Creeper during a storm

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I’ll start by giving a bit of backstory on myself and the situation. I’m a 25 year old female and live with a housemate in Melbourne in Victoria Australia.

This incident is a true story that is only a single incident from a series of incidents that has been occurring since May 2018 but I chose to share the scariest incident that has happened so far as to tell the full story would be a pretty long story.

I was home alone one night in June 2018 as my housemate wasn’t due home until the next morning. Usually being home alone overnight wouldn’t phase me but with recent events receiving handwritten notes in my letterbox addressed to me that started out as just plain obsessed creepy stalker like but started to become more and more sinister combined with the fact a thunderstorm decided to roll in made me extremely anxious being home alone that night even with the dog inside with me.

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Shadow in the lightning

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I have always been intimidated by the strength of storms in place like Pennsylvania, New York, Kansas, and Texas. But, in some states, they’re especially nasty. During the 2015 hurricane season, I took a trip to Florida with 3 friends and decided to stay on the shore unless a hurricane was coming. There was a chance of rain, but I didn’t mind. I had no idea this would lead to one of the most terrifying nights of my life.

At 4 PM the day we arrived, I took a look out over the water and saw something that worried me. The horizon had as one of my friends described “angry” clouds. We also had a cold wind blowing around us, and the air was chilly, yet electrified. I said “Looks like we’re gonna get one of those pop-up storms. We better get inside.” We got inside the chalet we had rented and decided to just wait out the storm. Though I was nervous, I didn’t want to appear wimpy, so I acted like it was no big deal. One of my friends had brought a handheld radio, so we listened to the news. After a Severe T-Storm warning for where we were, we heard a report about an escaped convict from a prison somewhere in Orlando. We were in Miami, so I thought we were safe. 2 of my friends didn’t care, but my only female friend was clearly freaking out. Turns out she had a reason to.

At 8 PM, the storm was STILL going on. My friend who droves us to Florida took out his phone and showed me the radar. We were in a line that was moving from East to West. With all the red, orange, and yellow, it was clear that we weren’t getting off easy. As one moved away, another followed it. I happened to look out the window and saw a huge shape. At first I thought it was just shadows in shadows. The next flash of lightning illuminated something that I really wish it hadn’t. In the light I saw a scowling face in a hat and overcoat with a large build, and holding a steak knife. He was tapping on the window with that very same knife. One of my friends dove into the bedroom, then ran out with a pistol. My female friend the other both dived into the bathroom, but my other male friend overshot his jump, and hit his head on the sink, knocking him out. I was terrified, because I’m small, my female friend was freaked, one of my friends was out cold, and the other couldn’t keep his hand steady. I just took out my phone and called 911. I calmly explained what the problem was and when I looked back out the window, the man was gone. My friend put the pistol on the floor, then slapped me on the back while saying “Nice job, bud! You scared him off!” I was relieved and terrified. The next day, I saw someone in the hospital where my friend was being treated for his concussion. When I asked her what the blood-stained shirt was from, she told me some psycho with a steak knife had stabbed her. I later learned that the guy with the steak knife was the escaped convict and he had mental issues. I still wonder, if my friends hadn’t taken cover, if I hadn’t called 911, if my friend hadn’t brought a gun, what would have happened? Now, whenever a storm approaches, I always think about that man, his knife, and the terrifying night in Miami.

Rusting Lockers

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Rusting Lockers

Log date: March 5, 2030.

Urban exploration leads you to some strange places. I’ve been to many places: houses, offices, restaurants, amusement parks, factories, a freaking airport. All of them abandoned long, long ago. It’s a fun, enthralling job, if you can even call it that. It’s not really a profession, I guess. Still, it makes me good money. All of these places have a lot of metal to salvage (all of which I sell to metal-manufacturing companies), relics, and they make for footage that desperate cowardly college students would kill for (to brag about a fake expedition they took). What I’m saying is, I love my job as an urban explorer.

My name is Kla Youn. I am a Thailandish male, age 22, who learned English as a first language. Sure made growing up in Thailand quite difficult. That’s not important, though. What is important is my most recent urban exploration. My job requires a lot of traveling, so I pretty much live on planes and in airports. Having wealthy parents has its benefits. Hopefully they wouldn’t be too disappointed. Anyways, after investigating an abandoned restaurant in Ripon, England, I was underwhelmed. There were no relics, I couldn’t get any good footage, and there was an excruciating lack of metal to salvage. It was a waste. Not to mention, I booked a really fancy and hotel that night, so I pretty much flew to England and wasted money on said expensive hotel for nothing.

When I got to the hotel, I turned on TV, but just for some extra light. By default, it was on a news channel. I then proceeded to mute it, as I needed a minute to think. I entered a half-awake half-dazed state. I don’t know for how long I was like that, but I was clearly awake enough for my eye to catch something on the news channel: “Jones Middle-High officially shut down, as of March 5, 2030,” read the headline.

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The Simulacrum

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(To Darkness) Before reading, know that this is an updated version of a story I submitted back in June of 2018. The reason I have for making another post about this is because of recent events, more insight from my brother, and new theories I have about this entity. Thank you.

(The Story:)

It began a little over a year ago, I believe on December 21st of 2017. I was awoken by my little brother, who I’m going to call Carson for privacy, begging me to come down from my tufon bunk bed and help him because his legs were hurting for reasons that, at the time, we didn’t know. Before I go any further, know that outside my room is a short hallway connected to the garage and my restroom. This hallway connects the the kitchen, which connects to the living room and dining room, and both connect to the long hallway, where the rest of my family lives. Remember this layout, as it will become important later on. Although there was a little bit of light coming from outside, there wasn’t much, giving my room and the house a slightly unsettling atmosphere. I got out of bed to see what Carson’s problem was and help him. He was sitting on my tufon on the bottom bunk, facing my closet. When I got on the ladder, he turned around to see me, and the light drained from his face.

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The Old Man in the Trees

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I’ve heard it said that some people simply experience more strange events and occurrences than others. Almost like they’re a magnet to the supernatural. I, unfortunately, happen to be one of these people. So, naturally I have seen enough horrors for this lifetime and many more, I will try and recant them to you when I gather enough courage. But for the time being, I will leave you with this one encounter. One that still causes me to draw the blinds every time a storm rolls in…

I live in a small town in Alabama. It’s not to big and not to small, essentially the perfect size. The town was built along a river to allow steamboats and barges to pass through and deliver goods and such. My property is located along said river. It’s actually situated on the banks of a slough, it’s basically what a small, short off shoot of the main river is called. Having said that, a stones throw from my front yard is the slew and off to the left a bit is the main river. Across from my home and on the other side of the slough, lies the forest. My nearest neighbor is a good 15 minute drive up the dirt road, but a quicker 8 minutes by the water. All this to say, I’m pretty well isolated out here.

I was coming home from a trip out of town around dusk when I heard the first warnings of a storm. Through the radio, the weather man was warning others to cancel their plans and stay safe for the night, the usual stuff. I paid it very little attention and proceeded on home. I pulled onto my property just as the first drops of rain were hitting my windshield. I exited the vehicle and gazed out over the river at the dark grey clouds that were rolling in. I exhaled and walked onto my pier. I enjoy sitting outside under the shelter of my pier as a storm rages on. Don’t ask me why, but it’s some how peaceful to me. The lighting and thunder have never scared me, I simply brush it off. I pulled up a chair and sat down. Then began to fill my wooden pipe with tobacco, tamp it down, and light it.

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Skinwalker at my house!

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Just to give you some background my name is Logan and we just got out of School for summer break, and at the time I was only 17 years old and I’m a pretty big man who plays football. One night my parents decided that they would go out for a while for a week and I had the house to myself so I invited my friends over to spend the night and well played games and would play truth or dare. After a while my friend suggested that we should go outside and try to scare ourselves, and at the time it seemed like a good idea. So we grabbed flashlights and went out, and after a while my friends started hitting trees and scaring each other. After a while we stopped, and then we here a crack!
I asked my friends if it was one of them and they all looked at me as I heard my one of my friends say stop fucking around dude. I said what do you mean I’m not and we all looked around as we hear another crack and then a ear piercing scream. We all ran home. After we got outside I grabbed my shotgun thinking it was just a coyote, but I was just making sure that I was being safe. We heard my parents voice a few minutes later. Something didn’t feel right though there voice was a little demonic sounding like TV static and my parents voice saying “Logan dear were home we forgot something can you let us in, but at the time I was just gad to hear there voice. I said sure come in please, and as I said this I heard the doorknob turn and then someone enter the house and go up the steps and when this happened I smelt something like a dead person rotting in the house it was so bad that me and my friends all gagged and almost puked.
As I saw this creatures head I shot and I did nothing as the thing didn’t even flinch we all realized that the only way out was the window that was about 10 foot high. As we all started to try the window we heard a blood curling scream as that creature came rushing towards the room my friend rushed to the door and slammed the door he said go without me, I couldn’t look back as I jumped out after my friends I hurt my leg really bad but I guess I was to scared to pay attention. I heard my friends scream coming from the house and a horrid ripping sound and tearing flesh I felt my face start to tear up while ewe rushed to our neighbors house. When we got there we called the police and when they got there they had found my friend dead and ripped apart and much more and they said they couldn’t find anything else after this night I never stay home without someone else and never unarmed. I did some research on what I saw and I think it was a skinwalker.

The Ticking House

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This is a very recent story from a couple weeks ago. My cousin Dallas and I, live in a small
town, and on weekends, we like to go to our uncles house and stay a night or two. Our uncle lives next to where our grandma used to live, and for some strange reason we are always attracted to the house so we go over there at least once when we stay at our uncles. The house is kinda creepy cause it’s an old trailer house with a couple busted windows and if you look in the house, all our grandmas stuff is still scattered about, which looks like she just disappeared one day, it’s creepier if you don’t know that she just decided to leave and live with my cousin and only took a few belongings with her. Like I said, we were attracted to the house so we went inside and started talking about how it was kinda creepy cause all the lights were out and it was kinda chilly, seems like a set up for a horror movie. While we were talking I heard a strange noise and I told Dallas to be quiet for a minute. We both stood in silence and heard a faint tick, tick, tick, like a clock ticking, down the hallway. We were in the living room, and when you look past the kitchen, you can see a door on the left, and then a door in front of a short hallway, which then turns right to a slightly longer hallway, which we couldn’t see down, which was exactly where the ticking was coming from.

We are very superstitious people because we have had a few paranormal encounters before so our immediate thought was a skinwalker trying to lure us in with the ticking. Dallas looked at me and said that there had never been a clock in the house that would tick like that, and he didn’t know where the sound was coming from.I grabbed a stick outside and slowly crept down the hall and poked my head around the corner and saw nothing, so I started kicking open doors. I started with the one on the left, which led to the bathroom and luckily there was nothing in there so I moved on, I opened the door and before I looked in, we heard what sounded like something walking across the plastic stuff that had been covering the busted window but has since been ripped off and laid on the floor. We ran in and looked out the window but saw nothing. D said that if it really was a skinwalker, maybe it turned into something to run off quickly. I told him I sure hope so and suggested we go back to our uncles and not risk running into the skinwalker if it decided to come back for us.

We later told our aunt but she didn’t believe us, none of our older family members ever believe us, which I don’t blame them cause I don’t want to believe half the stuff I see or hear. Dallas and I went back to our grandmas the next day and the ticking sound was gone, we don’t know what made the noise, and we don’t want to meet it. It can go make noises somewhere else and away from us.

listen to the wise

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A young man kicks an old half deflated football around the well-manicured lawn of his grandparents’ country estate. Yuma had asked to come stay with them over the summer holidays because as a small child he was never invited to stay, neither did they make any effort to visit him. The only contact he had ever had from his estranged relatives was through cards at birthdays or Christmas with polaroids of them and the beautiful views of the forest from their house. To his youthful eyes, the acres of trees which stretched in every direction looked like a playground ready to be explored. However he had always been told that it was “a dangerous area” for a such a little boy like him. Finally, at the age of 16, he had convinced his mother to let him drive up to his eccentric, native-american, hippie grandparents’ estate in rural Utah to surprise them. Yuma not only wanted to finally speak to his grandparents face-to-face for the very first time, but he was also keen to learn more about his heritage and they were the only ones in the family left that grew up following native-american traditions. Once his mother was born, they moved into a modern house and slowly drifted away from their roots. As soon as Yuma’s mother had gathered enough money from working odd-jobs in the nearby village, at aged 17 she moved away all by herself to California. This caused her parents much heartbreak and soon communication between them ceased. It was only when Yuma was born they began to send each other the birthday or christmas card. Despite being pleased the family was finally coming together again, she was hesitant to let him go alone, her excuse was that it was easy to get lost on the road up the hill through the woods but after much persuasion she caved and let him set out on his long-awaited adventure.

Once he managed to navigate the never-ending, winding dirt tracks, that his poor 1967 Morris Minor convertible was definitely not designed for, Yuma finally caught sight of the house. To say it politely he was very disappointed. He had severely underestimated just how off-grid the place was and as he stood in front of the dilapidated mansion, he took in the spectacle that was the once white crumbling stone walls. A woman that looked to be in her late seventies came racing around the corner of the building with a hunting rifle pointing straight at him. He recognised her as his grandma, Enola.

“Who in the hell are you and what are you doin’ on my property?!” She shrieked. Once he explained she lowered the gun and took a closer look at his face, she apologised for her rude welcome, saying something about how there is bad things out here on the mountain. He noticed her word choice of things rather than people, he thought that was strange. She hugged him tightly and ushered him inside, shouting on her husband to come downstairs. She smelled of lavender and pine and home baking. Once inside the house the boy felt safer but there was still something off about it. A thick layer of dust coated every surface and there was a strong scent of mold which tarnished the torn floral wallpaper. The house didn’t look lived in at all. Half of the windows had been boarded up, his grandmother explained that some kids from the local farm like to throw stones and that they even had the cheek to return to spray paint their names onto the chipboard like an artist signing their work.

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The Woods

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It was a rainy cold day, and as unusual as it may seem, my favorite kind of weather.  As usual my little brother had all of his friends over, so seeking for refuge I went to a nearby school that had woods in the back.  Upon arrival I could see the could of fog engulfing the woods.

Keep in mind that this was a very small forest, taking little under a minute to run through.  Furthermore the forest consisted of a swamp area, a small portion of paved forest, a very dark compressed part, and a large T shaped field.  This story takes place in the swamp and paved forest.

As I walked through the woods, instilled with curiosity of how dense the fog was, when I saw something in the dark compressed portion of the forest.

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A Haunting in San Antonio

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I first went to the Chinese Graveyard in 1980 at midnight on a dare as a teenager.

My friend had an “occult book” and strange candle.  I thought, what the heck, I’m bored. We entered at midnight, he lit the candle, said a few words and a weird wind blew past us….then nothing.

I was not impressed.

I began to explore with my cigarette lighter alone looking at the graves and it became foggy. I thought “that’s weird.”  Then, I said sarcastically “Oh great spirit, if you exist, make your presence known.”

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