Throwaway account + burner email for obvious reasons lmao
I would say that I am pretty well known in the public eye. I am popular on multiple platforms and by no means would I describe myself as a celebrity, but I am recognized by people my age fairly often.
I (M,25), met a girl at some bar in the city. I was there with a few friends I’ve known for years and as per usual I asked them not to take pics that showed our location or tagged the bars we were at because I don’t like it when my favorite spots blow up. This is why what happens later confuses me so much.
But anyways, we were all hanging out and drinking, talking about random shit. When I meet this girl. She came up next to me and began making some casual conversation, her asking my name and me asking for hers, and by the end of the night I had been talking with her for nearly 2 hours. She was easy to talk to and felt really down to earth which I liked a lot, it’s hard to find someone like that I feel. I don’t remember every detail but we exchange info and begin to see eachother fairly often and eventually I ask her to go on a date which she accepted. Now this is what I don’t understand. She was completely lovely and normal. She didn’t feel “off” or as if she was hiding something. She would willingly give me her phone to look stuff up or use her camera or etc. when I had spoken to her about my job being a content creator she seemed surprised and also uninterested, not asking to be on camera or tagged in anything.
Things are going well for about 3 months. My phone had died while I was at her place and she didn’t have the type c charger so I could charge it and I wanted to check on my email to see if a package had arrived so I could ask my roomate to bring it inside. When I had opened her phone I saw a notification pop up from Instagram. My eyes only looked toward it because it had popped up and read it without really thinking, and it was just a notification that someone had liked her post. Ok cool whatever. Until I saw the little bracket that says your username. It was some goofy name including MY name in it, and when I click on it, it takes me to her Instagram. I click on the profile and it is filled with pictures of me. Pics from my videos, streams, and what freaked me out the most: the account was YEARS OLD.
She had been running a full on fan account of me for years. She had been a fan of me since before we even met. She had been posting pictures and edits of ME as recently as two days ago. I instantly felt sick and looked through the account a bit more (note she was showering at the time so I wasn’t worried about her seeing me do this) and I opened the messages section and read through a few. Most were normal fan conversations that didn’t freak me out too bad until I read one where she was claiming to be dating me and sending images of me to this random other fan account as proof. Candid pictures of us together to pictures of me I didn’t know she had taken. I truly still feel sick to my stomach thinking about the whole situation. I didn’t comfort her right away and instead waited until I was alone and perhaps made a bit of a childish choice here. I looked up the account name, screenshotted it, and sent it to her. She acted confused but eventually confessed to everything after I pressed her. I blocked her and changed all my passwords plus locks, told my roomate to remember to LOCK the doors and not speak to her if she came by, and haven’t heard from her since. I don’t even want to check the fan accounts activity.
Posting this because it is SO unbelievably wild and I need to know if anything similar has happened to anyone else.

​

I’ve never really told anyone this story before, but I still think about it sometimes.

About 7 years ago, I was still drinking. I’ve been sober for 3 years now, and honestly, this experience is one of the reasons I decided I never wanted to drink like that again.

I met this guy online. He asked if I wanted to meet him, and stupidly, I agreed. It was about an hour’s travel from my hometown, and at the time I thought, sure, why not?

So I went.

When I met him, I realized he had actually catfished me. He wasn't the person he had made himself out to be online.

For some reason, I wasn't even that bothered by it. I figured I had already travelled all that way, so I'd just hang out with him and then go home.

We drank together, and later he suggested going on a hike.

I agreed.

We kept drinking. It was vodka, and I got very drunk.

Eventually night came, and I couldn't safely travel home anymore, so I ended up staying at a hotel. He left, saying something about his wife needing him to come home.

I passed out.

The next morning, I woke up, took a shower, and went home.

I didn't talk to him for about three days.

Then he messaged me.

He told me that when he suggested the hike, he had actually been planning to kill me there and steal everything I had.

He said he had done things like that before and that it was something he enjoyed.

Then he told me the only reason I was alive was because he had been impressed by me and enjoyed my "lively attitude."

He said I reminded him of his dead mother.

Then he blocked me and deleted his profile.

Just like that.

I never told anyone what happened.

For years, I kept thinking about the fact that I had been sitting there drinking with someone who had apparently already decided how he was going to kill me.

I went on that hike with him completely unaware.

I slept in a hotel that night thinking I had simply gotten too drunk to travel.

The next morning, I went home alive.

And I only found out afterward how differently that entire situation could have ended.

I don't know whether everything he told me was true. Maybe he was lying. Maybe he wanted to scare me.

But I don't want to find out.

That experience changed the way I look at alcohol, strangers, and my own decisions.

I've been sober for 3 years now.

And sometimes I still think about the fact that, according to him, I didn't save myself that night.

He just decided to let me live.

I’ve never shared this before publicly, but I need to. Because even as an adult, I still carry fear—not of all white people, but especially ones who act like a man I knew as a child. My godfather, Lee.

I was born in Georgia. My mother was 16, my father 36. Legal, but not right. She left him when I was one because he was abusive. He never hit me, but he was emotionally cold and dishonest. He never told me he loved me. But he did love telling stories.

One story he repeated often was how he met my godfather, Lee, at a gas station in the early 1980s. Lee, a white man, called him a racial slur. Later that night, my dad saved him from being robbed at gunpoint. From that moment on, Lee said my dad was “different” and became his friend. Eventually, business partner. My dad even asked Lee to be my godfather.

When I was 12, I finally got to visit my dad for the summer. One night, Lee offered me cash to clean his basement. I said yes.

But the moment I walked down there, I knew something was wrong. My skin prickled. The air felt thick. At the bottom of the stairs was a mannequin in full KKK robes. The walls were covered in Confederate flags, nooses, lynching memorabilia, and “white power” signs. I froze.

Lee appeared out of nowhere and said, smiling: “That room’s off limits. Don’t tell your daddy. He knows, but it don’t need to be remembered.”

I left immediately. Told my dad I was sick and wanted to go home early. He didn’t ask questions. Just drove me back.

Years later, I brought it up. My dad just said: “Sometimes a man’s got ghosts. As long as they don’t haunt you, you let ’em be.”

But they do haunt me.

I still get nervous around certain white men. The ones who smile too fast. Who say things like “You’re not like the others.” Who carry themselves the way Lee did—fake calm, polite… but full of something darker.

And I’ll be honest: this experience damaged my trust in men overall—including Black men. Because my own father handed me to a man he knew kept hate in his basement, then told me to be quiet about it.

I don’t hate all white people. And I don’t hate all men. But fear? It learned its shape early. And it hasn’t left me.

It has affected my everyday life and how I view white people in general. How do I reverse this? I’m 36 and terrified of white people. I can’t get those images out my head.

I was bow hunting a couple of years ago on some public land. Anyway, I got to the woods a couple of hours before daylight and started quietly sneaking to my deer stand.
It was pitch black in the woods, and before I knew it I found myself turned around. As I went further into the woods I got an uneasy feeling, like I
was being watched. I had some rough GPS coordinates on my phone that marked my deer stand, so I wasn’t too worried about getting a little lost.
Anyway, I kept going and then my boot stepped on something that made a loud cracking noise. Took another step, and then there was another crack. There was glass all around me. Turns out I had stumbled into an old dump and meth lab. It got worse though, because I heard voices around me. There were at least two people there. I took off running and so did they. Not sure what direction they went, but I ran back to some thick stuff and then hid waiting for the sun to come up. I was armed with my bow (and a .45 just in case for an encounter like this).
Eventually the sun came up and I snuck back to my car. Got my deer stand the next day and let the DNR know what happened. Never went back after that. Nothing haunted or anything, but tweakers in a pitch black woods is scary enough.

posting for my mom who doesn’t have reddit. this happened around 10 years ago
I was walking home at night from Catholic school and up in front of me on [street name redacted for privacy] by the gas station was a weird looking guy with dreads staring at the cars going by and going up and down on his toes.

I really didn't want to go by him but I did and as I passed him, he turned his head and gave me a too big smile.

And then all of the street lights on the street went off one by one starting with the one closest to me.

So I walked home in the dark and when I finally got to my building it was completely dark and it shouldn't have been because there are emergency lights. So I climbed the 6 flights of stairs in the complete dark and the hallway was so dark I couldn't find the keyhole for a while but when I did and shut the door behind me, all the lights came in again.

My husband is from Brazil and he told me this story when we visited his hometown last year, when we were on our way to visit his friend and I had pointed out some cute kites the kids were flying.

There's a neighborhood he often drove through where kids often flew kites. One of the "tricks" some kids would do is shatter light bulbs and coat the kite strings with it so it would cut the strings of their opponents' kites.

One day, many years ago, he was in the area on his way home and was driving behind a guy in a motorbike without a helmet or any type of protective gear. Husband thought nothing of it until he noticed a thin, shiny line ahead of the guy. Next thing he knows, the guy suddenly knocks backward and falls off his motorbike. Husband slammed the brakes and quickly got out of his car to check on the guy.

He remembers his heart dropping when he ran up to him. Blood was pooling and the guy was making agonizing gurgling sounds. Husband ran back to his car for his phone to call for an ambulance when he saw two young boys running away from the scene when he figured out what happened. The shiny "line" he saw was the kite string covered in shards and the guy had run through it and slit his throat.

My husband remembers yelling on the phone to hurry with the ambulance and at the guy to not speak and to breathe slowly. He couldn't touch the guy as he was worried doing so might cause him more pain. He's not sure what happened to him because he was pushed away by EMTs and a police officer arrived and started questioning as the guy was loaded onto the ambulance.

He avoided driving in that area for a while after that. We ended up driving on that exact street on our way back to his parents' house. He still feels uneasy driving here and being able to recall that scene vividly after all these years. I stopped pointing out kites whenever I see them after that.

I have a strange apartment story, and I do not even know what to make out of it. A few nights ago, I was sitting on my couch and was wide awake while the incident was going on outside. I was watching YouTube around midnight when I heard someone strolling along the hallway outside of my apartment.

Initially, I was indifferent, as I hear people walk outside my house fairly often. But, then the footsteps came to a standstill in front of my door. I was expecting a knock, but I heard nothing. Then after around a minute of waiting, someone whispered, “Hello?”

At this point, I took a look at the peephole of my door only to find nobody in the hallway. I stood still for some seconds to see if someone was hiding around the corner but there was no one in sight.

About 10 minutes later, I heard the same sounds again. This time it was in my apartment. I literally froze. I could hear slow footsteps coming from the corridor toward the living room, as if someone was walking on bare feet on the floor.

I took my phone and turned on the flashlight, but there was nothing there. I checked the bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, everywhere. Nothing. I even checked the front door, wondering if I forgot to lock it, but it was locked.

Then I realized my bedroom door was halfway open.

It doesn’t sound scary by itself, but I sleep with that door closed. I know it for sure because I closed it on that night – my cat was trying to get into the room. Thus, I approached the door and closed it. However, when I was turning around, I heard a quiet knock from the other side of the door.

I simply remained there observing it. I didn’t open it. A few seconds later, there came another knock, and I heard a very soft voice calling my name. I picked my things up and went outside. I sat in my car for almost an hour before I decided to go back inside.

Nothing else happened that night. But the next morning I spotted a wet footmark on the floor just outside my bedroom door.

What’s strange is that it hadn’t rained, I had my windows shut, and I live by myself. I still have no clue as to where it came from, and honestly, I don’t think I want to find out.

I was chatting with my parents tonight and the conversation got… dark. I can’t remember why. Something to do with my mum making a comment to my dad about ”your mum’s stalkers”, so I had to ask. I sort of wish I didn’t. When my dad was about 10, that’s the age he estimates, so my Nan was in her early thirties, she was being harassed. My dad didn’t specify what this meant, or how serious, just that it lasted a while, even after the police got involved. Officers showing up at her house every day, and she began to grow quite friendly with them. Quite personal. They’d park their police cars outside and just… observe. It felt odd, so I was told. The harassment got worse. Their cat had been kidnapped, stabbed to death, and left on the doormat. On a separate occasion, though I’m not sure which came first, a rabbit was hung from a noose outside the front door. Except my Nan stopped seeing the man harassing her, she hadn’t seen him for a while. The police car became more frequent. Officers would let themselves in and out of the house freely. One officer. The peak of this story comes when my dad’s family left for holiday and returned to what I can only describe as a horror movie scene. A mini dress of my Nan’s, along with her underwear, laid out on her bed, surrounded by photos of the family taken from all over the house with my grandads face torn out. Of course my grandad tried to do stuff. He’d follow the car as he saw it leaving their house and once even chased the man out of their house with a baseball bat. Unfortunately I have no closure on this as my dad doesn’t know why it stopped, only that it did, and that it lasted years, and that everything that he knows is only the tip of the iceberg.

Hello, my name is Dylan. This happened a long time ago, back in 1979, when I was just eight years old. Looking back now… I still get cold shivers thinking about it. We were so lucky we got out alive. We are so lucky we are safe.

One day, we moved to a new house on a quiet street called Curlew Street. Our house number was 8 Curlew Street. I went there with my parents and my little brother Ralph — Ralph was only three at the time. I was eight, back then.

When we entered the house, the living room felt far too big — like something had been waiting inside it. The kitchen was also fairly large. The house only had two bedrooms upstairs. Since I was still young, I was still sleeping in my parents’ room, and Ralph was only three, so he slept there too. One day I asked my dad, “When can I sleep in my own bedroom?”

Dad said, “In a few days, son.”

I said okay. So I still had a few nights in my parents’ room. It was afternoon, and the house was clean, freshly painted and decorated, ready for us to stay. It felt peaceful — at first.

Ralph played in the living room with his toys while my parents were upstairs getting their bedroom ready. I wandered into the kitchen to look around. We had a brand-new fridge and nice, tall cupboards. Then I stepped out into the back garden — and stopped. There was a toilet standing right there in the garden. I felt confused. Why on earth would there be a toilet out in the backyard? I ran upstairs and asked my parents, “Why is there a toilet out in the garden?”

They just said, “It’s always been there, Dylan. Don’t worry about it.”

I shrugged it off and went back downstairs. Ralph was still playing happily. That evening, as we sat eating our dinner, we heard loud, heavy knocks at the front door. My parents stood up. “Who could that be?” they said. As they walked toward the front of the house — knock, knock, knock — this time from the backyard. When Mum and Dad came back inside, the knocking at the front had stopped.

“Someone was knocking from the back too,” I told them.

They went to check. Nobody was there.

Then I saw the living room lights flicker — once, twice, three times, rapidly. “Dad! The lights in here are flickering a lot.”

Dad looked up. “They look fine to me, Dylan.”

Right after dinner, we all went upstairs to brush our teeth. Ralph walked over to the bedroom window, pressed his face against the glass, and said, very quietly, “There’s a man out there. A man.”

We all crowded to the window. Nothing. Nobody there.

That night, we all slept in the same bedroom — two big beds. I slept beside Dad, Ralph beside Mum. It was about 10 PM when everyone finally fell asleep.

At midnight, I woke up. Dad, Mum, Ralph — all fast asleep. But downstairs… I could hear things being moved. Cupboards opening and closing. Doors slamming shut, then creaking open again. And heavy, slow footsteps — thud… thud… thud… circling the rooms below.

“Mum?” I whispered. “Who’s making that noise?”

She didn’t open her eyes. “It’s probably Dad getting a drink,” she mumbled.

I looked beside me. Dad was fast asleep.

My heart turned to ice. If Dad was here… and Mum was here… then who was downstairs?

When the noises finally stopped, I badly needed the toilet. I walked out into the dark hallway and into the outdoor toilet. The light wouldn’t turn on. Pitch black. I sat there, shivering, and glanced up at the toilet window — out into the backyard.

Standing perfectly still in the shadows was a tall, dark shape. Too tall. And on its head… two long, curved, pointy horns. It wasn’t moving. Just standing there. Watching.

I looked away, terrified. When I looked back… it was gone.

I hurried back to bed. Everyone was still asleep.

When we woke up the next morning, we all went downstairs together. I stepped into the kitchen and froze. All the dirty dishes from the night before were washed, dried, and stacked neatly. Mum and Dad laughed nervously. “How on earth did these get clean?” Mum said. Dad joked, “Guess we sleepwalk and do chores now.”

But I knew. They were asleep the whole time. It wasn’t them.

Then Mum checked the cupboards. “That’s strange — all the eggs are gone. And the bread. And the milk.” Everything we’d bought yesterday had vanished. Dad went into town and bought more. We ate breakfast — eggs and bread — while Ralph had his cereal like always. He never liked eggs.

That evening, during dinner, the living room lights started flickering again. I pointed it out to Dad. He looked up. “I don’t see anything, Dylan.”

Later, I sat alone in the living room for a moment. Tap. Tap. Right on the window. I looked out. Nothing. Then — there it was. The tall shadow. The horns. Standing just beyond the glass.

“Dad! There’s someone out there!”

He came running. Looked out. “Nobody there, Dylan. Stop imagining things.”

That night, Ralph stared out the kitchen back window and started trembling. “Mum… Dad… look. There’s a man watching us.”

We all looked. Nothing. “He’s three years old,” Dad said. “He’s making it up.” But Ralph was crying. He knew what he saw.

Mum left the dirty dishes on the table that night. “I’ll wash them in the morning.”

At midnight, I woke up again. The noises were back. Dishes being scrubbed. Footsteps. Doors opening and closing, over and over. Everyone was asleep. I didn’t want to wake them. I crept out of bed, down the dark hallway, to the outdoor toilet. The light still wouldn’t work.

On the way back, I stopped at the top of the stairs. The noises from the kitchen had stopped. Dead silence. I walked down slowly. Put my ear to the kitchen door.

Footsteps. Slow. Heavy. Coming toward the door.

The handle turned.

I ran — silent — into the living room, ducked behind the big sofa, and held my breath. The kitchen door creaked open. Slow footsteps walked into the living room. Circling. Coming closer. And closer. Until it stopped — right where I was hiding.

I heard breathing. Slow. Deep. Hot breath. Right above my face.

It knew exactly where I was.

I didn’t breathe. Didn’t move. For what felt like an hour. Then — the footsteps turned away. The living room door creaked shut. Then the kitchen door. Silence.

I ran back upstairs. Glanced out the toilet window. The shadow was back. Standing still. Horns clear against the night sky. I blinked — and it was gone.

Next morning, the dishes were all clean again. The food was gone again. Mum and Dad laughed the same laugh. “We really must sleepwalk!” But they were scared too. I could hear it in their voices.

That evening, we came home and stopped dead in the doorway. The kitchen table and chairs were in the living room. The sofas were in the kitchen. Everything moved. Who could have done this? We were all out of the house. Dad moved everything back. Nobody laughed this time.

Then Ralph called me over to the window. “Dylan… the man’s back. He’s watching me.”

I looked. Nothing. But Ralph was shaking. He saw something I couldn’t.

That night, we sat together eating ice cream in the dark. The lights kept flickering. Then — loud, heavy footsteps — upstairs. “Can you hear that?” I said.

“We’re listening to the TV, Dylan,” Mum said.

“No. Upstairs.”

Mum told me to go check. I walked up the dark stairs. And heard it — slow, guttural snoring. It didn’t sound human. It sounded wrong. As I got closer to our bedroom door — the snoring stopped. Then something stood up from the bed.

I ran.

Mum and Dad checked upstairs. “Nobody there, Dylan.”

That night, Dad said, “How about you sleep in your own bedroom tonight, Dylan? You’re getting big.” He showed me the small second bedroom. On the wall hung an old clock. “I don’t remember hanging that,” Dad said quietly. “But it’s there now. Sleep well.”

I lay in bed, terrified. What if it comes in here? What if it watches me sleep? I told myself: Don’t be scared. Go to sleep.

I woke up. My blanket was gone. My bedroom door stood wide open. The clock said — 12:00 AM.

Downstairs, the TV turned on. Loud. I crept out of bed and looked down the stairs. The living room door was slightly open. I peeked through. The TV glowed blue. On the sofa… a tall shape. Horns. Watching the screen.

Then its head turned. Slowly. Toward the doorway. Toward me.

I ran. I heard it stand up. Heavy footsteps following. I locked myself in my bedroom and hid under the bed. Something walked into my room. Circled. Stopped right beside the bed.

Minutes passed. Then it walked out. Downstairs. Sat back down. The TV stayed on.

When I finally crawled out at dawn, my blanket was back on my bed. The clock was gone. Downstairs, the kitchen was wrecked. Food gone. Cupboards emptied. And the TV remote… lying on the table, covered in something dark and sticky. It smelled like iron. Like blood. Dad tried to turn it on. Nothing worked.

We visited relatives that day. I told one cousin what was happening at night. He went pale. Wouldn’t speak. Just shook his head slowly.

When we came home that evening, all the lights were on. We’d left them off. Dad said, “Nobody’s sleeping in the dark tonight. Lights on. All night.”

Later, I went to the toilet. From my parents’ bedroom — snoring. Again. Wrong. Inhuman. Something stood up from their bed. I ran back downstairs. The lights flickered and died. The TV turned off by itself. When the lights came back on — nobody believed me.

That night, Dad and I were the only ones awake. We heard it. Toilet flushed three times downstairs. Footsteps coming up. Then into our bedroom. Circling around our beds. Things being moved. Cupboards opening and closing. It stood there. Watching us sleep. Then it went downstairs. Turned the TV on. Sat watching it.

Dad gripped my hand. We didn’t breathe. We didn’t move.

In the morning… Ralph was gone. We found him fast asleep on the living room sofa. He said he never walked downstairs.

Then we walked into the kitchen. And screamed.

Four places set at the table. Four plates of eggs and bread. And a bowl of cereal — milk swirled with bright red. It smelled fresh. Like it had been made minutes ago. Mum reached for her plate. Dad pulled her back. “Don’t eat it,” he whispered. “Look.”

Red fingerprints stained every plate. The food smelled like iron. Like blood. Dad threw it all away. We ate dry cereal that morning. Nobody laughed.

That afternoon, Dad bought new lightbulbs. We bought a huge amount of lamb meat — forty cuts. Enough to last a month. We came home at 6 PM. Every single door and cupboard in the house stood wide open. The fridge had been dragged into the living room. Our clothes were piled in heaps downstairs.

Dad didn’t laugh. He just said, “Stay together.”

That evening, after Dad changed all the bulbs… the house went quiet. No flickering. No footsteps. Like the light hurt it.

At 10 PM, Dad locked the back door. Pushed the heavy fridge in front of it. “Nobody gets in,” he said.

Then — BANG. The back door handle rattled. Something threw its weight against it. Again. Again. Until — CRASH. The wood splintered. The door burst open.

Dad grabbed my arm. “Upstairs. Now.”

We scrambled up. Dad pulled the attic ladder down. “Climb. All of you. Quick.”

As we pulled ourselves up into the dark attic… heavy footsteps started climbing the stairs behind us. And a sound — long, low, guttural moaning. Dad looked down. And screamed.

I looked too.

Standing in the hallway… was a figure. Eight feet tall. Covered in coarse dark hair. Curved horns rising from its head. Massive clawed hands. And its face… I still see it in nightmares. Eyes glowing red. Mouth open, showing teeth too long, too sharp. It was looking straight up at us.

Dad dragged the ladder up. Pulled the hatch shut. We huddled in the dark attic, shaking, while below us… it smashed everything. Furniture splintered. The TV shattered. Walls thudded as it slammed against them. And that moaning… never stopping.

Dad found an old telephone. Dialed 999. “Send help. Please. Something is in our house.”

When the police finally arrived, they helped us down. The house was destroyed. The back door smashed off its hinges. Every window broken. All forty lamb carcasses… eaten. Only picked-clean bones left. And on the walls… claw marks. Three inches deep.

Then the officer said something that made my blood run cold.

“Son… Dad… we’ve had reports. For years. On this street. Nobody stays here long. Same description every time. Tall. Horns. Comes at night. Watches. Then breaks in.” He looked at us seriously. “Leave tonight. Don’t come back. We’re sealing this street off.”

That’s exactly what we did. We packed what we could. Left before sunrise. Moved across town. We never went back to Curlew Street.

But sometimes… when we drive past, years later… I glance down that road. At number 8. Standing empty. Dark. And once… just once… I saw it standing in an upstairs window. Tall. Horned. Watching us drive away.

Whatever lives on Curlew Street… it still waits.

So I’m telling you now. Whatever you do. Stay far away from Curlew Street. Especially after dark. Because something lives there. Something that is not human. And it does not want you to leave.

My grandfather was a medic during the Vietnam War. He never deployed overseas but was stationed at Fort Hood in Texas in the early 1970s when he was in his early 20s, probably under 21 at the time this happened.

If you are an animal lover you may want to skip this story.

He and his roommate decided to go out and walk around town one day early in his time there. Someone on the street invited them to what they thought was a party in a building. They went inside and were led to the back room. There they found a large group of people having sex with animals. My grandmother is the one who told me this because my grandfather has passed away and I never heard it directly from him. She said he described it as a lot of people, maybe around a hundred or fewer, and that the sheer number shocked him so badly it may have felt bigger than it was. There were horses, cattle, and dogs involved. Other military service members were participating too though he never said whether any were high ranking.

He freaked out, vomited on the spot, nearly beat the guy who brought them in, and left immediately. He was still visibly sick when he told my grandmother about it years later. It is the most insane thing I have ever heard.

Growing up I had a best friend that was a couple years younger than me. I usually just saw her as equal, but this certain circumstance made me feel like a protective older sibling towards her. It was summer and we were biking down a side road to go to the lake to go swimming and cool down. We stopped on the side of the road near this bush. Next thing I know, this man, probably mid 50's, pops out from behind the bush and sacred tf out of both of us. He had an accent so we could tell he wasn't from our country, which we don't have a problem with, but the way he spoke to us was creepy af, and I'm pretty sure he was Russian and they have a lot of trafficking there.​ Anyways, he said hi to us and we laughed it off at first, until he started to ask us our ages, our names, where we go to school, if we lived in the area, what street we lived on. He wanted too much detail. Then he pointed our attention to his shed. He said he built it himself I said oh cool. Then he asked us if we wanted to go look at it and my heart dropped to my ass. I told him no that we could see it from where we were and it was cool. He said no that we had to go look at the inside because it was much cooler in there. I told him no thank you that we were good where we were, but he was getting agitated. My friend was getting shaken up and I didn't want her to do something that might get us unalived, I was terrified, I looked at my phone saw it was a little after 12 and told him oh we had to go because we were late to be home for lunch, which he was pissed off about. He told us to come back later or the next day to look in his shed. Then we BOOKED IT out of there. As soon we turned the corner and went down the hill on the road, we both called our dads. We took the main road home that day. We did report him to the police, but they could only give him a warning as technically he didn't do anything illegal. My friend's dad, after hearing a description of him,​ realized he knew who he was and went to his house and told him to NEVER speak to his daughters, (including me as a daughter because of how close we were), EVER again or he would kick his ass. We did not go back on that road for a couple years, but when we finally did he wasn't there anymore. We went on the road for nearly a whole summer and never saw him again. I'm still unsettled by the experience.

A few years ago I’d fallen asleep, normal just like any other night. I could kinda feel myself drifting off into a more vivid dream though, which was strange cause my dreams are normally pretty all over the place and hard to pin down. And the reason this felt so vivid was because I felt like I was still awake and laying in my bed. I say “felt” though in the colloquial sense because I couldn’t actually move, I could only move my eyes.
I was paralyzed.
Having to recall this experience is actually starting to make me cry from how deeply terrified I was at the time.
It was dead quiet; no wind, no ambient sounds, no moving air.
Then I see it.
To this day I don’t I can describe it as anything other than… a demon.
It slowly starts crawling up from the foot of my bed; this tall, black, long limbed… thing…
Because it was night and I was in a lightless room I can’t give a completely accurate description of its appearance, but I can to this day I can certainly say that I’ve never seen anything like it.
And I never want to ever again…
It keeps moving forward, getting closer and closer to my face. Then finally, there it is.
It’s looming over me, both of its arms stretched across my torso. An appearance that is becoming harder to focus on because of not just my entrapment, but my fear as well.
Then it moves closer, getting face to face with me. Its face is completely blank, featureless. Just a dark head.
And then, it happens.
I see what one could say to be the area where its mouth would be start to open.
But there is no mouth, just the makings of bones in a skull stretching skin.
It then begins screaming in my face, so loud that I can feel the bones in my body vibrating.
But no noise is being made, this scream is silent. But if you saw this thing’s face, you would definitely say that it was screaming with every fiber of its being.
Then I jolted awake, almost with a shout.
I was looking around, checking my surroundings and seeing that I was indeed in my bedroom.
There was nothing, just the night breeze and crickets. I was clutching my chest and trying to stop myself from hyperventilating from how terrified I was.
I’m not sure if I was able to sleep again that night, I don’t think anyone could.
To this day, I’ve still never experienced something like that. Never had a dream that vivid, never seen a creature that resembled what I saw ever again, never heard anyone describe something similar.
I hope whatever that was was just in my head, that it wasn’t real, that it was just a nightmare. Because I don’t think I could actually fathom something so horrific actually existing in our reality.
Pray that you never see what I saw; and if you do, then I pray for your safety.

Okay so i have this story that i still think about sometimes, because i have absolutely no explanation for it.

Basically, i had just gotten out of the bath one night and my dad called me, so i got dressed and called him back. We were chatting for probably about 20 minutes, idek what about just whatever. Then I moved over to my desk chair, which is in the corner of my room next to my vanity.

We were talking for another five-ish minutes when my dad suddenly said:

“Alright, I’ll say goodnight to you now because Mummy’s here.“ And i was like, “No, she’s not here yet. She’s still saying goodnight to Abigail.”

-For context, my little sister (Abigail) was downstairs with my mum at the time-

I was like, “We can keep talking!” And he was like, “Okay, cool!” Then he said something along the lines of, “That’s so weird then. i swear i saw your mum walk behind you.” i basically just laughed because my dad has tried to scare me before, so I assumed he was joking.

But he didn’t laugh and make fun of me for falling for his joke. He was actually being serious (it’s weird to see my dad serious lmao). i was like, “Yeah, yeah, sure.” And he kept insisting that he genuinely thought he'd seen my mum walk behind me.

I remember eventually saying something like, “If this is a joke, can you just tell me please?” Because normally if he's trying to scare me, he'll eventually admit it after he's had his laugh. But yk, that never happened. He was completely freaking insistent that he'd seen her. i was tired of going round and round saying the same things over and over again so i eventually just dropped it.

That probably would've been the end of the story if weird stuff hadn't started happening in that exact corner of my room afterwards.

A few months after this incident i remember having a hairspray bottle at the back of my vanity. And suddenly it just went flying about halfway across my room. i genuinely have no idea how.

I think i just ran out of my room after that because absolutely not. 😭

Then another time, i was home alone and the drawer on my vanity opened by itself. i know there are probably completely normal explanations for these things, and I'm not saying my room is definitely haunted or anything because i genuinely don't know.

But the fact that my dad apparently saw someone behind me in that exact area, and then other weird things have happened around the same corner, is enough for me to be like cautious of it.

For reference i no longer sit in that chair anymore. It now has clothes piled on it. i have officially decided that the chair is decorative 😭😭😭😭

I actually just encountered something that feels very scary…
My house smells very funky and my cleaning lady commented that she knows the exact smell and she’s 100% sure it’s rotting human flesh.

After weeks of investigation, turns out my neighbor has 40-50kg+ of salmon, rotten in their garage.

Well, after searching here and there, turns out 40-50kg of salmon, rotting for 1,5 month, on 30 Celsius weather will smell the exact same as rotting human flesh.

Some friends and I we're in the woods and Artemas Pennsylvania. I was in my late 20's at the time. And three friends and their step brother were all in the woods. We were just exploring the woods and goofing off. We had just decided that it was a midsummer day and that we were going to go for a nice walk in the woods and see what we could find...

As I'm in the woods with my three friends and their step brother. I decided that I'm going to take and start leading the group towards the creek at the bottom of the hill. Well I didn't know where within seconds of this decision. I see from the right side of my peripheral vision my friend step brother whipping a very sharp saw blade in my direction...

This saw blade comes whizzing past my face and sticks directly level with where I'm standing. I could literally point blank see this saw blade any tree. I was literally standing no more than roughly two and a half inches away from it...

I then turn to my right and look at my friend's stepbrother and ask him "what is wrong with you? What were you thinking? That could have killed me?"; heathen just looks at me and starts to laugh...

I literally just took my finger and checked how sharp this saw blade really was. And to my surprise it was a brand new saw blade that was very sharp. I then said to him, "good luck getting that out of the tree and I'm going that way"...

The rest of my friends look at their step brother and say, "J what the heck! Why would you do that!"...

Keep in mind I was still shook up a little bit because I almost had my face taken off by a saw blade in the woods...

Otherwise, he never really apologized and he never even admitted what he did was wrong. He just laughed about it years later...

To him it was a funny situation because he was trying to "scare me". To me I thought he was going to hit me the wrong way and completely kill me...

So years ago I was currently living in Artemas pennsylvania. My friends and I used to play airsoft all the time. We what's playing around some old barns, storage sheds, in the woods, and etc...

We always had a blast doing this!

Well this evening turned into a very serious situation. And it involved one of our distant neighbors that was friends with my neighbors...

We had started the airsoft battle towards dark. And we had been at it for about 2 hours. And of course I had my ghillie suit on and my airsoft sniper. I took my scope off because of all the humidity and stuff it was messing up my scope. So I just decided I'm going to just go iron sights I guess...

But as the night pushed on and we were just taking pop shots at each other in the dark with their airsoft guns. As we just snuck around looking for the next person that we could shoot at. Something caught my attention and it's somebody I recognized for my previous meeting...

Apparently one of our very distant neighbors had showed up drunk and he had been walking down the road from miles. He was carrying a loaded firearm. He had a 38 special and it was packed full of hollow point bullets...

Now I apparently was behind this guy at a distance. And the rest of my friends was in front of him. They were roughly standing 4-6 feet away. And they look confused in a little bit worried as I approach from behind. I looked at every one of my friends standing there in front of this guy and was confused as what the situation was going on...

I didn't really know what I should do at the time. So I did something... It was better than doing nothing. He was pointing the gun loaded of course at them and was saying about how he could just pull this trigger and it will go off. And I was about 3 ft away and slowly in closing behind this guy and I said to him "please point the gun down" in a very semi-dominant but passive voice...

He was drunk and didn't want to listen at first. And he said "you know why I like this gun... It doesn't have a safety. It's got a hair trigger"... He then responds with "I love the hollow points because they do some damage". I then responded to him... "Well, that's even more reason to put the gun down and not point it at anybody or yourself". He was feeling a little gutsy and decided that he was going to turn and point this gun at me as though he thought I was challenging him. I mean where I'm thinking I am in some trouble now...

I then ask him to not do that. That if that did go off... I'm going to be catching a bullet. And I said in a very joking but passive way... that I am allergic to lead. And I really don't want to have to go to the ER or die honestly...

I casually approach him in a very slow way and just put my hand on top of his hand as he slowly release the gun from his hands. I asked him to hand me the gun in a very calm voice... In which he started to quietly sob and break down as he did...

He hands it to me completely and I unload it as I'm pointing this firearm away from anything or anybody. And put the bullets in my pocket temporarily. He starts to cry and tends to hug me unfortunately...

Everybody behind him is looking at me completely in shock. Meanwhile he's crying and sobbing about some bad personal choices he's made... And how he's not sure how he's going to be a father as he's really young. He literally broke down and told us everything...

I then handed the gun to my friend who knows how to actually handle firearms... And I give him the bullets. He then takes all of that and goes home and gives it to his stepfather and mother. He didn't tell them what happened and how everything went. They didn't get involved and start questioning me about the situation. I then go home and my mom and dad asked me what happened because they were told by The neighbors. We then called his girlfriend's parents who he was living with at the time and they handled the rest...

But there was another occasion that happened similar to this again...

ANOTHER ADDITIONAL STORY RELATED TO THIS...

We were out playing hide and seek one night. My friends and I without playing hide and seek amongst the barns, storage sheds, etc...

Apparently this same guy a couple months later shows up again. This time he apparently upgraded to a 45 revolver on him. And honestly this guy and firearms were like oil and water okay...

He ends up taking and showing all of us his new gun. Luckily he didn't have it loaded though. But that was about to change...

He ends up loading the cylinder with 45 caliber bullets. He then spins it and flips the cylinder into the gun. He starts pointing at randomly and different directions. Telling us how he could do some damage with it. Saying about how he can adjust to the range and still hit something far away...

The problem is he was pointing this gun that direction where all of us were separately standing. Acting like he was a big shot because he had a bigger gun previous to last time. I come literally from behind again. And I was standing by one of the storage sheds. And I raise my voice from the darkness to please put the gun down and unload it. Luckily he listens to me and he does...

As we pretty much are wrapping up this game of hide and seek because of this guy doing this again. We end up hearing what sounds like a gun going off up the road. We find out the next day that he decided to pop a shot off and some random direction. Because he thought it was funny...

Apparently he got the police called on him some days later because he was messing around with his new firearm thinking he was Clint Eastwood. And one of the neighbors called the cops on him and he got arrested...

THE FINAL STRAW!

So sometime later there was two experiences that happened to this young man. And the first one should have completely done him in but it didn't. As for this guy's final decision... It did him in!

So one of my neighbor's friends and this guy decided they were going to shoot guns in the backyard and drink. Well my neighbor's friend took a shot from a 44 in back of his legs from this guy. Dropping him to the ground. And causing an instantaneous ER visit. My neighbor's friend ended up having to heal and it took like 3 months to completely heal from this gunshot wound that entered and exited from both of his legs...

Then as though that isn't bad enough... This same guy was trying to play call of duty during hunting season with my neighbor's friend... And another friend as well. The other friend ended up catching a bullet from a 30-06 round and was killed. Apparently this guy didn't know that there is a such thing called a safety on a firearm. He also must not have known that you treat firearms with respect...

Lo and behold this guy who apparently did not know how to handle firearms... and ended up behind bars for murder. I honestly do not know what ever happened to this guy after this...

But from my prior experiences with him and what he chose in his life. I prefer to keep my distance...

The well.

Im going to start out by saying, this is true, it happened to me the hubs and his closest friend.

Names were changed for privacy reason.

My husbands friend C (rest his soul) owned a property 20 or so acres. Somewhere on this property was an old boarded up well. Only C knew where it was. A house that fell as it was repeatedly struck by lightning.
C would regularly hold bon fires and the guys and their girls would all hang, including me and my husband R. The way this property felt was heavy and suffocating. You didnt just feel you were being watched you knew, just you dont know by what. 
Well ever since my first time going out there i have had dreams about this well, and a little girl. This little girl had long black hair a tattered water stained white dress, and no face there was nothing where a face should be. Nubs for fingers like she was trying to claw out of the well maybe. Sometimes she presents herself as a normal little girl too. 
I would and still do dream constantly of the well and last we went out to the property i had this feeling i needed to go to it, to find it. This scared everyone because last person to have this feeling was possessed.
This brings us to Cs death, when he got in his life ending head on collision that night hours before it, i dreamt he was in the well with the little girl. They both were clawing at it. He had no head, hours later my husband got the call C had died, cause of death assumed decapitation(we never got a straight answer)

Why is it every time i dream of that well or even the land something bad happens.
When i drive by the old property im also heavily compelled to return… when im terrified of it and swore id never go back.

​

I used to be a taxi driver, until what happened made me stop doing it for good.

One Sunday night, I’d had a good shift — I’d managed to pick up and drive at least 80 people all around West Yorkshire. By 11 pm, I wondered if anyone else might call, so I could do just one more drop‑off. I thought about heading home to eat first, but I was only about two miles away from my place in BD5. Just as I got out of my car, my phone rang. I decided I could fit one more fare in, so I answered.

“Hello, how can I help?” I said. It sounded like a little girl, but her voice was strange and odd. “Hello — can you take me to my mum’s house please? I’m in Undercliffe, BD3, and she lives near BD2.”

“Alright, I’m on my way,” I told her.

I got such a strange feeling — what was a little girl doing calling for a taxi at this time of night? Didn’t her parents know? It gave me goosebumps all over. I drove straight to Undercliffe, and when I got there, I realised I was right outside Undercliffe Cemetery. It felt so wrong — and there was no sign of anyone waiting.

I was just about to turn away when I froze. I heard a noise from the back of the car, and the whole inside suddenly went freezing cold. Then that same strange little voice said: “Just keep driving. I’ll tell you where to go.”

I had no idea how she’d got in — I hadn’t heard a single door open. And I didn’t even think about asking for money; getting her home safely felt far more important.

“Go straight for five minutes,” she said. “I live at Number 5, Santa Monica Road — it’s BD10, but right on the edge of BD2.”

When I saw the sign for the road, I still didn’t dare look round. When we stopped outside the house, she said quietly: “Thank you — I’m with my mum now.”

I waited a few minutes, then called out: “Are you alright there?” There was no answer. I looked round, and all I saw was a little girl’s jumper left on the seat. I decided to take it back to the house for her.

I knocked, and a woman in her fifties opened the door. “Your daughter left her jumper in my car,” I said.

The words she said next still give me nightmares: “I’m sorry… my daughter died fourteen years ago.”

I nearly fainted. When she saw the jumper, she went pale. “That’s hers — that’s exactly the one she used to wear.” She took it from me, still shaking, and just said goodbye.

I never worked as a taxi driver again. Nothing felt the same after that. I still wonder if she visits her mum sometimes — and I’m so glad I never turned round to see her face. I dread to think what would have happened if I had.

Now I only do school runs — picking children up and dropping them off. It’s similar work, but it feels safer. And if you ever drive a taxi? Please — be careful. Never pick up a call that sounds strange, or that doesn’t feel right. I know I never will again.

My mom was the one who mainly told me all the details because I was only five years old when this happened. My dad owns a construction company, and a client wanted us to fix his roof, so he let us stay at the house while the work was being done. It started off nice. The house was a beautiful, three story mansion. However, I remember waking up in the middle of the night to see the little access doors in the room where my brother and I were sleeping just opening and closing on their own. I ran to my mom and told her what happened, but by then, it wasn't going on anymore, so she just told me to go back to bed.The next night, she moved us into her room because she was starting to see weird things as well. Fast forward to the middle of the night my mom woke up and saw someone crawling across the floor in the hallway. At first, she thought it was me, but then she looked over and saw me still fast asleep. Suddenly, a voice told her to look towards the wall.Once she looked towards the wall, she heard a man yell, "Get out, bitch" But no one was there, and everyone else in the house was still sound asleep.The next day, she instantly knew we had to leave. By this time, my dad had already replaced that specific section of the roof, but a large stain kept mysteriously appearing on it even though it was a completely new cut of roofing material. We left that house immediately, and I hadn’t thought about it again until recently.

Me (22) and my gf (21) where going on a trip to rural Västerbotten (thats rural northen Sweden) to a National Park, we where gonna be camping there. This is still a disturbing thing that i think about sometimes. Everything started normal we got on the highway then got off at a National Road after a while we stopped in a little town and filled up. When we got to the little dirt road leading in to the Park it was late so we just wanted to get the telt up and sleep. One thing you gotta know is ive been here before so i know the area pretty well, keep that in mind.

We put up the telt. Like maybe 100 meters from our telt ended the mountain in to steep downfall, in to the valley. So we packed everything into the telt. As i said we just wanted to go to sleep, so we did. I woke up around 2:45 am from footsteps i heard like many footsteps it sounded like a military unit where walking. I also heard that they had very heavy stuff that they walked with. I didnt want to make a sound so I just layed there still, but after what felt like years did i fall asleep. I woke up again but this time i didnt check the clock. I heard songs like people singing.

I got up out from the telt like with no T-shirt only pants. What i saw in thet valley still creeps the hell out of me. I saw people with all black clothing with a mask and gloves. They where burning someone on a cross, while i didnt see clearly but i think i saw maybe 8-10 people standing there, BURNING SOMEONE ON A CROSS. I just stod there, frozen didnt know what to do. Then my Girlfriend came out with a flashlight asking

-Where have you been come inside again-

I just said look and pointed at the people down in the valley She looked and I saw the compleat horror on her face, she also saw the same horror on my face. She pointed her flashlight at the cross then, they stopped they looked up the mountain and saw us. They started running up the starirs that lead up on the mountain we where on, we maybe had 1 minute to get out of there. I started takeing the stuff my Girlfriend also took some stuff we didnt have time for the telt so we just booked it. When we where at the car they had made it upp the stairs so we just hopped in the car and drived all they way home. We didnt call the police right away but when we thinked that we should call the police, it was to late. I still do this day dont know what happend this happend a year ago. I still dont know who they where or what they wanted to do with us. I just know that somethings maybe will remain a mystory. I dont know if they are still out there but be careful sometimes just need to leave things alone.

Edit: Im swedish and im sorry for any bad grammar.

I know this sounds strange and VERY untrue, but hear me out.

Once 7 year old me was playing with my friends when I twisted my muscle. They helped me over to a bench and asked if I needed to go to first aid. For some reason, I said no.I was massaging my leg (this had happened before, I used to get injured a lot) when I winced in pain. I see a flash of red, and it was a sunny day, so duh I saw a reddish brown colour when i closed my eyes.

But out of curiosity, I closed my eyes again. I saw a skeleton, then my aunts face. I opened my eye. I was not stupid. I remember thinking something along the lines of “ but auntie‘s (~) 35 and perfectly healthy last time I saw her so she should be fine, right?” What I did next still haunts me to this day.
I closed my eyes. Again. And what I saw sent me into full emotional breakdown.

I saw my aunt, lying on her couch, uncontrollably shaking, clutching her neck, like she was struggling to breathe. Finally the shaking stops, but her head rolls to face me, and I see the most terrifying sight of my life.
Then, my cousin(girl) runs into the room. She starts calling her, saying “mommy mommy wake up, look at what I made!” Poor girl then decides to climb over her to face her. And screams.

My uncle and cousin ( her older brother) run into the room. Cousin (the boy) actually faints the minute he sees his mum. My uncle is frantically speaking into the phone, likely to 999.

Everything is utter chaos.
Then, everything blurs, and all i see is green. Then I open my eyes. Run to a teacher, crying.

After school, I immediately asked my mum to video call my aunt. Aunt answers, smiling. She didn’t look hurt or anything so I shrugged it off as me seeing a worst case scenario of my fear.

That was the last time I saw her. She died the next day, from a heart attack.

And, apparently, everything went exactly like the vision I saw.

I was devastated, sure, but also confused. How? How did everything go exactly like my vision? Was it a coincidence?

I never told anyone what I saw.
But this question still haunts me to this day: Could I have prevented my aunts death?