I used to live in a house that had a small/medium pool with a drain in the bottom. I was swimming in it one night when for some reason I had the weird image that a hand was going to reach up through the filter and get me. After that, I never swam to the bottom of the deep end, and I would catch myself looking down there to see if anything funny was going on. Now I have the shivers thinking about it. :eek:
Has anyone else had something like this happen to them, just a weird random creepy thing?
We had a cabin on a lake in North Georgia. There were not a lot of boats on the lake, especially during the week. Once when I was water skiing my friend left me sitting in the water, while he ran back to the cabin to get something. I had on skis and a life jacket, so it was just a matter of waiting. I got to thinking about how vunerable I was to anything below me. I was real glad when he got back.
I used to work at an Electronics Boutique store. One day I was closing up with another person. This other person happens to be the future Mrs Khadro, but that’s another story entirely. We were not saying anything, just cleaning up one of the stock bins at the front of the store, and we both suddenly looked around into the middle of the store.
We had both sworn we saw a small child (4-5 years old) run through the door and into the back room. Needless to say we did a quite thorough search of the entire store (I was NOT going to lock a small child in the store overnight), but there was absolutely nothing there. In fact there was no-one else at all in sight.
It’s only truly spooky because we both thought we saw it at the exact same instance.
when i was a kid i used to see a kind of ‘half-person’ crouched on the floor in the corner of my room. with him was a little cat, eating berries. this lasted about 6 years, although i’d only see it just before xmas each year. used to scare the shit out of me.
i told my mum and dad about it recently, and they said that my room had been built onto the original building (17th century). apparently, the custom at the time was for people to put live organisms (often cats) into the walls as a good luck charm (although not for the cats, i guess!).
http://www.minew-kajunkat.com/cathumor/cat_humor_pg5.htm
(not best site - but ref. is made: ‘Cats were sometimes sealed inside walls of houses and other buildings during the Middle Ages to guarantee the structure’s good luck.’
research still going…but i’m intrigued.
These days, when I shower, I get a mental image of a bloodthirsty murderer raising a knife to kill me. God knows why. The image just pops up in my mind spontaneously, and I have absolutely no clue why I get it in the shower, what triggers it, or where the idea came from.
You psycho.
I remember when my family was first living in New Orleans when I was between the ages of 10-15. Whenever I was alone in the house, I could swear I heard noises like footsteps upstairs and the kitchen cabinets opening and closing by themselves. I chaulked it up to my overactive imagination and the fact that houses make funny noises sometimes.
When my parents moved back to N.O., they originally put a bid in on our old house but lost out. My mom was relieved and I asked why.
“Well, because of what happened.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you know the woman we bought the house from was a widow.”
“Ummm…no.”
“Well, she was. Anyway, one night, her husband came home, took a knife from the kitchen, and proceded to cut himself in every room in the house. They found him upstairs in what’s now the guest bedroom.”
Even though my parents now live in a house they built, I can’t sleep at night without closing all the closet doors and checking under the bed.
My parents had large a picture of an owl that hung in the hallway of my house. Whenever I wanted to pass by it at night, I had to run past it at top speed because I was afraid it was reach out and attack me.
My mother still has the picture, but it doesn’t scare me anymore [sub]I feel much better now…[/sub].
Zev Steinhardt
When I lived in Flagstaff many moons ago, I used to love to drive to the Sunset Crater National Park. There was a reconstructed Indian pueblo that had been abandoned for centuries and I would spend hours just sitting in the shadow of the buildings. However, as twilight approached, the wind would inevitably pick up and I would begin to feel most uncomfortable staying. Not that I felt threatened as much as it just seemed like a very powerful place and I wasn’t ready to deal with the energy there after dark.
My skin has officially crawled up my neck and over my forehead. Especially after Khadro’s post.
i have a horror movie mind.
there is a window in my laundry, and at night i imagine there’s a cold waifish version of me on the other side. it’s quite awful, really, because there is noone you can empathise with more than yourself, so i feel great sympathy for any creature exiled to live outside my window in my imaginings. at the same time, though, it’s quite horrifying, because there should really not be any versions of me around.
i would think that one day i’ll notice this by looking at my reflection in the darkened window. i stare at my reflection, it stares lost back at me. i turn away; it doesn’t.
also, when i go to my garage, again at night, i have an image of opening the door and discovering a grisly murder; a body hanged from the light. worse is if it’s were someone i know.
oh, and there’s the time i thought i was hearing voices. i lay in my bed, and i was sure i heard distinct voices. it upset me, because i knew the voices weren’t there, and i reasoned that if i was hearing voices that were not there, than i could quite possibly be growing schizophrenic.
i’d just resigned myself to a life of madness and mental illness when the voices played a station promo and i realised that my radio was on, but incredibly softly.
i was relieved. i’d imagine schizophrenia would be a great inconvinience.
For awhile when I was a student at USF; I lived in an apartment in Temple Terrace,FL. that had a cold spot in the hall that would appear & disappear.
When it was there you could stand in it and literally see your breath.No one wanted to stand in it tho,because you got this feeling of terror & impending doom just walking thru it.
Creepy! Turbocreepy! (And I am not someone easily creeped.)
This is called “standing under the air conditioning vent”.
Try decaf. Or, perhaps, prozac.
Sorry for the length, but I’ve always wanted a venue to tell this story…
Once upon a time I was a Boy Scout, and went to a summer camp in northern Minnesota called Many Point, which was actually a collection of several sub-camps which they periodically closed to let the flora and fauna recover from years of tromping Boy Scouts.
That year, as part of a merit badge requirement, I had to take a hike and count the number of animals i saw, so I decided to walk to one of the closed camps, thinking there would be more animals. As I walked further into the camp, it got progressively more quiet, creepy, and Friday-the-13thish. Then, as a was walking, I heard the sound of raspy breathing:
“Unnhhh-huhhhh” “Unnhhh-huuhh”
Scared, I looked across the road to discover the source of the noise was a very large and ancient turtle, looking at me with the most amazingly intelligent and HATEFUL eyes I have ever seen on an animal.
So, I did the usual Boy Scout thing and picked up a stick with which to poke it.
As I bent down to poke it, the bastard LEAPT at me, and bit onto the stick I had in my hand! When I say he lept, he jumped forwards maybe two inches, but it was so totally unexpected that I froze in terror. As I stood there, the turtle fixed its eyes on mine and started moving swiftly towards me, making “Unnhhh-huhhhh” “Unnhhh-huuhh” noises. That, coupled with its bizarre angry human eyes, was enough to make me run for my life out of that camp.
…I told no one about my adventure. That night the troop was gathered around the campfire, where the Scoutmaster was telling the campfire story of the “Yeti”, or Bigfoot, which supposedly lived in the woods around the camp and which was responsible for the disappearance of several naughty Boy Scouts over the decades.
As the Scoutmaster finished the story, this weird kid sitting next to me looks up and says: “You know, I always thought the Yeti was a turtle!”
Totally random; totally freaked me out.
DocHopper,
Great story. For some reason I find that fascinating.
Oh, and you can keep the french-fried frog legs.
Heh heh heh - death by asthmatic evil turtle-- there is one Wes Craven has not thought up yet.
Still 5 posts since Oct 2001, that’s is some serious power-lurking. Great story!
-me
20 years ago, during my first marriage, we spent a couple months in my in-laws’ house while in transition between places. We stayed in the basement. A doorway down there had a bracket sticking out of the door jamb, which had been once used for holding something there. The bracket extended about 4 or 5 inches across the doorway, at face height. It was a hazard there if anyone missed seeing it in the dim light and hit their face on it. So a large green rubber glove had been placed over it to make it more visible.
We came home one night after being out tripping on LSD. I saw this horrible menacing green monster hand in the doorway just waiting to grab its victims. :eek: I admit it: the thing gave me the heebie jeebies. I couldn’t sleep until the glove was taken down.
Glad you all liked it! I’ve wanted to get that story off my chest for a long time, but somehow the topic of asthmatic yeti-turtles never came up at dinner parties. 
That turtle story freaked the living bejeezus outta me!
My mother told a story about a dream she had when she was a kid (but she actually thought it was happening). Standing in the corner of her room was A GREEN MAN WITH A LACE FACE. She let out a blood-curdling scream. It was summertime, and all the windows were opened. I guess the neighbors all came over because they thought she was being murdered.
Okay, that exchange made me spit my mouthful of water all over the place…not the best thing to do at work.
Not truly a creepy event, but more little-kid-imagination-gone-awry. When I was about 5, I won a random drawing in which the prize was front-row tickets to “A Christmas Carol” at Ford’s Theatre. Somehow, I had found out that Lincoln had been assassinated there, and I remember inching down the aisle in terror. I figured that as it was historically important, they wouldn’t have cleaned up the blood and gore–I was worried about stepping into it.