Archive for August, 2011

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Dime, por que?

August 27, 2011

I recently graduated from Altos de Chavón School of Design in Dominican Republic last year. I spent the 2 most interesting years of my life there. The small school (125 students) is hidden inside a very popular tourist site in La Romana, Dominican Republic, if any of you have ever taken a trip down to the DR, you may have heard of it or even visited Chavón. The school was built in the 80’s by an Italian architect to resemble a 17th century italian village. Here’s an aerial view of the plateau it’s built on. It’s common knowledge down on the island that Chavón was built on the remains of Taino villages (sickeningly stereotypical kind of place for paranormal activity, I know), there’s even a museum in the center of the grounds that displays the artifacts and several skeletons of natives that were discovered in and around the area while the place was being constructed. It’s also common knowledge to the students and staff that Chavón is a hotbed for paranormal activity.

Anyways, on to the interesting parts. I’ve got a couple things to share, so I’ll probably be writing some down in the comments later tonight or right after I finish writing this one.

The first thing I wanna share doesn’t even have to do with the history behind Chavón (at least I don’t think so), but more with a well covered up event that happened a couple years prior to my enrollment at the school. Unlike living here in the states, it’s very easy for things to be covered up from the media, especially in a place like Chavón run by filthy rich people with quite a bit of influence. There had always been rumors about a few suicides that happened in the school within the last few years. It wasn’t till my second and last year studying there that the rumors were confirmed. The residence we lived in always had a supervisor (sorry if thats not the right word for it, I’m using the direct translation of the word). The lady was in charge of keeping order and also being the resident nurse. Anyways, the current librarian used to be the old supervisor a few years back, she was a really quiet lady and usually kept to herself. After spending a lot of time in the library researching for projects I decided to ask her if the suicide rumors were true, she told me they were, and that it really pained her to remember those days. I apologized for bringing it up, and went to go ask one of my teachers about it, she was younger and we had become good friends during my time at the school. She told me the same that the librarian did, and in more detail. Apparently one suicide had been a girl, a really quiet, depressed girl who had come to the school from the states. She apparently hung herself from the support beams of the wooden ceiling of her room. The second suicide was a guy, who turns out lived in room #8, which was my room. He went up to the third floor and jumped head first onto the stones in front of what was my room. Here’s a visual aid.

During the time I lived in that room I was in a constant state of unease, it was just like the mood in that room was depressing, so much so that me and my roommates found every excuse to work somewhere else, another dorm or in one of the classrooms. This was even before I knew the full story about the guy who jumped. A lot of times I’d be left alone working in the room, since I was studying graphic design and it’s where I had my computer set up. Whenever I was left alone I’d constantly here talking coming from the back room, as if someone was talking to himself. The only thing that separated the back room with the beds from the kitchen and living room was a wooden panel, a sort of divider with no door, just kind of jutting out of the wall and blocking the bedrooms from the view of the door. I could easily just peek in and see that no one was there, but I could clearly hear the voice, mumbling to himself. At other times I’d be showering, and the bathroom shared a wall with a small storage room in the back of the room, with a small wooden shutter that really served no purpose other than connecting the bathroom with that storage room, which was always full of our junk and had the lights off. Several times while showering someone would start to talk to me through the shutter, the first time I thought it was my roommate, and I answered back, but got no response, I thought it was weird since I had my roommates key and the front door was locked, leaving him no other choice but to wait till I could open the door for him. A few days later, while I was showering, i heard the voice much clearer, and this time I could understand most of it, it said “unintelligible noise…dime, por que?” (translates to, “tell me, why?), confused, not sure who’s talking I respond and ask him what he’s talking about. He responds much more clearly this time “QUE ME DIGAS POR QUE!!!” (YOU NEED TO TELL ME WHY!!) and immediately slams the shutter door so hard it swings open and nearly slams me upside the head. I immediately stick my head through the window ready to punch my roomy in the face for scaring the crap out of me, but all I see is the empty storage room, boxes and art supplies laying all over the place as usual, and the lights off. At this point I’m terrified, and quickly get out of the shower, get dressed and leave the room to ask my roommate if it really was him, he was in the middle of a painting and seemed annoyed at my insisting for a logical answer. I’m convinced the mood in that room is directly related to the guy who killed himself and the overall mood in that room. What’s just as interesting is that I keep in contact with the guy who is now living in that same room, an old friend of mine I met while attending a summer program in that school. I purposely didn’t tell him about what happened to me there, so that if he told me anything that happened to him I would know it was genuine. Recently he’s been telling me about his bed being shaken at night and his someone pulling his feet while he slept, and that the other night, he awoke in the middle of the night to find his bed cover missing, and after searching for like 10 minutes he found it in the storage room.

What I believe is the most unnerving part of having had these experiences in that school, is that they were shared. Many of the same things that happened to me happened to other people. Before I enrolled in the school I took a 2 week summer drawing class, and stayed in one of the bigger dorms, since I was placed with 3 other roommates instead of just 1 as is typical in that school. We had been told that that room was “haunted” by people who at the time were assuming were just trying to scare us. But as the days passed I realized that maybe they were right. A lot of times I’d be downstairs and I’d hear the scraping of the wooden stools above me on the wooden floor, knowing that there was nobody there I’d go upstairs to investigate and would often find the stools on the opposite side of the room instead of at the desk where they belong. This would happen to all my roommates at least once during the 2 weeks we spent there.

Another incident happened when I was making some dinner for a girl I had just met and was kind of interested in at the time. The stove was really tiny so I placed a pot of sauce I had just finished cooking on top of the fridge until i needed it again. Scared that it was gonna fall and spill everywhere I pushed it towards the back of the fridge, there was absolutely NO WAY it was going to fall off on it’s own. Me and the girl stepped outside for a moment to get out of the heat of the kitchen for a moment and stood outside the door of the dorm. after a couple minutes we hear a loud CLANG! and my immediate reaction is “FUCK, the pot fell!” I run in and look toward the kitchen expecting to see sauce EVERYWHERE, but no, nothing. I look at the top of the fridge and the pot is gone. The girl turns to me and with a shocked look on her face says “oh shit it’s right there!” and behind me, next to the couch, is the pot, upside down, sauce spilled all over the place on the floor around the couches and on the couches themselves. Now the thing is the couches are a good 10-12 feet from the fridge, and we distinctly heard 1 loud clang, not several as it would have been had the pot bounced across the floor, besides, if it had bounced I would expect there to be some splattered sauce on the way to where it came to a stop.

In my 2nd year at the school I learned that a friend of mine who had studied there the year before me, had almost the exact same experience, he stepped out for a smoke, and the pot he was cooking on the stove ended up about 6 ft away, with its contents splattered on the wall.

– Posted by stereodeviant; Nosleep

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Trolling A Ghost

August 20, 2011

So I’ve been a lurker on r/nosleep for a while, and I genuinely love the tales that are told on here mainly because, (wait for it…) I live in a haunted house!

I had an experience about 20 minutes ago that I found so funny, figured you guys would appreciate it.

Bit of background first: I have no clue why my parents stay in this house except for financial reasons. We don’t know much on the house’s history except that there were two boys that died in my old room upstairs (and currently stay downstairs in the guest bedroom for several reasons including that). We don’t know much on how they died, we just know that one was quite young (~10) and the other was almost my age (I’m 22). Also, I’m in the middle of moving, so I get to spend two months at my house while I get stuff settled with my lease.

Now, I’ve had a LOT of bad experiences here. There was a time not too long ago where I just simply could not sit through a scary movie for fear of it becoming my reality that was already peppered with freaky stuff. I could not stand to stay in my room, much less have people over, and relied heavily on sleeping pills to get through high school so that I wouldn’t wake up to sounds or inside closets with the ghosts (I’ll make another post about all the bad stuff, if people so wish…)

Anyway. Recently, I met up with this old lady who also had lived in a haunted house and, after exchanging stories, told me that I need to suck it up and take back my house. Me, especially, since I was the main target of the boys… my siblings are all grown up and in places of their own, and my parents don’t have experiences near as intimate as I do.

I have to go to work soon so I’ll make this quick: I no longer fear the footsteps or shadows as much as I used to; confrontation seems to freak the boys out. In fact, when I hear them coming at me, I wait until I feel the floorboards creak underneath, jump up and down and scream “GOTCHA”…and they usually take off away from me twice as fast. I believe that’s the young one. The older one is more… of an attacker. He shows himself quite often, and I can usually tell by one of my cats starting to freak out that I’ll see/hear something soon.

As I was taking my shower, I hear my cat hiss and run away from outside the door, so I listened. Sure enough, about 30 seconds later, I hear slow, heavy footsteps start down the hall and stop outside the bathroom. I say to myself, “oh shit, please no…” but sure enough, the lights inside the bathroom flicker and I knew he was in there with me. It’s a weird feeling to have warm water running down you and still have your hair stand on end, the air felt absolutely electric. I swallowed my pride and fear, something that has been very hard to practice, and say out loud “What a pervert, are you trying to watch me shower again?” I hear nothing. About 5 minutes later, I’m almost ready to rinse my hair when I hear a low …I don’t know what else to call it other than a moan. It was not human and I’ve never heard him do anything like this before. What’s worse is that it was right on the other side of the shower curtain, and I’m home alone. Thank god I was in the tub, cuz I’m pretty sure I pissed myself. I stand in the water for a second, wondering what to do, when without thinking, I opened my mouth and moaned back. Inside my head I was screaming “holy fucking shit, what the fuck is wrong with me,” and started shaking. The “moan” gets lower and changes position to the back of the shower curtain. I moan back again. The toilet flushes randomly, I jump out of the burning hot water to the back of the tub, open the back of the curtain and look out.

My heart is still going a mile a minute. In the foggy mirror, I saw a reflection of a black outline in front of the white shower curtain, where I was standing just a minute ago.

I close the curtain, start crying silently, but then remember “take back your house!” So, I decided that if I was going to die by fright, it might as well be a little funny. I say as loud as I can “Well, are you going to come in with me or just stand outside like a peeping Tom?” I peeked outside of the back of the curtain again, the shadow wavered. “WELL C’MON, don’t keep a girl waitin’!”

I swear on my life, I heard “what the fuck…” as the shadow melted into the doorway from the mirror’s point of view, and heard footsteps run down the hallway away from the bathroom.

– Posted by Hauntedcat; Nosleep

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Dream Of The Man With The Knife In His Hand

August 16, 2011

Right after I was born, my parents moved into an old house out in the country. It was built in the early 1900’s and was owned by a farmer. Nobody had lived there for about ten years or so, so he let us stay there for free since my parents were young and just-out-of-college poor. I lived in that house until I was about 6 or 7 and it was always really creepy there at night.

When I was 5 or so, I started having dreams about an old guy who was going to kill me with a knife. In the dreams, I’d be in my bedroom sleeping and wake up (still in my dream, though) to see an older man standing there with a knife. Sometimes he’d just stand there, other times he’d make threatening motions at me, and a few times I’d see a little boy sitting in the corner of my room crying. These dreams continued once or twice a week for at least two months or so.

After convincing my parents to let me sleep in their room, I stopped having the nightmares and soon afterwards began sleeping in my room again. I never had any dreams about the old man again.

However, when I was 10 or so, I saw the movie Halloween and the way Michael Myers was holding a knife reminded me of the dreams. I mentioned the dreams to my best friend, who was watching the movie with me at the time. A few months later he got onto the bus on the way to school extremely excited. He said that he had been talking to his grandpa about Halloween costumes and his grandpa started telling him scary stories.

It turns out that one of his stories involved the house I used to live in. Apparently in the 30’s a man had lived there with his wife and two children; a son and daughter. One day, in the middle of the afternoon, he snapped, stabbing his wife to death and then murdering his two children while they were upstairs playing in their room. He then went outside about 300 yards north of the house, walked out into the middle of a small, shallow pond, and slit his own throat.

I thought my friend was screwing with me, so I convinced my mom to take me to the library so that I could look in some old newspapers for confirmation (never would have thought of it if I hadn’t had to look through old newspapers for a school project the year before). Sure enough, there was a man that had lived there and murdered his family in that manner. There was a picture of room where the children were murdered, and it was my bedroom from a few years before.

I’m reluctant to attribute my dreams to anything supernatural, so I’m guessing that when I was younger I had heard someone mention the murder, but it didn’t really register in my memory other than in dreams. I know that when I was little, I’d get rides in my friend’s grandpa’s combine during corn and wheat harvest… he could have mentioned it then, since he always liked playing tricks on little kids. Either way, when I saw that picture in the newspaper, it freaked me the hell out.

– Posted by bean_sips; Fark

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Yes, I know. She’s going to join me today

August 16, 2011

When I was about 17, my grandfather passed away and within a few months, my grandmother became very ill and had to be hospitalized. It turns out she had a gangrenous small bowel and needed surgery, which was very risky because she had emphysema from years and years of smoking.

The night before her surgery, I had a dream where I was in a house that’s not your house, but a house that’s familiar to you. Anyhoo.. in the dream I’m looking out the window, and my recently deceased grandfather shows up. He was barefoot, but dressed in his favorite fleece fall coat and flap-eared hat that he liked to war, and was carrying his favorite lawn chair. I got a little freaked out and tried to hide, but he saw me and motioned to me to let him inside.

So I let him inside the house and I kind of start babbling to him about some stupid thing and he turned to me and asked, “Where is your Grandmother?” I told him that she was in the hospital, was very ill and might die. He told me, “Yes, I know. She’s going to join me today,” and then he disappeared.

I immediately woke up and started crying, and ran upstairs to tell my mom about what happened. She said he had visited her too. Thankfully, my grandmother survived and lived for another 8-10 years. Had she died on that day, I think I would have to have been institutionalized.

– Posted by Frick! The Discount Musical Prankster; Fark

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Said he woke up and a man was sitting on his bed

August 16, 2011

When my brother was 3 and a half he woke up one night, screaming. Said he woke up and a man was sitting on his bed. He wasn’t afraid, but then the man disappeared into thin air.

He was so freaked out my parents let him sleep with them. A couple hours later they got a phone call–my grandfather had died. He died a couple hours earlier.

Later, my mom got some family pictures and showed them to my brother (covering my grandfather’s face with her finger). When she removed her finger, he would freak out and cry.

– Posted by indenture; Fark

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The Blank Man

August 15, 2011

From when I was about 4 til’ about 6 I used to see the shadow of a man in a trench coat and hat in my parent’s doorway (my room was adjacent to theirs). From about 6 years to 8 I would constantly wake up at about 1 in the morning and hear footsteps in and sometimes even outside of the house. What I heard and saw seem to have been a more subtle, less antagonizing version of your experiences. The ‘blank man’ as I guess he might be called was cast in less light and further away from me than he would’ve been to you, so I never felt threatened by him, I never felt the need to be. The footsteps did freak me out though. They were sort of muffled in my case, not dull thuds like you described. We moved when I was 12 but anything seemingly unnatural had long since ceased. Although I only stopped seeing the man in the doorway because I’d rearranged my bed so I couldn’t see my parents doorway and I’d eventually stopped waking up as much as I had before so I had no way of paying vigil to the dude walking around my house.

– Posted by EdmundRice; Nosleep

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Uhh, the house is probably haunted, so you should probably sleep in my room

August 15, 2011

(Edit: At the end of the story I added a link to a layout of the house, so you could get a better idea of where those things took place)

This all takes place at the house that I sorta grew up in (“sorta” because my family moved when I was around seven or eight) – and this house was old-ish (built in the 40s). So my mom was a stay-at-home mom (at the time), and my dad was a firefighter. He had this schedule were he’d work a 12 hour day shift, come home in the evening, leave early the next morning and work a 24 hour shift, come home the next morning, and then leave in the evening (to work another 12 hour shift) and he’d come home early the next morning – so needless to say, there were always a few days/nights out of the week where it was just my mom, myself, and my older sister.

I guess I should start at my earliest memory of the creepy shit that went on in this house (I had a chat with my parents and my sister yesterday to make sure that I got my facts straight). My sister and I were in my room (I had to be around four at the time, because I wasn’t in school yet – so this would’ve made my sister around 6-7 years old – so this means that this event happened like in 1991/at a time when most of you weren’t even born yet), I was sitting on my floor playing with Legos, and she was on my bed playing with her ridiculously huge collection of Barbies. Anyway, as we were playing, we both heard footsteps on the tile floor in the kitchen, followed by the sound of the refrigerator opening. About a minute later, we heard the sound of one of the breakfast table chairs drag across the tile floor – like someone was pulling it out to sit down. We both assumed it was my mom. So my sister calls out, “Mom, c’mere!”. There was no answer. My sister calls out again, “Mom!”. Still no answer. “Mom?” Then my mom popped up in front of my room’s open window to say, “Be right there! I’m watering the roses.” Literally seconds after my mom said this, we heard the fridge slam shut.

The next minute or so after this are sort of a blur. I remember that I just started sobbing…crying for my dad. I remember my sister jumping off my bed, and slamming my door shut, and telling me to help her pile all my toys in front of my door so that “they” couldn’t get in. What I do remember though was the look on my mom’s face when she heard the slamming noise: the color drained from her face, and her eyes were wide. I think that’s probably what made me cry – the look of terror on her face. This was one of the things that I had to ask for my mom to clear up for me since I don’t remember it too well. She told me once she heard the fridge slam shut, she assumed that someone got in the house while she was outside watering her plants, even though there’s no way that could’ve happened since there were three exits out of that house: the door that goes into the laundry room that led to the garage (but the garage door was closed), the front door (it was one of those double doors; a heavy wooden door with a wrought iron door in front of it – both of which, she said, always remained locked unless someone was using it) the back door that she used to leave the house – and she would’ve seen someone come in through that door since the back yard was fairly small, guarded by our female Bull Mastiff (who was incredibly protective), and enclosed on every side by a 7 ½ foot tall chain link fence.

Anyway, she said when she got in the house, all of the chairs to the kitchen table were pulled out…like way out – two were up against the wall, one was against the stove, and one was in the opening that connected the living room to the kitchen. She said the scariest part was that nearly all of the contents from the refrigerator were laying out on the kitchen table; all the condiments, the milk, veggies, leftovers…they were all thrown on top of the table. She said she picked me up, grabbed my sister by the hand, and got out of the house as fast as she could, without grabbing keys or anything. She was too afraid to go into the garage to get us into her car, so we had to walk to my great-grandparents’ house (they lived like a block away).

She told me once she got to my great-grandparents’ she quickly explained to them that someone was in our house, and that she needed to call the cops. My mom said said that right after she called the cops, my great-grandpa grabbed one of his many hunting rifles and ran back to our house (It makes me smile when I picture my 70-some year old great-grandpa running down a street, carrying a rifle). My mom said she left my sister and I with my great grandma, while she took my great-grandpa’s car back to our house to check on him. She said he popped out of the house, and told her that he checked all rooms and closets, and couldn’t find anyone in the house.

So my mom and great grandpa waited outside until the cops arrived – which took less than five minutes, according to her (I guess the response time back in the early 90s was awesome). She said that two cop cars arrived. One police officer took a statement from my mom while the other two searched the house. They said that they looked in every corner of every room, and couldn’t find anyone. She asked them if they would go inside with her while she called my dad at work, and grabbed some clothes for her, myself, and my sister. She said she didn’t even bother putting the food back in the fridge, because of the uncomfortable feeling she felt in the house. She said, and I’m quoting her on this, “when I was in there, packing us a bag, it felt like someone was in the house watching us. Like they were hiding, but peaking from around a corner”. So the three of us stayed at my great-grandparents until my dad came home that evening.

After that “kitchen incident” she didn’t like my sister and I sleeping in separate rooms – so my dad bought a bunk bed to put in my room (which, sadly, replaced my awesome race car bed… 😦 ), so that my sister and I could sleep in the same room. But what my mom really didn’t like was having to sleep alone (understandably), so the nights when my dad worked, my sister and I would sleep in my mom’s bed with her – and my mom always made sure to leave a light on in the house when my dad wasn’t there.

The next time I remember something weird happening took place when I was six (according to my mom), and it was one of those nights where my dad was working. My mom said that when this happened, my older sister was going through that “I’m too old to sleep in your bed”-phase, and that there was nothing that she could tell my sister to get her to sleep in my parent’s room without scaring the shit out of her (“Uhh, the house is probably haunted, so you should probably sleep in my room”?). So that night, it was just my mom and I on that big bed. I remember waking up because it felt like someone was standing over me. I slowly opened my eyes, expecting to see someone standing there. Thankfully, though, I didn’t. So I was gonna close my eyes and go back to sleep, but before I could do that, I saw something out of the corner of my left eye. Too scared to turn my head in that direction, I merely shifted my eyes to where I thought I saw something. There was someone standing in the doorway to my parents’ room – someone tall. With the faint, orange glow from the lamp that my mom left on in the living room, there should’ve been enough light to make out some features on this person’s face, but, strangely, I couldn’t. Where the eyes/nose/mouth should’ve been, there was just…black. It was weird, like I said, with the lamp on in the living room, I should’ve been able to get a better look at this person – but it was just like a shadow…silhouette, but at the same time it wasn’t, because unlike a silhouette, this person/thing had a shape, if that makes sense. It was like a 3D shadow, I guess. I could tell that it was a man because of the broad shoulders and big chest. He was just standing there, leaning a shoulder on the door frame…he wasn’t moving, but I could feel that he was watching me. I remember being too scared to wake up my mom…too scared to even make a move or a sound. So I closed my eyes, hoping that I was just imagining it. A few second later, I opened my eyes and (made the mistake of) turning my head towards the door to see if the man was still standing there. He was. When I remember what happened next, I still get a lump in my throat and goose bumps. When I looked in that direction, the man standing in the doorway was still staring at me, but now he moved… He slowly tilted his head sideways like a curious dog. I remember shutting my eyes as tight as I could. Eventually, I fell back asleep.

The next morning, my mom and I were laying in bed waiting for my dad to get home, and I told her what happened. I told her that I woke up in the middle of the night, and that there was a man who stood in the doorway and stared at me. She told me that I just had a bad dream. She got out of bed and went to the kitchen, and my sister came to sit on my mom’s bed and watch tv with me. I remember my mom quickly came back in her room with a scared look on her face, and closed and locked the door behind her. My sister and I just looked at her and asked her what was wrong — she put on a fake smile and said “nothing”. I remember sitting on my mom’s bed with my sister, watching Saturday morning cartoons and complaining about wanting breakfast. I still remember my mom promising both of us that we’d eat when my dad got home, but we had to stay in her room, because she wanted to surprise him when he came back.

About five minutes later, we heard someone walking down the wood-floored hallway to the bedroom. My sister and I, thinking that it was my dad, got real quiet so that we could surprise him. The footsteps got closer and closer until they stopped in front of my mom’s door. But whoever was standing there didn’t knock on the locked door, or even make an attempt to try to open the door. So my mom thought it was my dad, just like my sister and I, and said “Honey? Is that you?”. There was no response. “Honey?” Still no response. All we heard was the footsteps go from the locked door, down the hallway, and into the kitchen where they stopped. All of us stayed quiet. Then the footsteps started up again; I remember hearing heavy footsteps leave the kitchen, and come back down the hall, and stop in front of the locked door again. My mom was panicking at this point. My sister and I started crying out of fear. My mom wrapped her arms around us and yelled “Stop it! You’re scaring the kids!”, but no one replied, all we heard was the footsteps go back into the kitchen, the come back to the locked bedroom door.

So, at this point, I’m gonna fill in the gaps with the stuff that my mom told me yesterday: After I told my mom about seeing the “shadow man” standing in the doorway, she really did think that I just had a bad dream, and thought nothing of it. So as she went to the kitchen to make coffee, she said that she heard a faint ticking sound coming from the laundry room, so she went to go see what is was. When she went in there, the knob on the dryer was turned to on, but the dryer door was wide open, so the ticking she heard was the timer on the dryer. The cabinets above the washer and dryer were also wide open…and their contents (bleach, fabric softener, detergent, etc…) were piled on top of the washer. She said the second she looked in that room was “one of the biggest ‘Oh shit’ moments in [her] life.” She immediately closed the door to the laundry and ran back to her room because she felt like someone was watching her. She didn’t want to scare my us (my sister and I), so she made up that lie about how we had to stay in her room to surprise my dad when he came home.

After what felt like forever, we finally heard my dad’s truck drive down our gravel driveway, and once we heard the garage door open, all of us started calling out to my dad. He came running to the door, shouting “Are you guys okay?”. My mom yelled back, “Someone’s in the house!”. I don’t really remember much about what happened next. I remember my mom finally unlocking her door and letting my dad in. I remember all of us telling my dad about hearing the footsteps. My mom and dad filled me in on more details yesterday. When my dad heard my mom say that there was someone in the house, he looked everywhere, and couldn’t find anyone. He also said that the front and backdoor were locked (so was the door to the garage when he came home), and so were all the windows.

After that happened, more weird/scary stuff kept happening (I never experienced any of it). My mom said that things would never be where she left them (like stuff would go missing and turn up in weird places: car keys in the shower or shoes in the pantry…), she’d constantly find drawers and cabinets wide open, and after she’d close them, leave the room, and come back, they were wide open again. And every time my dad was at work and my sister and I were at school, my mom would spend her days at my great-grandparents because she was too scared to be in the house alone. So her younger brother/my uncle (he was around 21 at the time) would stay with us a lot during the evenings and nights when my dad wasn’t home (he’d sleep in my sister’s room). But my mom said that that didn’t last long, because my uncle told her that he could hear someone pacing around the house at night, and he’d wake up in the middle of the night because he could feel someone sitting at the foot of the bed, and when he’d get up in the morning, a statue of the Archangel Michael (that my grandparent’s gave to my dad to “protect the house”) was either laying on its side (on the dresser, where it was supposed to be standing), or sometimes it was just turned facing the wall instead of facing outward. My sister refused to sleep in my room anymore, because she said that she could hear someone in the closet every time she tried sleeping in there. And my dad told me that aside from hearing footsteps go up and down the hall, he could hear someone whispering, and sometimes he’d wake up and hear heavy breathing coming from the living room – but it “was too heavy to be a person – it sounded like it was coming from a horse or a bull”.

Needless to say, we moved out of that house, as quick as we could — as soon as our new house was built (it wasn’t even completely ready when we moved in – a few of the rooms were unpainted and still needed carpet). Anyway, my last story comes from the last time I was ever in that house. I was about eight, and we were already completely moved out – but I went with my dad to that house to say goodbye/get one last look, while he went to make sure that we didn’t leave anything behind. So I was in the living room taking one last look around, when I heard the closet in my room open. The thing about that closet was that the door sat low, so every time it was opened/closed, you could hear the door drag against the carpet – which also meant that it was sort of hard to open and close – or rather, it required a little bit of force to do either (open or close it). Thinking it was my dad, I happily asked “What are you doing in my room, Dad?”, as I started walking down the hall towards my room. I could hear shuffling in my closet. When I got in there, I stopped dead in my tracks in the doorway; the room was empty, but the closet was halfway open (the closet door was on the same wall as the entrance to my room, so where I stopped, I couldn’t see inside the closet, all I could see was the open door), and the shuffling sound that I heard stopped. “Dad?”, I asked. I was hoping…praying that he would answer – that I’d hear his voice come from the closet, and that he would tell me that he was in there making sure that I didn’t forget anything in there. Then I heard my dad shout from the garage, “Are you ready?!”. My dad was in the garage…not my room. My stomach dropped. It felt like my entire body was flooded with ice water. I couldn’t move. My brain was telling my legs to move, to get the hell out of there, but that feeling of dread kept me from moving. You know that hot, moist feeling you feel on your ear when someone whispers too close to your ear? That’s what I felt next – like someone was breathing right next to my ear. Then I heard the scariest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life; as I stood there, too scared to move, a voice whispered, “I see you…”. I screamed and ran out of that house as fast as I could. I ran to my dad (who was waiting in the garage), and hugged him as tight as I could. I remember that I was crying – but my dad also said that I was shaking like a wet dog. After everything that happened in that house, he didn’t even wait for me to tell him what happened. He just put me in his truck, and drove away. So, uhh…yeah (to end this the same way I’ve ended every presentation in high school and college).

Layout: http://i.imgur.com/9z2ss.jpg

– Posted by will18057; Nosleep