Something’s in the Bathroom

I’ve always been a believer of the supernatural and have always wanted to encounter someone or something; but for my first experience, it wasn’t what I had expected.

It had happened back in 2013 to be exact, during summer vacation.

I was busily doing my daily chores before my mother had come home and my little brother was playing his game as usual in the living room. I live in an apartment with my two brothers and one sister, along with my mother. During this occurrence, my older sister wasn’t home and my older brother had been sleeping. It was around 2 p.m. getting closer to 3 during the day. I hadn’t believed that such a terrifying event could happen during the day.

As I was picking up my little brother’s toys and going to put them back in our room, I heard a strange knocking sound. My room is connected to the dining room, which is connected to a short hall where the bathroom branches off of that leads towards the kitchen.

I froze in place with the toys still in my hands unsure of where the knocking was coming from.

I stood frozen for a couple of minutes, looking back at the bathroom door that was slightly open but the light was off and my bedroom that was widely open with sunlight shining through my window, filling up the whole room. As I drew nearer to the middle between both rooms, the knocking grew louder.

I gasped, and dropped the toys and decided to run to my little brother and sit on the couch. Then suddenly a knock came on my front door. I jumped and hurried to answer it, frightened.

I opened the door only for it to reveal my older brother’s best friend Kyle. He had asked “Lissa, is your brother awake by any chance?”. I had replied “no” and he said, “Will you tell him I stopped by?”. I nodded, and just as he was turning around to leave I had asked him, “Kyle, could you possibly come inside and check out this weird noise I’ve been hearing? It’s really freaking me out”. He gladly stepped inside and as we drew nearer by my room and bathroom, we stood still and listened.

After a few more times of hearing the knocking, Kyle had came to the conclusion that it was indeed the bathroom.

He had seemed a little shaken up by it, but was determined to find out what it was. We were right by the slightly opened bathroom door now, and the knocking grew louder, as if whoever or whatever knew we we coming in.

I was able to figure out a pattern as the knocks soon turned into ferocious bangs against the shower wall. The bangs came in threes and were faster as we entered the dark bathroom.

Kyle then flicked the light switch on and yanked the shower curtain open and it had completely stopped. Both of us were freaked out. I had thanked him and he bolted out of the apartment.

I never again heard the knocks, but still feel as if there is a strange presence in the bathroom to this day.

It tried to drag me under

So, my sister, who i’ll just call storm for this story, and I were getting ready for bed and were about to turn on the t.v. but decided to sit down and talk.

I can’t remember what we were talking about but then we got too tired and shut off the lights, she had a lamp right next to her bed, and that’ll be important for later.

Storm was almost asleep when I thought I saw a shadowy figure walking around in front of the door.

The bed is catty-corner to the foot of the bed. It started to walk in front of the bed, then around to side I was on. I kicked Storm lightly to get her up, when that didn’t work I called to her. “Storm…Storm…there’s something here.”

She almost flew all the way up and I had to put my foot on her chest to stop her. “What..” She barely even made the words out. She looked over and saw it then hid her head under the blanket. I didn’t have the blanket at all so I was just laying in the bed, with nothing over me. “Teia, come on, get under the blanket.” I heard her, but showed no sign of it. I was too scared too move.

The figure was standing right above me by then.

My eyes starting getting bigger as it leaned in closer, I heard it whisper something. I can’t remember now, but I think it said “get out” In a dark whispery voice, then just slid under the bed. I went to get out of bed to get out of the room, and just as one of my feet hit the ground something wrapped around my ankle and pulled me.

It seemed like it was trying to drag me under the bed. The bed frame itself is metal, so it started to feel cold and hurt. It was tugging so hard, it was like my dad doing it, but with ten men behind him. Storm starting calling out to our parents, but they never came.

It kept pulling until I felt a warm trickle down my calf.

My leg was bleeding, it let go and I curled up on the bed holding cut. We sat there what felt like hours when our parents came in to call us for a late dinner.

We never told them about what happened, and when they saw the cut I said it was glass, which would make sense since earlier that day my brother broke a cup.

I still have that scar, even a year later, it looks as if it happened yesterday.

Our room is still haunted, we here banging on the walls, and in them. And every night we here something being dragged across the roof. A little bunny that storm has will talk if you push on it, we keep it in the closet and sometimes it will randomly turn on. We want to get out of this room, and luckily we’re moving soon.

So hopefully we’ll be rid of it soon enough.

Jogging Encounter

I live in Australia, a country I consider to be rigorous with their physical education programs, mine being no exception. Attending a Catholic high school, the faculty thought that combining charitable Christian values with exercise would be an engaging and exciting 2 for 1: raising money for local issues and keeping all the young women who attended this school fit.

This event occurred annually and was dubbed the “run-a-thon” even though most people jogged or walked. (Some even organised boyfriends or girlfriends to pick them up on parts of the route that weren’t supervised). Parents and friends would sponsor each girl for the activity, usually forking over 50 to 100 dollars. It lasted the entirety of the school day and stretched from one side of my country town back to my school, all in all about 25/30 kilometres.

The reason I’m telling this story is because from year 7 to year 11 the reservoir trail route was the one the school used, and one that many friends and relations had used during their own years there. It was shifted for my grade 12 year because of the following events:

The run-a-thon was an activity that for some godforsaken reason was, for the most part, unsupervised. The route started in the middle of the bush, before winding through local streets, finally hitting the centre of the town and therefore the school. Approximately 2 teachers were supervising arguably most dangerous section, the bush. What would take place as a cautionary measure instead of more teachers, was that the year 12’s who were accustomed to the route would start running first, year 7’s trailing behind, 8 through to 10 behind that. The year 11’s were put at the back to supervise and make sure no one was left behind.

What made the run difficult was the additional “fun” bonus of a costume. Each year the run-a-thon had a different theme and being a sort of crazy school, most girls went all in, which didn’t lend itself to practicality during the run. This particular Run-a-thon I was in year 11. My friends and I were at the very back because we were on the athletics team and were the most likely to make up lost time after herding the stragglers.

Now halfway through the bush section of the route is a tunnel that we had to go through. It’s traditionally kept pitch black to add some excitement, and this time was no exception. Somewhere in the tunnel it forks into two routes. Our school took the one on the left that led back into town, the other one led further into bush area. One of the two supervising teachers would stand there as to prevent girls from taking the wrong tunnel but seeing as though we were at the very back with some distance between us and the previous group the teacher must have assumed that no-one else was to come and left.

By the time we got in the tunnel it was completely silent, besides the 10 pairs of footsteps that were my group. Around the time we went to exit the tunnel we heard voices echoing loudly from behind. Half of my group, scared out of their wits began to run off, the rest of us taunting them as they refused to return, informing us they would see us back at school. Suddenly out of the dark comes a little group of year 7’s. Maybe 3 or 4, all hysterical, with blotchy faces and muddy knees. Concerned we sit them down and ask what’s wrong.

They informed us that they must have taken the wrong turn, which my friend Dinah tried to call BS on, only to be shushed by the group for scaring the girls more. They then admitted to sneaking through the other tunnel as the teacher was distractedly talking to some of the girls she knew.

Now this was no big deal, it happened every year. It was a rite of passage type of thing. One or two groups of girls in each year level would be known for pulling it off. What this group decided to do was take it too far and continue down into the bush. As it had been raining that day, sometime during their little adventure a few of the girls slipped off the side of the small hill and after a panicky rescue forgot about one of them. They realised this another 2 minutes down the track, rushing to go back and get her, only for her not to be found. As our high school had a no phone policy, these girls naively didn’t carry theirs, still too young to realise that there were no real consequences to carrying it during school. They asked us to call triple zero for them, but we stupidly remained unconvinced.

Rolling our eyes, we headed back through the tunnel and to the last place the girls had seen their friend, sure that in their hysterics they missed her somewhere. It was about 5 minutes later when she truly was nowhere to be seen my group panicked.

Dinah looked at me with concern, and called her girlfriend, who attended a neighbouring school to come and drive her and the year 7’s, who she would take to the teachers and make explain the situation. As we didn’t have the phone numbers of any teachers this seemed like the next best thing to do. In hindsight this wasn’t but you know what they say about hindsight…

Another friend Isla dialled triple zero requesting police and ran to wait at the entrance of the tunnel to guide them to us. This left me and two of my other friends in the spot that the girl, Sophie, (we would find out her name later), went missing.

Now one of the scariest things about the bush is just how loud it gets, crickets, cicadas all vocalising in a disturbing cacophony. Seeing as this was mid-afternoon, such sounds were in full effect. Until they weren’t.

Somewhere in the distance, the three of us heard the most high pitched, desperate scream that only an adolescent female could produce. Confident that this was Sophie, we shouted back asking where she was. Only to be met with the most eerie silence, a short rustling, and finally the crescendo of insects once more. We didn’t hear the call again and were thoroughly shaken. Knowing we had to stay put for the sake of Sophie was the only thing that kept us there. Upon reflection all three of us confessed to feeling sick to the core and hyperaware after what seemed like 5 full minutes of this. The police arrived 10 minutes later.

We were asked to relay our information to the senior constable before being taken back to the cop cars. We couldn’t interfere with police proceedings, and instead were instructed to sit in the car while being questioned by some more members of the force. My phone was flashing with messages and missed calls as news started to spread of my involvement with this incident.

Eventually my father came to collect myself and the rest of my friends and being an ex-policeman, himself got some details from his friends that were still on the job:

It was about 3 in the afternoon when they found her, she was conscious, frightened and had a broken leg. Sophie was rushed to hospital for her break and possible hypothermia.

Now we were glad she was safe, no longer frustrated by her friendship groups antics, but also curious as to what had happened. Her friends were right in that she slipped when the others did, but where they stopped, hitting rocks, she kept rolling and was hidden by some overgrown shrubbery. As her leg broke she lost consciousness and did not regain it until her friends had left.

My dad believes the next part of the police report was the delusions of a frightened and injured adolescent but it shakes me to my core.

She told the police that she woke to the rustling of grass around her in pain and fear. After sensing that she could not move her leg she peered around to assess the situation. About 20 metres ahead of her she saw an animal but was unable to distinguish was it was. She thought it was a kangaroo because of its strange gait, but it almost seemed like it was uncomfortable walking the way it was, trying to shift between bi and quadrupedal. She screamed in fright with this realisation but passed out once more. This explained her not being able to hear us screaming for her.

The only thing that has me believing this, is the unnerving silence that I heard in the bush that day, almost as if the bush itself suddenly realised something unnatural was within it.

Now I am willing to believe that what she saw was simply a kangaroo, (country policeman are really something else when it comes to making up some crazy ass tales, even with the evidence right in front of them, and I have never actually talked to Sophie) but something in my gut tells me otherwise. I hope it’s wrong.

Ever since that year, the route was changed to one in town and is heavily supervised. I graduated a few years ago, (and Sophie has graduated as well) but my younger sister who attends the school now tells me that this incident is already a thing of legend, always brought up just before the run-a-thon when the younger year levels complain about not having the “cool old route.” The nature of a legend tends to lend itself to hyperbole, and my sister has reported back ridiculous tales ranging from monsters of aboriginal folklore to high junkies, trying to find their dens.

Whatever happened that day, it was enough for me, and the school to never take the risk of running that path again.

Don’t go jogging alone

I am seventeen years old. This story took place in my hometown, Arizona, last year around Christmas time. I live practically in the middle of nowhere; our house is surrounded my woods and great running trails. It was around 8 o-clock, and I decided to go out for my daily run. I’m on the track team at my high school and I usually run a couple miles a day to keep in shape. I usually run by myself or with my friend. However, this time it was alone. It was about a mile into my jog, and everything seemed perfectly normal. I decided to turn around because it was starting to get too dark. I had only jogged for about five minutes after turning around when I saw a short, dark figure in the distance. It wasn’t in the middle of the path, but more off into the side of the road. From what I could see, it looked a child. I walked up cautiously, and took out my can of pepper spray that I take with me for safety. When I got close enough to see the little girl, I noticed that her eyes were bloodshot. Her hair was an absolute mess, and her clothes were all ripped and torn. She had twigs and dirt all over her body. I asked if she was okay, but she just began mumbling under her breath. I couldn’t make out a single thing she said, but she repeated the same “phrase” over and over again. I backed away slowly and she reached out her hand and touched me. It gave me chills. I sprinted back home as fast as I could – too afraid to look back. When I got home, I couldn’t stop thinking if she was possessed or insane or just needed help. I never told anyone about my experience because I knew they wouldn’t believe me. My family are skeptics. All I know is I will never go jogging alone ever again.

The Man in All Black

I should probably start off by saying i’ve always been sensitive towards ghostly spirits. I could always feel their presence and at times their emotion. That being said I’ve had many encounters with spirits, good and bad, but i can only name one time I actually saw any of it. Now to this day, i have no idea what it could have been, because it seemed too real.

This event took place back at the end of 6th grade while i lived in Cambridgeshire, England. It was late at night and I remember waking up, and seeing a man dressed in all black with a hat that casted a shadow over most of his face. It terrified me at that time, because all i could see was this things creepy smile looking down at me from the end of my bed. He toward over me, almost reaching my bedroom ceiling. I remember then hiding under my covers, staying awake for hours because I knew he was still there.

I had went to school the next day, still remember that but honestly just thought it was some vivid nightmare. and went about my normal day at school.

that night, I woke up again to see the man, now a little bit closer to my bed. this followed through for seven nights, each night he would get closer and closer to the top of my bed, and each night I would just hide under my covers after seeing him. It had gotten so bad that I had finally told one of my close friends about these nightmares, which then she told my father.

You would think most parents would just laugh or say a child wild thoughts, right? Especially when it a parent who drills into your head that spirits, demons, ghosts and ghouls aren’t real. Instead he flipped out, telling me I should have told him as soon as these started, then I was moved out of my room to the guest bedroom. After that, I didn’t see the man in black with the terrifying smile for weeks.

I want to say that’s the end of this, but this is where it takes a weird turn. It must have been two weeks since I moved rooms and I woke up at midnight again to see a man standing at the foot of the bed. he was identical, if not for being in all white, except he didn’t scare me at all. It was almost calming to see him there. he still had that smile but it seemed less sinister, but thinking back to it it was was just as terrifying in my memories as the man in black’s smile was. I remember him trying to make a hush sound, but to was very faint and far away, and then I awoke the next day, with my window, which was part of the second story, wide open and news that my great grandmother had passed away.

To this day i have no clue who or what those two beings where, or if they had anything to do with my grandmothers death, but I have the slightest feeling it wasn’t. I also dread thinking about what could have happen if I had stayed another night in my bedroom and the man in black being right over my head.