I once woke up in my grandparents’ house and couldn’t move for like 5, 10 minutes. I was a teenager. It freaked me out. I eventually got up, and we went to the hospital. They couldn’t find a thing wrong with me. Wasn’t until years later, well after the advent of Wikipedia, that I learned I probably experienced sleep paralysis. (Thankfully without the hallucinations.)
I fixed your links.
Reminds me of the child who was a reincarnated WWII pilot.
Pither, that’s a very touching story. Thanks for sharing it. 
This one’s not really creepy, per se, but it is an oddity that has puzzled me for twenty years.
I was in college in a town about an hour and a half from my parent’s home. One Friday, I decided to go home for the night. I dipped and dawdled around enough that Saturday that I didn’t leave to go back to college until the evening. I was rushing, though, because I wanted to make it back to my apartment in time for my weekly custom of watching Doctor Who with my roommate.
Now, this was back in the early Nineties, when Doctor Who was still an obscure British sci-fi show, only watched by a handful of nerds, as witnessed by the fact that it was shown at 10:00 on Saturday night on PBS. (“I mean, it’s not like they’re going to be out on dates, right?” seemed to be the thinking at PBS.)
So that made it all the weirder when the DJ on the rock station I was listening to announced the time and said, “That’s okay. You really didn’t want to see that old Doctor Who rerun.”
Excellent stories!
I just remembered one a good friend shared with me many years ago.
When we were kids in the 80’s, his parents often let him and his older sister stay at home by themselves during the summer break. Though he would have been only 8 or 9 years old when this event took place, and his sister 2 years older, their dad worked only a mile or so away and would come home to check on them from time to time when he had a free moment.
One day, while my friend was busy playing in his bedroom, he heard the front door open (the door only had a sliding lock which they never used, even at night). He didn’t hear the usual sound of heavy footsteps on the linoleum and his dad never appeared, so eventually he went out to the living room to see what was going on.
Nobody was visible in the room or kitchen (it was an open floor plan, so he could see the entire LR and kitchen from the door of his bedroom), and the front door was slightly ajar. As he took a step toward the door he saw a large hand reach out near the door knob and slam it closed. Oddly, no body was visible through the large window in the door, and the door was at the top of a short staircase. In order to close the door without being visible, someone would have needed to stand at the bottom of the stairs and reach through the iron rails to close it, meaning the hand should have been at the bottom of the door.
Terrified, my friend ran across the LR and to look out the kitchen window to see if there was a car. He saw no car, nor any person.
He ran to tell his sister and they took up weapons (baseball bats, I think) and stalked around the house looking out the windows, but never saw anyone. They called their dad and he denied having came home at that time. They were creeped out from that day forward any time they stayed home alone, though they did start locking the doors.
Magicicada, I’ve been thinking about your story. Definitely creepy. I’ve always found corn fields menacing. As a kid I wouldn’t dare go into the fields near our house, and I’d never even seen or heard of Children of the Corn.
It seems like you kids were being herded to me. I had a collie most of my childhood, and she would often walk contentedly beside me then nip at my heels or growl at me if I changed directions too quickly. It’s inherent behavior in the breed. Maybe that’s what was happening? Certainly a bunch of kids going into a cornfield would be a herding dog’s worst nightmare if it thought it was in charge of getting you back home in one piece.
Whatever was in the woods fits into this theory pretty well. Whatever it was, it seems like the dog wasn’t prepared to confront it. It certainly was aware of it if you were. My dear old collie definitely picked her battles well. She’d give hell to raccoons, opossums and smaller dogs, but she would ignore and slowly flee animals she wasn’t sure about (bulls, pigs, snakes, larger dogs). It seems like that dog wanted to keep you together and get you home as fast as possible to me, and maybe it knew that one or more of you kids going in the cornfield would potentially give an advantage to the creature(s) by separating some of you from the group. :eek: 
This is one of my favorites. What are the odds that all 15 people were running late? :eek:
Well, pretty good if you consider all the fires and bombing where no one was running late or just a couple.
Ghosts stick them up their bums.
I don’t tend to have creepy stuff happen to me, but it happens to my husband all the time. So when this thread popped up, I asked my husband for creepy stories. And now kind of regret it, since his story involves the basement of our house.
He said a few weeks back, he heard noises in the basement, that sounded like more than just the house settling. He cased the perimeter of our house and didn’t see anything unusual, so then he went downstairs to investigate. When he got down there, our handtruck was sitting in the middle of the hallway. It’s hard to convey how creepy this is without showing you the basement, but our handtruck is kept at the far end of the laundry room next to some shelving, and between the laundry room and the hallway is a treadmill and a bunch of boxes, since we’re using our laundry room for storage. There are also a couple walls in the way. It’s pretty inconceivable that the hand truck could have just drifted into the hallway.
Our SOs should get together and share creepy stories.
Made me laugh!
They’re called Schick because that’s the noise they make coming out.
Ew, so nasty and immature! We would probably get along fine. 
Oh God, I got snared by that, too. I go into Thing 1’s room last thing at night, to kiss her good night, and there at the far end of the dark room THERE IS A FACE six feet off the ground. I am instantly and completely ready to kick ass, little snippet me against 6 foot of evil-intentioned intruder but THIS GUY IS IN MY KID’S ROOM AND I WILL RIP HIM APART and my adrenaline is through the roof and then I take a second look and it’s the fucking balloon we bought her a few days back.
I think it took like two hours for my heart rate to go back to normal.
Okay, I’m not trying to “go over the top” or “best anybody” but here’s what I saw tonight.
I was driving down the parkway after work. It is a three lane road. The cops had suddenly (shortly after a mandatory exit lane, reducing it to a one lane road), set down flares for about 1/4 mile. As I managed to maneuver behind the jerko driver who stayed in my blind spot, I passed the part of the road where the police officer had just placed a jacket over the pedestrian who was struck by the vehicle going approx. 60 MPH and laid dead in the road. I had to slow down to make sure we all went past the scene safely, but I did get a view of some of the carnage. It was not a short blood trail. It spread. Ack. It wasn’t my first dead person I’ve ever seen, but it’s always a bad experience. No bounce, no play. No More.
I’ve got two, one from when I was very young, the other when I was about sixteen. Pretty sure I’ve told both of these before here, but they fit.
I don’t remember the first one, but my mom and dad swore it was true. When I was about three years old, my mother said she came down the hall toward my bedroom and heard me talking to someone. She figured it was a stuffed animal or something, so she peeked in the door. She said I was standing up in my bed, facing the wall, carrying on a conversation with someone who wasn’t there (I’d say something, wait for them to reply, then say something else). When she asked me who I was talking to, I’d say “The beautiful lady in the white dress.” Apparently this happened several times.
Some time later, she apparently noticed I wasn’t doing it anymore, so she asked me why I never talked to the beautiful lady anymore. I told her that she’d told me I was getting older and she couldn’t come around anymore, but that she’d still be near me. (I’m guessing I was probably subconsciously influenced by Mom’s talk of guardian angels.)
The second one was creepier and I do remember it clearly. I was about sixteen. I woke up in the middle of the night because I thought I’d heard something. As I came awake, I realized somebody was trying to get my window open. Terrified (I wore contacts, so I was basically blind as a bat while in bed), I didn’t want to try running for the door in case whoever it was came after me, so I felt around under the bed for my baseball bat and sat upright with it in my hands, waiting. After a short time, the curtain was pushed aside and I saw a hand (or a hand-shaped blurry blob) appear. Then the hand was withdrawn and there was no more sound. I sat there like that for what had to be half an hour before I finally got the courage to wake up my parents.
They found the window open and called the police, who gave me a bit of a talking-to for not reporting it right away. Later, it turned out that the culprit was a man with mental issues who had been breaking into other neighborhood houses. One person awakened to find him standing at the foot of her bed, watching her. He was harmless, but scary as hell.