It was when things really kicked into high gear. When I went to bed, I just laid there in my bed unable to fall asleep because I kept feeling cold, kept feeling like I was being stared at. I was laying there with my eyes closed and my blanket over my face when I started to feel this pressure in my chest.

It was like someone was pushing me down onto the bed, like hands were holding me down, but when I opened my eyes, there was obviously nobody there. What was there was horrifying. There was this dark mist hovering above me. It almost looked like a storm cloud, but it was up close and personal. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't scream. I was just frozen there watching as this dark mist slowly took shape.

Now, this may sound like sleep paralysis, and it could have been, but it was brought on by something that was not natural, nor normal. I was a young child, and whatever this was, was haunting me. I watched as this thing hovered above me for a few moments, and then slowly made its way out of my room. When it left the room, I was able to move again, and my heart was racing. I chose to follow it.

I chose to see where it was trying to go and when I opened my door, I watched as this dark cloud made its way a little bit down the hallway and then through the attic door. I immediately ran downstairs and I locked myself in the bathroom. I sat there on the floor crying my eyes out, terrified that this thing was going to come and find me, that it was going to suffocate me or hold me down again.

I eventually fell asleep because when I woke up, it was to my mom knocking on the bathroom door and asking who was there. This was the last event for a little while, a couple of years I believe, because I think I was around 11 the next time something happened. The next event though was the one that really solidified the horror for me. It was the middle of the summer, and I was home with my grandma again.

My mom and grandpa were both at work all the time, so really most of my childhood it was just she and I. By this time though, we actually had a small dog named Baxter, and he was my little buddy for a long time. I was sitting in the living room, I think at this point I was playing my Game Boy, and my grandma was sitting in her chair crocheting. Neither of us were making much noise, I think my game of Tetris was probably making the most sound.

When out of nowhere, the room was filled with the sound of humming. It was so sudden, and it wasn't happy humming. It was a pained and sadded sound of someone humming out a somber tune, and as they did, it almost sounded like they were sobbing. Again, I heard it, and my mind immediately went, Am I hearing things? Or does my grandma hear this too? And when I glanced over at her, I could tell that she was holding back a terrified look.

It was at this point that I took the time to confront this straight on. I was older, and I was at that age where I thought that I was more grown up than I really was. I said, ''I know that I'm not imagining that. I can tell that you can hear it too.'' At this point, she just sighed and said, ''Yeah, I can hear it too, okay? I just don't want to acknowledge it because, if we do, it might feel invited to stay.''

At this point it kind of clicked that she firmly believed that giving whatever this thing was any sort of attention would make it want to stick around. The humming stopped a few moments later, but it didn't quite end there. When it stopped we both kind of just sat there in silence until Baxter started growling. It was completely silent when he just started baring his teeth and growling at seemingly nothing.

He stood up from the couch and continued his growl at the empty room, and then we heard this loud bang coming from upstairs. We both jumped up. I think we were both kind of freaking out, and my grandma made her way up the stairs and told me to stay there. I, of course, did not listen, and I followed her up. We looked in the rooms, and we pretty quickly found what was the cause of the sound.

When we walked into my grandparents bedroom, we both saw the lamp that normally sat on the end table on my grandpa's side had been practically thrown across the room and was completely shattered. I helped her clean it up and get it all sorted out, and while we were cleaning she finally explained some things to me. The main thing that she told me was that the house was haunted, and it was haunted by someone that my grandparents knew.

Apparently my grandmother was not my grandpa's first wife. His first wife lived with him in the house for the four years they were married, until she died. She died in the house, in the room that I had been living in. She had an undiagnosed heart problem, and my grandpa actually found her on the floor one day after coming home from work, and she was already cold. Ever since then, this house has had strange things happening.

Things my grandfather ignored, things that he told my grandmother to ignore when they got together, and my grandmother had told my mother to ignore it, and so forth, until it got to me. The problem was that, apparently, I was the one that the spirit, well, assumed to be the spirit of my grandfather's first wife, was tormenting. She was tormenting me more than anyone else. I broke down and I told my grandmother everything that I had dealt with,

things that she never knew about. She hugged me and told me that I just needed to ignore it, basically saying what she had said downstairs. Thankfully, after that, the things that happened went back to the minimal creepy things. The sounds, the laughing and such. I never experienced that sleep paralysis, and nothing else was ever physically broken. I did see the shadow every once in a while, and it seemed to spend a lot of time near the attic.

which was a bit across from my room, but nothing ever seemed as malicious as that one night. After I moved out and I got my own place, all of it seemingly stopped, which tells me that the spirit was attached to that house, or to my grandparents, probably my grandpa. I don't know if anything else has happened in that house to them, though. My grandparents both passed about 15 years ago, and my mom sold the house.

I asked my mom about her experiences, but she never wanted to speak about it beyond just saying that she had had them. So, that's my story with the haunted house that my grandparents owned. A house where I was tormented as a kid. There were a lot more happenings before that day, the day where my grandma told me everything, but none of them really come to mind like the ones I've explained. I hope that you enjoyed this story, and I hope it's good enough for your channel.

as it's a story that I've wanted to tell for a very long time. Thank you for your time, Raven, and I look forward to many more scary stories from you. I have a semi-interesting story. For as long as I can remember, I've always had extremely vivid dreams, to the point of not being able to tell my real life from my sleeping one. As I got older, some of these dreams started to become premonitions.

Some have come true weeks or even years later. For example, two years prior to moving to another province, I had a dream about myself sitting in a small shack, legs up on a desk, looking at a fence with a giant truck coming in. I was wearing a construction onesie, all blue, jumper, high-vis straps, steel-toed boots, and a hard hat.

I was 20 at the time of this dream and in my club and super girly mode. No way in hell would you ever catch me in that outfit. Lo and behold, two years later, I move to Alberta. I start working in a refinery and I'm sitting at the desk feet up and a truck pulls in and my dream hits me like a slap to the face. Now to start the real story.

I have to preface this with, at this point in time, I had only ever dreamt of my childhood home, obviously my safe space, as I lived in five homes after this and never dreamt of any of them. This dream happened in Alberta, in a house that I had only lived in at the time for roughly six months. I lived with my boyfriend at the time, and his younger brother. We also had two cats and a dog.

We lived in a three-floor townhouse. Bedrooms upstairs, stairway was in the kitchen, back about ten feet from the base of the stairs was the back door to our parking spot, and the living room entrance opposite the back door but off to the side of the kitchen. So, I go to bed, and the dream starts with my walking down the stairs into my kitchen. There's a pasta pot on the front burner of the stove, and it's on fire.

I freak out because I have nothing to stop the fire. I wake up from my dream, walk out of my bedroom, look down the stairs, and the kitchen lights off. No lights at all coming from downstairs, so I go back to bed and I fall asleep. At some point, I fall back into the same dream. I'm walking down the stairs to my kitchen. The pasta pot is on the stove again, but now the entire stove and wall behind it are on fire.

I can feel the heat on my face. I panic trying to wake everyone up as my boyfriend is asleep upstairs. His brother is asleep in the basement. I'm trying to locate my animals, but I can't find anyone or anything. I wake up again. This time, way more frazzled. I walk out to the top of the stairs again and all is still normal. I go to the bathroom and try to shake off the feeling of terror from the dream. I eventually fall back asleep.

only to fall back into that same dream for a third time. Now, this time I was walking down the stairs, and I can see before the base of it that the entirety of my kitchen is on fire. Red hot flames are licking all the walls, black smoke everywhere, it hurts to breathe, and it's hot as hell. I get into the kitchen to see the same pasta pot on the stove.

The wall of fire is blocking the living room door entrance, and my dog is on the other side of it, barking like crazy. I can't get to him. As I hit the floor, the stairs behind me were also set ablaze with both of my cats at the top of the stairs hollering. I can't save anyone. I want to run to open the back door as that's the only safe route to go, but my brain is like, oxygen will blow the house up. What do I do? I woke up.

Sweating buckets. Crying my eyes out. I leave my room to go check out the kitchen, and now there's a light on. I freak out, and I run downstairs. Guess what I find. My stovetop is on. With the pasta pot on the front burner, all of the water had boiled off and it had started to turn red. My boyfriend's little brother came home drunk from the club and tried to make food, but passed out in his room.

My mom thinks it was my great aunt protecting me as she had just passed earlier that year. Part of me thinks that I also may have some natural abilities for this, as it's happened in the past, but never that instantly. Any insights or similar stories? I have a haunting story that took place around the time that I thought I had my life figured out.

My sophomore year in college, I was finally moving out of my parents' house and into a small rental home that was around three blocks from the campus that I was attending. It was a really cute house, a bit rickety and in need of some love, but overall it was a nice little house with a bedroom, a bathroom, and a kitchen living room thing. It was like the studio apartment of houses, tiny and affordable for a college student.

I wasn't going to be throwing any parties in it, but I could at least have a couple of friends over to play games or something. Plus, you look a bit more serious to the opposite sex when you live somewhere that isn't in your mom's basement. Just saying. The first couple of weeks were great. There were a handful of things I had to report to the landlord to get fixed, but nothing that was too serious.

There was a bit of a leak from the pipe behind the toilet, and the vent above the stove went out on like day number two, but they were really good about getting someone out to fix it. By the end of week two, I was pretty happy with how things were going, and was confident that I could live there for possibly several years. Then I started hearing a knocking. At first, I thought it was someone at my door.

The first night it happened, it was around 8pm and I was eating my pizza and watching NCIS. I was sitting there and I heard a fairly faint knocking sound. About four thuds. I put my pizza down, got up and opened my door, but there was nobody there. I stepped out and looked around, but obviously there wasn't anything going on outside.

I shrugged it off and went back inside to finish my episode, when I heard it again. This time though, it sounded like it was coming from the other end of the room, over by the window in the kitchen's side, and not the door. I kind of jumped because I didn't expect it. I grabbed my shoes and a flashlight, and I did a quick once around the yard to see if there was someone there, but there was nothing. I started kind of playing through my head what it could be.

Plumbing issues? Maybe. But it sounded more like a person knocking on a door or wall four times, both times. It could have been a pipe, but the fact that it was in a rhythm and it happened in two different locations made me think it wasn't. My next thought was... rodents. My parents once had a squirrel eat through part of the wall at the house, and they'd actually made a nest under the bathtub.

and it would make noise randomly, so it was possible, but again, it felt too rhythmic. The only other thing I thought of was that it was someone messing with me, but if so, why? And how were they so quick to get away from the house when I checked? In the end, I just made a quick note of it and decided that if it kept happening, I would let my landlord know and we could trace it down.

If this were a connected unit like an apartment or a townhome, I could have just assumed that it was my neighbors. But this house wasn't connected to anything, and it had some space in the yard, so I was confused. Now, it did happen again, but here's the weird part. It would only happen if I was alone. If I had someone over or was talking on the phone, it would not happen. There would be no tapping.

but if it was just me, I would hear it randomly at night, almost as if the house itself was screwing with me, making me feel crazy. I even tested this by having one of my friends sleep over for a couple of days. He needed a place to chill for a few anyway, and my couch was always welcome to him. The whole time he was there, which amounted to three days and two nights, it never happened. The day he left, I started hearing it again.

Then, things got weirder. I would come home from class and would find various things out of place. The first thing I noticed was my chairs that I had around my tiny dining table. I came home from class only to find two of them facing away from the table towards the kitchen. If it was just the one chair, I could easily have assumed that it was just me forgetting to push it back in after working on classwork. But two chairs? That was a bit strange.

The next thing that happened was about a week after that. I was unlocking my door and I heard a crash, like something had broken inside of my house. I shoved the door open like I was Rambo about to take out an intruder, but the house was as empty as I'd left it. I'd walked around thinking that maybe they had run into one of the other rooms, but this house was tiny and there was nowhere to hide. After I cleared the rooms, I went to the kitchen and found the cause of the crash.

One of my coffee mugs was on the ground, shattered. This lent itself again to the possibility of it being rodents, so I got my stepladder and I cleaned out that cabinet, and there was no indication that there was any way a rodent could have gotten into the cabinet. Plus, the cabinet was mostly empty already, and the only way for a rodent to have gotten in there, and gotten the door open and the mug shoved out, would have been if it was a large rat.

There was a small lip on the bottom of the cabinet to prevent you from accidentally knocking dishes out for that reason. So it would have had to have lifted the mug over that and then thrown it into the kitchen, which is not something that rats do. There were a handful more things like this. Things moved, things knocked over. One day I even woke up and found the linen closet in the hallway was open and literally everything in the closet was on the ground.

The linen closet was right next to my bedroom, so if someone had broken in, I probably would have heard them rifling through the closet. Yet, here we were. Then, about two months after all this started, was the creepiest of the events. I was asleep, fully passed out in the middle of the night, and my eyes shot open. I don't mean like I was asleep and I just woke up.

I mean, I was clean out in the middle of a deep sleep cycle, and the next second my eyes were wide and staring at something. At the foot of my bed was a figure. I couldn't make out any facial features, but it was dark and shadowy looking, like a void in the shape of a person. My heart started pounding. I wanted to scream, but I didn't feel like I could. I sat there watching this thing with sweat pouring over my face.

I watched as it slowly leaned over the foot of the bed. As it did, I was finally able to make out part of the face. The mouth. It was a creepy, toothy grin that was edging closer and closer to me. Not like demonic teeth or anything. It was just normal human looking teeth, but the smile was just terrifying. What's worse is that I literally blinked and the thing was gone. Just like that.

It was there, leaning in and smiling at me, and then just gone. Obviously, this was enough to make me question whether or not I honestly wanted to live there. I could handle the oddities here and there. The knocking, the things moving, though breaking my mugs was a bit extra. But actually seeing things, seeing apparitions or manifestations of the creepiness, that was a bit much for me.

At the same time, I didn't really want to lose this house. It was such a quaint little place, and it was super affordable. I was a bit torn, so I decided to just see how things went. I'm going to skip ahead a bit, and just mention that I did end up moving out after the 12-month lease was up. Things moved, things were shifted and broken, and I saw the shadow every once in a while, but the tipping point was right before I was set to move out.

I started hearing talking. I couldn't make out the words, but they sounded like they were pleading in an incredibly unsettling tone. Worse yet, the voices were clearly coming from the walls, not any of the rooms. So, I told my landlord that I'd found a new place, and just moved back in with my parents. I kept it amicable between him and I because he was a nice guy, but this place was seriously haunted.

To end this story, I wanted to mention that I know the person that moved in after me. He was a buddy of mine from class, and when he heard that I was moving out of the rental, he asked me to put him through to the landlord. So I did. I told him about the stuff that I went through. I told him about all of it, and he didn't believe me. Well, guess who's a believer now? He went through the same stuff. The knocking, the shadows, the voices...

It pretty much went the exact same, getting creepier and creepier until he could not take it anymore. He lasted two years though, and he told me that he was starting to have night terrors in that house before he left, and it was making it to where he swears he was seeing things. Obviously I'm never going to have answers about any of this, it was just a creepy little haunted house.

The last time I drove through my hometown, I wanted to see if it was still standing. And it is, but by this point it's been condemned. Who knows? Maybe I'll break in and check out how it looks. And see if anything happens while I'm there. If I do, and something does happen, I'll be sure to send you that story as well.

I have experienced numerous examples of the paranormal and/or high strangeness throughout the years, but the events during the early hours of December 12th, 2021 represented a new watershed for me. I had gone to bed around midnight and, as far as I'm aware, slept soundly for around three hours. Then, I awoke feeling slightly groggy for the first few seconds

then quickly becoming fully conscious of my surroundings. I was laid on my right hand side, which meant that I was looking towards the middle of the bedroom. I live in a late Victorian house in the UK, built in 1899. Though long since boarded up, there is still the original fireplace in my bedroom, and the original mantelpiece is also still there above the boarded up fireplace.

The mantelpiece therefore still serves as a four and a half foot long by six inch wide shelf on which to sit several ornaments. The end of the mantelpiece is about three feet away from the right hand edge of my bed, so I laid there that night in real terms between four to five feet away from me. I was astonished by what I saw.

There was what appeared to be a 10-12 year old girl, stood there facing the mantelpiece, and she was close to the end of the mantelpiece that was nearest me. She was apparently fascinated by one of the ornaments in front of her, staring intently with her hands held up as high as her face. She was wiggling her fingers tentatively, as if tempted to touch the ornament, but not sure whether or not she should.

but her weird, exceptionally long, bony fingers were just one minor feature compared to the other details that I registered as I watched her in silence for about 20 seconds. She was around 4 feet tall. She literally glowed like moonlight. She was sort of semi-transparent. I could discern some very faint pale pink and blue lines beneath her skin, which I guessed were veins.

She wore a short, plain sleeveless dress, which appeared to be the same translucent moonlight grey color as her exposed limbs. She was skeletal thin. Her hair was darker than her body, mid-length, but very thin and stringy. I could clearly see her scalp showing and glowing through. She made no sound and there was no smell. I felt no threat whilst watching her.

It was obvious that she was far more interested in the ornament than she was interested in me, but then the mood changed. I did not become scared. It was more like a growing resentment that this ghost was not welcome. She should not be there. She was invading my private place, seeming to me more like a trespasser than a scary apparition. So, I finally reacted.

I shouted at her, an almost comical roar, and lunged toward her, my outstretched hand not quite reaching her, maybe still around a foot shy. Her head swiveled around with an owl-like motion, and she looked at me full on. That was when she stopped looking like a 10-12 year old girl, and started looking more like an "it." There were features on her face that were now visible to me,

that had not been apparent at all during the 20 seconds or so that I had watched her inside profile. Her eyes were jet black, and very large in relation to the size of her face. She only had half a nose, the left-hand side. The right-hand side of her nose was missing. It appeared to have rotted away so that you could see the bare bone and cartilage, and the rot extended down through the top lip,

so that you could also see the top of two of her teeth through the gaping hole. Her closed mouth below the hole was very thin-lipped, no more than a two-inch long slit. She stared at me for two, maybe three seconds, with no facial expression as such, but something about her eyes still somehow indicating surprise. Then, she disappeared in the blink of an eye.

No slow fade, no floating away through the wall, just there one second and then gone the next. So there I lay for another few minutes. As I previously alluded to, I've seen plenty of weird stuff over the years, so I wasn't feeling scared or panicky. I was simply wondering who or what the hell it was that I had just observed. Where had she come from? Why had she appeared now?

Why was she, or it, apparently transfixed by an ornament? Was it actually the first time that she had visited my bedroom? Or did she visit frequently, and this was just the first time I had awoken in time to observe her? I kept re-running the event over and over in my mind, and then several more thoughts occurred to me. Why was she so visible one second, and then gone the next?

Was it because she was so fascinated, so absorbed with the ornament that she was distracted to the extent of lowering her guard? Had she effectively forgotten to render herself invisible because she thought I was sound asleep and oblivious to her presence? And what could be so bloody fascinating about an ornament? So that's when I got out of bed. I noted the time display in my alarm clock. It was 3.45 a.m.,

put on the light and stood in front of the mantelpiece right where I estimated she had been standing, which ornament had been the center of her attention. I firmly believed that it was my small, hand-carved wooden elephant, technically a family heirloom. It was originally owned by my grandparents. Quaint, yes, even cute, but nothing really special. Then, I registered what else I was seeing.

I started this account by stating that the events of the early morning of the 12th of December 2021 represented a watershed for me despite my numerous other paranormal experiences throughout my life. Why? Because for all the accounts that I could relate to you, until then, I had never been presented with any tangible proof, no physical evidence to back up those accounts.

They could all be easily dismissed later as dreams, or hallucinations, or attention-seeking lies or schizophrenia, and/or all of the other lazy explanations usually put forward by people who are not there to experience any particular event for themselves, and often seem to take comfort, sometimes even pleasure,

in dismissing an honest account rather than keeping an open mind, and allowing it to potentially challenge their own view of reality. But this time, it was different. There in the dust on the mantelpiece, next to the wooden elephant, was a doll-sized part handprint. It measured around half the width of my hand, although the fingers seemed freakishly long and spindly in relation to the width of the print.

Then, I remembered another small detail that I had not fully registered whilst replaying the event through my mind earlier. When I had shouted at her and her head spun around, one of her upraised hands had simultaneously dropped down towards the mantelpiece. The part handprint left in the dust was the result. The girl had been somehow physically present, not just an apparition.

So I later took photos of the part handprint, and yes, I still have those photos in my possession. And, just for good measure, I have another photo of a subsequent handprint she left in the early hours of December 25th, 2022. Am I under any naive impression that some photos would be sufficient to convince all, and sundry that my account is genuine after all? Absolutely not.

But the very fact that I have those photos created an important distinction. For me, at least. Hence my reference to a watershed. So, have I now given a complete account of events in the early hours of the 12th of December 2021? Well, no. Actually, far from it. More was still to follow that morning, and to some extent, is still occurring up to this day.

It appears that "Little Miss Skeletor", as I've come to call my visitor these days, is somewhat attached to me, or at least likes to pay a visit now and then. If you are interested to hear more, then sure, I'm willing to share. I'm also open to any constructive ideas about who or what my visitor may actually be.

At this juncture, my favorite theory is that she can only visit at certain times, usually between 3am to 4am, and arrives and leaves via some type of portal that exists in my house, a portal that is closed or blocked most of the time. My reason for formulating my portal theory are actually based on other paranormal-slash-high-strangeness events,

that I experienced long before 2021. In any event, I hope that you found my account interesting, and for some who have strange experiences of their own, perhaps even helpful. After all, my rationale is that if there is no sense of real evil or danger during a paranormal event, then there is no need to become scared to the point of threatening your mental and or physical health.

For instance, if Little Miss Skeletor actually wanted to harm me, it would not be that difficult whilst I slept. If she can leave a partial handprint, then in theory she could press down a pillow over my sleeping head, or get up to heaven knows what other mischief to my detriment. But she doesn't harm me, so I do not get all scared and or worked up about her visits.

I'm more inclined to think that she is actually just curious, and/or even just bored most of the time. It's just a shame that she doesn't share more secrets about wherever it is that she's from. Now, wouldn't that be interesting? To begin, this happened about ten years ago, and I've only ever told this to a few people face to face. Most people think it's a tall tale.

It was honestly one of the most unsettling things that has ever happened to me, and changed me from a condescending skeptic into somewhat of a believer. When I was a 22 year old second year uni student living in the Stoke area of the UK, I rented an old middle terrace house in second year with my then girlfriend and some friends.

It was a creepy dark house, as it only had windows at the front and the back. It had a dingy and damp old basement with lots of old furniture stuffed inside, and a black cat that would show up at the back door every night meowing, which I befriended and fed. It was also creepy because of the dark and muddy cul-de-sac that served as a communal courtyard and car park.

All of this didn't bother me, however. I grew up in a pretty creepy old house built in the early 1800s. It did, as I later learned, bother my downstairs housemate and his girlfriend who heard regular footfalls at night in the highway and adjacent living room only to find nobody when he would sneak out to look. I also discovered a year after this event that the students who lived there the year prior all believed the house was haunted.

and were glad to move out. So, the main story. My term time ended four weeks after all of the other tenants, because I had to do clinical placement. This meant I lived in this large house alone, which I loved. I'm an introvert, and I love alone time. It started great. For two weeks, I enjoyed it despite the background creepiness. I would just reason away any creepiness as I still do now.

However, after the two-week mark, I became aware of a creeping sense of dread that I couldn't rationalize or find cause for. I'm not an overly anxious person, and I enjoy my own company and nothing weird had happened. I began to feel very unwelcome, and very much not alone. I felt how a prey animal must feel when they feel eyes on their back.

I began to feel so scared that, even in the day, I would take the three mile walk onto campus and sit and work in the library if not on placement. I would come home and be afraid. I even devised a system for moving around the house at night without ever being in an unlit area. I also did this during the day in the windowless areas.

I had to move from my large comfy room into the smallest bedroom, lock the door and sleep with my back to a wall, often with the light on. I was inexplicably afraid. On the final day, I had to lock all the windows, turn off all the plugs, get some stuff from the basement and lock the back door before I left. I was utterly terrified, and I felt like I was moving in slow motion the entire time.

I went around systematically ensuring that a light was always on, and that I wasn't in darkness. I'd piled all my stuff, backpack and duffel bag. The rest was mercifully packed in my car the day before, at the front door. This is where it gets really scary, and I cannot explain what happened adequately. It was late afternoon and still light outside, but the house was dark. I steeled myself to turn the hallway light off,

but the light switch was about 4 meters from the front door at the foot of the stairs. It was night dark upstairs, which was normal because no windows and all the doors shut. I turned the light off and scurried away without turning my back to the stairs. The daylight still lit the hallway from the open front door, but as I got to the door the strangest thing happened. My neck hairs stood on end.

To my shame, if I needed to pee at the time, I think I would have peed myself. I could feel, or see, I can't really explain, a black and viscous shadowy cloud slowly making its way down the stairs towards me. I felt such malevolence. I basically tripped backwards into the street and into daylight, shut the door, and everything felt fine, like nothing had just happened.

I locked the door and posted the key through the letterbox and have never seen the house again. The only way I can explain the feeling is to liken it to a Dementor and Ringwraith attack, except there wasn't a caped humanoid figure chasing me. I couldn't see it, but I knew. Knew. The fear and dread was indescribable and I have never since experienced anything like it. I had, nor have, no mental health issues.

I was happy and not stressed at the time, etc. I even feel crazy and embarrassing relating the story. Are there any other experiences like this?

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I've wrestled with social and general anxiety for much of my life. A persistent undercurrent that, while not incapacitating, casts shadows on my confidence.

My ability to navigate social realms and find self-assurance owes much to my mother's caring nature, pushing me consistently beyond my comfort zone. A few years back, freshly out of college, I embarked on the tumultuous journey into the professional world, a transition that proved to be more nerve-wracking than anticipated. My initial job experience was far from ideal.

While I won't name the company, as I bear no animosity towards my manager, who navigated the same turbulent waters, the management and working conditions left much to be desired. This job thrust me into socially challenging situations, especially in the realm of sales, exacerbating my anxiety.

Frustrated and seeking relief, I turned to my medical provider, who suggested experimenting with various anxiety medications. Unfortunately, none provided the desired alleviation, though they also didn't entail negative consequences, until I encountered what I now refer to as the demon pills. Now, it's crucial to understand another facet of my experiences.

My history of recurring nightmares and occasional episodes of sleep paralysis. These occurrences were potent enough to seep into my waking reality. I vividly recall a night when I felt an ominous tug on my hand hanging off of the bed. Introducing the "demon pills" only intensified matters. Initially, I faced vague, unsettling dreams that disrupted my sleep.

However, the situation escalated dramatically when the demonic figure from my dream began to materialize in my waking world. The first encounter was chilling. I woke up facing the wall and on it I perceived a black figure, fixated on me. The fear was paralyzing, beyond the typical sensation of sleep paralysis. Over time, these dreams morphed into increasingly complex scenarios.

I found myself in what I termed the "Hell Bedroom", an indistinct space where I struggled to differentiate between my actual bed and this nightmarish realm. A persistent feeling of being stalked permeated these dreams, heightening my anxiety. One particularly unsettling night, I transitioned from the Hell Bedroom to a dream of playing basketball with my friends.

The abrupt shift, coupled with my friends expressing concern for my well-being, created a surreal narrative. It was as if the demon orchestrated false hope, only to plunge me back into its nightmarish clutches. In another harrowing dream, I found myself surrounded by family, confessing the ordeal to them and seeking help. Strangely, I believed that I was genuinely sharing my experiences and receiving support.

It seemed as though the demon wanted me to cling to false hope, only to shatter it, intensifying my fear. As you can imagine, the cycle continued, and my grip on reality blurred. I developed a coping mechanism. I would call my dog into the room, and if he responded, I knew I was in reality. Yet the demon transcended dreams, appearing while I was awake.

I distinctly remember a night when I believed I had woken up. My dog was in the corner of my eye, but the demon sat at the edge of my bed. A three-dimensional and menacing presence. Eventually, I decided to discontinue the medication, and things gradually improved. While I still contend with intense nightmares, the demon's influence has waned.

Just last night, my girlfriend noted the terror in my sleep sounds, prompting me to ponder if these dreams have always been an intrinsic part of me, lurking beneath the surface. Despite the ongoing challenges, I find solace in the fact that, for now, the demon remains subdued. My brother passed away in a motorcycle accident back in '75.

He was 16 and this happened 5 days before my 15th birthday, which put a huge damper on my birthday and the upcoming holidays. I will call my brother Eric as I wish to remain anonymous. I was now an only child and was very lost. Everyone took care of mom and dad and I was just left out in the cold. I found that I couldn't relate to my peers, or anyone for that matter.

I wrestled with depression and left home right after high school, because I couldn't handle the memories and home life was less than desirable. After a major breakdown, 15 years after my brother's death, I was able to connect with one of my brother's friends. I'll call him Mark. Mark and I were talking via phone call and were sharing some memories of Eric.

It felt good to share long, pent-up memories and even laugh at some of the funny things he did. A few days later, Mark called me with a bit of concern, perhaps bewilderment in his voice. To fill in a bit of the backstory, this happened in the mid-90s, while we still had landlines and answering machines. Mark's answering machine had been giving him and his wife problems.

His wife had contacted the company that made the answering machine for a part to hopefully fix the machine. They had just received the part, and along with the part, the company had sent a brochure with the picture of the answering machine. In the picture, there was my brother's full name on the identification area of the picture of the answering machine. Usually, it would have read something like John Doe, or something to the likes.

but instead, it read Eric's first and last name. Mind you, Eric's full name was unusual, not a common name. It freaked Mark out, but I just kind of chuckled and said that he was just letting us know that he was there amongst us while we were talking about him a few days earlier. I know it may sound weird, but it was kind of comforting to know that Eric wasn't too far away.

Hi Raven, I've only been listening to your videos for about a week, but I wanted to tell you some of my strangest stories. I have quite a few, so you can pick your favorites. Also, my timeline may be skewed as these happened in my childhood. Number one, my family was pretty poor. So much so that we had to live in a tent for one summer.

I only remember that it wasn't too far from my grandparents, but we were deep in the woods down a dirt road. It was a very late night, returning from a day elsewhere. As we were driving down a long dirt road, I was staring out the van window and up into the trees. As we drove to our tent, I noticed glaring red eyes lined up in the trees all the way down the road. Curious, I leaned to the other side to see if it was the same,

And, though the trees were farther from the road, the eyes were on the other side also. As a child, I used to call them the "red-eyed monkeys," but still today I couldn't tell you what they really were. We don't live anywhere near where there would be monkeys of any kind. At some point in my childhood, we lived on an old farmhouse with my aunt and cousins. This house was known for a lot of activity.

There was a late night that I had woken up from my parents' bed to noises in the kitchen just down the stairs from our room. I thought it was my grandma and aunt as they had usually gotten up really early in the morning, so I went to investigate. As I went down the stairs, I noticed the two of the chairs had been pulled out, but no one was in them, which was unusual.

So, I thought maybe they moved to the living room where I couldn't see them. I continued my way down the stairs until a few steps from the bottom, when something I couldn't see grabbed my wrist and pulled me the rest of the way. As soon as my feet hit the kitchen floor, it let go and ran back to my parents. There are many more stories of this house, but this was mine. All of these next ones will be encounters with my aunt who had passed. 3.

I had a favorite aunt, but who doesn't? She was the youngest of my dad's siblings and we did everything together. When I was eight, she died in a car accident drunk driving. My grandma had her body cremated and her ashes were put in a large pink metal urn. A Christmas after she passed, my other aunt, who worked at a ski resort, rented cottages for the family to stay in for a short time, like a mini vacation.

In one of these cottages, my grandma put my aunt's urn in the fireplace and took a photo of the Christmas tree with it in the background. Sometime later, she was using the family computer at home to make Christmas cards using that photo. The only ones at the house were her, myself, and one of my cousins. My cousin and I were fairly young, maybe 10 or so. We didn't really know much about using a computer, let alone the word program.

My grandma had taken a small break to use the bathroom, and my cousin and I never left the couch. We were too into our cartoon show. When she'd come back to finish and print the cards, she asked us if we had touched the computer at all. Of course, we hadn't. We never moved from our spot. She might have been skeptical at first because she called us over to look at the screen.

On the computer was her Christmas card with the original photo of the tree and the urn, but on top was a sort of ghost image of my aunt who had passed with almost angel wings behind her, barely visible. And a small chat bubble was also now on the photo that read, ''I love and miss you all.'' ''My cousin and I swore to our grandma that we never touched the computer while she was gone.''

She's always been a believer in the supernatural or paranormal. When she decided that we were telling the truth, she started crying, hoping and believing that it was my aunt coming back to say goodbye. Number four. I'll make this my last one. There are many more that I could tell you, but this is already long. This was a few years ago when I was still living with my parents. Maybe 2018 or 19.

There was a night that I just had a feeling to start talking to my aunt, who had died whenever I was eight. I don't know what gave me this feeling, but I did it. I told her about my day, my year, just trying to catch her up on things. I didn't talk for very long, as I was pretty tired. So when I decided to be done, I said, "'Goodnight, Aunt Emmy. I love you,' and turned over to try and sleep."

As I was laying there, just listening to nothing, I heard a slight scraping sound behind me. It was small and short, but I know that I heard it. I laid there thinking about it, but I had to get up to find out what it was, as I had a cat in my room also. I wanted to make sure that my cat hadn't pulled down any of my knickknacks from my bookshelf, so I got up and turned the light on to investigate.

For context, I collected small toy horses based on my favorite computer game when I was a kid, so I had a few on this shelf, but I also had a ton of other small figures, stones, and other things covering the space in front of my books on every shelf. As I look at the bookshelf to figure out what's out of place, I notice that one of my horses, an all-white one, was now on the opposite side of the shelf that I'd had it on.

I know for a fact that I had put it on the other end for balance, since I had a black one opposite of it. This white horse was now somehow next to the black horse, facing my bed where I was laying, even though the shelf between the two horses was covered in so many other things. It was not physically possible to slide the horse from one side to the other without shoving everything else onto the floor.

I still think about this, and I still have no explanation for it. I hope that you like these stories, and maybe one will be told in your video. They all will. I haven't had any paranormal events happen since the last story, but I do have a few creepy sleep paralysis stories. And thank you for reading. I'm not one for believing in any sort of paranormal stuff. There's just not enough evidence thrown my way personally.

But after this, I don't think I can deny it any longer. It's real. A few weeks ago, a couple of friends of mine told me that they were throwing a party at some old abandoned, supposedly haunted house towards the edge of town. I got a text from one of them asking if I wanted to go, and being the party person that I am, I accepted. Not because I wanted to see if it was haunted, but I just really like parties.

and it had been a bit since I'd been to one. Fast forward to that Friday, and I'm in the passenger seat of my friend Mac's car, headed to the house on the edge of our town. I turned and asked Mac, "'So, what's so haunted about this crap hole?'

He responded with, Oh, well, a couple lived there about a hundred years ago. Something caused an argument and the wife stabbed the husband. And while he was fighting for his life, he strangled her. The knife was still sticking out of his chest when he collapsed, and he bled out before anyone found them, Mac told me. So why is it charred on the outside if it was just a couple killing each other? He responded with,

That's because they had something cooking and the flame was on the whole time, and ended up catching on something near it, and the house went up in flames the next day. We both kind of went quiet after that. The thought of two angry spirits sitting in a house that we were about to spend most of the night drunk in, but then it came back to me that there won't be any spirits because they didn't exist. We finally make it to the house a few minutes later. It's a pretty big four-story McMansion.

Casting this dark shadow over the entire yard, the house looked just as black as the shadow. Mac remarked that it didn't look like there was anyone there yet. I asked, "Want to take a look? See where we can set up?" He said, "Sure, let's do it." We walked towards the front door and this cold breeze rushed past us, like a gust of wind with no actual force, but the cold following it was undeniable.

We both stopped and stared at each other, probably wondering the same thing. What the hell was that? We get to the front door that is just hanging on by a single half-melted door hinge, and walked inside. The house was just as cold as the gust of wind from before, but it was everywhere. The entire house felt like it was 20 degrees Fahrenheit, and it was like a blazing inferno just outside the door. "'Why is it so damn cold?' I asked."

Mac replied with, ''No idea. You'd think it'd be warm in here.'' Just then, a loud bang came from a room somewhere above us, followed by the sound of a large glass object being smashed. We both looked at each other, obviously realizing the same thing. We weren't alone. Hesitant, we both grabbed something that would, in some world, constitute as a weapon of some sort, and slowly walked up the creepy stairs.

Each footstep sent that creak echoing through the entire house. That's when we heard rapid footsteps behind us, racing up the stairs. Me and Mac both shot around and stared into the dimly lit staircase. The silence was deafening, almost threatening. We then heard footsteps in front of us, coming from the top of the stairs. We jumped back down the rest of the staircase and we bolted for the door.

The door slammed shut and practically pushed itself back into its old shape. We pretty much slammed right into the door just after it closed. We pulled as hard as we could. With how it looked when we were coming in, it should have practically fell apart into dust by just touching it, but it was like it was bolted from the other side. Panic started to set in. I swear I could feel the house's cold air go from foreboding to disturbing and dangerous.

Suddenly, I didn't feel like we had entered an empty house. "Dude, what the hell is going on? What is this?" Max said through panicked breathing. I just stared at him. It had to be ghosts, but ghosts? Real ghosts. This stuff just happens in the movies, doesn't it? We both were turned around now, facing the inside of the house, which was now a lot darker as it was approaching night time.

Most of the windows were boarded up, and the door was stuck shut. There we were, staring into this darkness, this deafening silence. And then we heard more footsteps. But these ones sounded close. Deliberate. Like they were coming directly for us. We listened in horror. The steps kept getting closer and closer, until I swear I felt a large mass or presence directly in front of me. It felt like the air was getting sucked out of the room.

After what felt like hours of just holding our breaths with tears in our eyes, we felt the door fall back into its broken position, and the presence in front of us was gone. We wasted no time bolting out the door and never looked back. We drove away, not even bothering to text the rest of our party friends about not going there. For some reason, when we brought it up to the others, they denied that the party was a thing. At least, not at that house, or even that day.

Confused, Mac checked his phone to make sure the text was from the right number, and it wasn't. It seemed to be a number off. I have no idea what we felt in that house, and I honestly cannot stop thinking about it, but I definitely know for sure now that the paranormal is 100% real. So, I'm the fourth generation owner of a small farmhouse built in the late 1800s.

My great-grandparents bought it sometime around 1920. At that time, there weren't really many houses built in the area, and there were no paved roads. An old graveyard, still in use today, is on the ridge above us. The family, through all these years, have claimed that the house is haunted, but that the ghost is friendly, so no one has ever been afraid. Backstory to the ghost...

is that it's perhaps the spirit of a man wrongly accused, late 1800s before my family, of theft. A man's wallet had been stolen, and footprints led to this house, where a man was found sleeping in the woods. The story tells that the man was promptly strung up in an elm tree in the corner yard where he died.

The tree continued to stand until last year when we cut it down due to too many dead and dangerous limbs. I will add here that my great-grandfather was chopped into many pieces by a train in the mid-1960s, and his wife died here in the early 70s, but evidently the ghost story precedes these events. There have been many witnesses over the years to a loud slam,

that happens from time to time, that seems to be in the basement, which is a dugout. But when checked, the basement door is padlocked. The slam can even be heard over the phone by people on the other end of the call. We, too, keep the door padlocked, but we experience the slam from time to time. There's someone whistling a tune just outside a window, with, of course, no one there as another tale.

though no one other than my great-grandma ever heard this. Until me. I lived in the house for a short time 40 years ago, and during this time I heard someone whistling a particular tune that was a fond memory for me. A friend used it as a signal for me to sneak out of the house on our summer nights when I was a teen. I checked, no one there. So, I told my mom about it, naming the Civil War era tunes.

She had a strange look on her face and told me that she'd forgotten this was the very song that my great-grandma claimed to have heard. While she had told me about her having heard the whistling, she had never related the tune to me. Mom was quite jealous, actually, that I'd heard it. Many years passed, the house was rented out for a couple of decades or so, and then was basically abandoned and left to ruin for a period of several years.

I came in about five years ago and restored both house and yard, which was a terrible, brambled up mess. Two weeks of serious work was needed in the yard before we started inside. During this time, my boyfriend and myself often heard a very loud, clear whistling of old-fashioned tunes that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, as it sounded the same from all areas of the yard.

We would search for the source, a neighbor in their yard perhaps, but there was never a soul around us. Weird, but not scary. We hired a man to help us do the interior work. Walls and ceilings all had to be replaced, everything gone but wall bones and a roof. One afternoon he stepped out for a break. He stepped back in to ask who was whistling so beautifully. My boyfriend and I laughed and told him about the ghost.

He said that we were BSing him, and went for his own investigation. He ended up leaving for the day a believer in, and scared of, the ghost. We remained friends after the job was done, and he's always wary of the house noises when he visits. It's funny, really. But now. I had ordered some trial creams for after bathing. Hang with me here.

It was a 15 day trial that arrived on a very large, 10x5, folded card with small pouches that held two packets for each day. It was large, thick, visible. I used it for three days. My boyfriend and I share the same vanity in which I stored the card. He was familiar with it. The fourth day, it was gone. This very large card is nowhere.

We turned the bathroom upside down, cleaned and reorganized everything in the entire bathroom. Gone. I searched again the next week, tweaking my organization, hoping in vain to find the large card. I was proud of my clean bathroom, but no large card. I opened the vanity two days ago. There it is, front and center. I called my boyfriend in, simply pointed and he, having already seen it, said...

I know, right? Where'd you find it? I've given it much thought. I'm not being ridiculous. I did not overlook it and it was not there. But here it is. Front and center. My boyfriend has no guile and I completely believe he is innocent of this being a possible prank. He's laughing about the matter. Sort of. But he appears to think that I'm making too much out of it.

I think he's worrying about my mental health or possibly Alzheimer's. I'm 60. All I know is it was there. It disappeared for a week and then it was there. Just to note, I'm retired and always home. Boyfriend is semi-retired, works 20 hours or is otherwise home. We have only rare visitors who are directed to the guest bath. No one would have had access to the room.

much less been interested in such an inconsequential item in order to play a prank. I hadn't spoken of the creams to anyone but my boyfriend. Has my... ghost... moved it up a notch to poltergeist? Or am I suffering dementia? Edit to add, there was another incident where I lived here 40 years ago. Two friends were visiting. There was a... not loud, but very audible noise in the next room.

We all heard it. It sounded like someone was pulling a heavy couch, perhaps along the wood flooring, but there was no one there. They left, believers and scared, but again, it did not scare me. In 2006, I went on a choir tour of Spain and France. The tour started in Madrid and ended in the Aquitaine region and Talaos.

This experience happened in Lourdes, France. Already in Spain, I was having many deja vu experiences and memories of past life recall. One of the strangest experiences was visiting the Cathedral of Burgos and being able to talk with a tour guide with complete familiarity about the church. At the end of the tour, she said, "You know a lot."

I even took some of our group who didn't do the paid tour back the next day, and did the entire thing exactly as she'd done it the day before. But the most unequivocal paranormal experience happened in Lourdes. Lourdes is a small town in southwest France that is famous for Saint Bernadette, a teenage shepherdess who had visions of the Virgin Mary in 1858.

On our first day in Lourdes, our tour guide told us about how it had been a Roman outpost before Christianity, with a temple to the water goddess. This is important, because all of the imagery in Lourdes is water imagery. There is a huge tank of water to be dunked in to heal the sick. Everywhere you look, there are bottles in the shape of the Virgin Mary. Your travel through the town is constantly interrupted by streams and rivers of people. You get the idea.

Sick Catholics flock to Lourdes for pilgrimage and healing. It's extremely common to see groups of people in wheelchairs and even on stretchers at the site, especially the grotto where Bernadette had her visions and on top of which the Church of Lourdes is built. This is the main pilgrimage site. Although I'm not Catholic, the tour guide had piqued my curiosity and I decided to go down to the grotto to vibe it out.

In front of the grotto was an empty space followed by five or six rows of benches, with more empty space behind it. All of this was fenced in. When I got there, I wasn't able to go into the grotto because it was the designated time for stretchers. The benches in the center were full, but there was a bench at the very back against the fence, where I decided to sit and wait. The minute I sat down,

I began to feel a buzzing that only got stronger and stronger. The energy was so strong that it pushed my head down towards my knees, so that I looked like I was genuflecting. Through the buzz, I heard this voice say, "You will see where Bernadette saw the lady for the very first time." As usual, I was skeptical, but I took it under consideration.

At around this time, the stretchers moved out of the area, and people started lining up from the benches to the center. I moved those center benches starting at the left corner until it filled up. As it did so, I slid down the bench until I was sitting at the far right corner of it. Once there, I thought maybe I should say some kind of oblations, so I started singing the choral version of Ave Maria, which we were singing on the tour in my head.

As I did so, the buzzing vibration became overwhelming and I started silently crying. The entire bench held space for me while I cried without ever speaking to or touching me. After I finished crying, I knew that I didn't need to go to the grotto. I had had my Lourdes Grotto experience. When I reached down to get my backpack, I saw a bronze plaque on the ground which said...

This is where St. Bernadette saw the Virgin Mary for the first time, on the 11th of February, 1858. I'd been sitting on that spot the entire time. This happened during the winter of 2010, while I lived with my father for a time. I worked as the night auditor at a hotel near the airport, which meant that I worked the midnight shift and would come home and sleep during the day. This day was no different.

except that my dad wasn't at the house when I got home from work at 7am. He was already at work for an early morning to afternoon shift, and wouldn't be home until after 3pm. That was no problem, as I was an adult and didn't mind being alone for a while. He even went on a few trips while I lived there, and I'd have to spend the nights I had off alone in the house. Someone breaking in or monsters in the closet were the last things on my mind.

I will add on the day that this happened, we had snow out here where I live in the early morning hours, which made the roads bad. I had to drive carefully, which made me a bit on edge when I got home as I was tense. I tried to unwind but decided to go to bed around 8:00 AM. I fell asleep fairly quickly from being up since the day before and slept for several hours before waking up for the first time in the early afternoon.

This is where things were frightening, because I noticed footsteps coming from right outside my door as soon as I was conscious. Floorboard squeaking is a very distinct sound, and I was sure that's what I'd heard. I looked at the alarm clock on my nightstand just after 1:00 PM. "Oh, Dad must be home early," I thought. Curious, I decided to check for myself.

Our house had an attached garage where my car was, so I went to the window. I expected to see my dad's yellow Mini Cooper in the driveway when I checked. I got up from my bed and made my way to the window. I could tell the snow from where I stood, but the ground was still wet. The sky was still overcast, though. I got to the window, looked down, and immediately my heart stopped. My dad's Mini Cooper wasn't there.

which meant the person I heard must be an intruder, right? With my legs shaking, I tiptoed into my dad's room and took his pistol from his chest of drawers, convinced that I wasn't alone there. Treading softly, I moved into the hall to search the premises fully with the gun trembling in my hand. Blue, wintry light filtered into the dining room, the only light that I could see.

I was too afraid to switch on the light or to speak and give myself away. I checked upstairs and found no intruder. Then I moved to the finished basement, where our family room is, with cable TV and couches. There was much less light here than upstairs, which made me even more nervous. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I hid behind the stairwell, surrounded by two walls.

I glanced into the family room. Still, no one, thank god. The last place that I checked was the back room in the basement. No intruder was in the house, but I almost wished that there had been, because hearing someone walk around meant that I'd heard a ghost and that this house was haunted. I'd heard that the house belonged to an older woman who had died recently.

Out of respect, I'll avoid suggesting that I heard her that day just because I knew her son, but I can't help but wonder. I mentioned this incident to my dad later the same day, and he admitted that sometimes, at night, it sounded like someone was walking around when he knew I wasn't there, but at work...

If he also heard these disembodied footsteps, that meant that it wasn't just my imagination, right? Hey, I love your stories and remembered an old paranormal story that I had. This happened between the ages of three to five. My parents and I lived in a two-story house with two bedrooms.

I had a little brother who was one year younger than me, and we slept in the same bedroom, just different beds. One night, I woke up. I'd had a nightmare, but I can't remember what it was about. But I woke up in a cold sweat, peeking out to the window in front of my bed, and I saw a wolf walking in. Now, wolves aren't scary, but we were on the second floor.

All the bedrooms were, and it didn't look normal. It was big, long, and it seemed not quite like a wolf, but it looked like a wolf. It's kind of hard to explain, and as any kid would do, I hid under my covers. It was a few minutes later, and I looked back out there, and there was nothing there.

I sighed and eventually got the scared feeling that I was being watched and ran to my parents' room, telling them that I'd had a nightmare, hence that I wanted to sleep in their room. They reluctantly agreed. As I laid in between them, I felt an odd sensation around my body. At first, I thought it was normal, something everyone has before they drift to sleep. I felt my eyes shut and then went to sleep, but when I woke up, I was now on the floor.

It was strange considering I went to sleep between my parents. I moved back onto the bed and fell asleep on the edge of the bed. I was halfway asleep until I felt something lifting me up and putting me on the floor again. I had that same strange sensation around my body and questioned how this was happening. As a kid, you may just think this is normal. However, I've never experienced this again in my life.

It's almost interesting and scary at the same time. What do you think though? So, I'm 20 years old, and I'm getting married to my fiance in October. And I know that the house across the street from us is haunted, and we maybe stirred up the spirits doing a little spooky ghost investigation. But me and my best friend have both seen something... dark. I am a Christian, and I believe in the paranormal.

One day when my fiancé was at work, I heard what sounded like my soon-to-be brother-in-law's voice from the living room. It sounded like him saying my name and asking if I was downstairs. Me and my fiancé live in a basement apartment. This wasn't abnormal because he would come down and ask me questions, so I answered with, ''Yeah, what is it?'' But there was no response."

I then heard what sounded like the screen door closing, so I thought maybe he left. I got up to investigate, and there was no one there. I called my soon-to-be mother-in-law, and she asked him if he came downstairs, and the scary thing is that he said he hadn't been down there at all. I know what I heard, and it sounded exactly like him. That's not the scariest part. Yet another day, my fiancé was in the restroom, and I saw him go in there.

and heard the door close. As I'm on the couch, not even a few minutes later, out of the corner of my eye, I see what looks exactly like him, tall, grey sleep shorts and a shirt, standing outside the bathroom, which admittedly I thought was weird because I had heard the door close. So I look up, and he's not there. A few minutes later, he comes out from the bathroom.

My best friend was over and it was time to go to sleep, so I was praying when I thought I heard her whisper my name, so I stopped praying and asked what she wanted, but she swears that she never said a word. That being said, one day she was in the shower and the water was running, but I wasn't paying much attention, so I didn't hear the water stop running.

When out of the corner of my eye, I see what looks like her curly hair, and her tie-dye shorts, and one of her shirts. And again, I know for a fact that she is in the shower, so I look up to say something to her, and she's not there. Not a few minutes later, she comes out of the bathroom. Another day, I'm sitting at the table eating, and my fiancé goes to the restroom. I hear the door close, and I just keep eating.

I kid you not, I thought he was still behind me, because it felt like someone was standing behind me looking over my shoulder. But when I turned around to give him a kiss, there was nobody there. So I shrug and go back to being on my phone when yet again, I swear, I saw what looked like him in his black shirt and work pants, walking towards our bunny cage. But when I look up, there's no one there.

Another time, my best friend was over and she comes screaming out of the bathroom, telling me to hurry and go upstairs. Once we get up there, she tells me that she got out of the bathroom and saw what looked like a 7 or 8 foot tall black shadow that ducked when she looked at it. Whatever this thing is, it mimics my loved ones and I don't like it.

I was in bed and saw the same shadow she was talking about next to the bed, so I covered up my head and hid. I don't know what this is, but whatever it is, it isn't good. This was the summer of 1975. My brother and sister and I flew to Connecticut to spend the summer with our father. I was 11, my sister was 13, and my brother was 5.

My dad and stepmother had rented a small house in a little fishing borough named Stonington. The little house used to be a garage that sat behind the main house. It only had two bedrooms. My sister and I shared a double bed in a small bedroom, along with our half-sister that slept in a crib. We spent the days exploring the little town and making new friends, not really spending much time indoors until the streetlights would come on.

A few nights after arriving, I told my sister that I was having some trouble with my dreams. She said that I was probably just homesick and to let it go. This night in particular, it was my turn to shut off the bedroom light, which consisted of standing by the door with my hand on the switch, focusing on my spots next to the wall, hitting the switch and running to the bed and jumping in as quickly as possible.

As mentioned, I slept on the wall side of the bed, and my sister had the outside spot closest to the door. We chatted for a few minutes about our day before I rolled over to face the wall and fall asleep, and she rolled over to face the door. At some point during the night, I was in a dream, but I can't remember the details, because what happened next woke me from a deep sleep in an instant.

A force of some sort had landed in the middle of our bed, rolling both of us over to face each other. We didn't even have to move a muscle. We stared at each other for a second before sitting upright, staring at the ceiling. At the exact same time, we both said, "That was an old hag." We both knew somehow that this hag had fallen straight out of the ceiling and landed right in the middle of the bed with enough force to flip us towards each other.

Also, we didn't see her with our own eyes, but we both said what she was wearing, a long black cloak that looked like wings, like we both saw the same thing in our mind's eye of what actually happened, a hole opening up in the ceiling and the hag dropping straight down onto the bed. It was not our first time experiencing the paranormal and also was not the last.

But it was definitely one of the most memorable encounters that still confuses me to this day, because of the power that it had to actually move us from a dead sleep. First, a disclaimer: I did not witness the main events in this story. The reason why I believe this story, or that the person who did experience it, is my older sister with no mental illness. She also has never had any other supernatural experiences.

I think the people that make these things up tend to invent more than one instance. Another reason I believe this is because I, too, had scary things happen to me in that same house. As a matter of fact, so did every one of my family members at one time or another. Also, there were other witnesses to parts of these events. Reason to doubt the veracity of this tale is only one.

My sister was under a lot of stress at the time of all this happening to her. Enough preamble, let's begin. My family owns a large vacation home in Mexico. My sister was going through a divorce from an abusive ex, so in an attempt to keep her safe, she and my mother decided to hide out at the vacation house until the psycho ex calmed down about the divorce. My sister, let's call her June,

had a room toward the front of the house. My mother took a room which adjoined to another room where my sister's kids, ages 2 and 3, were staying. Their rooms were toward the far end of the house. On the first or second night of their stay, June awoke at 3 in the morning as if startled. She looked around the dark room and saw the shadow of a person in the corner.

She couldn't think of anything making that shadow, but was exhausted and eventually fell back asleep. The same time the next night, she awoke again, suddenly with a start. Again, she saw the same shadow. This time, she decided to investigate what was making that shadow. She turned on the light, and the shadow disappeared. She checked for anything that could possibly be making a human-shaped shadow, but saw nothing.

At some point, she went back to bed and fell asleep more confused than anything. This happened again many nights. Finally, June decided to move all of the furniture to different spots to just stop the shadow as it was now spooking her. The night of the day when she moved the furniture, she again awoke at 3:00 AM with alarm. And much to her consternation, the shadow appeared exactly as before.

At this point, she'd had enough and yelled at the shadow. "What do you want?" The shadow rushed toward her with surprising speed. It did not walk. It glided as if in the air. It reached within inches of her face when she pulled the covers over her head and yelled, "Mommy!"

Apparently, she yelled so loud that my mother heard her from all the way at the other end of the house, awoke, and ran to June's room. She flicked the light on and ran toward her asking what was wrong. The shadow was no longer there. After June explained everything to Mom, Mom decided to contact a spiritualist and a priest. The priest, the spiritualist, and my aunt came by to bless and cleanse the house.

After cleansing and blessing, the Spiritualist told my sister that the Shadow wanted June to have a treasure buried behind the house. If she retrieved the treasure, then the Shadow would stop visiting. So, that is what they decided to do. They hired a couple of workers to tear the floor up and find this supposed treasure. Once they got a couple of feet or so deep in the spot that they were, according to the Spiritualist, supposed to dig...

A swarm of flies filled the house, as did the smell of sulfur. This naturally frightened everyone, as this is supposed to mean evil is afoot. Still, they dug. My sister was near hysteria at this point. The spiritualist tried to calm her and reminded her that it would all stop once the treasure was June's. Whereupon June screamed, "'I don't want their stinkin' treasure!'

At that moment, the flies disappeared, as did the sulfur smell. The diggers had found something square underground, which seemed to disappear as well. After that, all the spooky happenings ceased. Not just the shadow, but other strange goings-on that I didn't get into here. In the end, I don't know why that stopped everything. Was this some sort of greed test that she passed? Who knows?

She was just glad that it all stopped. I know how unbelievable this story sounds, but I promise that it is what every witness to the event swore to. Since I don't want people to think I'm making up stories or just plain cuckoo, I hope that you'll leave me anonymous. Hi Raven. This is a paranormal story that I've never shared with anyone. I would never share this with my friends, family, or husband, as I'm an educated M.D.,

I've had some paranormal events all my life, but I consider them all to be explained in one way or another. I do believe that we live in a matrix, and that this is the cause of most of all the paranormal. But this? I've been searching since it happened without any answers. This occurred about ten years ago. My husband and I were taking a weekend away from the children to have some time together for our anniversary.

I was a strict Christian in my beliefs at the time. I had no experience with meditation. On Friday night, we went out and had a good time as we usually do. My husband and I both work entirely too much. Although we had worked all day, we still went out for a meal and then headed back to the hotel. The next morning, we got up and went to the breakfast buffet. Following breakfast, we got back into the bed to cuddle.

I was wanting to have more adult time, but he was very tired and sleepy. I wasn't sleepy. I laid there with my eyes closed in the darkness so he could rest. I felt like there was someone in the room. I saw a spiral in front of my eyes. It was like someone was talking to me, giving me instructions. It's not like I heard a voice. I don't have psychiatric problems. It's like I just knew what it was saying.

I saw 11 points of light in the spiral. As I lay there, I was to follow the spiral forward and back, then back and forward. It was beautiful and calming, and this went on for a time. I then felt a warm sensation that I can't explain from the lower parts of my body. It was amazing. It then turned into an unexpected release of tension.

I don't want to be too graphic, but I had to continue to follow the spiral during the entire encounter as I was directed. It was as if something bad or wrong would happen if I didn't do as I was told. It was then over with an amazing ending. I was so relaxed. I quickly told myself that my husband must be awake and that he had touched me. I must have been just talking to myself.

I then noticed his slight, soft snoring. I felt something press against my right upper thigh, and I don't know how to say this, but it was not my husband. As soon as this occurred, it was over. I didn't feel the presence in the room. My husband woke, and we just continued with our weekend. These encounters are always said to be demons that are evil, but this wasn't evil, and I did not feel ashamed. Maybe I should have been ashamed.

I just never spoke of it. It has not happened again, and since then, I've been more open to paranormal events. I can actually still draw the spiral and all of its points. Perhaps I slipped into a parallel universe where he wasn't sleeping? What do you think? My sister Sherry and I were nearly eight years apart. She was the eldest. Of course, that made me her constant tag-along.

She was at the end of the boomer years that made me Gen X and completely opposite. Never mind that she was a winter and I was a summer baby. I am twice divorced. She was in her 27th year of marriage. Cher wasn't a just stay for the kids woman. She was financially strapped to my parents. She was trapped all her adult life. My mother had kicked me out after the first divorce.

After that, Cher and I had a very business-type relationship. We always stayed in touch, no matter the fuss. We lost our dad to a fatal car crash in 2012. Then we lost Cher to four different terminal cancers on December 16th of 2020. In her last moments, she said, Why does my birthday have to be so far away? It would have been on the 29th.

She was in unimaginable pain, but wanted one last Christmas and birthday with us. Their deaths took all barriers away between my mother and I. Her mother was in the TB clinic at least five times in my life. Unfortunately, my mother got the most powerful genes from her, so now it's my fight to stay close to her. In Irish families, seniority is everything. Now it's my turn to take the reins, as I'm the eldest child.

It was several years after Cher's passing that she finally touched me. I was in the bathroom, of course. Leave it to my sister. I felt like someone was gently placing their hand on my left shoulder. I ignored it. We are a superstitious family, but sprinkled with a dash of skepticism. Then, when I walked into my room, I felt like a pointed finger tapping on my left shoulder again. I felt like my roommate had snuck up behind me. I turned around and saw no one.

My anxiety was at an 11, but I said out loud, Cher, if that's you, contact me any way you want, just don't touch me, please. She hasn't since, but will not leave me be. Same with my niece Ashley. She has her way of reaching out to each of us. Leave it to my sister. She's the type that would be waiting in line for heaven, get to St. Peter and whisper, I have some unfinished business. I'll be right back.

Very soon after, the hearts would appear to my niece everywhere she went. In the clouds, boulders, and trees that she had walked by with Cher so many times. Then, the numbers began. I blew it off several times until I couldn't anymore. I was on worker's comp, and I could care less what day it was, let alone what time it was.

I began seeing 1-11 or 11-11 on my clocks so often that I stopped to listen to her. I would just acknowledge Cher and thank her for reaching out, that I'm looking after the family the best I could. I finally started delicately asking her daughter if it happens to her. She was in shock, of course, and began sharing every moment that she could remember. Surprised, yet not, she'd been seeing 3-33 all the time,

I remember her calling while we had been texting in Messenger. She felt so validated that she wasn't crazy. Cher and I had a love-hate relationship with Christmas after my niece and nephew were born. A piece of her truly did love it. I hadn't since we moved so far from our family in CT. The first Christmas we spent at Mom's after she passed, it gave us more evidence than ghost adventures ever did. I had called my niece to see when Mom wanted us there.

She turned around and said, You won't believe what I'm looking at. In a panic, I said take a screenshot. The time on the only stove was 11.11am. All the others were a minute later. Cher was a fantastic cook and her kitchen was her world. We just said, There she is saying Merry Christmas. Then, as I was about to pull into my mom's apartment complex, my clock in the car was 1.11pm.

I took a pic to show my niece later. After dinner, as we were in Mom's kitchen cleaning up, my cousin, my niece, and I were honestly focused on getting the kitchen cleaned up for Mom. Then we had planned to open the gifts. My cousin was facing the stove, and my niece and I were facing away from it. We had decided to talk to her about the things that Cher had been doing to us. My cousin began raising her eyebrow and interrupted us.

She said, "Sorry, but you should turn around right now. Look at the stove." And of course, what time was it? It was 3:33 PM. She hasn't stopped. It's been four years now, and I always know when my niece is thinking of calling me. When I should check on mom. When something is very wrong. The time isn't all she can do. She was never tech-savvy in life. She is now, though.

Anyone with a YouTube playlist will know this, that it takes at least three steps to edit it in any way. I always watch a specific playlist of music before a therapy session, whenever it was my therapy day. After a really taxing week, soon after New Year's, I went to start my playlist that I named Therapy License. The first song was one that I never added, even though it was a song that my idol sang.

That was it. I always wanted to believe but never had an experience until she passed. She continues to this day. It's been four years now. There was a huge ordeal between my mother and us on how she should be buried. My niece heard her say multiple times before hospice came that she wanted her ashes spread out at our beach, where we grew up in CT. Mother wanted a proper Irish burial near family, so she had a place to visit her.

We agreed. Circumstances caused a delay. My niece and I decided to let my mother to have her away. She had a portion of the ashes and she said that we'd take her home on our own. Things have changed now. We'll be taking her home this summer. We all feel Cher's not at rest and won't let go until then. I am looking forward to giving her the peace that she needs to move on. I will miss her terribly. Something in me really believes she won't show up every now and then anymore.

It makes me feel like I'm going to be grieving her all over, though no one in my life yet deserves to more. I really thought if I ever experienced anything paranormal, it wouldn't make me feel like my soul is breaking. Yet, a part of me is so selfish and just wants to keep those little moments coming so I don't feel so alone. The biggest part of my heart can't wait to rent an Airbnb for June. Enough room for everyone who wants to watch us.

We plan to buy a spray of Cher's favorite flowers to take one last swim with her. Love you too much, my big sissy. I will be so happy that you can feel free to spend time with our family, as most are there waiting for you. Peace be with you, Cher. I'll see you when it's my time. The OP actually wanted to add some more details, and they sent me a message with the information. It's kind of a continuous saga, really. My cousin was very close with her.

They were the eldest kids in the family. She was the one who saw the time at my mom's at Christmas. I began going back to therapy soon after her passing. She didn't tell my mom or I that she was terminal. I think that she knew we would never give up on her care, but she was ready to stop. The treatment was making her much worse. I couldn't get that. So much time I could have had with her if I knew.

I would cry every time she showed up at 1:11 or 11:11. Sometimes it felt like she was in the room with me. I would talk to her a bit, and then let it out with therapy. They asked me to center myself before a session, so I made a YouTube playlist of my favorite music and would meditate. A couple of months into it, I went to start it, and that list had changed order. Anyone who has one knows that it takes a few steps to move the order.

It was so jarring that I didn't even talk about it right away. I felt like I should talk to my niece first since she was going through it too. I feel like even she had had a hard time believing it right away. Then it happened again the following week. Again, two weeks later. Now she gets it. It didn't stop until I finally told my therapist. I felt like she wanted me to let them know that she is still taking care of me.

Hey Raven, I just wanted to say thank you for giving our story as a platform. I appreciate all that you do. Now, on to my experience. I'm not sure where to start this, but I will acknowledge that there are some religious/biblical references. I understand that this is not for everyone, and can even add a little extra layer of skepticism for some. However, every bit of this is factual, and the timing of everything was too coincidental

to not take a spiritual aspect into consideration. Now, on to the weird story that was, or is, my life. At the end of the 70s, my mother had gotten pregnant with me and she was pushed to get married to my father. My mother was only 17 and my father 19. They rented a little two-bedroom apartment in a tiny Midwestern farming town, and their relationship could be described as tumultuous and extremely violent.

just as her childhood had been. By the time I was three years old, they had gone their separate ways after my father tried to yeet my mom from this planet. I want to say yes, the story does say yeet, so I didn't just say that to censor something. By four years old, my mom moved us out of that apartment and in with my stepfather, who went on to adopt myself and my middle sister when I was nine. They are still married to this day.

Years passed, and at 19 I found myself apartment hunting because I was having a child of my own. A few years and two apartments later, at 22, I signed a lease in the same apartment building that my parents had previously lived in before divorcing. I was aware that they had lived in the unit directly below mine, but was not yet aware of all the evil things that my biological father had done there.

A few months into living there, I made friends with the neighbors below me, in my parents' old unit. I began to take my toddler down with me to visit, and she would color or watch TV while we chatted. Even though the neighbors didn't have kids, they went out of their way to make sure that my child had crayons, coloring books, juice, and Teddy Grahams when we visited. She always seemed so content, until one day...

We had some children's song playing on the stereo and my two and a half year old was fine just coloring at the coffee table near us while we talked. The next thing I know, she starts into the worst tantrum ever, up to that point. I kept asking what was wrong but got no answer. She was completely inconsolable and any attempt I made to touch her or get near her would result in her doing anything to hurt me.

She would hit, kick, bite, claw, and just scream bloody murder. Thankfully, the neighbor guy slung her over his shoulder and carried her upstairs to our place. I asked him to lay her in her bed, and within 30 seconds of her body being in that bed, she went from complete hysterics to totally calm. She asked what had happened. She said that she was hungry and tired. I asked over and over again what had just happened, but she would only say, I don't know.

It's like she had no recollection of the situation at all. Life went on, and of course I was puzzled by it, but I chalked it up to her just being a tired toddler. We continued to visit the neighbors, and things were fine once again. Unfortunately, that only lasted about two weeks. This is when the entire situation repeated, only this time, she seemed to be extremely strong.

and was able to not only scratch the hell out of my chest, but also yanked a chunk of my hair out. She was never aggressive or violent towards anyone but me during these fits, and she was never aggressive towards me before or after them. Not even 48 hours after the second occurrence, and without having discussed this with anyone, my mom shows up on my doorstep with her bible.

She told me that she was awakened in the middle of the night and was told by a voice to get to her Bible. She says that she picked it up and was shown the book of Matthew, verses 44 and 45. Her interpretation of these verses apparently prompted her to come over and to warn me not to enter the downstairs apartment. I was so caught off guard and my heart started racing. I asked, why?

She informed me that my biological father had done some type of evil seance involving me, and he had burned her Bible in the process. She said that according to the Bible, if someone does evil in a dwelling and the next of kin later returns, demons will attach to them and bring along seven other demons. My mind was absolutely blown.

because I had not discussed the situation or that I had even made friends with those neighbors. I truly believed that my kid was just overly tired, hangry, and/or both. After thinking about the smaller details of the situation, things like the loss of memory, immediate extreme shift in mood, and suddenly exhaustion,

I honestly have to question whether I witnessed my child being possessed and then released once those entities had made their way into my home, where they could access me. Within weeks of all of this happening, the neighbors moved away, and no one moved in the rest of my lease. About four months. My life also took a downhill spiral after this. I lost my job, I lost my car,

I was forced to drop out of college with only three credits needed to get my degree. I eventually got evicted, and about eight months after everything happened to my baby, I found out that her daddy had hurt her in a way that no one should have to experience, let alone a child, during that weekend's visitation. Even though I reported it, and she did too, nothing came of it, except he no longer gets to be around her.

I swear, my whole life fell apart. I'm now in my mid-forties and can still feel the attachment. I know that it's still here, I just try to ignore its presence. It's been with me no matter where I move. Not only can I feel it, but it sometimes messes with me. Like when I'm standing across the room from the kitchen trash can, but somehow it still opens and closes three times.

I've knocked on the bathroom door and been told, "I'm busy, even though I'm home alone." I've learned to live with it. I always had a hard time believing that people could hear the voice of God, let alone my mom, until this all occurred. I can't explain away how my mom would have any clue about what we had seen. I was living 20 miles away and was also very low contact with my family. We have no friends in common.

The town has a population of only 254 people, none of whom I knew prior to meeting the neighbors. There was just no other possible way for her to have known. First, I know that this will be a lot of text, so get ready. Second, this was a personal experience. I know what I heard and saw that day, and I don't need anyone's approval.

I'm not asking for anyone to believe me, and I don't have any proof but my words, but I would like to share it here anyways. So, let's go. The year was 1999. I was a 10-year-old kid living with my mother, brother, and stepfather in a small, humble house in Santana de Parnaiba, Brazil. We'd been living there for just over a year.

For context, to this day, our home and the other houses on that street stays only on one side. On the other side, there's a big, huge Atlantic Forest Reserve, and there's a quarry inside of it as well. Today, there's a tall wall that separates this forest from the rest of the neighborhood, but in that year, this wall did not exist yet. Also, the street was muddy. There was no asphalt there.

and that street was a bit far from the rest of the neighborhood. If you go down the street, you'll have to walk 200 meters, turn right, and take a street that will lead to other streets. Or just walk straight for almost 1 kilometer in an empty road with no houses, just trees and bushes, to reach another neighborhood. If you go up that street, you would find other houses, but always side by side on the same side.

My mom's house was the first one, or last depending on the direction, of that street. So one night I was sleeping in my room, along with my brothers, my stepfather and mom, they were in their rooms, and they heard a loud, heavy and slow steps on the ground, far away from outside the house, coming from probably down that empty road. The sound was heard from far away.

but it came closer and closer, one step at a time, slow like an elephant on two legs. When the sound reached the house, these strange footsteps began to climb the outside wall, as there was no wall separating the house from the street. The steps kept the pace. They didn't even slow down when climbing the wall, as if it, whatever it was, could walk up the wall unaffected by gravity.

The house vibrated with each step, and then I woke up. I heard the last few steps on the wall, and then it started walking along the slab, keeping the same slow pace, until it stopped at the top of the stairs that gives access to the slab, and these stairs led to what was the living room at the time. To close access to the slab, there was a type of door made with a wooden frame and asbestos tiles at the top of the stairs.

and from inside the house it was closed with a bolt and padlock, and the steps stopped right in front of it. And then things started to diverge a little here. I was listening in my bed without understanding what was going on, and after three or four seconds of silence, I heard a loud metallic noise rolling down the stairs, like someone had thrown a lot of tin cans.

But my mother and stepfather said they heard a loud, heavy thing rolling down, like a dead body or something. My mom and stepfather ran out of the room, as they thought that someone was inside the house. I was in my bed, scared. When they entered my room, I asked what was happening, and they said that they didn't know. After checking under my bed, I couldn't help but be curious, and I went to the living room.

There I saw that the access to the slab was still locked, and there was no cans or body on the stairs. Also, there were no running steps after that sound. Everything went silent, and the steps never came back. My stepfather grabbed a flashlight, and we got up the stairs to check. Everything seemed to be in place, except for our dog.

It was crying and was completely curled up, stuck and motionless in its own chain outside his house that was underneath our water tank. We never saw anything like this before or after that day. My mother and stepfather still live in the same house, but today it is renovated and completely different from that time. I know it's weird, and again, I have nothing to prove that that night really happened, but I know what I heard. If you read all of this, thank you.

I hope you at least found it entertaining, regardless of whether you believed it or not. I assure you that it was true, and I'm willing to answer any questions about my case or provide any details. My family moved around a lot when I was a child, mainly due to my dad's job. We moved four to five times before I was six years old.

My mom wanted some stability for the family, which at this point comprised of her, my dad, myself, and my younger brother. So, in 1994, my old man went and bought an old derelict farm that was situated in a rural area in the southwest of the UK, a mile from the nearest village and a quarter mile from our neighbors.

He purchased it at a property auction, and we had no prior viewing, just the pictures on display at the auction house. This place was really old, and comprised of a few large fields, and two interconnected yards filled with outbuildings and a derelict house. It had been a working farm in various forms for 500 years or so, and the house itself was 250 years old.

We spent a year living elsewhere whilst the renovations took place, but would often go there on weekends to run around and to play. The first day we entered the dusty half-collapsed two-story house, we realized that the previous occupants had left loads of their stuff behind. The house had been vacated 25 to 30 years prior. Everything was dusty, moldy, and falling to pieces.

Some of the highlights were dressing tables filled with old clothes and makeup. A wall in one room was plastered with rosettes won in equine competitions, and hanging from the banister at the top of the stairs were a row of small string nooses covered in fur. It's a barbaric but not uncommon way for farm folk to get rid of unwanted kittens, apparently.

Now, this wasn't paranormal in any way, but Jesus Christ, it was a nerving thing to see in an already creepy looking house. It would take far too long to list everything that happened, so I'll list some highlights below before ending with what I consider to be the strangest occurrence. Loud bangs, loud enough to make you think someone had tipped over a wardrobe or something. Footsteps running up and down the long wooden hallway.

Cold spots and breezy points throughout the house that changed from day to day. One night my grandparents were house sitting and before they went to bed, they did a quick lock check. One room at the end of the house was filled with a thick mist. It was a clear night. All the doors and windows were shut and the mist was exclusive to that room. They noped out of there and stayed at their own place that night. The next day everything was back to normal.

After living there for six months, my mom actually called the village priest in to bless the place. We weren't a religious family, but she was really at a loss about how to cope with everything. The priest arrived and then proceeded to sprinkle holy water in every room of the house.

Once that was done, Mom walked him out to his car, and as soon as they got out of the house, he turned to her and said, "'There's an incredibly dark presence in this house, and I'm never setting foot here again. I don't know what to suggest. I'm really sorry. Good luck.' And then he got into his car and sped off. He had apparently been fairly neutral during the blessing."

But as soon as he got out of the house, he went pale, and his whole demeanor changed instantly. Things got a lot more chill after a medium came around and told mom to kind of embrace it. Which she did. There was always this nagging feeling that she were never alone. It didn't feel malevolent, it felt observational, and sometimes sad in a wistful way. Still very strange.

Anyway, the weirdest thing that happened actually occurred during the renovation phase. Dad and his work crew had removed all of the old possessions from the house and made a huge bonfire in the yard. They burned it over the course of a few days until it was just a steaming pile of ash. The following weekend, my mom took me and my bro over for a picnic and to run around. We were feral little bastards and we needed it.

At one point, Mum sat in a chair not far from the bonfire and noticed an envelope on the big mound of ash. Despite being in the center of this pile, the envelope had inexplicably not burned up. Mum could tell that there was something heavier than paper in the envelope when she opened it up, and an amethyst crystal dropped out along with the letter.

The date on the letter was sometime in the early 60s, and was written by the childhood sweetheart of a girl who had lived at that house with her parents. It was a letter of condolence to the parents. Turns out, the girl had sadly ended her life in her room when she was around the age of 18. Her ex-boyfriend had heard about it, and sent the parents a really sweet letter, expressing his love, grief, and condolences.

He also sent the amethyst crystal as that was the girl's favorite stone. My bedroom had been the girl's room. This was evident from the contents when we first got there. My wardrobe was in the corner by the window looking out over the farm. I could never linger there for too long. The part of the room just felt unpleasant and tense. I've since wondered if that's the spot where the girl took her life. I guess the story of the letter isn't very paranormal.

But the fact that the letter survived the bonfire is wild to me. So, yeah. We lived there for six years or so, and then moved again after my parents split up. The house has changed hands at least twice in the last twenty years. I live about two hours from this place nowadays, and my girlfriend and I are tempted to go visit and see how it's doing. I'm sure the owners would love to be regaled with odd anecdotes about the property.

Just to clarify, aside from the weird feelings and the random bangs and noises, my brother and I were largely unaware of things that happened. We were only told later in life. Thank God. Hey guys, I hope this is the right place for this. I'm a 30 year old male and I'd like to start off by saying that I don't really believe in this type of thing, or at least I didn't before.

Some people in my family have always thought the paranormal to be real and claimed to have experiences, but until recently I've always chucked it up to their imaginations. Odd things have happened throughout my life, but I think I've always just shrugged it off and applied some sort of logic to it. Things like, "This house is just really old and makes noise." But I can't logically come up with a reason as to why certain things are happening anymore.

I guess everything started around Thanksgiving of 2017. After about 25 years in the same house, my family, mom, grandparents, aunt, and I decided to abandon the family home and move out of state. We immediately regretted the decision and quickly moved back to Georgia, into a new three-bedroom home. I took the entire basement as a bedroom, set up a hammock, and settled in quickly.

After a few nights in the new place, I stopped having dreams. It seemed like no matter how much rest I got, it was just never enough. Apparently this was happening to the rest of the family as well, but we never really spoke about it. A few more weeks go by, and then my mother started losing weight out of nowhere. My grandparents' health started to decline, and my aunt began shutting herself in her room.

By the end of the first year, my grandma, who only went from her bed to her chair, somehow broke her back from just sitting, but had bruises all over her back. My mom had lost somewhere around 60 pounds, my aunt had pretty much went crazy, and my grandpa grew really irritable.

It wasn't much longer after that that my aunt disappeared, and got admitted into a, excuse my choice of words, nut house. Once she got out, she just refused to come back and moved out. Around this time, I started having nightmares. Around October of 2019, those nightmares got so bad that I hadn't had a full night's rest in several weeks.

Then, one night, each time I woke up, I felt paralyzed and numb. It was like somehow all of my limbs were numb and cold. Then, one night this happened, I saw a figure. I was a nervous wreck for a few days after that. I remember telling one of my coworkers, and they told me to sage and pray over the house. I remember looking that sort of thing up to understand the whole point of it, and I was skeptical.

But I did it anyway one night when my family was out. I walked every room of the house, upstairs and down. I even went into the bathrooms. I burned sage and prayed for what seemed like easily an hour or two. Later that evening, my family came home and were none the wiser. However, that night was different. It was quiet, peaceful.

I remember it so perfectly because I think that was the first time since we moved in that I had managed to sleep comfortably. Unfortunately, the next morning, everyone else in the house had gotten extremely sick. My grandpa and I were the only ones who weren't admitted into the hospital that day. Luckily enough, everyone recovered, and things were fine for a couple of months.

Then, before the pandemic went into full swing, three other family members moved into the house with us and took over the living room. Great aunt and second cousins. With them came several dogs, who were always playful and calm. Then, for who knows why, stuff started happening again. Mom started to lose weight again, grandma and grandpa's health went downhill, and I started having nightmares again.

The other three family members began to bicker and argue like I had never heard from them, and their dogs started barking at all hours of the night. This continued on for months, and the situation just kept getting worse. Everyone was growing irritable and miserable. Eventually, those extra family members moved out, and I began spending less time at the house, even though we were going through a pandemic.

I met my now wife and moved out rather quickly with her. My family stayed in that house though, and I just visited on the weekends. A few months later, my mom had lost well over 140 pounds, but the doctor said she was healthy. Also, during this time, my grandma's health had gotten so bad that she was admitted into a nursing/physical therapy facility. She spent about 3-4 months there before coming home.

During that time, I had gotten married, and sadly, a week later my grandma had passed away. That was in the beginning of summer in 2021. That left my mom and grandpa in the house. I can't really speak on if they had any weird occurrences between that time and now, because I didn't live there anymore. They never spoke about those kinds of things, and when I visited, I never brought it up or asked questions.

I didn't see the point or make any weird connections. That was until recently. Sadly, my grandpa passed in February of 2023. Since then, my mom has finally moved in with my sister and is taking her time getting her stuff from the house. Well, it's been about three weeks since the funeral, and as of today, I think I'm terrified.

I don't know what to think or do other than sit here and draw connections to strange things that have happened the last few years. Heck, that's why I'm here sharing all this information. Last Thursday, I was driving home from work at roughly 3:10 PM. I was passing by the old house my mom was moving out of, and I saw someone I didn't recognize from a distance. The road was maybe a football field away from the house, so it was hard to tell who it was.

Once I got home, had dinner and spent time with my family, I called my mom and asked her what she had moved out that day. Apparently she hadn't been there at all that day, and started freaking out thinking someone was trying to steal from the house. She, my sister and some of my sister's friends went up there to check out the place. Later that night, my mom called me back to tell me what had happened. She said that no doors or windows had been broken.

but the doggy door cover was ripped off and the house had some strange nasty cologne like smell all throughout. While they were there, none of them felt safe, but they searched the house to see if anyone was there and found no one. My sister apparently got tired of looking around so she went into the pantry to find that all of the snacks and drinks were missing. Apparently a huge fuss was made and they thought someone had broken in just to steal food.

until my sister and her friends heard some strange sounds. Then, eventually, they heard a voice telling them to get out. This scared the crap out of them, and they went outside immediately. They were freaking out and yelling at my mother to get out too, claiming there was a ghost, but my mom didn't hear anything, thought they were being dramatic, and started poking fun at them.

She even began talking, cursing and threatening the "ghost" all throughout the house to prove a point. I guess this was a bad idea. Something scared my mother so bad that she just kind of shut down and refused to explain. After we got off the phone, I told my wife about it and laughed a little. I honestly thought that they were just hearing things, but then something happened today.

I got off work early, and I went by the old house. Alone. I wanted to get some tools that I left in the garage, but I never made it. You see, I pulled into the driveway, got out of the car, and felt something weird. Once I got to a breezeway door, before I could even reach for the doorknob, I felt like how I used to feel in the middle of the night. Numb, and paralyzed. I also felt empty.

like I had been hollowed out. Then I felt a lot of pressure, like I was carrying a really heavy weight. I got scared, so scared that I started trembling. My first instinct was to get back into my car, so I ran to it and I left. I pulled into a nearby gas station, but by this time I was a nervous wreck. It took me nearly an hour to calm down.

Once I did, I went in and got me something to drink and some gas. And for some reason, I got the bright idea to go back. The second time, I pulled into the driveway and parked my car. I grabbed my gun out of the glove box and went to go into the house once again. But it was the same thing all over. But the feeling was so much worse. I couldn't see anything, but something was there.

It felt giant and threatening. That presence was so overwhelming, overpowering, and just outright awful. Even with my gun in hand, I turned and ran back to the car. This time I nearly wrecked on the way out of the driveway. I was headed home, but instead I went to a friend's place. I didn't tell her anything about what was going on, just that I needed her to come see something with me.

I felt like she would understand better than me. The reason I went to her was because she comes from a Haitian family, whose roots run deep. She doesn't practice voodoo, but knows about it and has several family members who swear by it and live that lifestyle. But she's also one of those energy and vibe type people. She knew something was wrong with me, and was worried because I wouldn't explain. But she came with me anyway.

As soon as I pulled into the driveway of that old home, she began to cry and freak out. I hadn't told her anything, and she loved my family, so there was no reason for her to act that way. She started yelling at me to leave, so I did. As I was driving back to her place, she started yelling at me and punching me in the shoulder over and over. She was angry at me, but eventually she calmed down and we started to talk.

She told me to never bring her back to a place like that again. I asked her what she meant and she said, "A place that has an evil spirit." I asked her a bunch of questions and apologized for dropping her off. I got home maybe three or four hours ago. I originally came online to research stuff, somehow ended up on this forum and just thought I should share. Truth be told,

I really hope this is just mine and my family's minds playing tricks on us. Maybe we're just grief-stricken. We might just all be a little crazy. But through all of this, the one thing I know that is real is that terrifying sense of fear that I felt today. And it definitely has my nerves shook. Okay, so they might not be as scary as others, but here we go.

When I was around eight, my cousins and I were playing outside. Now, mind you, the house we were at was my younger cousin's house, and she lived in the middle of nowhere. The nearest neighbors were 30 minutes away. Anyways, we were playing in the bouncy house, and I heard a few children laugh, but I didn't say anything because I thought I was overhearing things. My cousins then asked me to turn off the bouncy house because they thought it would be fun once it was off.

I don't know, we were bored. So I did. And that's when they started to scream at me to turn it on. Mind you, I had barely turned it off. I asked what was wrong and they told me they heard children screaming at them to stop. They looked scared and shaken up, so we went inside. Before going inside the house, we all felt as if we were being watched. Second story, I was around 15 and my friend was throwing a sleepover party for her birthday.

She had two very protective dogs. This will be important. We went over and had fun, and that's when she told us that her house was haunted, and that they play this game where they'll play hide-and-seek in the dark. It was about 15 of us in her house. We started to tell us the weird things that would happen, and even showed us pictures. I didn't believe her, or at least I didn't want to believe her.

Once it was 3am, we were all sitting down in the living room by her door. She had two living rooms. We were just eating snacks when the lights turned off. We had flashlights with us because we were going to start telling scary stories, and we heard someone running in the second floor, and then we saw a shadowy figure coming down the stairs. We all froze, but then ignore it. The next morning, we're hanging out, and she went upstairs to grab a few more blankets,

when suddenly the atmosphere felt weird. My other friend and I looked at each other, and I swear to you all, nobody else was moving except us. My friend who went upstairs fell down the staircase, and we were the only ones to react. The dogs didn't get up, and the rest of the group had their eyes on the TV. After a moment, our friends asked us why the host was on the floor, and why did we look panicked. We told them that she fell.

I'd had enough and went home. Once I went home, I went straight to bed. But before going to bed, I heard something running around outside of my room, and I swear I heard knocking on all four sides of my bedroom. Quick trigger warning for this story. It does have mentions of self-harm and ending of one's life, so...

Just a heads up on that if you don't want to hear it, the story's not for you. It's not detailed, it's just mentioned. I said that the haunted dorm where Baby the kleptomaniac philodendron stole its first balloon and the bone lab were the only human-ghost encounters I've had. That was an inadvertent untruth, as recent events brought to my attention. I was seeing a new doctor.

You know those new questions they ask? Like if you're safe at home, you have enough to eat, are you experiencing depression? I highly approve of these questions by the way, but it was that last one that nearly got me into trouble. See, I've been coping with depression since I was four years old. Half a century on, I'm pretty good at it. At this time in my life, I have achieved multiple life goals. I have a job that is both interesting and fulfilling.

a loving family and friends, and a home of my own. Life is good. But even so, I practice my coping mechanisms on a daily basis. When they asked the question about depression, I told them honestly that my life has been great. And without thinking, I popped off with, "I haven't tried to unalive myself since I was eight years old." And I immediately realized that statement could go wrong very quickly.

"'Because being a good medical personnel,' they asked, "'what stopped you?' "'Feeling a little panicked, I told the truth. "'Granddaddy.' "'They moved on to other questions. "'Phew. "'Because Granddaddy was dead. "'That's why I was so depressed that eight-year-old me "'went into the kitchen in the middle of the night, "'pulled the biggest knife out of the drawer, "'and contemplated where to apply it.'

No, I probably wouldn't have managed to unalive myself, but I was desperate to stop hurting, so much that I'd have made a mess of myself, not to mention the trauma to my parents, siblings, etc. But something happened. I'm not sure exactly what happened. There was sunlight beaming through the windows, and daffodils, and granddaddy, and love. In the end, I put the knife away, and I went back to bed.

You can say it was a dream, but I know it wasn't. For one, I was most certainly awake. For another, well, to put it simply, my dreams during that time were nothing like that. No, life didn't magically get better. There were many weeks of nightmares and little sleep when the world trudged on, bleak and empty. But there were daffodils. They were a reminder of hope, a promise of better to come.

Then one day I was sitting in the car, in the front drive, waiting to leave for yet another counseling session. My parents were wise and well ahead of their time in many ways. The neighbor on the hill behind us had a new stereo system. To try it out, they opened the doors to the porch, cranked it up, and Calypso rolled down through the orchard across the valley, broke like a wave against the opposite ridge and flooded back.

The sun shone down. The hills and valley were filled with earthbound clouds of white apple blossoms, the palest blush, and the ground below was covered in yellow mustard flowers. For the first time in months, I saw what beauty life can hold. Little by little, I learned to seek out reminders of life, of love, of hope. I find music that lifts my spirits.

I cover my cubicle walls with images that remind me of myself, my accomplishments, and what I have yet to do. Yes, I give myself permission to escape into books, movies, and good company, but I also join service organizations and volunteer. I craft, write, hunt fossils and garden. I found a home where I can look out my window and see trees. I feed deer and birds from my back porch.

I even learned to scuba. Hey, Calypso. But it was granddaddy that gave me that first yellow petal of hope. Hi Raven. I've been listening to you on YouTube for quite a while now. Thank you for doing what you do. Of course, thank you. This happened last week. So I went to the car wash to wash my car and vacuum it out. I've been wearing the same crucifix around my neck for over 20 years.

Strangely enough, I got it at a garage sale over 20 years ago, and it called to me, so I've been wearing it ever since. At the car wash while I was vacuuming, my crucifix fell off my neck with the chain, and it got sucked up into the vacuum. As I saw the last bit of it going into the vacuum, I yelled out, "No!" But it was too late. It was gone. I was pretty devastated.

But then I kept thinking, maybe I just took it off and put it in my purse, even though I clearly saw it get sucked up into the vacuum. I emptied my purse over three times, turned it upside down, shook it, emptied every zipped up section just to make sure it wasn't in there, thinking maybe I put it in there. It was nowhere to be found. The first night I slept without it, I had a nightmare.

When I woke up, I was really bothered, and I knew it was because I wasn't wearing my crucifix. I prayed that it would somehow come back to me, knowing that, having had it for so long, I had grown that attached to it. Fast forward three days, and I'm digging in my purse, looking for my pen to write some stuff down. As I pulled out my pen, my crucifix came out with it, chain and all, wrapped around the pen.

I had clearly emptied my purse on three occasions looking for it, and it simply was not there. After having prayed that it would come back to me somehow, but not really believing it would, it actually did come back to me. I don't know how this is possible, but I'm a true believer in God and miracles, and this to me was one of those small miracles that God just knew I needed. I grew up strict Catholic, but no longer attend church.

But now I do know that God is always listening. I wonder if anything like this has happened to anyone else. Thank you again, Raven, and blessings to you and all of your listeners. This happened when I was 13, almost 20 years ago, but I still think about it weekly and have a deep yearning to understand. I've never shared it because it was so unsettling and confusing, but also deeply personal and comforting.

My grandmother, Marietta, passed from lung cancer during summer break. I had a good friend, Amanda, who lived in my grandparents' neighborhood, right next to them. So, whenever I would visit her, I would also play with my friend, Amanda. And even if I wasn't there, Amanda would visit with my grandmother, and they would talk about flowers and gardening. She didn't have a grandmother figure in her life, so I was okay with sharing every now and then.

My grandma made a big impact on Amanda in those years. About a week after my grandma passed in July that summer, Amanda and I went to the movies. I had just gotten my first cell phone maybe three or four months before that. A chunky plastic flip phone that couldn't text, but did have the game Snake on it. I had maybe four numbers programmed into it. We were waiting outside after the movie was over, and I get a phone call.

It's my grandparents' home number, a home number that they have not used in over a year. When my grandma got sick, they moved in with my aunt and uncle, so the home number I grew up calling was no longer theirs, but was still programmed into my phone. My heart skipped several beats, and I showed my phone to Amanda, whose face also went pale, and tears welled up in her eyes. That doesn't make sense.

was all that she said as we looked at each other. And then, as if on cue, we both turned our heads and looked inside the glass door of the theater. It was packed in the atrium, a big circular open space that you walked through with your ticket before getting refreshments before the movie. To the left was a game room that was loud with the sounds of pinball and shooting games. To the right was an ice cream shop that was perpetually empty. Who gets ice cream at the movies?

And in the middle of the atrium stood my grandmother, clear as day. We both gasped at the same time, but couldn't move our bodies. There was no skylight, but a single beam of light seemed to shine on one person, standing in the very center of the crowd, everyone walking around her. I remember the softness of her white-gray hair glistening under the fluorescent lighting.

I remember the smile on her face, one of knowing mischief is happening but also knowing it's a secret. I remember the teal turtleneck sweater she was wearing and the gold earrings she had on. I remember the way my heart tried to leap out of my chest, the breath that I suddenly couldn't find as a familiar ache appeared in my stomach. Grief was a close friend at that point in my life.

I pulled my eyes away for a moment to glance at Amanda, whose eyes were also locked on my grandmother's presence inside amongst the crowd. Finally, she looked back at me, face filled with what I can only describe as momentary terror. We both began to cry. When we looked back, she was gone. I looked back down at my phone and it showed a missed call. We went inside, crying and holding hands.

We stood in the middle of the atrium where she had been, looking up at the bland beige ceiling for the source of light. There was nothing but the smell of popcorn and the scream of kids playing skee-ball. After that happened, we never spoke about it again. We grew apart in the years after, and sometimes I think about reaching out to Amanda to see if she remembers what I do.

But part of me also wants to retain the memory as it is. Sacred and special and mysterious. And strange. Firstly, I would love to thank you for posting my story about my sister Sherry. I cried listening to you tell it. 10 out of 10 will always recommend. Thank you very much. This is the funniest of the paranormal experiences that we've had with her. It doesn't always have to be scary.

My BFF bought me the perfect journal to help me in between therapy sessions, and there was a page that resonates still today. They also sold t-shirts with quotes from the journal. One of them said, I will not rest in peace, I will haunt in retribution. So, of course, he bought me that too. That's my sister to a T. After she passed, our side of the family found out an awful thing about my ex-brother-in-law.

While Cher was near the end, he was cheating on her. He had bought her a comfy CRV to get Cher to her appointments. She never got the chance to drive it. On the second Christmas, we went to Mom's without him. He soon moved the woman he was cheating on Cher with to the house. Then he gave her that car. Then they removed all of Cher's pictures and changed everything. Cherie was so house-proud.

Her home always looked like a page from Better Homes and Gardens. After all that, now Cher had absolutely had it and was ready for retribution. My mom and Cher had been feeding a literal pack of stray cats and letting them stay warm in the garage through the winter. Mom adopted her favorite, of course. We got a call from, I believe, my nephew Matt. There had been an incident the previous night.

Let me tell you how we feel it all happened. One of the stray cats got the neighbor's pit bull to chase him. We believe Cher told the cat to do it. They all loved her dearly. The pit bull was then told by Cher to attack her car in the driveway, so it ripped the license plate right off and somehow found a gas line. Riddle me this, how did that dog know where the gas line was? This, of course, freaked them out.

And of course, his now-fiancé couldn't drive it until my brother-in-law could order the parts to fix it. Of course, my mother absolutely believed Cher set the whole thing up. Then, the phone tree began. We each called one another and had our first good laugh in a long time. We all felt like, you go Cher, now what's next? So, yes, sometimes the paranormal can be funny. It depends on who's doing the haunting and retribution, I guess.

So, I'm 21 years old, and my brother is 23. I don't know if this is needed for context, but I live with my parents due to health reasons, and my brother lives with our grandma. We were moving around this time, and I knew that our house was haunted a little. Both me and my mom are both very into spiritual and Wiccan aspects, or culture.

And if anyone doesn't know what that means, it's like connecting spirituality to life, nature, and some practicing of witchcraft. Saying this, we don't do much witchcraft, only to help others or bless an area, thing, or place. I've been able to speak and see ghosts as long as I can remember. My mom has only been able to feel their presence.

Saying this, whatever happened that day wasn't a ghost. I was packing my room at our old apartment, talking on the phone with my now boyfriend. My brother walks in and we have a whole conversation, and he even talked to my boyfriend. There was no doubt in that moment that this was my brother. So, of course, I didn't think anything weird when I got up to get something in the bathroom, and then came back and he was gone.

I remembered picking him up this morning to help him move, and him and my stepdad just left a short bit ago. I felt my whole body panic as I realized that I wasn't chatting with him. He wasn't even there. They were at our new house. I immediately went to the phone and asked him what they were talking about, but my boyfriend didn't remember. Let's call my brother Sam. I called for Sam before I realized, and after that, I called him.

and he'd been at the other house for about an hour. So who were me and my boyfriend talking to? Some would say a skinwalker, but I don't believe it. It looked and sounded like him, though. It's been a few months, and we finished moving and have been moved in for a month or maybe two by that point. I work early mornings, 3am to noon, sometimes later, but I come home and then watch my nephew.

From 3 to 10 on that day, everything had been feeling off. My nephew, who's one year and four months old, has been talking to something and playing with something. It doesn't seem bad, but you can feel something in here. I hear kitchen cabinets shutting and closing along with the doors when no one's home. I brought this up to my mom, and she says that she's noticed something there too.

She then explained that, on her way home, she saw what looked like a huge smoke ring in the sky. Like someone took a hit and puffed a circle, but it was giant. I don't know if that has anything to do with it, but I've also been experiencing brown recluse spiders in my bed lately, after having a nightmare about something unhuman. I have no idea if this is related, but if anyone knows anything, I would like some help figuring out what's going on.

I'm shook, and my family is worried that it's attached to someone or something in the house. But whatever it is, it is not human. Thank you for letting me submit my story. I'm a big fan. Everyone, have a good day. Thank you for submitting your story. My only paranormal experience was about 30 years ago, and it's the only real experience that I've ever had.

I, along with two other friends, moved into an old Californian-style bungalow house, which was a 1910-era three-bedroom house. We were all 25 years old at the time. It was located inner-city and had an adjoining massive workshop/shed that used to be a mechanic's shop and a petrol station, with a petrol bowser on the footpath back in the 1920s.

The monthly rent was quite cheap for the area and the size of the block, although the workshop was only used for storage now, and the owner had a fair bit of junk in it. One night, about 8:00 PM, I was sitting in my bedroom at the desk, which was right next to the door which was open, and this opened into the main hallway. At the right of my door was the main entrance to the house from the outside.

Across was another bedroom, and to the left the hall split in two directions. One to the lounge room, and the other went to the kitchen. The kitchen was at the back of the house, and also had the back door, which led to the backyard, and across that yard was the massive old mechanics shed. Because we lived inner city, our security was OTT. The back door had three deadbolts and a chain latch.

It was always locked as it was winter and the backyard was wet and muddy. Both of my housemates were out that night, and I was playing a game on my PC when I saw a guy walk down the hall, about five feet in front of me. I said, ''Hey.'' He stopped briefly, turned his head ever so slightly. He was wearing blue jeans and a red plaid patterned shirt. He was about twenty years old, had lovely blonde shouldered length hair,

As I was playing a game, I didn't fully engage with him, but when I noticed he stopped, I then said, "How's it going?" and then returned to viewing the monitor with the game that I was playing. I thought it was a friend of one of my housemates, and I expected to see one of them walk past shortly, but no one did. This guy may have looked at me, but since I returned my gaze back to the screen, I'm not 100% sure.

Then he just slowly walked down the hall and into the kitchen. I then realized that I never heard the front door open, and all of a sudden, every hair on my body sharply rose up. I said, "Hello?" and still got no response. So I then walked into the kitchen to see who this guy was, and there was no one there. He could not have come back out without me seeing him, and the back door had three locked deadbolts on it.

I was so shocked, but curious too. I spent the next half an hour walking around the house. Out into the backyard, in the shed, but I didn't see anyone. A week later, I went across the road from our house to the barber's shop to get a haircut. The barber had been in business for generations. His father and his father before him ran the business. I told him the story and he called his father in from out back of the shop.

His father told me that back in the 1940s, when the mechanic shop was in full operation, a young man was working under a car which was on a hoist. It malfunctioned, and the young man was killed. Quite a few previous residents have seen this young man in the house, and they got scared and moved out. Hence, the cheap rent. We stayed for another two years, but I never saw him again. I was so disappointed.

I would have loved to have seen him again and even tried to communicate with him. I've never seen anything paranormal since. As far as ghosts go, this was so believable. He had a solid form. He acknowledged me when I spoke to him by stopping and turning his head. I just wish that I had kept looking at him more, and I wish I had more encounters like that. One per lifetime is way too few.

It's not fair, and I think I've been ripped off. These are four experiences from my youth. Number one: Pranked. I was completely home alone one evening. I turned off the TV in my bedroom. It was a 90s-style TV box. Anyway, I go to shower, and when I got out of the shower, the TV wouldn't turn back on. Did the power go off? No. All the lights are on, so the power isn't out.

Maybe the TV's power cord got loose. I checked behind the TV. It wasn't just the power cord. It was also the cord to my VCR and cable box. All three cables had been disconnected. All three. Did someone come home and try to play a prank on me? No. A quick tour of the house confirmed that I was home alone. And how would they have known that I was watching TV before I showered?

My goodness, had someone broken in to try to steal my TV? I don't think so. I hadn't noticed anything just moments ago. Plus, why would they want my ratty old TV when there's much nicer stuff in the house? Including a nicer TV in the living room. Another quick tour of the house this time, looking under the beds and in the closets. I even went into my parents' bathroom and peeked in the shower. Nothing. No one.

Back in my room, I plugged all the cables back in, and with as much courage and calmness as I could muster, I said something like, "'Okay, you got me. I didn't think that was funny. Please don't do that again.' I went about my evening until my parents and sibling came back home. Two disembodied voices."

It was about 2 in the morning, and I had just hung up the phone with my girlfriend when I heard what I thought was muffled voices over white noise. Maybe a TV was on. My sibling, a room over, was scared of the dark and would usually put the TV on a sleep setting. I thought maybe they just forgot to do that. When I opened the bedroom door, the voices sounded lower, but the white noise sounded louder.

and as if it were coming from the direction of my sibling's bedroom. I made my way to the bedroom, but when I put my ear up to the door, the noise now sounded like it was coming from the living room, at the front of the house. Maybe this was some sort of nighttime Doppler effect thing? I made my way to the living room, down a T-shaped hallway, and the noise gets louder. But as soon as I come to the front of the house that opens up into the living room,

Nothing. The silence. The noise is completely gone. 3. Did the dark just play a trick on me? I felt hands gently shake me awake right at my shoulder and chest. When I opened my eyes, I saw a figure in the shape of a man, but darker than the dark of my bedroom. Kneeling at my bedside, the second I saw it, I knew that it was not a man.

but I don't know how I knew that. And I knew that it didn't want to harm me, just wake me up. A second later it stood up and took a step back and then completely vanished. I then sat up and looked around. 4. WTFH Something startled me awake and when it did, I was wide awake and afraid. Suddenly, I heard what sounded like a plastic bag being ruffled at the doorway to my bedroom.

I couldn't explain why that noise was so scary, but I was basically terrified when the noise moved from the door to the center of my bedroom, to the foot of my bed, and then to right next to my bed. I was panicking. What the freaking hell is going on? But I was so scared that I was frozen. The only thing I could move was my eyes. Suddenly the noise was gone, but I felt something straddle me.

Like, literally there was this pressure on my hips and on my chest. That's when I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to make myself sit up, but failed. I couldn't move. I then felt this odd, wispy-like presence hover right above my mouth, almost like a feathered kiss to my lips. And then it was gone. To date, these have been the only paranormal experiences that I have encountered.

Experience #1 was the first one and #2 followed, but I don't remember which came next, whether it was #3 or #4. These all happened while I was in high school, so sometime between 1998 to 2002, over 20 years ago now. Thanks for reading. At the age of 4, my parents and I lived in an old apartment.

I would see, at night, a tall, lanky shadow man, wearing a top hat and a coat, trying to enter the room that we all slept in. Every night, I would be woken up by something shaking me awake as if it was urgent. Every night, I saw him always moving towards the door, but never quite close. We then moved to a new house, and I forgot about him. This is when I started to sleepwalk.

My mother would just get up and direct me back into my room, but as soon as she touched me, I would wake up. I would be furious at her and tell her to stop and to let me go with him. "Him?" "Yes, never mind, just let me go." This conversation would happen once or twice a week. Again, we moved to a new city, and my sleepwalking got worse. I got up one night, put on my shoes, and I went to the door.

My eyes were halfway closed and I could see him in the distance guiding me to come with him. This shadow man was guiding me to the road. I had barely made it to the driveway when my father grabbed me and guided me back to my room. Again, I was furious. The following night, the shadow man appeared in my room. He was inside. All those years of him walking to the door and now he was finally inside my room. Then, he disappeared.

That's when my brother started seeing the crawling woman. He's seven years younger than me, and I've never told him about the shadow man. He'd also never seen a scary movie at that point of his life. He told me that every time he closes his eyes, the woman would crawl closer to him. We had our parents get holy water and bless the house. We moved three years ago to the current house that we live in. I'm 19 now, and I haven't slept walked since then.

But just a few months ago, I saw him. He was standing next to my bed, and he was bent over it, next to my face. I can't make out his features, but I could sense his smile. I haven't seen him now, but just last night, I swear I saw a few shadows outside of my window. Now, I know that we move a lot, believe me, I hate it, but we are moving to our final house.

I say final because we're actually buying the place, but I'm scared that the shadows will follow. I had to make up some time, so I opted to stay late at my desk and finish up some work. I'm only here making up time because I had to leave my office during the day for an event for my kid at school. About 45 minutes ago, the last person who stayed late left the office and I saw him walk out.

No one else has come in and there is no one else here. About 30 minutes ago, I heard a loud bang come from upstairs. It sounded like metal pipes hitting together hard. It kind of startled me as I thought something fell. So, I went upstairs to see what might have fallen over and nothing. I looked out from the upstairs window and the parking lot is empty, except for my car.

I called out to ask if anyone was still here that I might have missed. No one. Our office isn't open to the public, and you need a keycard to enter. Shortly after that, I came back to my desk and worked on a file, and I heard another noise. This time, it sounded like something was dragging a broomstick across a wall, but there was still no one there. We have motion-censored lights, so all the lights upstairs were now off.

Most of the lights downstairs are off except for my office. Just before I got on here and had to tell someone, I heard a ding. Like some kind of cash register dinging. But we don't have anything that sounds like that here. After I heard the ding, I saw the light upstairs come back on. Those lights are only triggered by humans. Not mice, cats, dogs, or the office Roomba would trigger it.

And just now as I'm writing this, another set of lights just came on closer to the office conference room. I do not know what is going on here. I became a certified security officer, which meant that we passed tests on laws of Kentucky and self-defense techniques, which was a long week of eight-hour days. I was so glad when it was over. Once I worked in the campus day-to-day,

I realized that you could feel like someone's mother, friend, coworker or teacher and sometimes disciplinarian. Students would be like grade schoolers, though super gifted high IQ students or really motivated and mature. I had to lock up buildings and walk through them, and there were a lot of them spread out. We had a vehicle also, but I walked an enormous amount. This night, I was in the men's dorm.

I refuse to call them college kids, as there is no such thing. They are college men, and women. I would explain this to them, asking if they believed themselves an adult. Yes was always the reply, so there, I'd say, you're not a kid. So, on this night, I went past many heavy basement doors that I had to check. They were all manner of industrial or maintenance-type rooms that were to remain locked.

but I would need to enter them to check them as well. One was the mechanical room holding spooky, noisy, belt-driven generators, built in the year it began as a small college, back in the 1950s. By now I knew all of these areas well, but some feeling I can only describe as a pressure existed around that ground floor, though I had never experienced this much fear in my life.

This night, I only needed to try these doors to ensure that no one forgot to lock them. Which went quickly. Walking in a gallop, I would try and get lever resistance at each heavy steel door, then move to the next door to try. That was when I heard a clearly blood-curdling scream. I did have immediate fear. We only had a long heavy flashlight and no weapons. This was the men's dorm.

So I immediately thought the R word. I inserted the key into maintenance, and I knew those belt-driven generators do loudly screech. They get momentum and then squeal, but this was a woman's scream. After turning the heavy key in that stout door, I turned the steel knob and pushed the door to open it. Someone was pushing it back on me.

I rammed it with my shoulder suddenly to throw them off balance, and again felt someone push against me. So, being quite strong, I gave it one hell of a ram. It opened and was pitch black. I looked up high to down low, carefully walking to the area that I knew I heard the scream. Clearly they were hiding. I left no area until I had scrutinized it, but there was no one.

I was now positive. It had taken all of my courage to enter that room, and now no one was inside? What about that clear door pushing? No. Well, I finally left the area, turned out the lights, and locked it, and then reported this but stated that I found nothing. I asked a guy the next night if he ever heard anything weird in that dorm, as he was on the first floor over that room.

He hesitated, then said that it was a bit noisy, but looked afraid, and then looked like he didn't even want to talk about it. So I told him my experience the night before. He didn't even bat an eye, and just slowly wagged his head and said, "Yeah, well, lots of weird sounding things, and not machines. I thought how it had sounded like a mature woman and not a teen, or a twenty year old scream. We locked eyes."

Back in October of 2013, when I was 33 years old, I was living in an apartment called Tree Top Lodge in Overland Park, Kansas. Hey, I know where that is.

One day during that month, I was on the computer surfing the net as usual, and all of a sudden I heard this loud guttural growl in the living room by the TV, which was 15 feet away from where I was. I looked over there and I thought, what was that? A couple of minutes later I heard the growl again, and it was even louder. I went over by the TV and searched everywhere in that area.

I even went outside to see if I would hear that sound again, but there was nothing, and I couldn't find any rational explanation for it. Fast forward to around February or March of 2016 when I was 35, and I was living in another apartment called Hampton Woods in Shawnee, Kansas. I was having a dream one morning, and I was in a mobile home that I used to live in when I was a kid. I'm like waking up and I see a lady that I went to Christian school with,

I was in the bedroom towards the back of the mobile home on the left side. From what I understood, this lady I went to school with was into the occult, and I could even see people in the kitchen and living room doing drugs, smoking, drinking, and doing occult-like practices. All of a sudden, I end up outside, and the mobile that I lived in when I was a kid was nowhere to be found. I end up at this shelter-like place...

where there are several TVs and people are sleeping in sleeping bags. For some reason, I knew my older brother was in there sleeping in a sleeping bag. I go and call his name, and I look over by a TV, and all of a sudden I hear the most hideous guttural growl I have ever heard. It scared me so much that I jumped out of my dream, jumped off the bed, and flew into the living room.

It scared the hell out of me, and was probably my most scariest experience that I have ever had. My dad's mother died, that would be my grandmother, and we went to the viewing at the funeral home. It was crowded due to her overpouring love that she always gave everyone during her life. The day was fair and clear. Evening now was upon us, and suddenly the lights went out, but just in her viewing room.

The ruffled funeral homeowner expressed his wonderment, saying that they have backup generators, yet they weren't working, and the rest of the other viewing rooms for two other deceased were still well-lit. My young eyes looked up to the casket. A red candle lit near her head to symbolize the everlasting life in Christ flickered in this darkness, and it appeared, due to the flame movements, that her face was moving.

Everyone collectively gasped when the lights went off, and with no windows in there, it was pitch black. Then, when they came back on, everyone sighed and chuckled a bit, but then boom, they were out again. The flustered funeral homeowner apologized, saying that inside all was well, except for this room, and he checked outside and it was all perfectly normal, no storms or anything. So, one year later...

Mother served us all dinner, saying, ''Do you know what day this is?'' Someone said September 13th. Then I, the younger of the two daughters of my parents, said that it was Daddy's mother's death date, which was correct. Before anyone could speak, our power went out for about four seconds, and then kicked back on. In 65 years in this house, do you know how many times our power in this 1958 house has gone out?

Only three times. One due to a blizzard in Louisville, Kentucky. That day much earlier and one time when a neighbor hit a pole taking down a transformer. So it's a very rare occurrence. So after this, things started going missing left and right. Mother was totally organized and never misplaced anything. Neither did my dad. He would know if you put away his handkerchiefs in his dresser drawer and that's literally...

He had done intel work in the army. My brush for my long hair went missing and I never used it anywhere but at my dresser. And other brushes would not do, because my hair was so thick that it would often break the brushes. My grandma had said that I had hair like hers. Which, hmm. Daddy had very expensive cameras and special lenses. Nobody but him would touch them ever.

So, right after this incident, he wanted to know where his telephoto Nikon lens went. He never misplaced a lens. Months passed. One day, I was about to take a bath, and I saw that there were a few big towels left. I thought, what is that? I thought it was a clever gift of perhaps his cologne, made to look like the black leather case of a lens. I then opened it carefully in disbelief.

It was my dad's shelf for his stuff, on the right and then Tal's to the left. There was no way he'd not have seen it, nor any of the three of us putting stuff away constantly, but it was. It was amazingly not harmed by moisture. I know that she did it and other things. Also, very suddenly, my brush, after being gone for months and after I'd bought a new one a while back...

was sat right on my dresser. Hi Raven. Long time listener, first time submitter. I'm a 50 year old male and my parents died when I was 26. We had a very loving upbringing and a very close relationship with our parents, my four siblings and I, and I was particularly close to my dad. He was the best dad ever and I could always talk to him about anything.

I had many occasions where I would drop by just to visit and talk with my dad. We were extremely close. Well, about ten years after he passed, I was very depressed with a wife at the time and really needed him in that moment. It was a cold night, and I decided to make a fire outside at my fire pit. I had some depressing country music playing low in the background.

And as I sat by the fire, I was saying a few prayers and talking to my dad in heaven while staring at the fire. A little backstory, I inherited the house my parents once lived in, and was living in it at the time. From where I sat, I could see the window of the house near to where my dad used to sit in his recliner, and although it was dark outside and all the lights were off in the house, I caught a glimpse of a curtain being slid over the window.

exposing a lamp that was on in the house. Now, I didn't have curtains at the time, I had blinds, and I didn't even have a lamp and set up like when my dad was alive. So, I immediately knew that something was up. I jumped up and ran inside the house thinking someone was in my house. Well, when I got inside the house, of course, no one was there. It was just as I had left it. Then, it hit me.

My dad always used to pull the curtain over to look outside, when he was in his chair. I knew right then that my dad was comforting me in my time of need. Although he was long gone, he still came to me from beyond to tell me everything was gonna be okay. Once I established that, I immediately felt better about my situation. It was definitely a life-altering moment for me.

Thanks for letting me tell my story, and keep up the good work, Raven. I love your channel. Other than the haunted dorm, where Baby the kleptomaniac philodendron, if you remember those stories, stole its first balloon, I've only had one experience that some might consider a human ghost. I'm not going to give you the particulars of where the classroom was, as that's one of those truth-is-stranger-than-fiction things,

but it was used as a lab for the storage and study of human skeletal elements. We would be in there all of an evening, studiously concentrating on learning to identify whole and fragmentary elements. One of our study techniques was to ask a neighbor to hand you a bone while your eyes were closed, and then practice identifying it by the feel, because that was part of the final exam, and you just need to know them that well.

But, occasionally, I would turn to a neighbor only to realize that no one was there. You know how it is when someone is beside you. You might be concentrating on something else, but you are aware of their presence. Glimpses out of the corner of your eye, that kind of thing. It was like that. So yes, I was distracted and completely absorbed by my studying. So it might just have been that, but...

I have a lot of university credit hours, and I took it very seriously. I have also been in a lot of rooms where human skeletal remains were stored and studied, some with thousands such individuals, and usually dimly lit with few if any living humans as company. But that was the only place I ever had that experience. No, most of the experiences I've had that one might call "ghostly" were of animals.

I say experiences rather than ghosts because, while I don't have an immediate explanation that I find satisfactory, I'm not ruling out a natural cause. For example, the night after I had to put one of my cats to sleep, I felt him jump on the foot of the bed, stalk the length of my mattress, and curl up against my back. I was awake, but it might have been something hypnagogic.

Likewise, the time I was driving before dawn when I saw a man cross the road ahead of me. He was being followed by a little white dog. It would pause to sniff something fascinating and then dash to catch up, or run off to a side to investigate something. But always it hurried back to the man's heels. But then I passed by the man and realized there was no dog.

He was on a sidewalk with an empty, but for me, four-lane road on one side and an even more empty grocery store parking lot on the other. There was no place for a dog to hide, but it was gone. I was leaving work a couple of hours before dawn, following my usual schedule, and nothing like that had happened before or since. But maybe that was something hypnagogic too.

Another time, something happened in the middle of the afternoon, so it had nothing to do with sleep or the lack thereof. I had three black cats, but one of them had been missing for several days. That afternoon, I had opened the back door and all three ran in. What a relief. I closed the door and went to check on the formerly missing kitty, and he was nowhere to be found. Sadly, two days later, the dog had dug his remains out from under the shed.

He'd been dead for as long as he'd been missing, but maybe seeing him that last time was a trick of my brain, a replay of past events based on hopes and expectations. My sister's experience is harder to explain as it involves multiple witnesses and physical objects. She worked at a pachyderm house at a zoo. Again, not going to tell you where.

Suffice to say, the building was the original facility from the bad old days, when elephants were chained and handled harshly. They have a new, much nicer building now, and my sister was hired expressly because she knew how to train an animal without making physical contact. There were no chains in the facility, and spaces where elephants were once kept had been repurposed for storage. But many times the keepers would hear the sound of chains dragging across the concrete.

and sometimes the heavy scoop shovel, stored where once elephants had been pinned, would lift off of the wall and fly across the room with great force. And you'd best hope that you weren't in the way when that happened. Hello Raven. I like your videos, so I decided to tell you all the weird stuff that happened in my old house. Well, I was always scared to go upstairs or be anywhere alone most of the time being in that house.

But one day, I was where my toys were and I heard something talk. It didn't say anything threatening or anything, just a basic question at first. I answered, but then 10 seconds later, I ran down the stairs. And that was the first weird thing that happened in the house. The next thing that happened was about two years later, when I was up late at night watching TV...

and then I turn the corner and see a girl with long black hair in a white nightgown. I looked at her, but not for long, but she looked not angry, just kind of looked sad and confused. Then I quickly went over to my blankets, and mind you this was summer, so I remember sweating just staying awake for a couple of hours, until I had the courage to get up and then I saw nothing.

So, now nothing weird happens for another two years until I woke up early to see this girl with the palm tree haircut that my sister had walk down the stairs. I was confused and went into my sister's room and she was sleeping in her bed. Definitely not as scary as the late night thing, but also something pretty weird. One last thing that did happen didn't happen to me, but to my sister.

She kept seeing the same man in her dreams for about 30 days. Mind you, she says that a lot of times she doesn't have dreams, but he would always be in the background watching. But in one case, she was playing hide-and-seek, and he was behind the door. That's about as close as he got, but the weird thing is that I told her that it could be the dream man...

which, not reading the story, that's a really strange phenomenon that you should all look into at some point in time. So I showed her a picture of the dream man, and she got really scared. And she said that it looked like him, but his nose was more pointy. She said that she hasn't seen him since, and nothing else really weird has happened, but I hope that this was a good enough story, and maybe some other people can relate.

The story was requested of me to post by my friend, who experiences a ton of paranormal stuff. This was written by her, not myself. This happened to me when I was the age range of 6-7. This was when I used to live in Texas. Houston is my old hometown. My parents weren't very well in money around that time, and the area around our old home was often known as a dangerous area.

Usually people would die near my neighborhood because of the shootings occurring. However, unfortunately, my house was haunted. The cabinets would open by themselves, things would go flying off the counter, and many other situations that happened inside of that house. One day I was in my room, playing with my toys and minding my business, until I decided that I would go visit my mom downstairs for something.

When I tried to open the door, it wouldn't open, and I noticed that it was locked. Of course, I started panicking trying to unlock it, but it wouldn't unlock, and I was starting to get scared because I felt something dangerous was inside the room with me, keeping me inside. I was banging on the door and crying for my mom when I turned my head around because I felt something watching me. I had a bunch of dolls on a shelf in my room.

and all of their heads were turned towards my direction, and I started hearing a slight whispering from my closet. I was banging on my door more, and my mom heard me scream. She rushed up the stairs, immediately asking if I was okay and to open the door for her. I was telling her that I couldn't, that something was keeping me in, and that I couldn't get out of the room. She was trying to kick open the door, but unfortunately was unsuccessful.

That's when my dad came home from work, and my mom heard him and then ran down the stairs to get him. She then told him what was happening. As soon as my father heard what was happening from my mom, he ran up the stairs and told me to stand away from the door, and when I stepped away, I heard him banging and trying to pry the door open. It took a few tries, and he finally got the annoying door to open for him.

They both rushed inside, asking if I was alright and what had happened, and I was telling them that I was hearing strange noises and sounds coming from inside the closet in my room, and then proceeded to point over to where the dolls were, and tried to explain the fact that their heads were all turned towards my direction. Afterwards, they made sure to leave that door open at all times, and told me to never lock the door again.

I'm either going crazy, or my apartment is haunted. At first, I thought that I was dreaming, because my first week in the bedroom I heard a female yell with surprise, "What are you doing here?" The next thing that happened is that things will go missing for weeks at a time, and pop up again in places that I'm sure I checked. Then I started seeing shadows dart across the room of my vision.

This week, she let out a scared scream at the foot of my bed, like she was surprised and gasped. I went back to bed, and this thing slapped the foot of my bed so hard that I felt the mattress dip next to my foot. I'll admit at this point I was more angry than surprised, so I told her to cut that crap out. Big mistake. Because before, I wasn't sure it was being haunted, but now I know it was.

because it always happened late at night when I was almost asleep. But yesterday, she turned on an adult toy that I have. It's embarrassing. I know, but she turned it on, and I promise this is not satire. I got up and turned it off, and even put the on button facing the ceiling, in case maybe the button just got pressed down somehow. As soon as I sat it back down, she turned it back on.

and at this point I was a little scared so I turned it back off and tried to go back to bed. She turned it on again. I threw the thing away at 4 in the morning into the dumpster on the street. I then tried to go back to bed and I could hear her breathing next to my bed. I then got this overwhelming feeling that I was being stared at until about 6am when I finally had it and got up out of bed anyways.

I know it's a she because I've heard her voice, and it's always been scared. Like I shouldn't be here. I live on an army barracks, and ending one's life is very common. My theory is that some girl took her life in the room, and that she doesn't know that she's dead. I didn't believe in ghosts before PCSing here, but I've taken to talking to her gently before I do things.

I tell her that I'm about to turn on some music, or that she has the place to herself, when I leave for work. I'm honestly hoping that she just thinks I'm her roommate or something, because obviously this was her space and she isn't tracking that she's dead. She's never been violent or aggressive with me, but she has a habit of doing these things in the dead of the night and terrifying me. I need advice on what to do.

Because she is very real. And she's made a believer out of me. But I'd be lying if I said that she doesn't scare me. This happened a few years ago, when I was 17. I was a senior in high school at this time. I was not on drugs, medication, or alcohol leading up to or during this experience. I went to bed late that night.

Only, my dream started, and I was on the ceiling looking at my sleeping body below. I saw a dark figure on the side of my bed. It was blacker than the pitch black room, and seemed to be very hairy or furry. I don't know how to quite describe the appearance, most of it was just a dark blob, but I know that it was hairy because it kept reaching over and touching my face.

I felt it tickling my face, and my sleeping body would instinctively reach out and touch the spot that it had touched, and I could feel it. I could feel the tickling sensation, and I could feel my own hand brushing my face off. I did that for an unknown amount of time, just reached out, messed with me, retreated and repeated it for presumably hours, but eventually, it looked up at me.

I could see its eyes and its mouth somehow. I don't recall there ever being a light that showed its face, but I could see that it was looking at me on the ceiling and it was smiling. It then focused back on my unconscious body and sprung onto the bed, its arms swinging wildly as it attacked me. I was dragged down from the ceiling back to my unconscious body and woke up. I was shaking all over.

how I think a seizure would feel, as if I was vibrating. Of course, whenever I woke up, the entity was gone. It is important to note that I have a grey cat. He often sleeps with me, right on my chest or against my neck. That night, he was on the opposite side of the bed on the far corner. When the thing jumped onto the bed, I watched from position on the ceiling as the cat ran away.

When I awoke, the cat was gone, which is out of the norm. It's not unheard of, but typically the cat wakes up when I would get up in the morning. I would post this elsewhere, but it's important to state that later in my waking life, I was out in a state park, way too late, around 4am. I saw that entity across a clearing in another treeline.

Again, I could see its face, and I knew that it was beaming at me with a smile. I don't know how, but I just knew that it was smiling. I've not seen the entity since then, and these incidents were only a few weeks apart. I've had experiences with paranormal encounters my whole life, and people never believed me until I met my dad after ten years of not knowing him. I'm fifteen years old.

I had spent the summer with my dad, and one night he handed me a bell that had belonged to his mom that had died three years prior. He asked me what I felt when holding the bell, and it felt cold. Like, not normal cold, but cold cold. Like freezing. And he told me that it belonged to his mom that died a while back. He told me that she had always wanted to meet me and my older sister, but what I didn't know...

is that I had met her before. Her spirit had come to me at my grandparent's house about a year ago. She looked at me and said, "You have my nose." And she smiled. I told my dad about it and he was shocked and asked what she looked like. I told him, "Reddish brown hair and green blue eyes." And that she was about 5'1", my height. He just stood there staring at me.

He let me keep the bell after he realized it was meant for me, and when I was 11, I had a friend named Bella Grace who would sit in my closet and bring me clean-cut sandwiches. Turns out she was an entity or spirit, and has been following me throughout my life to this day. I can also feel people's emotions, in a way. I can feel when people are upset, and my dad also knows about that too because he'd come home from work

And when he walked in, I started crying because I got a big wave of anxiety and anger from him. He hugged me and asked why I was crying. And I asked him, "What did she say?" "It was bad, wasn't it?" "I was talking about his girlfriend. That is complicated." And he said, "How did you know about that?" And then I told him everything. I know most people question me, but that's okay. I still sense and see things around me.

and I just choose not to say anything to people. Hi all. I wanted to see if anyone in the paranormal community has had experiences with a dormant ghost. I haven't heard many stories about this, and I wanted to see if people had their own stories to share. For context, I've worked in the same office building for over three years now. My coworkers have always talked about a ghost being here.

I work in a mental health clinic, and there are only 10 of us total, max. Usually less due to people who work from home. We are all spiritual people and believe in ghosts. I haven't had my own experience, but others have. I have talked to coworkers who have worked in the building prior to myself, and they reported nothing happening when they were here. The activities started off as very infrequent and inconsistent.

Like one to two times a year, and has been increasing to new activity every couple of months. The activity? Well, my knowledge of the ghost started with the closet door that wouldn't open, even though it was unlocked. My co-worker said it felt like a force on the other end. The door later opened on its own, despite a few of us trying to get it open.

There have been other run-of-the-mill stuff, like footsteps, phantom cigarette smells, doors opening and closing, door chimes going off when no one is here, etc. It's escalated to two apparition sightings in the last few months. Could this be a dormant spirit getting stronger? Maybe a traveling ghost?

My coworker had her leg touched on Friday, and another lady saw a shadow figure at her house and thinks that it followed her home since she has never had activity in her house before. I also got info that a coworker from another department came to the office and saw a shadow man in the break room, so that makes at least three apparitions in the last few months.

I tried to condense this as much as possible, but it spans most of my life. SP refers to sleep paralysis. Before 22, this all takes place in Aurora, Missouri. So, I have SP. Undiagnosed. But one of my first memories I have is waking up in my bed, probably at the age of 10, and not being able to move.

but seeing a very tall, dark, grey being resembling what most people would call an alien. It was hiding in the corner of my room. I remember not feeling scared, but was more so startled that something was in my space. About four years later, we moved to this very old Victorian house, one of the first built in the city.

Sometimes in the summer, I would play video games in the basement to escape the heat. And right above where my TV would sit, there was a hole in the wall leading to the crawlspace under the house that was pitch black and very ominous. While down there one day, I went into a sort of trance. And when I came to, I was still sitting where I was, but staring blankly into the dark hole for an unknown amount of time.

This house was so old that it had two sets of stairs, one for the people living there and the other for the servants. One day I was headed down the servant stairs staring at my feet and I looked up to see a girl at the end of the stairs in a white gown with black hair in her face, almost exactly like in the movie The Ring. Another time I was home alone and I heard something upstairs run from one room to the other.

and it was so loud that my dog stood up and looked at me. I did go upstairs to check every room, but found nothing. Then, no issues for years, that I remember, and then fast forward to about the age of 22. The sleep paralysis is worse than ever, and at this point, I cannot sleep without having the feeling that something is watching me.

It's interesting to note that when I would go somewhere very far, like being deployed to other countries, I would be okay for about a month, and it would start again almost like it took a while to find and travel to me. Then I started seeing things while not being asleep. At one point, I can't remember if I had fallen asleep or if I was in the process, but...

I looked up and saw the same girl as before from the Victorian house on my ceiling, right above my bed. And I jumped up to turn on the light, and it was gone. After that incident, I've never slept without a light on ever again. Although it didn't really help. At the beginning of 2021, 27 at the time, I would try to fight my body to try to get it to move during sleep paralysis more and more.

After fighting it so much, I would start waking up without being able to move, but also hear a loud ringing in my ears, and feel extra daisy, almost like being hit by a stun grenade. I also started hearing noises of something being moved or manipulated, like someone touching or moving things. Some things would fall randomly, but not very often."

I also bought a townhome and have always heard loud walking and scratching in my upstairs crawlspace while completely awake. My girlfriend also hears it and refuses to sleep upstairs when it happens. I went to check when she begged me to look in the middle of the night, and there was nothing there, not even a place an animal could get in. I also had an incident where my girlfriend was crying downstairs in the dark while visiting me.

Her dog had run away back home, and she looked up to see what appeared to be me standing there by the stairs, shrouded in darkness. Not being able to see the front of the form due to the dark, she called out to it thinking that it was me. There was no response, and when she wiped her tears to look back, it was gone. The OP has added an edit...

I forgot to mention my neighbor that I share a wall with at my townhome has also stated that ever since I moved in, her bedroom and hallway light turns on and off by themselves throughout the night. It all happens less frequently now, but I still never sleep in the dark. I also have never felt rested and thought I had sleep apnea for the longest time, but was tested and found not to have it. Any thoughts would be greatly appreciated.

Here's another one of my funeral home stories. Most of my encounters in my 30 year stint subcontracted at a funeral home were mostly mundane paranormal activities, such as voices, music playing for no reason, and an occasional light flickering, but only a few were worth sharing, so here goes.

I was subcontracted to do hair and manicure on deceased women, but occasionally helped dress and help get them into the casket. I usually worked alone with the funeral director passing through to either say hello or give me pictures of the women so that I could arrange it accordingly. This day I was alone and busy working on a frail elderly woman.

I'm usually engrossed in my work, but out of the corner of my eye, there stood a tall man in a dark suit, just standing in the doorway. I thought that it was the funeral director, so I turned my head to say hello, but no one was there. I shrugged it off and continued working, but the figure kept returning, just watching, but would disappear if I turned my head to see who it was.

I was almost done with her hair when the funeral director did walk in, but now the figure that kept mysteriously coming in and out came in with the director and stayed, just watching lovingly. I finished my job, and the funeral director then placed the woman in the casket and arranged her for viewing. The funeral director then pushed the casket out of the prep room to the elevator.

The handsome figure followed and disappeared into the elevator with the elderly woman and the funeral director. I did mention this encounter to the funeral director, but neither one of us figured out who this was that was accompanying this woman, as she never married. Perhaps it was just a relative, or an angel. This happened a little over ten years ago, but the memory is still very vivid.

My parents had just rented a new house for us, and my sister and I were splitting the basement. I had my full-size mirror placed against the back wall at the time, so by looking in it, you could see the open doorway that led to the stairs. They were just around the corner of the doorway, so you couldn't actually see the stairs, though.

Anyway, my sister also had a big wardrobe that she kept her TV on and her clothes in, which wasn't lying flat against the wall. It came out at an angle, with its back towards the stairs, basically. So I was doing my makeup one day, not too long after moving in, and I looked down to grab something, and when I looked back up, there was a little boy crouched down in the corner behind my sister's wardrobe.

I never got to see his face, but he was wearing a yellow shirt with red shorts and black shoes. As soon as I caught sight of him, even though he didn't see me, he got up and shot straight out of the doorway, and I assume up the stairs. Of course, I got up as quick as I could and tried to chase after him, but he was gone. There was no sound from him.

No heavy footsteps that should have been there by the way he was sprinting, and nowhere he could have hidden. The underneath of the stairs was open since we had just moved in, and I could see every inch of it. I don't know who that boy was. I tried to research the house to see if there was any stories about it or a little boy in the area, but couldn't find anything. All I know is that, after I looked for him, I felt nothing but sadness following him.

The whole area that I grew up in was known for shootings and illegal activities and such, so maybe he was a victim of something like that. I don't know. Just an experience that's stuck with me ever since. I was subcontracted at a funeral home for 30 years. It was a very old building, about 100+ years old. I came in late at night to do the hair on three elderly women after I had finished work at my studio.

I heard talking and thought that a funeral director was in the office, or perhaps the radio was left on. So I went to the office across from the room that I was to work in to let the funeral director know that I was there, or to turn off the radio as I was alone. But nothing. Upon entering the room that I was to work in with the three ladies, the talking then turned into people yelling at each other. They were unrelated.

I was not scared, as this was not my first paranormal encounter. I asked if I could help, and they shouted back at me to stay out of it and to mind my own business. I did all of their hair without talking from that point on, as they continued yelling at each other over some event. Perhaps they didn't realize they were dead. It was very weird, and at no point did they try to harm me.

I guess after working on the deceased for so long, I just got used to it. I actually have another funeral home story as well. I did the hair on a woman in her late 30s. She had died in a car accident. The story behind this tragedy was the night before the accident. Her husband woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. He woke his wife up to tell her that he had just dreamt that she had died, and that he was standing by her casket just looking at her.

It seemed so real. In disbelief and confusion, she said, "I just had the same dream." The next day, they were driving in their car. The husband was driving, the wife was in the passenger seat, and their young child and dog were in the back seat. A truck hit them, and she was killed. The husband, child, and dog were unharmed.

I have never been close with either of my grandmas. Not that I want to be anyways, but the stories I've heard of them have left me with chills. This all happened in Mexico. At the age of 28, my grandma had three kids already, and my grandpa and her were happily married. There was a woman in that village who hated her, and it was known around there that the mother of this woman was a witch.

They wanted to bewitch my grandpa to fall in love with her and to leave my grandma. This didn't work and made the witch sick for a while. Now you may ask, why didn't the curse work? Was she not strong or good enough? No, she was good. But there was something she didn't know about my grandfather. His veins were in the form of a cross. Now I'm not very religious, but he is. He couldn't be cursed.

He couldn't be touched by a curse. So, the curse went to my grandma. She fell ill and could not get up. She seemed to almost turn to stone. My mother was around five and remembered everything. She said that my grandma would have her fists tightly shut, and one time they were able to open her hand, only to find dirt falling off of her hands. She was described as looking like a corpse.

They took her to countless doctors and then felt desperate, and decided to take her to a different witch. This witch took her into a room. A few minutes later, he came back running and telling my grandfather that she was possessed. He said that it was going to take a while, but he could help them. He went back into the room, and that's where a loud boom erupted from said room.

"Let me stay!" It screamed, and he responded with, "This body doesn't belong to you. Leave!" They went back and forth, arguing until all my grandfather heard was his own breathing. Minutes later, my grandma walked out of the room as if nothing had happened. She was well, and she remembered everything. This happened a few nights ago, when I was trying to fall asleep. I've been on holidays since near the end of November.

In South Africa, around Christmas time is our summer holiday due to us being in the southern hemisphere. I normally stay up a lot later than anyone else in my house, playing video games or watching YouTube or whatever. This night I was lying in bed with my phone at about 1am when I decided that it was a bit late and that I should try to fall asleep.

As I was lying down, I was manually breathing, when I noticed that the sound of breathing sounded slightly out of sync with my actual breath. I felt my heart slowly begin to race, but I tried to remain calm and brush it off. In an attempt to help myself feel better and fall asleep easily, I decided to hold my breath to see that the breathing sound stops too. So I did. Except, the sound of breathing continued.

The sound sounded like it was literally coming from directly underneath my bed. I also never noticed this sound suddenly appearing, meaning that if it was always there, it had been in sync with my breath until now. I began to freak out and thought that somehow someone was underneath my bed, even though I knew that if they had bad intentions, they would have done something already, since everyone else was supposedly asleep.

This made me think that there wasn't anyone under my bed, but I still didn't know how the breath continued when I had stopped breathing. My right ear was blocked at the time and my left ear was against the pillow, meaning that whatever I heard would almost definitely be heard through my left ear. Lifting my head up, I heard the noise continue. It was snoring from my dad in his bedroom.

I couldn't help but notice that the snoring while going at the same pace as the breathing sounded absolutely nothing like it. Putting my head back on the pillow, I didn't hear the noise anymore, just my dad snoring. What do you think? Was it really his snoring somehow being distorted to sound like normal breathing, and like it was coming from under my bed? Or was it something else? Something more sinister and evil?

I swear on everything that I love that this is a true story. You don't have to believe me, but I want to share it anyways. I was 7 or 8 years old and lived in a house with just me and my mom. It was a fairly big house with 4 bedrooms and my room was at one end of the landing and my mom's room was at the other end.

If you were to stand by my bedroom door, you would look down the hallway and see my mom's bedroom door, as well as the top of the stairs. Anyways, my two slightly older cousins, 9 female and 11 female, had come over for a sleepover and we had spent the whole evening slash early night playing around and doing childish things as you do. My mom told us it was time for bed, and they went to sleep in the spare room and I went to my bedroom.

When I was younger, I had really bad trouble sleeping, and would often wake up around 2-3am and walk down the hall and go into my mom's bed and sleep there. Almost every night, I would do this. Anyway, so it comes to about 3am, and I wake up. I get out of my bed, and I open my door as quiet as I could to not wake anyone else up.

As I rub my eyes and look down the hall, I see a floating dress with tears in it. That looked exactly like what you would expect a wedding dress that has been worn by someone living in a forest or on the streets. It had tears in it, it was a bit muddy at the bottom, it was floating almost like it was moving through water. There was a woman wearing this torn and muddy dress walking down the stairs.

I remember freezing and slowly walking back, closing my door a bit and getting into bed. I put my pillows over my head and closed my eyes and pretended I was asleep. I can't remember how much longer I was awake for before falling back asleep, but the first thing I did when I woke up was tell my mom and cousins. Obviously, as a little kid, my mom didn't believe me and my cousins thought I was trying to scare them.

I'm 20 years old now, moved houses a long time ago. I remember this woman walking down the stairs so clearly that I could draw you a picture of it now. I tell this story to people to this day and obviously no one believes me, but I swear on everything that I saw something that night. There was something in my house. As a quick note, the story does contain mention of self-harm,

as well as mentions of attempting to take one's life. So, if that's not something that you can personally listen to, the timestamps are down below and I recommend that you skip this story. I'm a 66 year old woman who has many strange and unexplained experiences. There were three experiences where my life was protected by an unseen force. The first happened when I was 28. I was home alone, my roommate was gone for the weekend.

I was despondent, depressed at the time, yet I do not remember what had brought me to this state of despair. Anyway, I took out one of my cutlery knives and was poised to cut my wrists in the dining room. All of the sudden, the knife forcefully flung out of my hand and slid to the far end of the kitchen. My hand was in a downward position. It would have been impossible for me to throw the knife that far.

I just laid on the floor sobbing for a while and then went to my room and went to sleep. The next day I picked up the knife and put it away. I no longer desired to do what I had almost done. The second time, I had worked a very long and exhausting double shift at the hospital. I was a phlebotomist and it had been a grueling busy two shifts. I went to the parking lot and got in my car. It was a stick shift.

I headed out onto the main street and was headed for home, and the next thing I remember is waking up parked behind the house that I lived in, motor off. Something else drove my car that day, as I am sure that I fell asleep at the wheel. And on the third, it was St. Patrick's Day. My roommate Michael brought home an Irish dinner, corned beef, potatoes, and cabbage.

A piece of corned beef got caught in my airway, and I couldn't breathe. Michael was performing the Heimlich maneuver, but it wasn't working. I was turning blue and thinking that it was all over. Somehow, Michael and I fell straight backwards, me flat on top of him. Back then, I was 175 pounds, and Michael was an under-average sort of guy.

I was pushed up and forward, and my chest hit the edge of the counter in just the right place so that the meat dislodged. Slowly, I was able to get air. Michael and I looked at each other. He said, ''I didn't do that.'' ''What did that?'' ''Absolutely glad to be alive.'' I said, ''Well, someone up there likes me today.'' ''I will never forget these events.''

and I'm extremely grateful for whatever energy was behind saving me. It proves to me that there are forces here helping us, and thank you for letting me share. This happened around 1988. I was still living in my hometown in Virginia and had just graduated college in 1986. I had a small group of friends that frequented the local dance club on the weekends.

and we had decided to hang out at the apartment of a girl in our friend group that lived in the same apartment community as me. The girls all decided to participate in a Ouija board session and lit candles to set the mood. My boyfriend at the time also attended this impromptu late night girl party along with his longtime friend who was of German descent, but they ridiculed us and decided to sit on the couch and not participate.

We took turns asking questions, and determined that any question was to be private that no one else would know the answer to. I thought about my question, and decided to ask of a particular gift that my grandmother had given me. In my mind, the answer was a white nightgown. Someone else had asked a question, and the board spelled out something that seemed to be in another language.

My boyfriend's friend knew exactly what it was saying, because he said it was answering in German. I don't remember exactly what the answer was, but it was true for someone and freaked us all out. When my turn came around, I asked my question, and immediately the board spelled out "JOJO". All the girls looked at me and asked what that meant, and at first I had no idea.

But then, it suddenly occurred to me what it meant. My own mother had been given a toy as a child from her parents, my grandparents, that was like a jack-in-the-box. But it was very old, like from the 1940s, and it had a string that if you unwound it from a button on the front of the box, a clown popped out of the box. The label on said box said, JoJo.

At that moment, I decided I was done with this thing and decided to just go home. We ended the session and everyone left. My boyfriend was with me and walked me home to my apartment. To this day, I believe that some nefarious spirit was there with us, and I vowed to never touch that thing again. My mother passed away just a few years ago, but I still have the JoJo toy packed away in my closet as a memento from my mother.

I was talking with my sister earlier, and she'd reminded me that we used to live in a haunted house. This was the early 80s, and I couldn't have been older than 6. A little background: I barely remember this story myself. I only remember it through the stories that were told to me about my actions. So, I lived in a two-story company house that had three actual bedrooms.

One for my mom and dad, one for my sister downstairs, and the last bedroom was upstairs, and that was for my brother. I got to have the upstairs landing for my bedroom. This was fairly large, but with a stairwell right in the middle. The stairwell had a floor-to-ceiling poles, I guess to guard the opening. This allowed me to see through the stairs themselves. There was a window directly across from the stairs with no curtains on it.

onto the story so i often had a hard time getting to sleep because of the window letting in light this meant that often as a child i would cry and wake up my parents because raccoons or cats would be fighting on the roof and i thought that monsters were coming to get me so i would often get scolded for waking people up and i learned to just sit there with these noises while they were going on

Now, another point to my story is that my bed was set against the wall, between the small doors that opened up to access the attic space. I hated these doors for some reason. In an effort to get me to accept these doors as nothing, my sister got me to explore in them. We found stuff from previous owners, and we would pull it out into my room. We had to pull it out because this area had no lights,

other than what light leaked through from down below. We found old toys and books. One of these books was a journal from like the late 1800s. To hear my sister tell it, that was when the weird stuff started to happen. I started seeing these bird-like footprints climb the stairs, you know, three toes forward and one backward.

This was impressive because the stairs were hard wood. No rug, no runners, no coverings of any kind. That means that the footprints were pressed into the wood. They would slowly rise back out of the wood as the next one showed up, just like someone was walking up the stairs. This was accompanied by a blue light that would come out of the little doors that were on either end of my bed. This happened repeatedly for months, and no one believed me.

That was until I broke my ankle, and I had to sleep in my sister's room and she got mine. Now, her experiences were similar to mine. The footprints and the light. There was one difference though. She saw a long pointed leg come out of the little door. This leg looked like a giant spider's leg. She came down screaming, and she refused to sleep up there again.

From then on, I got to sleep on the couch, and she got her room back. The funny thing is that once my ankle healed, I went right back to sleeping upstairs. I don't know if the experiences kept happening and I had just gotten used to it, or if they'd stopped. For those who are curious, the only memories I have of my life before 11 years old are those of stories told to me, not my own, so...

I can't tell you if I just toughed it out, or if I didn't experience anything after that. Hi Raven. I'm a huge fan of your podcast, and I listen to it every night because I can't sleep without something playing. Anyways, down to business. For reference, I'm a 17 year old male. In June, earlier this year, me and my brother went on vacation up to Missouri to visit my grandparents.

During this trip, we went to an early 1800s mansion known throughout the state as the Hunter Dawson House. As we were standing up on the front lawn and the tour guide was talking about the mansion, I began to feel uncomfortable, like I didn't belong there. I didn't want my grandma to ask anything, so I just acted interested instead. When the tour guide let us in the house, I was awestruck by the beauty of the interior.

It wasn't until we finished the tour of the first floor and went upstairs that I began to feel uneasy again. For the record, I've had a general fascination with the paranormal, and when we went into the former children's room, I was just about done. The vibe was totally creepy, like someone was watching me. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up, and I kind of felt like I was going to be sick.

But for the sake of my grandma, I swallowed my fear and tried to pay attention to what the tour guide was saying. After the kids room, we went into a woman's room. The tour guide said that this room belonged to the wife of the man who built the house. As he was talking about the wife, he opened a closet and what I saw made my heart leap into my mouth. It was a woman's dress. There wasn't anything bad about the dress.

It was what, or who, was in it. It was one of those stuffed torso dummies that you would see in a clothing store, but for a fleeting moment, it looked like an old woman was wearing it. The woman was old with long white hair pulled up into a bun and many wrinkles. As soon as I saw her, she was gone. Soon after, the tour wrapped up and we made our way out of the house.

When I stepped out through the front door, I took a huge sigh of relief. I loved the tour, but I wanted to get as far away from that house as fast as I could. For anyone who wants to go to the house and has a thing for the paranormal, just be careful.