Go thread go!
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Kamala Harris is going to be the next President of the United States.
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Fuck yes, that was a great thread! I didn’t get ban hammered if I get a chance I can try to get a few of the old stories from it, if it still exists. Or we can just fill this with new ones, or both
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There’s an outdoor forum that I occasionally peruse that has a huge thread about creepy stories, some are pretty damn good. I’ll see if I can find a few of them.
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Here is one of the stories, I can find more if interested.
I just remembered a story an old friend once told me. She lived in Canada in an old house.
She said her house was haunted and everyone knew it. She only told me one detailed story, but refused to tell me any more.
She said because they would hear nosies and sense things in the house, whenever she had to go to the bathroom at night she would hold it until one of her brothers would go. As soon as she saw the lights of the bathroom turn on, she would know they were there and she would just hurry an go before they left.
So one night she sees the lights go on so she goes but when she gets to the bathroom the lights are on but no one is in there. She said she freaked out a bit at that point and she turned around to go to her room and saw a kid standing by the stairs that go to the first floor. She said the kid did not look like a cloud or transparent, it just looked like a regular kid, but creepie because he was pale and his eyes looked all black with no white.
She said he was holding a ball then he droped it and it went down the stairs and he chased after it. I think I rememebr her saying he was eithr laughing or crying as he went down. it was a long time ago I heard this.
She was she got hysterical and ran to her parents room and made her dad look for the kid, but there was noone in the house.
This was before her parents accepted the house was haunted, but she said soon after that her dad experienced something, but she stopped talking and didnt tell me what.
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My previous house was haunted, you get used to it. Researched the history of the house, never was able to find out anything unusual about it’s past. I almost sold it 1 month after I purchased it after the first incident, but I hung in there. As time goes on, the incidents became less frequent.
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In early
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Does a bear shit in the woods?!? Of course we’re interested.
In to add a few of my own later on.
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I just saw a youtube vid that bothered me. It was a bodycam footage of police entering a scene with an elderly couple. Guy was in bed looking weird. His wife was also in bed. And on floor, and on wall, headboard, hall.
The guy had some sort of nasty dementia, frontal lobe/temporal lobe. He was so fucking mentally ill that everything he said was disturbing. He woke up one night and cut her to pieces with a small green pocket knife. Seems like it took a long time, the guy said she suffered.
But the thing was, the guy was simply not present. Dead eyes. There was some reasonable conversation, but the medical/mental piece- the dude was simply not present. Very disturbing video. Not posting, but im sure it can be found. Pixelated scene.
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I have numerous experiences. I have lived a very…. Spiritual and strange life.
Here’s a big one that I’m willing to tell.
It was the day after my mother’s funeral and I happened to have the day off. I was not a functional human being in any sense at all but I got out of bed and I made it as far as my chair before I ran out of energy. After a little while there, I worked up the energy to prop the front open (it was summer) and I got a beer from the fridge since I didn’t know what else to do. I went back to my chair like a guy walking through a dream.
Before I get further into this, over the course of five days between when my mother had the heart attack standing in the kitchen and her funeral, I had been awake for four of them. The approximately six hours that I had managed were the first time that I had slept.
I took a drink of my beer and thought it tasted like cold piss so I got a can of Pepsi out of the fridge. I didn’t have the energy to break the empty box down so I tossed it in the general direction of the trash can and returned to my chair. I could see the corner of the box in the kitchen from my spot in the living room.
After a little while of staring off into space, it occurred to me that the box had moved by itself. I stared at it and waited for it to move and, when it didn’t, I began to fill in gaps.
“It was a mouse that bumped it.”
So on and so forth I thought, trying to find a rational reason for why I was feeling the sensation that I was at the time.
At some point, I began to feel as though someone who really and truly wanted to absolutely fuck up my day was eye balling me from the kitchen. This sensation intensified until I felt my heart rate increase and my hands and feet began to feel cold.
During this time, my dog, who normally loved the cool tile in the bathroom, came down from said bathroom, walked halfway out into the dining room and then promptly turned around and unassed the room like someone had told her to do so.
I recognized her behavior and my adrenaline for what it was and I got ahold of one of my guns and walked halfway out into the dining room. At the time, I figured that someone had snuck into my place because I had fallen asleep and I happened to wake up while they were in the kitchen.
“If you call out and hold your hands out, I will only call the police.” I said.
I waited a few seconds for this exceptionally ballsy burglar to comply and, when he didn’t, I pied off each part of the kitchen and then went into the room fully. There wasn’t any compliance because there wasn’t anyone there. The door to the basement was secure also.
I went back to my chair, lit a cigarette and then field stripped my gun because I thought that I had slipped a gear or two, psychologically. The sensation of being watched by someone that wanted to hurt me continued to intensify and I was beginning to have trouble taking a satisfying breath. I pulled my phone out to find someone to take care of my dog while I went to the hospital but I happened to glance at my bookshelf.
A few of the books that I had at the time caught my eye and a thought occurred to me. I’m a weirdo and not even the garden variety run of the mill kind that wonders if there’s more to the world around us but, instead, the kind that knows there is and tries to find ways to interact with it.
I came up with a plan while I finished my smoke. I had decided that I would give myself another ten minutes to be as weird as I could be. If the being watched sensation stayed the same or got worse, I would leave right then to go to the hospital. If it lightened up or quit entirely, I would chalk it up to yet another strange experience and go about my life.
I put my smoke out and then walked halfway out into the dining room. I took a breath as best as I could.
“I’m so happy that you made it and I’m so happy that you’re here.” I said.
My voice sounded small and weak, no matter how hard I tried to imagine it as a form of energy going out to the far side of reality.
“But if this is how you make me feel when you’re here, I hereby revoke every invitation, expressed, implied or assumed. You will now depart in peace until such a time as I call upon you. I bid you hail and farewell.”
My voice sounded stronger and more resolute as I pushed forth the words that I’m sure very few of you will recognize.
After that, I felt so tired and so completely drained that I could barely stand. I made it back to my chair somehow and collapsed into it. I lit a cigarette and managed to get a single draw on it before a sobbing fit so hard and so violent hit me that I remember thinking that I had to stop or I would drown.
In the end, I don’t think we have any more control over something like that than we do the tide.
The cigarette burnt the shit out of my fingers when it had burned down to the filter but I didn’t notice that until I vomited out all of the snot and water I had ingested from trying to breathe while in the depths of such a fit.
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This is from an outdoor forum member;
This may be very disturbing to some of you. I could never tell this story in person, but it’s easier to type it for some reason.
When I and my wife were quite a bit younger, we decided that we would spend the bicentennial outdoors. Yes, July of '76…we’re old. We lived in Pueblo at the time, and decided to go hiking, fishing and camp along Lime Creek between Durango and Silverton. There wasn’t anything other than brookies in the creek, but they were plentiful and fun to catch.
We left our car by the side of the road along Old Lime Creek Road about 5 miles in from the highway and packed in upstream along the creek with our shepherd, Rebel. It only took us about an hour to get to where we wanted to camp, a nice meadow beside the creek just before a slot canyon that required you to swim to get any further upstream. Either that or take a several mile detour.
We camped uneventfully that night, the third of July, enjoying the sounds of the rippling creek and nature all around us. It was such a nice night that we just slept out under the stars, didn’t bother to pitch our little backpacking tent. A little cool, but we had the fire going and our lightweight 30 degree bags, so we were very comfortable.
The next day we had breakfast, packed up and we all swam our way up the creek to the next wide spot with a bit of bank in the canyon, only about 150 yards or so. Now Rebel was never one to turn down a chance to get wet, but we had to do quite a bit of coaxing to get him to follow us up the creek. We fished and splashed upstream a bit, and before we knew it it was lunchtime. We thought we’d fry up some of those brookies but we were in this slot canyon that terminated in a fairly deep pool with about a ten foot rocky waterfall at the end of it.
We decided that I would scale the waterfall and pull the dog and the packs up and then I’d help Maggie get up. It was fairly difficult, even with the help of an old cable left over from a mining operation that was hanging down the side wall of the canyon. It took a LOT of effort and though we finally made it, we looked back down that waterfall and wondered what the heck we were thinking. Rebel was none too happy about it either, and seemed to get more irritable by the minute. We found enough driftwood at the rocky top of the falls to get a fire started and get the fish fried up, but that was about it.
You know the uneasy feeling that several others have mentioned? It was like a switch turned on and we all of a sudden became aware of our surroundings. It grew like a cancer and I actually watched the hair on the back of Rebel’s neck stand up. Maggie felt it too and we both noticed that it was getting dark FAST down in this canyon. First thought in my head was a cat, and I actually felt a bit better about that because I figured the cat would leave us be, between the fire and the dog. I told Maggie what I thought and she seemed to feel a bit better, too.
I did not want to get caught in the dark in the canyon, for a bunch of reasons, flash floods etc. I spied what looked like a mine shaft about 2 hundred feet above us, a heck of a steep climb, but it looked like our best bet. We pulled out our flashlights and by the time we reached it it was PITCH black. The dog was a mess by this point, whipping around in circles, whining, yelping and generally being a real pain in the ass. Maggie and I were drenched with sweat and immediately began to freeze. July in the mountains is a weird thing, I have seen blizzard conditions before, but this was like someone turned on the deep freeze.
We were at what looked like the start of a mine, it only went back about ten feet, but there was evidence of fires at the mouth, and they curiously looked fresh. I was too tired to think more about it, I knew we had to get out of our wet clothes, pitch the tent, and climb in our bags before we got serious hypothermia. That was NO fun, let me tell you, having to do all of that by the light of our rapidly dying flashlight. And there was NO firewood anywhere close.
I cursed myself several times for letting things get this far out of control. We finally got the tent pitched right there in the back of this little cave , buck naked as we had no dry clothes left. The sleeping bags were slightly damp too, even though we had stuffed them in plastic garbage bags before our swimming expedition up the canyon. WE FROZE!! It was miserable.
About 1 in the morning I called Rebel into the tent for a little heat. The dog seemed to have calmed down greatly, and with the added heat we drifted off. Sometime during the night I heard something that just about woke me, I was still in a haze, so I fell asleep again immediately. I woke up one other time, because I thought I heard Rebel yip a little bit, but again I was in and out. I put my hand out to pet his head and he licked my hand. I fell asleep again. Maggie later said she fell asleep the same time as I did but never woke up at all during the night.
I woke to the most horrible noise I have ever heard come out of a hundred pound woman. Just the most God-awful shrieks that I have ever heard. I never want to hear that again.
I opened my eyes just in time to see a man at the mouth of the shaft, silhouetted against the morning daylight, looking back at us with the most twisted evil grin I have ever seen on the face of another human. I scrambled to get free of my tightly zipped bag and the little tent while he just crouched there and grinned. When I was just about free, he disappeared. Now, we were granola crunchin’ tree huggin’ anti-gun nature freaks at the time, so the only thing I had of any consequence as a weapon was my camp knife. I found it after what seemed like hours of searching, but really was probably under a minute. I very cautiously made my way to the entrance, millimeters at a time. The guy was gone.
About that time Maggie started screaming and whimpering again so I rushed back to the back of the shaft. She had struggled out of the tent and was pointing at what used to be Rebel. His head was nearly severed, and the tent and the bags were ruined with the blood all over everything. She had blood all over her, so the first thing I did was make sure she was not injured. Then I checked myself. We were ok,it was all Rebel’s blood.
We put on our still damp cold clothes from the night before and then we noticed that our boots were gone. We were in trouble. I had some paracord, so we tied some shirts and towels around our feet and climbed back down towards the creek. We left everything in the mine, except for the knife and some stuff that we shoved in our pockets. It took us 8 hours to get back down to the car, and we were like hamburger. Hands, feet, arms and legs scraped raw, bruised and bleeding. We jumped in, the car started right up thankfully and we left a dust cloud that blanketed the valley as we sped down the rough trail toward Durango.
We limped into the Sheriff’s office and we looked like hell. We got our story out, my wife through tears and me talking waaay too fast. but finally got it all out. The deputy said that they would go out first thing in the morning and asked us to stay in town. We had no money for a hotel, so he let us stay in a cell after we showered and changed into prison jumpsuits.
We were there at the jail waiting when the “expedition” returned with the convoy of three trucks. I noticed that all the officers, who were quite wet and filthy, gave us dirty looks as they passed us, and the Deputy that we had talked to the day before herded us back to his office. Then came the interrogation. Turns out that some animal had spread the dog’s remains all down the slide to the creek, and he said that there was nothing else there. No tent, no backpacks, nothing. He asked us if we had any drugs. I did not want to admit to him that we had some herb, so I denied it.
It was clear that we were fighting a losing battle. They had come to the conclusion that we were wandering out in the woods high on LSD while a mountain lion had gotten our dog. The bastard even made us change back into our filthy clothes and give back the jumpsuits right then. He told us that he had better never see us again. We left. Maggie was sobbing. I never have been back to Durango.
The thing that I still have nightmares about years later, and I have never mentioned this to Maggie, is… the second time I woke up when I heard Rebel yelp, was that when his throat was cut?..and if it was, was it the dog who licked my hand before I fell back asleep?
I still go out in the wilderness, never overnight, out well before dark, only with other people, and always with a big gun. I respect animals, but I fear people.
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It was the fall of 1994 and my scout group decided we would do a little cabin camping up in the Appalachians in western Virginia. One of our scout masters happened to be a member of the Potomac Appalachian Trail Club, and they owned and maintained a bunch of property all about the mountain areas. Needless to say this wasn’t the first time we had been to one of these cabins; however, this was the first time we had been to this particular one. It is situated off of a mountain road near Stanardsville. We arrived late Friday evening, the sun just dipping below the horizon. The autumn air chilling us as we hiked up to the ominous building. We were a group of about 15 young boy scouts, me included, and 3 adult chaperones. Of course, being kids, and boy scouts, we were not very quiet in our entrance. There was a lot of yelling and screaming, your typical prepubescent horsing around. Dropped off our stuff and go a huge bonfire going in the field in front of the cabin and started dinner. It was your typical everyday campout. At least until one of our leaders asked a few of us to go seek out the spring for some fresh water. That’s when things started to get a little hairy.
The spring is located in the woods a few dozen yards from the cabin. Being dark we had to find the sign that directed us to it. Three us decided to go and look for it while the rest got their tinfoil dinners going. It was me, my best friend, and a younger kid who I’ll call Jake for this story. I didn’t know Jake very well nor did my friend. We all had our flashlights out and started looking for the sign. We found it pretty quick and headed into the dark woods. We got in pretty far, listening for the sound of flowing water but hearing nothing. The sounds of the other boys were gone. We couldn’t even see the bon fire anymore. It dawned on all of us all of a sudden that it was deathly quiet and aside from our flashlights, it was very dark. Of course we were all kids and we started to freak ourselves out just by thinking about it. Jake then stumbled onto the shallow spring and called us over to him. We forgot about the darkness and started to fill our jugs. Then, like everyone before me said, we felt that feeling of dread come over us. That feeling that something was watching you and that your skin had a mind of its own and wanted to crawl off you and hide. The hair on my arms started to stand on ends, and I looked up at my buddy Chuck and he had this look as if he was feeling the exact same thing. We both turn to Jake and he was looking ahead, straight at the woods, his eyes fixed on something. I flashed my lights at him and he wouldn’t budge. I look towards the general direction of where he was staring. What I saw still frightens me to this day. It was the silhouette of a man, or what looked like a man, hunched over. His eyes reflected our lights, and gave off that strange red reflection like a deer caught in your headlights. Without so much of a thought I got up and took off in the opposite direction. My buddy Chuck was not far behind me. I screamed at the top of my lungs, running as fast as my little legs could carry me. I dropped my light but I didn’t care. I kept going. It seemed like forever that I was running until I tripped over myself and fell into a pile of leaves. My mind caught up to me. It was then I realized that I was lost.
I crawled over to a tree and then saw Chuck blaze by it. I called out to him. He stopped dead in his tracks and ran back over to where I was standing. Jake was no where to be found. We tried to get reoriented. We listened for our group. Not a sound was heard. Then we heard the most bloodcurdling scream I have ever heard. It was Jake. Chuck and I both looked at each other and ran toward the sound. We heard the others calling for us. We ran toward them. It seemed like an eternity before we found our group. We told them what happened and they immediately went towards the spring. No sign of Jake. I pointed out where I saw the man and we walked over. On the ground was a torn part of Jake’s shirt. At this point one of the leaders decided it was a good idea for us to split up, one half continuing to search for Jake and the other head back into town and get the police. We spent half the night looking for him. Nothing. When we returned to the cabin the other group was waiting for us. We found out that the tires to our vehicles were blown out. There was no leaving tonight. This was pre-cell phones so we had no other choice than to bunk up for the morning. We all hunkered down for a long evening. No one slept. We thought about Jake. Throughout the night we could hear strange noises outside. No one was brave enough to look outside. Some of the younger boys were crying. We had no weapons. We an axe but that was pretty much it. It was the longest night of all our lives.
The next morning as the sun started to peek above the tree line, we looked outside. Standing there in the meadow was a half naked Jake. The adults ran out of the cabin to grab him. The brought him into the cabin and he stood there emotionless. Not a single peep or anything. He was pale, lifeless. He had scratches on his back and arms, as if an animal had dragged him through the woods. The weirdest thing I remember was that they looked like they were burnt into his skin. A group of the guys hiked down to the town and called the police. We got a tow truck to get come get the vehicles. Our weekend was spent in the sheriff’s office being interviewed about what happened. After that incident we were forbidden to go to any of the PATC facilities ever again. Jake disappeared with his family. I never knew what happened to them. To this day I will not set foot alone, unarmed, in the dark in the backwoods of Appalachia. Here’s the Google location of the cabin.
http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&sou…955,-78.520929&spn=0.003695,0.006899&t=h&z=17
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I was in Juneau, Alaska once traveling on business. After work, I decided to drive North out of town and I was stopping randomly at different beaches. I stopped at one and was having a great time on the beach by myself watching the birds fishing and looking at the tidal pools. A truck pulled up in the parking lot above me, and I didn’t think much of it…the first time. The truck spun a brodie and left, heading North. I wandered further down the beach, and a few minutes later the truck came back. It parked at the overlook for a bit (the beach was probably 50 feet lower in elevation than the parking lot, there was a bluff) and just sat there…then it peeled out again and headed off to the south. I was a bit creeped out, and about this time I started making my way back to the trail to go back to my car. Right about then, the truck comes back. It parked with it’s headlights shining right towards me (it was getting to be dusk) and just sat there. Then it peeled out…but I could hear that it stopped…right where my car was parked. I heard the engine shut down on the truck. Right then every instinct in me said, “Hide.” I left the beach and went straight into the woods, and somewhat up the hill. Juneau has big trees and I found one that had been knocked down and I lay down on the far side of it. I was wearing a bright blue jacket and knew even in the fading light I stuck out like a sore thumb. My cell phone had a poor connection, and I wasn’t armed because I can’t carry any weapons when I travel by airplane. I was scared spitless at this point. Then I hear, “Slam. Slam.” and I know that there are at least two people. They had waited a while, I guess, maybe to see if I was coming up the trail. Now they started down the trail, and one of the men appeared to have a long object. I think it was a rifle, but in the fading light it may have been a bat or something else. And he was calling, “Hello…where are you?”. All of a sudden I felt very much like I just stepped into “The most dangerous game.” I remained hidden, heart beating wildly. I waited until the men were well down onto the beach and then began climbing the hill in the woods up to where I knew the parking lot to be. I tried not to make noise but that was impossible- there were dried leaves and deadfall all over, I was making a heck of a racket. But I guess they never heard me. I got up to my car and the truck freaked me out- it was fully tinted and there was no way to tell if anyone remained in the vehicle. I started the car and tore out of there. I have hiked alone all my life and been in far more remote places than this was but never before or since have I had such a feeling that I was in grave danger. To this day I don’t feel I overreacted- I am sure that those men had something very bad in store for me, had they caught me.
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I had left my husband and moved into a house down a street off the main road not far from a school. I didn’t know the area well as we had lived there only for 5 mos. My boys were now 4 and 6.
My house was situated on a deep culdesac towards the end but on the lefthand side of this very wide culde sac. I was cooking dinner in the kitchen while the boys were playing and started feeling extremely uneasy. I felt this all through dinner and decided to walk outside to see if anything was going on. I looked at the house two down from me because the people were gone on vacation for a few weeks but everything appeared fine but I felt as if someone were watching me. I went back inside and started washing dishes. Again I felt that intense feeling of impending doom it was so strong that I even felt sick to my stomache so I turned off the kitchen light and just as I started to walk out of the kitchen I saw out of the corner of my eye movement in the dark outside it was so vague that I was not sure It was really a person out there so I went out the back sliding glass door and peered thru my tall wood fencing.
In the middle of the street sitting on top of a manhole I could see a figure. The man was very hard to detect because he was dressed in black and sitting down. He had a bag with him. Now I assumed he was staking out the house that my neighbors were not home at because of their extended stay so I quitely went inside and called the police. This was pre cell phone era 1996.
A bit later I saw a police car drive down the road and had a knock on my door and the police had me point to where the man was and give details and they said they were going to check out the house more closely to make sure no one had tried to break in. I felt relieved so I went back to my business of reading bedtime stories to my boys.
The phone rang again so I went in to answer and it was the police. The police told me to remain very calm but to do exactly what they told me to do and to do it in a very fast timely manner. They said that they had left the area and was the only car near and were speeding to my home. They wanted me to get the kids into the bathroom and lock the door and wait till they got there. They had no time to go into details but that I was in immediate danger.
Apparently another officer was on the beat next to my block and came across a white van that was empty. Upon running the license plates it belonged to very dangerous person that had raped a woman and tortured her and was on the run from another county. The other officer called it in and they had went to check it out and realized that it butted up against my culdesac. There was no fast way to my house so they called to warn me.
While I sat in that bathroom waiting for the police to arrive I had no idea why I was in the bathroom but of course I was very scared for my children and myself. I was quiet and luckily my boys were already asleep when I had picked them up and put them in the tub in the bathroom.
I heard a noise in the house but it was light clicking or taps and I felt a bit of panic because I felt another presence. I listened carefully thining perhaps it was the police trying to get in the front door it was locked. Again I heard a noise but it was coming from the direction of my bedroom. I had no idea why I was in the bathroom to begin with but I really did not like the idea of having no place to go and was contemplating grabbing up the kids and running to the car but as I got close to the bathroom door I could feel someone else in the house. I laid on the floor and tried to look under the door and tried to remain calm and stay quiet. I was so afraid my kids would wake up and make noise. Finally I heard the cops car outside and them at the front door banging on it. Then I heard them yell and run and lots of commotion so I slipped out of the bathroom. The officers found that bag by the side of my house. It had a bandanna, tape and rope inside and handcuffs. The things he had used when he previously had raped and tortured his victum. He had been watching ME for hours sitting in wait until a time to make his move which I had foiled because of my intuition. The man had ran from the officers and had jumped a fence. He got away that evening but was caught a week later.
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This one is pretty freaky.
This is the third time I have typed my story up. Every time I have started to share it, I ended up deleting it. Forty -five minutes typing wasted. Maybe this time I will post it. I’ve only shared it with my immediate family and my best friend. It’s kinda long so my apologies in advance. I will leave out some details for brevity sake. Ok, here we go. On 03 January 1992 I was sleeping in since I was off work that day. At approximately 0819 it felt like I was lifted a foot off my bed and dropped. I sat up and looked at the clock. I don’t remember actually “hearing” something but I more or less “felt” like a loud noise had awakened me. I went to my brothers room across the hall to ask if he had heard something. As it turned out, he had committed suicide, shooting himself in the head with his revolver. In the weeks after the funeral, I would be alone in the house. Sometimes I would sit at the kitchen table (b/c it was the farthest place in the house from his room),and I would break down into uncontrollable sobbing. I felt as though I was at my emotional limit. One morning, as this was happening, I actually felt a presence. It was in the foyer, by the front door. It would be in direct visual contact w/ me if I turned around. I was embarrassed,I thought someone in the family had walked in. I turned in the chair and nothing was there,and the presence was gone. I didn’t think much of it. This happened several times. I began to think maybe it was my brothers’ “ghost” or “spirit” or whatever. As long as I did not turn around the presence would remain, and in time I could sense it would move towards me. It was an icy,dark, hopeless feeling… personified,if you will.As it got closer the fear inside me would grow, until I couldn’t stand it anymore . Then I would turn around, expecting to see something,but I would be gone. Finally, I decided it was some sort of “spirit of suicide”. I don’t know how I knew that, it was just known. As more of these incidences happened, I began to think that maybe I was just going crazy. I mean, finding my brother w/ his head half blown off was very traumatic. The grief was like nothing I had ever experienced. I felt I was stretched to my emotional and psychological limit. So it would be logical that I was creating some sort of “episode” in my mind in an attempt to deal with my brothers’ death. I decided if I was going crazy, I might as well see what happens if I don’t turn around the next time. There were a few more times but I couldn’t stand the presence of absolute fear , and I would turn around. But Now it would be closer. The closer it got, the less easily it was to send on it’s way. The last incident, it was almost “speaking” to me. Not audibly, but there was a weird seducing soothingness. This last time it was like I was mesmerized. I sensed it standing behind me and in my mind I could see it drape something like a black cloth over my head. Instantly, I was having the craziest, most suicidal thoughts. I couldn’t tell if it was me thinking it or this presence. The thought would flash through my mind that it should have been me, not Tim. Another thought would flash through that you should take me, not him…like a trade. I have absolutely no recollection of walking the entire length of our house to get to my bedroom, but next thing I know , I was sitting on my bed with my 1911 in my hand. It was like I was stoned or drunk or something. Something had me in its power and was drawing me towards suicide, like a “tractor beam” on a scifi movie. In my heart, I could hear myself saying " No! No,no,no then the thought was Tim was only as far away as the hammer and the firing pin. Then the phone by my bed rang.I was sitting less that two or three feet from it but it sounded like it was far away. The presence wanted me to ignore it. It rang again. I need to answer the phone…ignore it. Finally, I reached for the phone and picked it up. It was my mother calling from her work. She asked if I was alright. Instantly, the spell was broken and the presence was gone, but I was drained, like energy had somehow been zapped from me. I told my mom I was fine and she said she suddenly had the strongest sensation that I was in danger. No, I’m fine and we hung up. Even though the presence was gone there was a lingering evil feeling in the room. I called my friend and told him what had just happened. I asked him to come over and remove all the firearms from our house and keep them until some time when things get better. I still wasn’t sure I wasn’t crazy ,but how do I explain my mother calling? Here’s what I have come to believe. I believe there are evil spirits(demonic spirits) and angelic spirits. I would not be surprised if they “specialize” in certain aspects of ministry or torment/ temptation, whichever may be the case. I would not be surprised if my brother was in a weakened state where he was susceptible to the influence of this demonic spirit. Well, there it is. Now if I can bring myself to post this. Ok i’ll do it
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This is a very strange coincidence between two people who never met, and didn’t know each other at the time.
Around 20 years ago in El Paso, TX, my parents were at a friends’ house having dinner when the doorbell rang. It was another friend with a panicked look on his face. He had come back from a Boy Scout camping overnighter-type thing with his son somewhere North East of town. I guess he stayed one night and left his son with the group for a longer outing. It was night time when he came back over Trans-mountain road which passes over the small Franklin mountain range connecting the far west side of El Paso to the Northeast. On his way back over he saw something black in the distance with something smaller next to him. The closer he got, it became clear it was a priest walking a dog. When he got close enough the priest moved very quickly in front of the car, and he hit the priest and the dog. He came to a screeching halt, which is dangerous with steep drop offs over the side of the road, put the car in park, got out, and could not see anyone anywhere. Nothing. I don’t know many details beyond that, so I’m guessing he got to a phone (no cell phones readily available in 1990ish) and called the police. When he got to the house, he was FREAKED out, and he swore up and down he hit a priest and his dog on Trans-mountain road.
Here’s the weird coincidence - a life-long friend was driving back from Las Cruces, NM to El Paso one night when it was pouring rain. This was about 20 years ago. He was on I-10 and it passes right by Trans-mountain road on the West side of town. It was late, and there weren’t many cars on the road, when he saw something black walking up ahead on the shoulder of the highway. As he approached the figure, it began to slowly turn around and when he got close enough, he saw it was a priest holding a dog. At this point the figure was close enough that it actually THREW THE DOG at my friend’s truck. My friend says he was so freaked out, he screamed out, stomped on the brakes and skidded, almost flipping his truck. He came to a stop, got out in the rain, looked around, and could not see anything, anyone, or any dog.
This story stands out to me for several significant reasons:
(1)Niether of these people were known or had a reputation for dishonesty or making stories up. And they both claim they were not under the influence of anything.
(2)They don’t know each other, had never met, and to my knowledge have never met since. So one could not have exchanged his experience with the other very easily.
(3)The significant similarity in what they saw - not only a man, but a priest…WITH a dog.
(4)There’s no folklore in that region that I’ve found fitting the description above that could have planted a seed in their imagination, created some childhood fear that manifested itself later or played tricks on their minds. In other words, there are no ghost stories people tell in that region that could’ve influenced what they saw or imagined later. BUT THEY BOTH SAW PRETTY MUCH THE SAME THING.
If anyone does know of some old tale, or folklore that matches this description from the Southwest region, or any other. I’m all ears. But there are just too many similarities in these two experiences amongst two people independent of each other for this to be written off as a joke.
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Freaky. Wonder if his dog was licking his hand while dying
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I was home on leave and the GF and I were um taking advantage of the time together. Neither of us had a place of our own so we would park at a church parking lot and enjoy each others company. One night she asked very nervously if I just saw what she saw. I said no, chocking it up to her being a nervous frail girl. Then I felt uneasy myself, she told me we had to get out of there, and I was inclined to agree. As I backed out of the parking spot, she couldn’t breathe. I high tailed it out of there and started to pray, I’ve had some other incidents and I know that praying out loud helps way more than just in your head. I literally couldn’t open my mouth, like my lips were sealed together. I looked in the rearview mirror and I saw this thing, hard to describe, but it was about waist high, white snakelike body with a completely black face. And the feeling I got was something like a mean caged dog trying it’s hardest to get to you. I was finally able to open my mouth and start praying aloud, tough but not challenging. We had gotten to her grandparents house and had somewhat calmed down. I walked her to her door, and then decided I’d go inside with her and tuck her in and stay with her till she fell asleep. Then that horrible feeling struck again, this time I immediately started praying, tougher, can’t remember the exact words, but if I were a ghost or demon or whatever, I wouldn’ta messed with me. I finally got the feeling that I had fought this thing off, got the GF in bed and finally asleep and went home, still uneasy but confident she was safe.
I’m a decent sized guy (6’5" 260) and I’ve been in some pretty gnarly situations, nothing has ever scared me to the core like that did. I’m looking over my shoulder and getting chills just typing it.
I’ve had other experiences like this, but not to that intensity. My conclusion is that I’m sensitive to supernatural stuff, not like a medium or psychic or whatever, I just notice things more than others. It’s gone away as I’ve gotten older though.
I’ve always had a deep connection with my grandpa from my dad’s side. I never met him, he died right before I was born. But I can swear he’s looking out for me. All the times I should have died, I’ve felt his presence, I was unconscious for a few days when I broke my back. I don’t remember anything other than a very comforting presence, like we were sitting on the couch drinking beers.
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