People Who Swear They've Had Paranormal Encounters Share Their Stories
Nothing about being frightened is thrilling to me. I don't watch scary movies or engage in any 'calling upon the dead' type rituals (cause I deeply value my life). I don't even like walking around the house when the lights are off.
Although, these Ask Redditors seem to dive right into encounters with paranormal activity, sharing their creepy stories.
The original thread can be found at the end of the article.
I'm not sure how freaky it is, since it's not paranormal or anything, but when I was about 7 years old I went on a walk with my babysitter.
We were walking back a mile or so to my house on a fairly busy road and about half way there she says we should play Simon Says. At first we walk faster, then skip, and then jog lightly. Then she says "Simon says run as fast as you can. Simon says turn here." I was slightly confused, but played along. As we turned down the driveway I looked back and saw two guys chasing after us, one with a bat and the other with a knife.
We ran up to a house and some old people living there let us in thankfully. At the time I didn't grasp how screwed up it was that we were getting chased and I still have no clue why they were.
When I was really little my parents would let me stay up late on the weekends and watch TV until I fell asleep. I really loved these times and I would stay up later than anybody else just because I could.
Well, one night I was almost asleep on the couch when I heard a noise on our front porch. It was the sound of our old fashioned porch swing moving back and forth. I was a little scared so I crept toward the bay windows of my living room and peeked out towards the porch. Sitting on my front porch swing was an older woman, probably in her 50's wearing nothing but a night gown, covered in blood and holding a huge kitchen knife.
I flipped out immediately and ran screaming into my parents room but was too terrified to form words. My parents saw that I was upset, but when I finally was able to tell them what I saw, my dad got really angry and told me that it was just a dream and to go back to bed. I refused and kept crying and screaming until he had had enough and snatched my arm and dragged me towards the front door to prove that nothing was there. I kicked and screamed all the way trying to make him stop, but he kept pulling me. Finally we got to the door, he unlocked it, swung it open and said "See theres nothing th-". To this day, I have never seen the look of fear and shock that was on his face when that woman turned and stared at both of us and slowly stood up with the knife.
My dad slammed the door shut and got my mom to call the police while he went and got his gun. He went back to the door with a 12 gauge and cracked the door enough to stick the barrel out. He asked her what she was doing and she said "Somebody killed my husband, but it wasn't me."
My dad told her that the police were coming, and she freaked out, grabbed the knife and walked away. The police found her 15 minutes later trying to break into one of our neighbors houses.
I never slept in the living room again.
When I was a freshman in college I was on a film shoot near Barstow on Route 66. We were shooting on the property of the caf known for the film Bagdad Caf. This property has an abandoned motel attached to it, which is where we were shooting this unbelievably bad horror film.
The motel's floor was full of papers, something I initially figured was a relic from the past, while the motel was actually doing business. A while into the shoot, we started picking up the papers and reading them.
They were handwritten letters from the 70s, perhaps never sent. They were addressed to dozens of different people. They started out normal but going on to describe some really, really messed up things.
There was a guy who literally had some demons. He kept talking about how "they" were watching him. The handwriting also got more and more messed up as we assembled the letters chronologically.
Meanwhile, outside the motel there was a storage container with "KEEP OUT" spray-painted on it. Naturally, we were curious. There was a hole in the side, and someone reached in and pulled out some documents. Among them was a letter, on government typeface (I think it was the Veteran Affairs), telling the person who wrote those crazy letters that he was (unknowingly) a participant of some tests of hallucinogenic substances while he was in the army.
This whole time, there was a room in the abandoned motel that was sealed off, that we were strictly forbidden from entering. All the windows were covered by plywood, and the door was barricaded shut. It smelled like death. Seriously the worst smell I've ever encountered in my life.
Every time I have watched The Lion King someone I know has died.
It has happened 3 times when I was a child and it always happened the same way. We'd be watching the movie as a family, and then the phone would ring during the movie and we would receive the news of a relative dying.
No one in my family has watched the lion king since and it's been about 15 years.
I don't have any way to verify whether this is actually a family story or whether it qualifies as an urban legend, but here:
My family has lived in rural Nebraska since they immigrated from Germany in the mid-1800s. Near the turn of the century, disease was pretty rampant in the homesteading area and it killed off members of almost every family. When someone died from illness, time was of the essence in burying them as not to let the virus spread from the deceased to the living. This meant no wake periods.
So an aunt of some unknown number of "greats" preceding her relationship to me, dies of some disease and she gets buried in the family cemetery on the the homestead. The dogs were very fond of her so it wasn't too surprising that after the funeral the two dogs stuck near the grave.
The rest of the family began to think something of it when, a week and a half later, the dogs were still visiting her grave almost constantly. But they weren't just at the grave. They were visibly distressed, frantic, and often barking while there.
This goes on for maybe two weeks when the family decides to check it out. They dig the casket up and open it.
The deceased's hair has all been pulled out. Her fingers are raw and bloody and mangled from where, on the inside of the casket door, they can see deep scratches in the wood.
She was comatose when they buried her, and she came back to life while underground, spending probably her last five or so days alive in a buried casket.
I'm a kid who likes his sleep very much so my Dad often had to wake me up as I slept through my alarm. He wakes me up the same way every time; by gently putting a hand on my shoulder and then since I usually plead for 5 more minutes, he yanks the covers off and forces me up.
So a few weeks ago I had to get up very early to go play pick-up basketball in the morning with some friends. I set my alarm the night before and went to sleep. My dad works very far away so he often sleeps at work 2 or 3 nights a week and that night he wasn't sleeping at home so I knew I had to get myself up.
I eventually fall asleep and I then wake up to a hand on my shoulder, brush it off the usual 5 more minutes, and then I feel the covers yanked off me all the way off the bed. I shot up out of bed because it was habit at this point and this is when I knew my dad was serious.
I opened my eyes and it was pitch black in my room and nobody was there. I looked around and saw nothing. Just the lights on my clock that said it was 2:30 in the morning. I was a little more than slightly freaked out. I asked my mom in the morning if my Dad had came home but she said no, he had stayed at work.
It was October 11th, 2001. One month after 9/11. I was 14 years old and my grandfather died in his sleep with an empty bottle of whiskey at his bed side. I was devastated. He was the best grandpa and I could tell I was his favorite grandchild.
At his funeral I remember standing at his burial ceremony. I was a little further back then most of our family. I needed my space and I was grieving hard. I remember closing my eyes, folding my arms and burying my head into my jacket and crying.
My mom then put her arm around me and cried with me, I felt her, heard her crying into my cheek, her voice muffled by my jacket. She let go and I opened my eyes.
What I saw made me heart skip a beat. My mother was standing 20 feet in front of me. Everyone was. I looked around and realized I was completely alone the whole time. I don't know who hugged me, maybe it was my grandpa, maybe I mistook my grandpa's voice for my mother's.
To this day I am still confused and a little creeped out.
The summer between junior and senior year of high school I went down to the lake (in a very, very small rural town) where I had a bunch of friends who were around my age. One day we decide to go to an abandoned house, because there just wasn't much else to do. During the middle of the day. The house was boarded up a little with the inside just being a mess.
While we're there, a friend tells me a story of another time they and some other people were at the house (I wasn't there that time). One of the guys who was with them took a book home with them that they found in the house.
Later on, in the middle of the night, the guy claims that his mother got up, came into his room, and told him to return the book to the house. The next morning, he asked his mom if she remembered doing that last night, and she told him no.
That same day, he returned the book. It's worth mentioning that his mother did not know they went to the house and also did not know anything about the book.
My mom remarried about two years ago. My dad died when I was twelve so she had been widowed for over ten years. This new relationship was very whirlwind with them meeting, dating, and getting married within three months. I didn't know much about the guy, but my mom was happy, so I just tried to be supportive. She moved into his house in upstate Virginia and invited my fianc and I to spend a weekend in her new home and get to know her new husband.
My mom's new home was pretty isolated. It sat on a few hundred acres of lovely rolling hills, and was very picturesque. I was nervous about getting to know this guy, but really trying to make the most of it. Over the course of our first day there though, I felt more and more uneasy. I didn't think it was weird, just silly. My mom's new husband was being very welcoming and friendly. We were being made to feel very at home, yet I still couldn't shake this oppressive feeling. I finally chalked it up to me being more upset about my mom getting remarried than I was willing to admit to myself. We spent most of the day wandering around outside since I felt worse when indoors.
That night my fianc and I showered together. When I turned my back to him he stopped talking mid sentence and asked, "What did you do to your back?". Well, nothing. Why? "You have a large bruise." I hopped out to try and see it in the mirror. I got back in and we finished showering in silence. Then it was off to bed. The one window in our room looked out over a pitch black empty field, but I couldn't sleep until I hung something over the window. I felt sure that otherwise someone would watch us through the window.
The next morning I had a complete meltdown. I woke up and just couldn't stop crying. I told my fianc we had to leave. He tried to calm me down by telling me all the things I had been telling myself. My feelings of anxiety were just a result of seeing my mom with someone. The longer I spent with the them the easier it would become. But I just had to leave. It was only Saturday morning and we were supposed to stay until Monday, but I felt completely hysterical. I knew I was on the verge of a panic attack and my only concrete thought was I had to stop crying long enough to make our excuses and get the hell out. We did.
As soon as we were on the road I felt like a weight had been lifted. I was even feeling embarrassed for my behavior, hoping I hadn't insulted my mom's husband by leaving early. Then my fiance broke the silence, "That bruise on your back....did you get a good look at it?" I had. It looked like some had touched the middle of back, with fingers spread wide, with their hand at a tilt. I want to make completely clear, no one had touched my back the previous day, especially hard enough to bruise me.
Cut to three weeks later. My mom comes to visit me. The entire time she's hounding me to come stay with her again. After finally trying to change the subject for the fifth time, I level with her. Before I've even finished telling the story her face is white as a sheet. She tells me she has been feeling the same way in the house. She hates it. She wants them to move as soon as possible.
And for the real kicker...her new husband's previous wife shot and killed herself right outside in the same field my fianc and I's room window overlooked.
Me and my roommate (we'll call him Steven) had a pretty big party for his 30th birthday. There was a cake, balloons and booze. We were having a great time when one of Steven's friends tells him he'll give him 100 dollars to go to the casino and gamble, but he has to go gamble with him. My roommate says 'hell yea', they get ready to leave and does everyone else so the party was over.
Eventually everyone leaves and it's just me. I clean up a bit, turn all the lights off in the apartment except my bedroom light, get into my night wear and sit on my bed to watch some T.V. As i'm sitting there, I keep hearing this dragging noise, followed 15 seconds later by a light "plop." This goes on for 25-30 minutes, but I don't see anything out of the ordinary so I figure maybe it's something going wrong with the fish tank.
I go on thinking nothing of it when some movement by my bedroom door catches my attention. One of the balloons we used for the party, a big number 0, is sitting at the threshold of my door. Seemingly appearing out of no where.
I just stare at it like what the heck then as if on cue, it moves inside my room, dragging the plastic bottom on the ground about half a foot, floats up about a half a foot, floats forward about a foot very slowly, and plops the weight back down on the ground. Then it just sits there....doing nothing, and a few minutes later it would repeat.
All this time i'm sitting there horrified. The balloon continues to move toward me and my bed until it plops down right at the edge of my bed and kind of leans in, right in my face.
I jumped up and backed way up, searching for a logical explanation for what I just observed.
When I was about 6 or 7 years old my family decided to go on summer vacation up to a little island in Maine. We rented out this old house on the water. From what I can remember, there were about 6 or 7 other houses on the island. Everyone else who lived there was in their 60+ years of age, except for this mid-40's gentleman who fished on the water, his name was Bubba (I kid you not).
Anyway, the island was exceedingly creepy. Everything about the house was really old. Every piece of furniture from that house was probably over 60's years old, not to mention there was no television, running water was used through a well and pump, hundreds of books and pictures in the house dated through at least the last 100 years.
To make things more creepy, there was an infestation of rats in the backyard that would run around at night. Also, Whenever we made dinner all of the old ladies who lived in the houses on the island somehow knew, and would show up and give us blueberry pie and fresh caught bluefish. It was really creepy. It was as if everyone knew what we were doing and when we did it.
Long story short, a few nights into our stay at this house my parents started hearing singing at night. They said that it would start and stop for about 20-30 minutes. The first few nights they didn't think much of it. The following day, they asked around but they couldn't find the source of the singing. The second to last night on our week long stay, my whole family heard the singing and we went outside to find out what was going on. It sounded like a choir of children. It really freaked all of us out but we didn't want it to ruin the trip, it was just very mysterious.
The next day my dad starts checking out some of the old photos and books in the library and finds this old scrapbook dated to the early 1920's. The house we were living in was once an old schoolhouse and there was a picture of "the boys choir". We were all terrified and left the next day.
When I was about 10 my father and his friends had gone duck hunting and weren't due back until late that night. My mother sent me to bed around 10pm. Around midnight my father and his friends came home and the noise woke me up, so I listened at my bedroom door to hear what was going on.
My mother, father and the others sat around the kitchen talking and telling stories about the things that happened during the hunting trip. I found that no matter what was being said, I knew EXACTLY what the next person was going to say. It was like I had dreamed the entire conversation just before waking up. I grew more and more freaked out as I started actually whispering to myself the exact statement the next person was going to say, a full 2 to 5 seconds before they said it. It took me a LONG time to get back to sleep after that.
Ever since then I've never quite believed that anything in the world is as it seems.
When I was about 4-years-old I lived with my mom and there was plenty of weird stuff going on in old our house. I had dreams at this house where I would walk into my mom's room and the house was deserted. If I recall correctly, a ghost would lift me up by my neck and he would say, "You will have this dream four more times" and in the other corner of the room there was a man and would he smash one fourth of a tape recorder.
I had the dream 2 more times after that and each time the ghost in the dream said "3 more times" "2 more times" etc. and the person kept breaking the recorder. I had the dream a total of 3 times but moved out of the house before I had the fourth and it never happened again. Pretty spooky. My family has a lot of weird encounters of similar stuff, it's really odd.
I went racoon hunting with my uncle in the woods of Southern Ohio.
Then, these lights and a noise came out of nowhere and seemed to pin us down. The Redbones (racoon hounds) went silent and cried on the ground (they are not afraid of bears or anything I have seen) as a heavy fog rolled onto us and we were almost frozen.
Two seconds later it was all gone, the fog and everything. The dogs were still freaked out so we knew it wasn't just us. I was 12 so I was not drunk or on drugs. It creeps me out to this day.
For the past few months, I've been trying to get better at staying conscious as I fall asleep (if that makes any sense).
I'm completely aware that I'm falling asleep, and once I reach my half-dream state, I start hearing voices talking in the room I'm sleeping in, and occasionally seeing people as well. They'll talk about pretty much anything. Sleep paralysis hits me hard though (that feeling when your body goes numb), so I can't interact with them beyond some verbal responses. I can look around the room most of the time too. It's really hard to maintain; too much awareness wakes me up but too little and I'll lose consciousness.
But on those days where I get it just right, I can maintain it for maybe 5-15 minutes on average and sometimes I even hit full-on lucid dreaming for a few hours. When I wake up, I'm completely aware of how long I was asleep and can guess the time after about 5-minutes of uncertainty.
Fame always come with a price!
Fame is a tricky, tricky mistress. It can be intoxicating and make you crave it; until it ruins you or until it does you right. And thanks to cable television and the internet anyone can be famous for literally anything and nothing all at once. Who knew being a "Meme" could garner you a fan club? What does one do with that sort of fame.
Redditor u/AnswersOddQuestions wanted to hear from those who are part of Meme fame by asking.... People who have had their pictures end up as memes. How has it affected your life?
I wanna be Memed!