Creepy True Stories

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

In honor of Halloween, let’s talk about our creepy experiences!

Here’s mine:

When I was sixteen years old, I awoke up 1:00 a.m. to a quiet crackling noise coming from my closet. I was on my right side facing a wall, with the closet behind me, and enough light streamed through my two windows to allow me to see the objects and furniture around me. I kept listening and presently the sound stopped. I started to drift back to sleep when suddenly there was a loud CLACK as my bi-fold closet door was flung open. I then heard someone take two deep breaths (exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale)… then nothing more.

It is easily the most terrified I’ve ever felt. I lay there motionless, eyes wide with fright, for probably an hour and never saw a shadow or heard any other noises in my room. For that matter, I never heard anyone leave the room, though my heart pounding in my ears could have masked the sound of stealthy footsteps on the carpeted floor.

Finally I gathered my courage and rolled over to see my closet door was indeed open. I turned on the lights and inspected the room and the rest of the house, but found nothing unusual.

In retrospect, I suspect it was one of my younger sister’s friends snooping around (a couple of them had a crush on me), then heard me coming and shut themselves in my closet to keep from being found out. After however long they couldn’t stand it anymore and panicked from being shut up in my dingy closet with the creepy crawlies. My sister, for her part, says she doesn’t know.

If someone was watching me through the slats of that closet door, he/she very likely got an eyeful of me spending some quality time with hand in the customary teenage boy bedtime rituals. :o

What’s your creepy tale?

2

More eerie than creepy.

The hospital was old, and still used semi-private rooms. When one of the two beds was vacated, the housekeepers (we worked in pairs) would go in a clean that side of the room, plus the bathroom. In a pinch, we could do it in about 10 minutes. The standard time was 20. If there was a patient in the other bed, however, and that patient wanted to talk, we were encouraged to spend more time. Sometimes patients felt the nurses were too busy and they didn’t want to take up their time, and it wasn’t unusual for them to feel more comfortable talking to the support staff. On occasion they would tell us some vital detail that they hadn’t mentioned to the nurse, and we would pass that information along.

One night my partner–call her Anna–and I were sent to clean the B bed in a certain room. We entered to find a very elderly woman sitting up in the A bed. She immediately engaged us in conversation, asking us if we were married, if we had children, if we liked our job. I can’t remember now how old she said she was, but she was past 100. She was clearly frail, but mentally very sharp. She told us how she had been a teacher at a one room school, and had married the superintendent. Married women were not permitted to teach in that time and place, so she and her husband had moved to another state which would allow her to continue teaching.

We ended up spending a half hour with her, cleaning the room at a leisurely pace and chatting with her. When we finally finished, Anna said, “We enjoyed talking to you. I hope you get to go home soon, but if you don’t, I hope we can talk to you again.”

The woman kind of smiled and stretched. “Oh, I expect you’ll see me again. I’ve been here quite a while, and I think they’ll keep me a while longer.”

The next day, the B bed in that room again became vacant, and even though the room wasn’t in our area, Anna and I immediately volunteered to clean it. As we approached the room, a cna was leaving. We walked in, and the woman was sitting up in bed…with the classic far-off gaze of someone deep in dementia.

The change was so dramatic that I went back out and found the cna, asking her, “Did something happen to Mrs. Schultz?”

The cna shrugged and said, “She has Alzheimer’s.” I told her about our conversation with her the night before, and the cna looked puzzled. “I’ve never had her as a patient before, but my understanding is that this is how she always is.”

I returned to the room, and Anna and I cleaned it. We spoke to Mrs. Schultz several times, but she never responded or showed any sign of recognition. When we finished, the cna flagged us down, saying, “You know, I think you should talk to her RN and tell her what you saw.”

I found the RN and explained what had happened. The RN looked not just puzzled, but bewildered. She said, “I wasn’t here last night, but I’ve had her as a patient several times and I’ve never known her to speak or respond in any way.” Okay, so that’s strange.

A day or two later, the RN waved me down. She told me she had charted what I had told her, and she also said she had spoken to the RN and cna who had been there that night, as well as others who had had contact with Mrs. Schultz, and none of them had seen what we had seen. I said, “I’m sure it was the same person.” She said, yes, the age and social history matched.

So, the upshot of it all was that here was an individual coming into the final stage of Alzheimer’s who became lucid for approximately half an hour, knew who she was, knew where she was–and Anna and I were the only ones to see it.

3

When I was about 10 years old I woke up in the middle of the night to find myself standing in the middle of my bedroom. I thought, “Well, this is strange,” and climbed back into bed.
Some time later --days or weeks, I can’t remember–I awoke again. This time I thought I was dreaming, but it felt very real … I was standing on a smooth, hard surface, not my carpeted bedroom floor. It was pitch black, I couldn’t feel anything in any direction, until I started bumping into things I couldn’t identify. I became terrified and began to cry and scream. Then the light came on, revealing that a) I actually was awake, and b) I was in our basement in the far corner of the house. My wailing had awoken my mother, who had turned on the light and was now pretty freaked out herself.
I subsequently learned I must’ve been sleepwalking … and those two times are the only times I’ve done it in my entire life!

4

I’ve told this one before here, but it fits with this thread.

I was all alone in the house, my wife and young son were off on a trip.

Relishing some alone-time, I was having a shower in the bathroom with the door open.

I was just getting out of the shower, when I spotted the weirdest and most frightening sight: completely silently, a man’s head passed slowly down the corridor just outside the open bathroom door! It was dark in the corridor outside, but the oval of a white face was unmistakable.

I nearly had a heart attack. There was no good reason for some strange person to be in my house. Worse was the fact that this man made no sound whatsoever. Our floor is an old hardwood floor, that squeaks at the slightest footfall - you can even hear the cat coming. But this fellow was absolutely silent. Also, how did he get in through the locked front door without making a sound?

Needless to say I was scared - also, naked and wet. I slowly peeked outside the bathroom door to confront the intruder …

… which turned out to be my son’s partially deflated helium balloon, floating 6’ off the ground!

5

When I was 3 years old I occasionally would sleep walk… more so when it rained.
I was told later by family members that they’d find me pacing back and forth in front of our large living room window, with my hands clasped behind my back. They say that it looked like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders.

One even said that… oddly enough… I looked like this guy, but with my head angled down. Which is weird, because well… I was three…

6

This story took place in mid-2004. I was 50 years old.

Earlier that year the love of my life, J., decided to come live with me. She lived in Connecticut at the time. Around 4 a.m. the phone rings. A bit groggy I answer after the second ring. Picking up I say hello, but instead of an answer I hear a conversation between J. and some male. I listen for 30 seconds and determine the other party is M., a friend of hers I know by name but have never met. I finally say hello again but get no response. Once again, much louder. No response, the conversation continues. I listen for a few more seconds and hang up.

Talking to J. later she denies that she called me at that time but she did phone M. about that time and spoke to him for about 30 minutes. No, she never heard me during her talk with M.

Hmn. Can someone accidentally set up a conference call? I doubt it. But it seems the only plausible way this could have happened. But then, why was I not heard? Spooky.

7

I was watching some silly miniseries with my son, who was about three. Not that he was watching it, just that he was in the room.

He turned to me and said, “Mommy, I died in the war. The men in blue shot me down.” :eek:

Later my SIL told me while she was babysitting him she and her friend were singing him a song popular in WW2, Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy or something. Before the song he was giggling and laughing, but when they started singing that particular song he burst into tears. I don’t think it’s their singing…they both have lovely voices.

8

I was about 14 years old, home alone for the weekend at night in a dark house. I sat down in our living room rocking chair to read a book, when suddenly a huge dark figure loomed up from behind me and over me…reached his arms over me and around…

Yep, a coat was hanging on the back of the tall rocking chair.

9

These are some chill-inducing stories. Ivylass, if my son said something like that I think I’d have permanent goosebumps :eek: :). Kids saying something like that is just too uncanny.

10

I just want to say, Magicicada, that this story is absolutely beautiful.

11

About 30 years ago my partner and I were sitting in our living room, both reading. I happen to glance through to the kitchen and it’s single casement window. I saw a face, which startled me, as it was a small back yard accessible only through locked alley gates. A very creepy feeling consumed me, and it was several minutes before I mentioned it to my partner. I could see a face moving side to side, and he was SMOKING, the lit end of his cigarette was clearly visible. WHY was he lingering there, smoking, and what should I do? After sitting transfixed for almost 30 minutes, I mustered up the nerve to get closer to this very audacious person. I flipped on the kitchen ceiling light, and the face vanished. I shut it and the face returned. :eek: Light on again, I got bold and walked toward the window. :smack: The face? A dirty, smeary window. The side to side movement of “his” face? Low hanging branches moving in a slight breeze, causing the alley light to change in intensity. The burning cigarette? A firefly.

Or WAS it??? :frowning:

12

Camping once by myself in the wilderness. About a ten mile hike from the car, and one week of isolation.

Along about late night campfire 4, (and after a couple of fatties) I heard something growling at me! Just outside my vision, it was scary and threatening, like a wolf. I grabbed a big stick and stood up, ready to defend my life.

Just then, a huge multi-engine prop plane appeared above and annoyed me because I couldn’t hear the wolf and what he was up to. :dubious:

Then I realized the airplane was the “growling” I heard. Oy. :smack:

13

I agree with Soylent Juicy, I don’t think that was creepy at all. However it reminds me of a similar story told to me by a cousin.

She worked in residential care in an old people’s home, one evening back during The Troubles in Northern Ireland she was tending the residents in the communal room by herself, one old lady suffering from dementia never spoke and just sat with her head down. A news report came on the radio that a Catholic workman had been shot dead in a sectarian murder. The old lady lifted her hands and slowly clapped, “Goody…goody…goody…”, then lowered them again. The only time my cousin saw her react to anything.

Were you born before or after he was assassinated?

14

While worrying about Mrs. Plants’ (v.2.0) daughter flying to see us through bad weather, I say Death outside the kitchen door window. Robe, skull face and scythe.
I closed my eyes, and he was gone. She arrived safely.

The mind plays tricks.

15

Magicicade, That’s a lovely story.

16

This is very recent, like 3 weeks ago. And let me say at the outset that I am not generally given to “feelings” or “premonitions” or the like.

For a a bit of backstory, I have horses and so make appointments regularly to have their feet seen to, and shoes put on the one that I ride. This past February my husband was injured, and so I had my horse’s shoes pulled because I knew my life was going to be rather full for a while, and they need trimming less often than re-shoeing.

Life is finally back on track and I wanted to get my guy shod again, so one morning I called my farrier. He’s somewhat unusual in the business because he always responds quickly, and he’s usually early for his appointments. I left him a voicemail and went about my day. The next morning I woke early and couldn’t get back to sleep, but just lay there letting my mind wander. I realized that Peter hadnt gotten back to me, which was odd. I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but for some reason I kept thinking about Peter. We had strictly a business relationship, but we’re friends on Facebook because he did some cool stuff with cadaver horse legs that I was interested in, but I’d actually hidden him because he was also a bit of a conspiracy theorist and I couldn’t hack it.

Anyway, I couldn’t get him out of my mind, and for some reason I thought “I hope he hasn’t died or anything…” which was ridiculous. Except that the thought got so prevalent in my head that it wound me right up, and I had to get up and go check Facebook. And the post at the top of the page had a picture of a cemetery, and a whole page of condolences.

Apparently he’d had a major heart attack 3 weeks before and had died two days before I called for my appointment. :frowning:

I was a wee bit wigged out, let me tell you. I’m not generally fanciful, but I swear there was something nagging at me to get up at 4 am and go check his Facebook page.

RIP peter, you were weird and wonderful and incredibly talented.

17

Those are the only times you or someone you know caught you doing it. You probably did it far more often than you got caught doing it.

18

Here’s something kinda creepy (yet also mundane) that happened to me just today.

I was listening to a Welcome to Night Vale episode during my commute (establishing the spooky atmosphere), and got home before it was over. I parked my car and sat there listening to the last few minutes. I glanced out the driver’s side window and saw a cat on the sidewalk across the street, apparently looking straight at me. I thought this was a coincidence and the cat happened to just be looking in my direction, but it kept staring…and then started walking towards my car!

It disappeared from view, presumably going under my car, and I figured the cat had actually been looking at something else on this side of the street – a bird or squirrel or something – and was stalking it. I looked down to see how much time was left in the episode, and heard a soft “thump”. I looked up and the cat was sitting on the hood of the car, STARING AT ME. Then it started to walk towards me, and while I like cats in general I was suddenly very glad there was a windshield between us.

The cat walked right up the windshield in front of me and onto the hood of my car. The Night Vale episode was ending so there was no reason for me to remain in my car much longer…other than the realization that the cat was now in the perfect position to jump on my head and attack me as I exited.

I sat there a moment hoping to see the cat climb down from the roof of my car, but it stayed up there. I got out with a little more caution than usual and thankfully the cat did not pounce on me. It had moved over to the passenger side of the car, and jumped down as I was watching it.

It turned and stared at me again for a few seconds before disappearing under a neighbor’s fence.

19

I’ve got one I would be very interested in hearing an interpretation on, because…I just don’t know.

I was 16. A group of my cousins and I were at my grandparents’ house out in the country, and we decided to go for a walk. I was the oldest of the bunch; there would have been 2 boys who were about 10, another boy who was 8, and a 6-year-old girl. We set off down the road with my grandmother’s collie/husky mix. This was an older, friendly dog who lived life unfettered by neutering or leashes. We were all used to being in the boondocks (my grandparents’ house was literally the only one on that road), and walked along quite easily, telling stories and laughing. The dog trotted ahead of us, enjoying all the smells.

We reached the crossroads and turned back. I can’t remember how far we had walked, maybe half a mile. On one side of us was a cornfield. It was late summer, and the corn was already higher than our heads. On the other side was a wooded area with a lot of brush. My cousins often played in the woods, and it wasn’t considered a scary place.

Gradually, we became aware of crashing noises coming from the woods, like some large animal was moving around. Now, the only large wild animals in that area were deer, and initially we weren’t worried. Several times we glanced over that way, but nothing was visible through the underbrush.

The crashing got closer. And seemed to be keeping pace with us.

We fell quiet, but kept walking, bunching up closer together, closer to the cornfield side, none of us mentioning what was going on. The dog stuck close to us as well. Whatever was in the woods remained hidden, and kept pace with us.

At one particularly loud and close crash, my youngest cousin panicked and darted towards the cornfield. Immediately the dog moved between her and the field, looked up at her, and growled.

Everything stopped dead. I had only heard this dog growl one time ever, and that was when another dog growled at me. That time he had gotten between me and the other dog the same way he got between my cousin and the field. I took a tentative step towards the cornfield. The dog immediately moved to block me from the field.

I was very suddenly conscious of the fact that I was the oldest and had to make the decision on what to do. Either the dog was senile (and he hadn’t shown any signs of that) or the real danger was in the cornfield. I decided to trust the dog. In a low voice I told my cousins we were going to continue walking at an even pace (here my childhood training took over: if you run, you become prey) down the center of the road.

And so we did. We bunched together and continued walking very slowly towards my grandparents’ house. All the while the crashing kept pace with us, and the dog kept looking into the field.

Finally, the wooded area ended with the edge of my grandparents’ large garden, and the cornfield gave way to a meadow. I told my cousins to keep walking. When we were past the garden, I took my youngest cousin’s hand, counted to three, and we all ran to the front porch, the dog with us.

We looked back but nothing had followed us. You’d think we would have told everyone what had happened, but none of us said a word, not even to each other, for years, and even then we still couldn’t figure out what had happened. Why was the dog so anxious to keep us away from the cornfield when the sounds were coming from the woods? Was he confused about where the noises were coming from? Was there even a connection between whatever danger he saw in the cornfield and the crashing noises in the woods? Or, most ominous of all, was something (or somebody) in the woods trying to flush us into the cornfield?

20

Very interesting thread. I’ll relate something that I’ve only shared with close family and a few friends:

So, this happened about five years ago. My daughter was about 2-2 ½ years old at the time. That age when they are starting to be able to talk but not well enough to be able to get all of their thoughts across without a little back and forth with mom & dad.
I came home from work and asked her how her day went. She said good, that they were at the park. I asked her if she saw any friends at the park and here’s the conversation we had:

“No, no friends. I see my father…”
I looked at her quizzically and said, “Oh? But I’m your father”.
She said “No, not daddy. I see my father.”

I still wasn’t quite following what she was getting at (and I’m tearing up right now as I recount this…) so she went over to the cabinet where we put our family photos. It was around the holidays and we had moved everything off the table they usually sit on to make way for holiday decorations.
She opened the bottom drawer which had the framed photos, rummaged through and found a picture of my grandparents -her great grandparents.

She pointed at her great grampa and said “This my father.” Looking down at him she added “He miss me”. (please excuse the tears on the keyboard…)

My grandfather had passed away a few years before my daughter was born. I got instant goose-bumps when she said that. The way she was looking at the photo just said, “Yup, that’s him. My father…”