Archive for the ‘Unknown Smell’ Category


Through The Closet Door

July 30, 2011

I have my own trilogy:

1) I was in college and needed a place to live. I guy I worked with (we’ll call him B.) said he had a whole upstairs I could live in cheap. Moved in a few days later. About a month later, I woke up from a sound sleep and see something sitting on the edge of my bed. It’s completely black even though a street light shines into the window. I sit up and it jumps up like it didn’t know I was there. I notice that there seems to be substance to it since the hat is brim is pushed down by the air as it’s getting up. It turns and its coat kind of billows around it. It walks across the floor and into the open closet door.

When it stood up, it was normal sized man height. It walked through the closet door which was built into a knee wall so it was only about 4 feet tall. It never stooped and didn’t seem to shrink as it moved.

A week or two later, B. and I are sitting watching TV and I ask him if he ever saw anything strange in the house. He turns off the TV and says, “So, you finally saw him?” He said that he’s seen him a number of times and it freaks him out. That’s why he wanted someone to move in with him. After that, we’d be in the living room watching TV and hear something going up the steps. We figured it was the cat but the cat would start growling (it was asleep next to the couch).

Finally, one day, B. had enough. The thing was in the doorway of the living room just standing there. B. points the remote at it and starts pressing buttons and yelling at it – “Get the F out of here or sit down and have a drink.” I’m upstairs studying. Then, it’s like the entire house shrugged. It’s hard to say exactly what happened but everything “bounced”. After that, things started going South in a hurry. Horrible smells, things breaking, explosive sounds, etc. We lasted 2 weeks and left when we woke up and found the cat dead in the middle of the kitchen with its neck broken.

– Posted by MayoBoy; Fark


Cigarette Smoke

July 25, 2011

A few years ago where I was in N Dallas with my family, I was watching TV with my wife and all the sudden we got this overwhelming smell of cigarette smoke in the house. Neither of us smoke, and neither did our neighbors. Being the kind of person that confronts stuff (as noted in my other story) I checked all the windows to make sure they were shut in case someone was smoking around our house. All locked. At that point I gave my wife the phone in case we needed the police to come, grabbed my pistol, and went outside to inspect the yards. I did not see anyone at all, no cigarettes burning around the area etc.

I went back inside and just ignored it.

The next morning I got a call from my step-mom, she was in tears and told me my older brother had passed away last night. He had drunk himself to death with vodka. Now my brother was a heavy smoker and always liked me, as I was the only one in the family that would talk to him when he was plastered (all the time).

I guess he came to see me one last time.

– Posted by thwapp; Fark


Mother’s Cigarette Smoke

July 15, 2011
okay I’ll bite……..I live a few thousand miles from my family. Since I have been estranged from them for oh 7 or 8 years (long story) needless to say I knew or know nothing about their situation. One fine summer afternoon I start smelling cigarette smoke on and around me. I do not smoke tobacco and live by myself so it is pretty noticeable….This goes on for a few days…..I jump in my car on day and happen to notice an extremely strong odor of cigarettes and it is driving me wild…then I look to the passenger seat and lo and behold is a figure just like my mom…….I knew she was dead then……..hmmm go figure ….a few months later I get a fattie in the mail from a will. Not scary but for the longest time I wanted to start smoking cigarettes like crazy and I mean really wanted to…….
– Posted by geosprint; Fark

Lilac Lady

June 26, 2011

my husband came home after an evening shift as security at the copper mine. I said “you smell like lilacs, and you are as cold as an ice cube.” to which he responded: “I do? I am?”. Then he told me the story. One building that had been a school in the 1800’s was on his rounds. After he got through with hes rounds his buddy asked him if he had met the lilac lady. They asked if he had smelled lilacs when he was in the old school building. Yes he had smelled lilacs when he was in there. That is when they told him about the school teacher ghost who is still there and you can tell when she is around by the smell of lilacs. He tried to tell her that her students were now all gone and that she should go also, but it didn’t help. So when he could feel her and smell lilacs he started singing “Hello Dolly” She would go away immediately! Guess she didn’t like his singing. Some nights he would come home and I would say “you met the lilac lady tonight didn’t you?” He would say “Yes how can you tell?” He smelled of lilacs each time.

There was another building that had once been an iron works building. He was warned if you hear noise just pass that one by and check latter. Guards that failed to head that warning were thrown across the room by someone the didn’t see and injured. Can you imagine showing up at the hospital saying ” The ghost threw me across the room?”

– Posted by Hollyhock; Allnurses


And then I hear it breathing

June 4, 2011

True story, names changed.

I grew up in a very small town in a Northeast state. It used to be a big town, bigger than our state capital, back in the early 1800’s, but then the creek started to dry up and the mills closed down. A few thousand people lived there when I was a kid. We were hill people, mostly. And mostly poor.

So one day my dad decides he wants to see if there’s any furniture in an old shack he knows way out in the woods. Keep in mind that we’re already hill people and this is a shack by our own standards. This whole operation classier than it sounds, my dad was a finish carpenter, and often restored old antiques, our house was filled with them. Now they tell you to leave that stuff alone, for the patina.

So his idea was that we should get anything left in the house before it rots. No one else ever went up there. Town lore was that the owner left for California 40 years ago after some kind of drama with her mate, refused to maintain the place, and would never sell it. No one knows what happened to her love interest. Standard campfire stuff, no one really believed any of it, except kids. I happened to be a kid, though.

So one afternoon, my dad, his buddy, and I all go up there in some kind of tiny imported four seater car. We sputter on toward this place, and I feel immediately lost. Even though I’m 5, this is a really small town, so I know my way around, and I’m very concerned about this “lost” feeling, and I keep asking my dad if he’s going to remember the way back. I am getting more and more agitated as we get closer, and this is starting to freak my dad out because I’m usually a pretty mellow kid.

Finally we pull up the path through the overgrown grass to the house and it looks bad, no paint, roof starting to bend, windows all blown out, door jammed open. I’m just crying now, and won’t stop. The original plan was that all three of us would go inside and look around. Now there’s now way I’m going in the house, and I’m too freaked out to be by myself in this place, so my dad’s buddy stays with me in the car, and he goes inside alone. He promises me he’ll just look through real quick and be back in a minute or two, and starts climbing up the rise to where the house stands.

He forces the door the rest of the way open with his shoulder and disappears inside. I quit crying now, because things seem very serious now. And we wait in the car as I count the minutes on my watch. Analog, with a second hand. It’s really quiet now, and it seems to have gotten late, and I’m getting really worried, because once the sun goes down I won’t be able to see into the house from the car, and for some reason this seems really important. And then it gets more quiet, the kind you forget about, because you don’t hear it very often. We can’t hear birds, or distant cars, no wind, not even a jet in the sky, and worse, we can’t hear my dad ramming around in the house, opening warped closet doors and testing stairs & such.

I can sense my dad’s buddy getting kind of worried too, which isn’t cool, because I don’t think he has the balls to go inside the house and get my dad if something’s gone wrong. Right about this time, he surprises me by saying, “Okay, Johnny [not my real name], we better go help finish this up,” and we both start opening our car doors. I remember being surprised because 1) normally my dad’s buddy was kind of wimpy, and just then he seemed pretty fierce; 2) it was the first time anyone had used my given name, in the diminutive, with that much respect. I felt like I was going to be an important part in whatever happened next, just like one of the grownups. For the first time, the name didn’t feel debiggened, if you know what I mean. I was suddenly being relied on for something, although I wasn’t sure what. Hard to explain that part. And 3) I was terrified a few moments ago, and now I felt kind of floaty and brave, and I was amazed as I watched my own hand opening the car door to go confront whatever was scaring us.

Anyway, as we’re clicking the mechanisms on the doors to get out and go to war (?), the old front door of the house slams open – remember it was wicked jammed before, there was a whole lot of power yanking it open this time. Dad comes running out toward the car faster than I’d ever seen him go before. You know that kind of running wan you take three stairs at a time without noticing? His buddy is instinctively hauling himself into the back seat as my dad is already in the car and starting the ignition, we’re in reverse halfway down the path before his door is even shut. He sort of spins the car on the grass so we’re going forward, and speeds home slamming through the gears. His buddy, is yelling “John! John! [not his real name] What happened! Calm down, if the girls see you this way they’ll freak out, man! Slow down, man, the kid’s in the car! What the fuck?”

I was disappointed, I was back to being the kid. But I was relieved to be away from that house, and the farther we all got from it the slower he drive, but he wouldn’t talk about it, and even I could see his hands still tremoring on the steering wheel. We got home, and my dad and his buddy went to smoke a joint (hindsight makes this clear lol), they told my mom and my dad’s buddy’s girl that they didn’t find anything worth salvaging in the old house, and it looked like they were pretty much going to get away with not having to explain the whole story to anyone.

Later that night, the phone rang, and my dad got up to get it. He said “Hello?” and then turned white as a ghost. My mom was alarmed, and asked him what was wrong. He hung up and said it was the old lady, and she told him “stay the fuck out of my house.”

I learned the rest of the story years later when my dad was drunk and told me what happened in the house. I’ll tell the whole thing from that perspective in another post if you want.

Thanks for the interest in my story. I’ll try to tell this part from the perspective of my dad, although his own real words are much more colorful. This takes place when he was about 23. Yeah I was 5. You figure it out, haha. So this is basically the story he told me years later about what happened when he went in the house. I have a couple comments, I’ll put them in brackets. I’m “John” [not my real name]. “Jack Stafford” is the oldest farmer in town.
We were going to go up there and check the old place out. I was tired of living across the street from your grandparents and I’d been looking for a place where you, me, and your mom could live in while I fix it up. I knew about this house, I knew it needed work, but it had a nice private lot and a great view, apple trees all over the place, and I’d stop up and look at it ever once in a while, it seemed pretty nice. So we tried calling the lady a few times to see if she’d sell it, but she never called back. We even wrote her a letter, but it came back. After a while I noticed the roof starting to go, and I knew the place was pretty much beyond repair, so I figured I’d go up there and check inside, see if there was any old furniture worth saving.So I got Steve, in case we found something heavy, and you, so I could show you where we almost lived, you were only about 5 or so. And we piled into the Fiat and drove up there. Well, you got upset as soon as we left, started whining and fidgeting, and saying you didn’t want to go. But your mom and Kate were out shopping so I couldn’t leave you at the house.

When we finally got there, you were being a real shit and wouldn’t even get out of the car. You were so upset I started to figure you were catching some bug so I left you in the car with Steve and went to just run in and check the place out. We were probably going to have to come back without you if there was anything decent in there, and we couldn’t get a dresser or anything like that on the roof of the Fiat anyway. I guess I really didn’t think there was anything in there, ya know, or I’d have just stopped by with the truck by myself after work or something. The truth was, ever since we tried calling the old lady, the place gave me the fuckin’ creeps, and I was glad she never called us back. I wanted to see if it did the same thing to Steve, and I didn’t really want to go in there by myself.

[That part always creeps me out because my dad wasn’t just a sceptic, he actively believed in nothing at all, and I’d only ever seen him afraid of cops. There were also some vague hints here that my dad planned to play a trick on Steve if he detected Steve being the least bit creeped out, but I guess my crying scuttled this plan.]

Anyway, you’re crying, so I leave you there with Steve and go in to look around. I gotta see inside, you know, like I figure somehow I’m not going to come back up here again. So go up there and I shove the door until I can squeeze through and start looking around. The place is pretty much fucked, weather and animals getting in, everything rotting, didn’t look like it ever had electricity or plumbing, but it’s also totally empty. Glad I didn’t buy it! Everything’s either already scavenged, or just plain gone. Living room, kitchen, parlor all empty.

So I go upstairs to see if the rest is the same, and the stairs are pretty rotten, but I manage to get up without falling through, and there’s two more rooms on a hallway. And I don’t know why but my hair is standing up on my arms and I really want to get out of there right away, ya know, like when you know you’re somewhere you’re not supposed to be, or like when a dog you don’t know is down growling at you. But I know no one ever comes up here, and I know the old bag is way out on the west coast, so I don’t give a shit. And I’m walking down the hall past the first room, it has no door, so I can scan the whole room as I go by, and I can see the Fiat out the window down in the yard, and the room is empty.

[It was explained to me that despite the lengthy description, the following three paragraphs all take place in the interval of about 20 seconds]

At the end of the hall, I mean, this place is tiny, so we’re only talking a few steps, at the end of the hall is another fucked up door, a few inches open, and through the crack I can see a nice old chest made of some kind of hardwood, your mom and I were looking for a coffee table and this thing looked perfect. So I go to push on the door and it moves a little. So I lean on it with my shoulder and really shove it, and it moves, but damned if it doesn’t shove back into it’s original position.

I mean, John, this thing was warped hard against the floor, it made a hell of a sound when it moved, it wasn’t swinging by itself. So I stop and listen, for a second, I’m thinking there’s a fucking bear or something in there, ya know? But it’s like dead silent. Real quiet. So I shove the door once more, as hard as I can, and I kind of hear this roar? Like not a real big animal, you ever hear a Fox fucking? Like a god-damned screeching baby eating a live cat. And then I hear it breathing, these deep long breaths, kinda wet sounding, like a dog, but long, not panting. Anyway, at this point, I’m like fuck this, ya know, and I turn and start to fucking run, and I’m down the hall in like two steps, and I can hear the breathing getting louder and it sounds like it’s right behind me. And I’ll tell ya I was pretty careful going up those old stairs, but I don’t think I even touched them on the way down, and so I get to the front and I’m already thinking: shit, the jammed door is going to slow me down and the fucker is going to get me.

But I’m moving like I’m flying, total instinct run, you understand? And as I get to the door, it fucking slams open, I didn’t even touch it, but at this point I don’t even care, and I’m out the door. Took all the stairs in one step, and I’m yelling at Steve to get the hell in the back of the car so we can get the fuck out of there, I never turned around until I was sitting in the car. I swear I can still hear the breathing. So I get the car going, and it ain’t like in the movies, it started on the first try for once. I slam it in reverse, I really beat that old car up that day, she wasn’t really the same after, and we’re going like 25 or 30 in reverse down the rutted driveway, and I swear the last thing I see before I get it turned around was that fucking door closing.

I got a call that night, and it was the old lady. She just said “Stay the fuck out of our house” and hung up. Then a couple days later old Jack Stafford called up and asked if we’d been messing around at the orchard place. He used to help take care of their apple trees. He said he got a call from that old bitch telling him to go up there and check the place out, make sure it was ok, and to tell the [our last name]s that it was not for sale and to please stop asking. He said it was the damnedest thing, “Check on the place? It’s a shithole, what’s to check? ” He hadn’t heard from her in 20 years, figured she was dead. He said she moved out of town after her husband died, there had been a big problem because the town wouldn’t let her bury him on the property, they wanted to enforce some kind of cemetery ordinance. But she had been a real bitch about it, and wouldn’t let them put him in the cemetery. The cops even were called in, but she had hidden the body. Then one day she just left, cleaned the place out and locked it up, told Jack to stop trimming the trees. Jack stopped going up there to check on it he said, on account of “all the fallen apples smelling really rotten to him that year.”

– Posted by inkman; Nosleep


I Live Here.

May 19, 2011

Several years ago, I was working in security for a very large company.
I worked in a 12-story glass building where we had two officers working per shift. Each of the two officers shared duties between working in the “Command Center”, which was the glass booth that everyone had to walk past to get into the building, and doing “Tours” or patrols of the building.

This particular building was extremely computer-controlled. Every door
in the place had to be opened by a access card which told the computer in the control room who went in what door, and at what time, and if they had the authorization to be in there in the first place. We could look back over records for days or months and see exactly who went where in the building and how long they stayed. We knew when no one was left in the building, and had video tape of the more secure areas on the various floors.

At least twice each shift, one of the officers had to make a tour of the building and “Hit”, or use his/her card in special card readers on all the floors to have a permanent patrol record that we printed out and filed as proof we actually did walk the floors. The patrol usually took about 1 hour.

I was the supervisor on the evening shift, and just at the end of the shift, one of the midnight officers called and said she would be late. I decided to work over until she got there so my partner could go home. The other midnight officer was on time, and told me that he would go ahead and start the first tour so that I wouldn’t be on then floors when my relief got there.

About 30 minutes into the tour, the 2nd officer arrived and I was briefing her on what had happened on evenings. The other officer was watching the printout on the reader computer, the computer that recorded the use of each door, and made the remark that the other guard sure was taking a long time on the 5th floor. He had been on the floor for more than 10 minutes when he should have been there for only 2-3. The women of the security staff loved to take time on the fifth floor, because we were all trying to figure out who the guy with that great smelling after shave was on that floor. We had all smelled it at times, but we couldn’t figure out which office it was coming from, it just seemed to move around the 5th floor.

As we watched, we saw the exit door finally activated by the other guard’s access card, and just assumed he would continue on down to the 4th floor to finish the tour. He didn’t. He came straight down to the ground floor, which I found really odd. He never aborted a tour for anything. He came off the elevator as we watched, and ran, fast, towards the exit. He was throwing his access card, his radio, and his building keys as he ran. He looked terrified. I didn’t know if the building was on fire or what. There were no fire alarms going off, and we knew that no one else had been in the building since about 10:00 pm.

I told the other officer to call dispatch and tell them what was going on, as I ran after the frightened officer. I caught up to him about a block away as he hid behind a concrete pillar on the next building. He was babbling and crying, telling me that he wasn’t going into that building again. It took a long time to calm him down enough to get what happened out of him. This is what he told me:

He was working on his tour as usual, and had just gotten off the elevator on the fifth floor. He smelled a very strong odor of after shave, like who ever was wearing it had just walked by. He knew that no one was supposed to be left in the building, and that I would call him to let him know if anyone came in. He began walking the halls trying to pin-point where the smell was coming from.

As he got half-way down one hall, he heard a noise behind him. He turned around and came face to face (about 3 inches away) with a man dressed in what looked like work clothes. He had on a yellow hard hat, flannel work shirt with blue jeans and work boots. The officer said that the smell of after shave was very strong, and he knew that this guy was who he was looking for. The fact that he had been able to sneak up on him so close scared him. The officer asked him what he was doing there. The guy just looked at him. The officer again asked him what he was doing there, and what his name was. This time, the guy replied “I live here.”

Obviously, the officer didn’t believe this, and demanded to see his I.D. card. The mysterious man just turned and walked away from him. The guy walked a few steps and turned into one of the offices on the outer wall of the building. The only entrance/exit to that office was the one he entered. The other wall was the glass on the outside of the building. The officer followed the man into the office, a mere two steps behind the guy. As he entered the office, the guy just disappeared. No fade away, no smoke disappearing act, just simply not
there. This upset the officer a little, he knew that there was no where else the man could have gone. He turned and started to walk out of the office when he came face-to-face with the man again. Another 3 inches away, and just staring at him.

This really shook the officer up, and he began yelling at the guy and again demanding to know who he was. This time the man replied “I’m Charlie, and I live here..” and he again turned, walked down the hall and into an outside office. The same thing happened. When the officer followed him and turned the corner into the office, the man was gone.

Understandably, the officer was a little hesitant to turn around and walk out of the office, but he didn’t come face-to-face with the man this time. This time, as he walked out of the office, the man was standing at the end of the hall, still just looking at him. At that point, the officer had enough, and was getting out of this building.

We searched the entire building after that, no one was found. We even went over computer records for months prior, and could account for everyone who entered the building. One of the day shift officers claimed to have contacted someone with the City who told them that two construction workers had been killed during the construction of that building. One of the killed was reportedly named Charles.

I don’t know if it was Charlie’s ghost or not, but I do know that my terrified officer believed it, and the guys who were treating him for shock while we searched the building believed something very strange had happened in that building.

– Posted by Lisa Jones ; alt.folklore.ghost-stories


The Lady In White of Coventry, Connecticut

May 18, 2011

So in Coventry, Connecticut, there’s this folk story that goes around about “The Lady In White”.

Supposedly, this ghostly figure goes around and warns people when something bad is about to happen, something that can be prevented.

So I’m visiting family in and around the New England area. They’ve got a dog in the backyard, tethered up so it doesn’t dig its way out. Little psychotic Jack Russell Terrier. Anyways, I’m watching TV downstairs before turning in, everyone else is asleep (why does this shiat always happen when there’s no other witnesses?). This was about 10 years ago, so I must’ve been 16.

I smell something, it smells like… well, you know how roadkill smells after it’s been out for a few days? That’s the smell. The unmistakable smell of death. Then I saw her. It. Whatever. Faded, translucent figure, robed in white, simply walking its way across the backyard.

It didn’t frighten me (at the time). I had a compulsion when I saw her, though. The compulsion was to go outside, grab the dog, and bring it in. So I opened the sliding glass door, and the figure vanished.

I grabbed the dog, which was sitting there on his little bed. I took off the tether, and carried him in.

Shortly thereafter, the backyard had been infiltrated by wolves.

– Posted by LincolnLogolas; Fark