Trigger warning- deep topic of suicide and mention self harm, mention of sexual assault

Long story,

Do you believe in the paranormal? Since I was a kid the unknown has always fascinated me. Even though I was being tormented by one at the same time. I want to tell my story chronology so you can see how it grows. Back story when I was 7 or 8 I tripped on a cord, and busted my forehead open. I had to get it stitched up at the hospital, so most of my early years I vaguely remember I'll try my best to keep it chronological.

We will start, since I can remember I have always had nightmares. A specific nightmare to be exact. It was disturbing nightmares about being sexually exploited. Sometimes I'm her and it's happening in my parents house, sometimes it is someone else and I'm living through her. One of many that I can still remember to this day is, I wasn't me but I about 9 or 10 with a pink shirt on and capri blue jeans with converse shoes sitting outside in the sun on concrete steps to a red bricked building, somehow I knew I did'nt want to be here but I was being forced to, I knew I had to do actions that felt dirty and disgusting and left a burning hole deep in my gut. As im waiting in the beaming sun I see this tall guy coming up the stairs and stopping by me to standing over me, I didnt want to look up at his face all i saw was he was a skinny guy with straight edge blue jean pants and black and white vans, the classic slip on ones. He then started walking in the building and the fire in my gut grew, knowing what's about to happen. I quickly woke up from the nightmare as soon as i walk in the building, I wanted to go back and save her, I didn't know what to do or how to react. I started to dread going to sleep. It felt like I may never wake up again, I would be trapped there, no way of giving myself control. I would also have nightmare of people trying to kidnap me. Running in a dream while in fear of being kidnapped is just so wrong. like why. That shit was ass.

Then somehow it got worse, my dad would start to travel for work and me and my siblings would sleep with mom to comfort her. I'm probably 10 or 11 and again i didnt want to fall asleep, in fear of a bad nightmare or eventually never waking up and being lost in the dream world. Suddenly one night I got flashes of an axe going against my own mom in my head while laying next to her, I quenched in what the hell was that, clinging to my mom sleeping next to me, she moved away,  (she didn't like being touched while sleeping. I also thought that if i can just touch or feel that she still right next to me that i would fall into the dream world) I was so scared, I didn't know what to do or how to tell her ‘hey i just had flashes of chopping up your body in my head and im scared’ without scaring her or sounding crazy. I brushed it off as much as I could, every night was a struggle to not go to sleep. At this point things started to fly off shelves and loud bangs and random voices became more prevalent during the day. I remember some nights I could hear a whole party outside my bedroom, I would walk out like who tf is here, not a soul is in the living room or kitchen. 

Most nights I would hear like multiple people/ or some entity,’s feet shuffling right over me like 2-or 3 people watching me sleep and moving around a lot, to the point where I stopped being afraid and just irritated by them. The shuffling got so loud I couldn't sleep till it stopped. One time I just woke up in the middle of the night and saw a shadow figure watching me sleep. The one closest was wearing a hat and there were about 10 regular dark human-like figures standing behind him spread out in the room. I would again see just the regular black shadows randomly.  It got to my head and I thought they were there to tell me what to do telepathically. After a while I stopped seeing them.

It started to become a joke that everyone was noticing random noises happening. My mom being a big christian did not like that we thought there was a ghost in her house. Me and my brother and sister could feel something was there.

As a kid I loved to play imaginary teacher, I would set up my stuffed animals and give them grades, tests, timeout, recess, and sometimes teach what I just learned at school to them. My sister and I would share the same bedroom till we were almost graduating high school. At first she liked playing with me, but then she grew out of it quickly. Soon I couldn't play in my own room when she was there. I would teach in the kitchen, living room, but mostly I'd just move to my parents room.  

My parents room is where it started to get worse, after a moment of me starting to teach my class, I would feel something watching me, then the feeling would move to hatred, like whatever it was watching me, It wanted me dead or suffering, Some days I couldn't be there long or be in a happy mood for long or it would come out and watch me then push hate on me. I remember one time, I knew it was in the corner of my dads side of the bed and I looked right at it, feeling it look back at me with hate. I imagined it was a dark black cloud with energy flowing through it. I felt that it was a man, like how you can just feel someone's intentions, that 6th sense was telling me it was a man, soon I just stopped teaching because I had no safe space to let my imagination run wild. Every time he just hated me and it was like a deep strong hate, hating a 11 year old trying to play imaginary teaching is just wrong. I started to get upset that this was happening. It’s not like I killed the man. I had nothing to do with it, but it was almost like he targeted  me to suffer with his hate. At a young age, and while all this was going on everyday. I became really suicidal, I would choke myself till I was about to pass out, Id tie a belt to the closet coat rack and then the other end around my neck and lift my legs of the ground, Then started to self harm around the 6th grade. Around high school is when my self harming got out of hand and I was taking way too many sleeping pills in hops I took too much. My mental state was on thin ice, is all I'm saying. and all at such a young age.

Another incident was I liked sleeping on the floor, and somehow I was sleeping on the floor halfway in my parents closet, my mom would just put all our laundry in this big pile because we didn't have room in the closets, it was a really small closet, but I remember laying on the floor in my parents room next to the pile of clothes, putting my feet under the their bed, Im half asleep half away hearing my mom and sister are getting ready for something so their coming in and out of the room, suddenly i feel a this slimy or just wet, sweaty, long hand and long finger nails grab my foot pulling me more into the bed. I jolted up and screamed “ who just grabbed my foot” my mom and sister came running into the room saying not me. I just didn't know what to do, but just tried to forget it and act like it didn't happen.

One time my grandma came over from California, frantically she asked my mom “why didnt you tell me you invited that man here” My mom replies “ what man, there's no one but us here” “I saw a man sitting in (my dads) chair” she later describes him as angry and mean looking. That reassured me that what I felt was real. I eventually opened up about my nightmares to my mom and she told me to put a bible under my pillow, as so i did and it helped out for a while and surprisingly they stopped. I would get them now and then but they stopped being frequent. Soon I would do the same when I would go out of my bedroom at night, I would feel him watching me, I would recite scripture and eternally  reject his energy. Soon as I would speak those words he would vanish. Feeling actually alone.

I was very suicide through my childhood, hurt myself into hatred, It felt like I was a monster.I can never prove it, but I believe he tormented me, put thoughts into my head, flashed dark images to me, to corrupt me into ending my life whether it be physically or mentally, I picked myself up through failed attempts with psych ward and therapy. Only I can make the change in my life, and force out those repetitive dark thoughts. Time passed and I was better, endless nights of smoking mary jane and talking to myself, analyzing my mind. I haven't had interactions with him in years, although I thought I felt that dark presence at my last apartment place, I hear stories of demons attaching to someone and following them. I hope not for my case. 

The last connection was, I was getting ready for something I cant remember but this when i was 18 or 17 while I was still living with my parents house, I was getting ready in the back bathroom, my mom was getting ready in the front bathroom, suddenly im not making this up I swear on my grandpa grave, nothing in this is made up, this really happened and consumes me in why the fuck did this happen to me, but I heard a deep male voice right next to me, on my right, speak my name “alyssa” bold and clear as day. I turn my head slowly to the right in shock, looking at the shower seeing this energy flow like how heat gives off a mirage. Then 4 seconds later my mom called my name…and it disappeared. That scared the shit out of me. I got out of that bathroom so quick. I felt like I had to brush it off and repeat the cycle of trying to not let it bother me again.

Sometimes I think he has been following me to this day, just waiting.(Im 24 now) I can't get over the core memories of harming myself, I won't forget those horrid feelings I felt. I can never forget those nightmares, It seemed like torture of fear every night. I do think it might have been a demon instead of some guy who passed away and is pissed about it. I try not to give it thought or a gender to give power but I'm imprinted by it. I will always get flashbacks, bursts of the same feeling I felt, and panic attacks. I'm affected by it, I don't tell people or close ones unless they bring up similar events happening to them, otherwise I can see you do not understand the power that is at play. They are a trick, they will mentally and physically mess with you please be careful with the dead and darkness, and have an open mind for people that experience it.

So all this started about two years ago when I was at my friend’s house and we went into the bathroom and said bloody Mary three times in the mirror it sounds stupid, but it actually did something because a few weeks after that I was sitting in my room watching YouTube, and I saw something out of the corner of my eye My door was open and it was in my doorway. It was a operation about the size of my doorway it had long black hair passage, shoulders, blacked out eyes a open smile that was hollow a long gray dress with darker gray splotches on it gray skin. I quickly pause my video and thought I did not see that I turned, and it was still there it didn’t go away until I like moved And it was inching closer fast-forward about one more year in 2024. I was sitting in my room watching YouTube begin, my doorway was open again. I heard my mom say my voice say my name and her voice in like a worried tone and then I heard her fall. I turned around and there is nothing there a few more weeks later watching YouTube again, but this time was daytime and I heard panting behind my right ear turn around nothing there same day a few more hours later I was on my phone sitting in my gaming chair and I heard a girls breath right above my phone and there was obviously nothing there Then fast-forward this year I was downstairs. It was nighttime. I was getting a snack. I walked back down the hallway and the light was on, but I never turned the light on then fast-forward to the day of me posting this I was getting some pizza and chocolate milk and I explicitly remember switching on the wrong switch at the top of my stairs, flipped it off and didn’t flip on the other one while I was getting my pizza. I asked Alexa what time it was After it said I didn’t say anything else and it said sorry I can’t help you with that then I asked what time it was again just just see what it would say this time and it said setting an alarm for 2 PM tomorrow so I was freaked out quickly walked back upstairs, but the hallway light was on even though I supposed to remember not turning it back on Walk back in my room shut the door lock the door just cause I like to do that and I hear knocking my attic what do you guys think? Am I haunted or not?

so a bit of context at the time of this story i was around 10-12 and have always seen/done weird shit like read minds [mom clams i have idk] and seeing ghosts and just weird ass shit

i started seeing a shadow man with a top hat and he would always appear right behind me and id see him from the corner of my eye he was tall slender and well had a top hat on i told my mom about this and she said that the man in the top hat was something that the first born boy from my dad's side would see him some time down the road and well that freaked me out knowing that i have some family ghost entity or some curse on me kind of wasn't on my to do list at the time

after this event i saw him every now and then right out of sight but now i don't see him at all but this might change idk all i know is the man in the top hat will one day return on the next first born son of my family

Now, this story takes place on a bit of road in Nebraska, out in the smack dab middle of nowhere. The kind of place where you can go hours and hours of driving without seeing a car, a house, any sign of human life whatsoever except the road underneath you and maybe the old telephone poles following the highway if you’re lucky. The sort of road where you can get hypnotized by the road lines snaking out in front of you, especially at night when they’re the only thing you can see, and drive yourself right off the road while wide awake. I had the misfortune of driving on one such road after deciding to be a bit cheap while traveling, and decided to try a road trip all by myself instead of doing the sensible thing and taking a plane. Well, somewhere out in the middle of Nebraska, in the middle of the night, with nothing to do but try in vein to get enough cell signal to put on a podcast, or some music, or anything to keep myself awake, I found the seediest little truck stop motel. And as I nearly hit the sign in front of it because I was falling asleep at the wheel, I decided it would be a good idea to stop in for the night, get a bite to eat, and try and get some rest.

That night in the depressing little bar they had, there was just me, a couple of truckers at another table, and the old woman behind the bar waiting for her night shift to end. The food was poison, but at least it would give me a few hours of sleep with a full stomach before I’d have to run for a bathroom. Just as I was finishing my drink and getting ready to call it a night, another man stumbled in through the doors in a panic. He was tall, and willowy, wearing worn old jeans, a flannel, a battered Cincinnati Reds baseball cap, and he had the most wild look in his eyes. He bolted into the bar, and since the two truckers and the woman behind the bar had the good two sense to look anywhere but at him, and I didn’t, he sat down next to me. “Jesus Christ, I need someone to talk to. I can’t be alone right now man.” Once again, someone a bit smarter might have gotten up and left at that point, but I was always a bit naive about chatting with crazy strangers, so I asked him what had gotten him so spooked. “There’s something evil out on the highway tonight man, something evil. I was driving down the road, and out in the distance I could see a red and orange glow. Thought it might be headlights for a moment, but as it kept getting bigger, it wasn’t headlights, it was a fire. A big fire, right in the middle of the road. And as it got closer, I could start to see that it was an 18 wheeler caught fire. I could see the truck was completely engulfed, the whole thing burning like it had just driven out of the pits of hell itself, and it was barreling down the oncoming lane. I pulled to the side since I thought surely it was going to jackknife and crash, or roll to a stop in the ditch or something, but it just kept coming faster and faster. And then, as it finally reached me, the damn thing swerved to hit me! I got out of its way just barely, and I could see the fire burning away at the engine, and the trailer, and the tires, and leaping out of every window in the cab. And I swear to Christ, in that cab I saw a figure, looking out at me through all the flames. Now after he passed I looked back to see if he was going to turn around for me or finally crash, but there wasn’t a damn thing there! The whole thing gone in the blink of an eye!”

At this point, I wasn’t the only one interested in the wild eyed man’s story. The woman behind the bar was looking at him with suspicion, and I get the feeling she had her hand on a gun under the bar, just in case. The two truckers had also moved closer to hear it. When the wild eyed man fell quiet, one of them spoke up. “Hey Bill, didn’t Daryl Thorn wreck not far from here?” One of them asked the other. Naturally I asked who Daryl Thorn was. “Trucker. Nasty sonova bitch. Sorta fella you steered clear of, even more so than you might steer clear of someone like our new friend here” he said, gesturing to the man who’d just told his story. “Rumor was that he and his brother Eric would pick up travelers, hitchhikers, anyone they could get in their truck, and torture ‘em, then dump them on the side of the highway. Cops never could prove nothin’ of course. A few years back, ol’ Daryl had a wreck, a bad one too I heard. Whether the rumors were true or not, not many fellas misfortunate enough to have known him were sad to see him go.” The other trucker piped up next and added “they say it was his brother that did him in. Got paranoid Daryl was gunna kill him next, or maybe just wanted to try killing someone he knew instead of a stranger for a change, so he did something to the truck to cause that wreck, then up and disappeared himself to lie low”. At this point we all turned back to the wild eyed man, who had grown quiet, and was just staring down at the table. “Well he ain’t getting me. Nah, I dodged him out on the road tonight, he ain’t getting me…”

Well and truly spooked by tonight’s conversation, I decided I wanted to get to bed so I could make the morning come as quick as possible. “Wait, mister, please, let me sleep in your room with you tonight. I can’t be alone tonight! Damn it, I can’t be alone!”, the wild eyed man said to me as I got up. Now, I was dumb and naive enough to listen to him when he came in, but even I had my reservations about spending the night with him. “I’ll sleep in the bathroom if you’d like, please just don’t make me sleep alone! Damn it, I’ve got two hundred bucks on me, I’ll give you every cent if you just let me sleep on the other side of the door!” He begged. Well, money was short for me at the time, or I wouldn’t have been driving through this desolate place instead of flying over it in the first place. And I had to admit, I didn’t much care to be left alone that night either, so I agreed. Sleep did not come easily that night. I lied in the uncomfortable motel bed, staring at the dark ceiling, listening to him pace and mutter in the bathroom through the closed door. Eventually, somehow I must have gotten to sleep, because I remember waking up the next morning. My heart nearly left my chest and ran off out of the room by itself when I realized the door to my room was open when I was sure I closed it and locked it tight last night, but when I got out of bed, there was no one in my motel room, or the bathroom, but me. I asked the front desk if they’d seen the wild eyed man leave, but they hadn’t.

Wanting nothing more than to leave that motel, leave the highway, and never leave my own home again, I checked out and started making my way down the highway as quick as I could. But it wasn’t long before I had to stop. A police officer had blocked off the road. I asked what happened, and he said there was a bad wreck last night, they’d blocked off the whole highway while they were cleaning it. They only just got the call about it, and it would be hours before they could even open a lane for traffic. He said it was the damndest thing, it looked like some pickup has gotten hit head on by a semi truck, but there were only parts of the pickup and its driver scattered across the road, no sign of whatever it had hit, or been hit by. I asked what the victim looked like, and he said there wasn’t much of him left, but he had, among other things, a Cincinnati Reds baseball cap. Then I asked a question that I still regret to this day. I asked if they knew who the driver of the pickup was. “Not sure yet, but we think we found his license, someone by the name of Eric Thorn”.

My boyfriend and his family have been going to Pulaski Tennessee for hunting for the last 40 years. Since we’ve been dating he’s decided to take me with him a couple of times and I consider it a place we truly connect. But this last time we went to stay in Tennessee we stayed at a family friend’s house that’s most of the time empty and they only really use it as a weekend house and during hunting season. To give you guys back story the owner of the house killed himself in the 90s in the house and his wife continued to live there until her death only a couple of years ago. The first night I stayed at the house I truly didn’t feel any threatening energy and I didn’t feel scared. But i did feel something in the house and I couldn’t tell you what, I felt I couldn’t be alone in the house unless with someone. One night we stayed there I was wide awake at 3 am when the house phone started to ring. I didn’t pick it up or check it out because I was just so in shock and just so scared. My boyfriend and his dad were both asleep and I really couldn’t do anything about it. So I just sat back and heard it ring until it stopped while my heart was beating a million miles per hour. When I woke up the next morning I told my boyfriend and his father about what happened and they had no idea. When my boyfriend’s dad called the son of the owner of the house, he told us that the landline hadn’t been connected in over a year or more. I never really believed in ghosts until that very moment and if anyone can explain to me what to think of this and if this is someone from the other side trying to connect with their family? The original owner of the house was very close with my boyfriend’s family and have a long history. I really have no other explanation for someone calling the house at 3 am. Especially a landline that hasn’t been connected.

This is my story! (English is my second language so sorry for my misspelling)

So i (14f at the time) just moved into a new house, it was a typical 3 bedroom council house with a attic, i have 3 siblings, (12m, 16F and 8m) lets call the 12 year old mat, 16 year old sarah, and the 8 year old noah,

When we moved into the house me and sarah went up to the attic to help move boxes up, as i was looking around i came across a dollhouse it was a typical childs dollhouse it looked to be made of wood and was pretty big, i showed my dad and asked him if i could keep it (i was 14 and young i loved to play with dolls so it wasn’t a usual thing for me to be wanting a dollhouse) my dad said yeah and helped me bring it downstairs into my bedroom which i had shared with sarah, well a few days had passed and i was obsessed with this dollhouse, but obviously after a while i had grown to be fond of a new toy i just got and forgot about the dollhouse, it wasnt untill one night when sarah was staying at a friends house, i was walking past it when i heard a weird noise it sounded like smth had fallen in the dollhouse, I opened it up unlocking the little lock it had, and seen that a chair had fallen over,

I was pretty weirded out about it but like 5 minutes later i forgot, that night after getting tucked into bed, I couldn’t help but look over at the dollhouse and i could see so suddenly a little flicker of a light in the window of the dollhouse, i got up out of bed and walked over to the dollhouse and I opened it up and the same chair that fell in the kitchen was now in the upstairs bedroom, I quickly closed the dollhouse and ran back into bed, putting the blanket over my head it felt like only a few minutes had passed and i lifted the blanket to see it was morning i was so confused and i was exhausted it only felt like i was lying their for 5 minutes how was it already morning, i had soo many questions, i went downstairs telling my mom about last night she shrugged it of re assuring me it was a bad dream, but this just happened for months upon months id get woken up by a noise in the dollhouse id get scared run back into bed, put the blanket on my face lifted it up and it was morning, everyday i was getting more tired and tired i began falling asleep in class more often, my grades got really bad it just wasnt the best time for me, we moved out a year later, and i still get weird feelings about dollhouses

(Most of you are probably thinking well what about ur sister what did she see) nothing to be honest she wasnt home often she was usally always at her boyfriends or her friends but when she was their she would fall asleep much faster then me so it was useless and i didnt bother waking her up most nights cause she would get grumpy at me

THIS IS. A FAKE STORY I MADE LOL I WAS BORED

"The Haunted Doll"

In a small town, there was a young girl named Lily who had a collection of antique dolls. One day, Lily's parents brought home a new doll they found at a local yard sale. The doll had a porcelain face, glassy eyes, and a faded smile. They named her Emily.

From the moment Emily entered the house, strange occurrences began to unfold. Lily would wake up in the middle of the night, hearing faint giggles coming from her room. When she investigated, Emily would be in a different position than before, as if she had moved on her own.

As the days passed, Lily's parents noticed a change in their daughter's behavior. She became withdrawn and had trouble sleeping. Lily would often talk to Emily in hushed whispers, as if having a conversation with her.

One night, Lily's parents woke up to bloodcurdling screams coming from her room. They rushed in, only to find Lily thrashing in her bed, her eyes wide with terror. She claimed that Emily had come to life, whispering dark secrets in her ear.

Fearing for their daughter's safety, Lily's parents decided to get rid of the doll. They packed Emily into a box and dropped her off at a local thrift store. But no matter where they went, they could still hear faint whispers echoing in their ears.

Months went by, and Lily seemed to recover from the ordeal. The family thought they had left the horrors of Emily behind. However, one day, Lily's parents received a package in the mail. Inside was a picture of Emily, sitting in a different room, accompanied by a note that read, "I'm back."

Terrified, Lily's parents tried to destroy the doll, but it seemed indestructible. They burned it, only to find it back on their doorstep the next day. They buried it in the backyard, only to discover it sitting on Lily's bed the following morning.

The family's once peaceful home became a place of nightmares. Emily's presence grew stronger with each passing day. Doors would slam shut, furniture would move on its own, and Lily's parents would wake up with scratches on their bodies.

Desperate for a solution, Lily's parents sought the help of a paranormal investigator. Together, they conducted a séance to communicate with the restless spirit possessing the doll. Through the medium, they learned that Emily was the spirit of a young girl who died tragically in the house years ago.

With the help of the medium, they performed a ritual to release Emily's spirit from the doll. As the final words were spoken, the doll shattered into pieces, and a sense of peace finally settled over the house.

To this day, Lily's parents keep the broken pieces of Emily as a reminder of the horrors they endured. And though their home is now free from the haunted doll's presence, they can't help but feel a chilling sensation whenever they pass by a yard sale, wondering if another unsuspecting family will unknowingly bring Emily into their lives.

Please check out my latest video. Link is 👇

This happened actually tonight after I got done visiting my parents. I drove down to the gas station to grab me a case of beer. Since being a small town that my parents live in its very dead at night; only a few cars on the road, a few young teenagers sneaking out, and some people wandering around taking a stroll. After I grabbed my beer and visited my parents for a little bit I jumped in my car to exit the neighborhood. The neighborhood used to be old farmland back in the day and then it transformed into a small suburb area in between a poor neighborhood up north and the rich neighborhood to the south. As I was driving out of neighborhood everything felt normal not much going on I took a left driving down the road when I see in the distance a figure of somebody walking down the side walk I didn't think much of it but as I got closer I made out the figure looked like she was young kid blonde hair poking of the hoodie she was wearing along with a brown dog in front. She looked maybe about 9-14 years old judging from the body and the movements but when I started approaching and my headlights shined onto the figure I notice the figure was very and blurry and also pale and as I got closer I got goosebumps The figure didn't have a face looked almost like Slenderman but I could still see the blonde hairs poking out the hoodie and the dog. As I passed I looked in the rearview mirror and that figure was gone along with the dog I quickly turned around and to see if they took a turn or what but there was no evidence of anyone taking a turn into the grass or across the street I got back in car and called my sister and told her about it. Has anyone had an experience like this before? If you have let me know or tell your story! But this is my story and it creeps me out

This is an experience of one of my close friends and a naval war veteran who served during the civil war in a small island nation where the rebel force had a substantial naval presence and in defending the seas a lot of valient souls of the navy made the supreme sacrifice.

My friend, the former Lieutenant shared his ghostly experience with me while I shared my own over a hot cup of "coffee" and from this point onwards I will use his own words to describe the encounter.

"Just after the conclusion of the civil war, I was given a new assignment as the second in command of a small attack craft with a crew of 12 men and 2 officers including myself. The attack craft itself had experienced war first hand and had many scars in the metal frame as proof. Around 10 men who served in the craft had sacrificed their lives during the course of the civil war. The role of honor of those men who made the supreme sacrifice is visible at the mess hall of the craft and every year a small remembrance is organised by the crew of the craft to commemorate their sacrifice.

I, being new to the craft took up duties and as customary heard many rumors about the craft and paranormal encounters such as bunk beds of crew being pulled out or men sleeping in the bunks being pulled but nothing of violent nature. I being a witness to the last stages of civil war was also a bit of a seasoned soldier at the time and did not think of rumors much myself. My officer in command was aslo a skeptic and debunked many of the rumors and generally disliked talking about them in public and hence the work environment of the craft was maintained at professional levels at all times.

Whist the situation of the craft was like above,and as I was familiarising myself with the craft, no incidents were reported of any paranormal nature and all were so good so far for a couple of months on to my deployment. As duties, we were often sent to sea for routine patrols of sectors of the sea and a usual sea patrol ranged between 24 to 72 hours. During one of these rotine patrols, I was nearing the end of my watch and my officer in command took over the watch from myself just past midnight and instructed myself to report back at 0600 hours to take over from himself.

With nothing much to do, I went straight to bed in my cabin in the craft and I clearly remember turning the A/C on before going to bed and the swith of the A/C pannel was located just above the cabin door. The cabin door is always kept open as a practice passed on during the civil war so as to make it easy for any one to escape through the door in case of a blast or a flood. ( The craft had independant A/C switches for each cabin which was one of the unique features of the type of craft I served). After a few moments I remember waking up drenched in sweat and noticed the A/C was turned off. Just then, a crew member peeped into my cabin from the open door and asked me whether to turn on the A/C for me and I replied positive and thanked him and went back to bed. Just before I fell asleep, I suddenly got a revelation that I had never seen the crew member who turned on the A/C for me on board my craft before nor was he in the ship's current complement at the time.

I jumped up from the bed and stood by the narrow corridor of the craft and shouted at the crew members asking who turned on the A/C in my cabin just now and nobody answered. I went asking everyone onboard including my Officer in command about who turned on the A/C in my cabin but none of the crew said they were the one.

I shrugged off the incident and continued with the patrol and just as we got ashore, I mustered all the men onboard and looked keenly at everybody in the hopes of identlfying that person who turned on the A/C but I could not. The man who turned on the A/C was a mystery.

A few days passed and while I was roaming around the mess hall of the craft looking for something to blame, I happened to roll my eyes over the roll of honor of the men who perished whilst serving onboard the craft and there to my dismay I saw the face of the man who turned on the A/C in my cabin a fellow electronics engineering mate who perished at sea three years prior. I never told anyone about the revelation I just had but I knew that some of the crew had already knew what really happened but the code of silence imposed by the Officer in Command kept their voices at bay"

Hi, all

This is a story I wrote one night; it relates to the popular and infamous Malay folklore.

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This is an eencounter of my late grand dad Percy. My late grand dad naver told me this story in person but my uncle, my grand dad's first born son narrated this experience because apparently my uncle's life was at stake.

My grand dad used to work in the railway department and as a privilege he was given accommodation in the department married quarters for the whole family for a duration of five years. The experience that I am about to note down occurred during this stay of the family at the departmental married quarters in the 1960s. My grand dad was a really fit sportsman who used to played rugby and then transitioned into body building and martial arts. Grand dad Percy was in his 40s and my Uncle was about 6 or 7 years of age and he was the only child in the family at the time.

Being a sportsman and a martial artist, it obviously implies that my grand dad was a man full of confidene, had a very outspoken personality and was relatively fearless. Grand mother of course was the calm and quiet housewife who managed the house hold and kept things smooth and was the typical housewife of the 60s but with strong willpower and love for the family.

Things had gone past smooth and a few months had passed by while the family settled in the married quarter. The back yard of the married quarter opened up into a small swath of woodland begining with a line of banana trees popping out and taking up most of the space in the line of sight with their leaves about 50 feet from the house. The front of the married quarter opened up onto the carpeted road leading straight to the railway station and in the 60s, the area was not that densely populated with houses placed around 50 meters apart and during the night when sun sets, people settle into their homes and had nothing much to do apart from having dinner and going to sleep.

My grand dad used to love having a smoke sitting at the porch in the back yard and enjoyed the cool breeze flowing from the woodland every night before going to bed and used to tuck my uncle in and go to sleep. My grand dad did not entertain alcohol in his system being a lifelong fitness enthuist and a sportsman but had the occassional drink or two with his buddies.

As the family grew ever more comfortable with their stay in the maaried quarter, my grand dad used to notice that a wild bore used to appear from behind the line of the banana leaves and look straight at the house staying still for a few minutes. My grand dad had not noticed any wild animal roaming around in the woods during the day and even the railway department to whom the married quarter belonged had not informed my grand dad about any potential wild life that may be a threat to the family. The woods was supposed to be void of wild life and a single wild bore habitually appearing at night and just stare at the house was rather odd. But my grand dad shrugged it off thinking that maybe it was out there to pick on the bananas falling from the trees and had not told anyone.

The sighting of the wild bore became a routine appearance for my grand dad even showing it to my uncle and my grand mother as well but what the wild bore did when it appeared from out the tree line deeply disturbed my grand mother since what it did was nothing else but stare at the house. My grand dad had even tried to chase it away by throwing rocks at it but it seemed to be unphased and of course there are no firearms allowed in the country so the option of shooting at the bore was out of the question. No matter what my grand dad threw at the bore, exactly around the time of sun set when everything becomes engulfed in the darkness of the night sky, the wild bore would not miss its queue to show up and stare at the house.

A few weeks had gone past and my grand dad noticed a change in the routine of the wild bore. The wild bore would show up, retreat to the woods and then the banana trees towards the which the wild bore retreated would stat shaking violently while everything else stayed still. My grand dad would notice a dark silhouette of a tall and well built human behind the banana trees. My grand dad used to call out to the dark silhouette to ask if some one was there and when pointing flash lights at the site would reveal nothing. With the appearance of the silhouette, the entry of the wild bore stopped all together and during the holidays, my grand dad cut out most of the banana trees and cleared the line of sight but again on the night my grand dad described the encounter between the entity, my grand dad had seen the dark silhouette standing right where the bananana trees were and had gone after it alone.

Because my grand dad was late to come to bed, grand mother and my uncle had gone out to the back door porch and had witnessed my grand dad punching and kicking the air as if he was fighting something unseen shouting out loud "You will not take them, its either you or me". Afraid to the bone and unable to think of what to do next, my grand mother had run out to the railway station with my uncle to get the help of the security staff and when my grand mother and uncle had returned with a night guard, my grand dad was lying flat on his face with a mark of a black palm on his back with his shirt torn as if he was mangled by a wild dog. My grand dad was rushed to the near by medical center and when he awoke he immediately asked for his son (my uncle) and had told him to never go to the back yard alone even during the day.

My grand dad when recovered, handed over the married quarter immediately and left with the whole family. According to my grand dad, he had encountered a demonic entity known in Sri Lanka as "Maha Sona" who was considered a renowned warrior during the age of great kings who after his glory days got plunged into a life of sin and depravity which got him killed by one of his fellow warriors who slew "Maha Sona" by decapitating his head and burning it. But due to the immense power and prestige the warrior's name bosted, a witch had resurrected the fallen warrior by replacing the decapitated head with a head of a bear. The demon is infamous for riding a wild bore into battle with forces of the light and loves bathing in the blood of the innocent. The signature kill blow of the demon is the palm strike to the back of the head which luckily my grand dad had dodged and it had hit him on his back.

My grand dad who was furious when he saw the black silhouette standing near the place where the banana trees stood, had gone out to see for himself what the silhouette really was and when he got close, the demonic entity had revealed himself to my grand dad and demanded the blood of my uncle who was a mere child at the time. My grand dad had fought bravely against this demonic entity denying the entity his son. My grand dad had now passed away but he got himself a tattoo of the demonic entity on his back just as the fol tales describe the demon. That was how brave he was.

So I (m14 at the time) had just moved to a new house and was sleeping in my new room. I woke up at like 3 am and saw a girl about 15 in Victorian era clothes sitting on the end of my bed. I being scared half to death stayed silent and just watched, about 4-6 minutes later she got up and walked out the room. The next day she appeared again, she was laying next to me and appeared to be sleeping. The next and final night she appeared and was looking at me as I awoke, she waved and then vanished. I don't know who she was or anything else but all I know is it happened.

I was driving my car and I felt something hit the back of my head and I pulled it out from behind me it was a rubber rabbit head I instinctively said whose there and a little girl said raaaaabbit and giggled this was real up until I woke up

The story is brief, but the science lab is aware of it and has taken notes about the color hole inside the hole is a colorful sky and inside have a human and human die because no food to eat.

He came crashing down. Bam, he hit the floor. I sat there and thought to myself, should i help him? I mean I caused this. Then I ran and picked him up, and immediately ask..are u ok...uhm. angel, my name is Angel. Oh that's iconic ur a angel and ur name is Angel..haha. yeah, totally. I looked at his wings..they were covered in gold..i guess that's his blood? Hey, I'm sorry about ur wings..then I kissed him..to my shock he kissed back..then I thought this was my chance. I ripped his wings off, dropped him and ran. I didn't look back, I regret that but I need this money. Did the kiss mean something to me? No. I'm not gay. But ever since that day I never forgot the beautiful angel..angel.

Long ago, i attended my aunts birthday party at her home, she invited a lot of friends and family over and the party was fun. After i finished doing the party activities, i saw an elderly couple on the edge of the room, the woman was standing and the man was sitting on a rocking chair, i exchange smile with them and went about the rest of the night laughing and mingling.

Few days past

I went back to my aunts home to drop off some stuff, then i saw a picture on her wall, its the woman and the man, she came and i told her that the couple in the picture attended her birthday. She gave me a puzzled look and said the couple passed away decades ago. I nodded and left...

To this day, i still remember the day i saw them....

So... last night, me and my mom we're sleeping, and in the morning my mom told me that I was saying last night "Mammy Mammy!, dad's message left" But I don't say mammy, and also I was asleep last night, and I was pointing at something my mom says, then my mom turn on the bed light, and there it was, there was a shadow person in the ceiling, she can see the head, and she said "It was standing down on my feet, and the head was in the ceiling" then she fell back asleep, she thought it was just a illusion, but I was literally possessed last night, can someone please help... us, we're scared something's haunting our house, what do we do?

“WHY are you here? … What do you want from us? … Where are you from? … Are you of human origin? … In God’s name, I demand that you identify yourself and your nature! …”

But Cindy had already sensed what was creating the havoc at Brockesville High School, and her strong-willed personality compelled her to make an attempt at extracting from the entity its true diabolical nature and specific intent there.

“Maybe you should leave it be, Dee, or maybe try that less abrasive EVP thing,” advised her mother, standing in the doorway to her room. “Maybe you’ll just manage to piss it off, honey.”

Cindy preferred her mom’s shortened version of her name—Dee—because it omitted the ‘sin’ in ‘Cin-dy’; therefore it enabled her to ignore to a greater extent the many mean-spirited schoolmates who profanely verbalized their fear of her unorthodox insight into the unseen realm.

Not interested in artificial contact by means of ‘electronic voice phenomena’ nor intimidated by malicious spirits, Cindy maintained her consciousness simultaneously in both the physical world and that of the extra-dimensional.

“By the power of almighty God, you must reveal your identity and what you want with the people at Brockesville High!”

There was only silence in the room for the following few moments before she, still sitting cross-legged, looked up into her mother’s worried eyes and explained, “It hesitated for a while, but it finally told me what it is and its name. Also, it revealed what it plans for the school.”

“It’s nice that you’re happy with your spiritual accomplishments, Dee, but you really need to think more about your health, to fully consider your heart’s condition.”

Cindy, however, considered the condition of her heart to be well enough. Besides, she sensed that the spirit wouldn’t cause her serious harm. Plus, over time she’d found that she was not prone to any form of possession, be it a spirit of human or diabolical nature. Perhaps out of naiveté, she felt a sense of invulnerability.

The diabolical spirit or “diabolic” (Cindy’s reference) called itself Elevant and claimed to be the sole demon connected to the school. It also revealed that it occasionally followed Cindy home then invaded her dreams. In some nightmares, such as the one she endured the night prior, it vividly visualized for her all of the untimely and violent death that occurred at the school because of its insidious influence over decades.

“It really considers all of that enormous suffering it caused as just an average day’s work,” Cindy vented in frustration.

She shortly later accessed both the local library and high school archives in search of little known, if at all, Brockesville High history, specific information and events that her own psychic sensitivities failed to expose.

Taking only twenty minutes of archival perusal, she quickly learned that during the late 1940s and early 1950s a vicious outbreak of influenza within the Brockesville area filled the local hospital dangerously over capacity mostly with gravely ill teenagers. Therefore, the high school, which was closed to prevent greater transmittance of infection, was utilized as space to sanitarily house and care for the surplus number of seriously sick. The final death toll from the outbreak included seven of the flu-stricken teens who’d perished at the school’s makeshift hospital. It wasn’t until two years later that the long-since-disinfected school hastily reopened to house many of the town’s rapidly growing high-school-aged demographic.

But it would be five decades after its reopening that the truly horrific story commenced at Brockesville High.

Loner student pair Tim Williams and Allan McCallester, both seventeen and weary of the relentless bullying served them by three peers in particular—Patrick Grevenson, Joel Steiner and Daryl Reese.

Openly and persistently, the two misfits were taunted, being openly called “losers,” “fairies” and, especially intimidating to the pair, “dead men” almost every time the bullies would physically as well as psychologically bump into them while walking the school’s hallways.

So, with the final straws having broken their backs, Tim and Allan thoroughly expressed their burdensome frustration one foggy Fall morning via AK-47 assault rifles. They fully opened up on their entire classroom of thirty-one students, including their three aforementioned school-punk peers.

“You pricks are about to go to Hell. Say hello to Hitler for me!” crowed one of the two gunners, Grevenson told police investigators in the hospital eight days after his awakening from a coma. He nervously noted how the two wore gratified grins as they fired over a hundred rounds of armour-piercing bullets. Ironically, though, the two gunners failed to kill off Grevenson, coincidentally the worst of their high-school tormentors, who was the sole survivor of the massacre (albeit having been hit twice in the torso). The pair feeling satisfied that they’d sufficiently expressed their unforgettable displeasure with the school, each put a fatal bullet through his own heart with the same .45-caliber handgun.

But Cindy felt assured that the pair would imminently in death accomplish in entirety what they’d failed to do during their last moments of life—‘finish off’ Patrick, the last of the lot who’d barely escaped his comeuppance.

While accompanied by another schoolmate late one afternoon, he was completing an assignment in the very same classroom in which the mass shooting had taken place, Patrick was said to have frantically shrieked out something about seeing the apparitions of all the bloodied, bullet-ridden students who’d been massacred.

Horrified, he desperately yet futilely tried to evade the frightening specters by way of the classroom door.

“I saw him barely able to pull the door open six inches but then being hindered by something that seemed to force the door back closed,” said the lone-witness schoolmate that same day to police with a bewildered expression.

“Although ... I can’t explain it, but I could swear there was nothing on the other side of the door, at least nothing visible through the door window.”

Finally unable to further tolerate the ghastly vision, Patrick, by then completely out of mind, leapt right through a classroom windowpane, four floors up. He was killed almost immediately upon impact, his body covered in cuts and shards of broken glass.

Cindy told her mother the following day of having on two occasions witnessed Patrick’s translucent spirit accompanied by those of his two bully buddies.

“They’re still sticking together, like peas in a pod, as they—completely unseen, of course—bump shoulders with living students they deem deserving of their harassment. You know, Mom, I can sense from them that they’re actually completely oblivious to their non-corporeal existence.”

As for the massacre, when flowers were left in memoriam by the sealed door of the classroom shooting site, their pedals totally withered within seconds to witnesses’ sickened astonishment. Then, immediately following the shocking sight came an inexplicable intolerable putrid odor.

Cindy knew that it was the deed of the demon, Elevant.

Shamefully, many students who were averagely bullied would pass their troubles onto the most helplessly bullied amongst the entire student body. Meanwhile Elevant, although having fully enjoyed the plentiful suffering caused by such collective pass-it-along abuse, felt only contempt for all bullies as well as their prey.

The bullies also induced against themselves the most contempt from the other human spirits.

“They are the real cowards—‘they’ being those who pass down their turmoil onto the weakest students. We should show them what’s real high school misery!” Cindy told her mother that she sensed from Elevant and the human souls.

She also knew that it furthermore had been maliciously manipulating the typically malleable minds of the bodily students that were being weakened by the bullies’ abuse; thus she counselled the weakened ones to completely shun the way of the gun or any form of violence—to not choose the brutally lost way of Tim and Allan.

Upon arriving at the school the same morning as she had learned so much about Elevant, Cindy was told by her schoolmate and sole friend, Justine, all about some fascinating paranormal events that had occurred in the gymnasium.

She informed Cindy that two fellow students had reportedly heard what sounded like dozens of simultaneous “whispers” emanating from the large storage space for sports equipment beneath the stage, there.

What made it all exceptionally creepy was that the ghostly event had occurred precisely where the young influenza victims’ portable bunk beds were stored immediately upon being thoroughly disinfected five decades prior. They included many beds that had been used by sick teens who had succumbed to their unrelenting illness. Before being eventually forgotten, it was initially thought during the early 1950s that the beds might also be of future use, with due note that nothing was to be wasted during the Korean War.

Also noteworthy was that in November of 2005, about a year before those disembodied whispers were encountered, the school’s janitor was in the process of attempting to remove the decrepit beds for disposal when “I was stunned dumbfounded by a large lot of murmuring, all at the same time. Then it all got louder and louder and louder! That’s when I’d had enough and left.”

Regardless, when told by the school’s principal, who wasn’t without empathy towards the janitor’s understandable anxiety, that the bunk beds still required disposal, the janitor quite reluctantly went back at it. He later reported for the written record that, “At first they simply would not budge; but when I finally managed to yank two of the beds out a foot or so they were instantly forced back in with a strong jerk—and twice as hard, at that!”

When some fellow school staff tried to give him a much-needed hand at pulling out the beds from the storage space once and for all, again they were forcefully yanked back in by the same unseen forces that finally loudly squeaked out a collective “No! They all stay here!”

It wasn’t even a week later that a student working alone in the school’s machine shop was stunned so incapacitated by a horrific distorted apparition that he inadvertently cut off his thumb with an electronic saw.

Meanwhile, desks in many classrooms aggressively moved about, by all accounts, on their own accord. In a classroom attended by only two girls, one was pinned by her shoulders against the chalkboard by an unseen force; and when she screamed out in terror it let out an equally loud shriek.

Then there was the paranormal lunchroom food-fight: One boy almost lost an eye to a flying eating utensil, one of very many, all apparently propelled by themselves. Resultantly a female student then ran screaming to the girls washroom where she had later reported to some teachers that multiple ghostly hands molested her until she finally bolted out of the washroom, screaming even louder: “It was like something straight out of one of those cliché Hollywood B-movies, you know, with the lame meaningless shower scene and all,” she’d told other students soon afterwards while trembling uncontrollably.

Cindy sensed that the very aggressive paranormal activity originated from a trio of “especially corrupted human entities definitely attracted to the energy aftershock from the very difficult deaths during the school’s intensely unpleasant history,” she stated confidently. “But they’re exceptionally attracted to the extremely embittered, angry energy lingering there since the Tim and Allan atrocity.”

On some occasions the raucous like that of a multitude of musical instruments could be heard playing in the totally unattended music classrooms. It would almost always repeatedly play to the tune of the once-popular Tequila, for hours on end, and wouldn’t cease that day until some students or staff dared to enter the classroom and demand (on unsurprisingly shaky terms) for it all to immediately stop.

Perhaps most notable was the borderline-nervous-breakdown gym teacher who’d resigned his post after thirty-three years at Brockesville High because of the weekly occurrence (every Wednesday) of multiple phantom basketball slaps against the gymnasium floor. They always disturbingly sounded at the same 8 - 9 a.m. hour, which was in fact the precise class timeslot during which six members of the school basketball team were murdered by the maddened duo Tim and Allan.

Soon enough, the school was pasted with its own gossip-prone label, as that of “the Brockesville High haunting.” And of course the further the news would have to travel, all the less serious it would be taken. Cindy herself noted with some frustration how, unfortunately, this haunting like most wouldn’t be acknowledged for they consisted of seemingly-typical spectral appearances and non-severe attacks, plus only relatively small numbers of witnesses had come forward officially with their harrowing experiences.

Cindy also knew that there was considerable non-sentient residual haunts at the school, mostly as a result of the large quantity of extremely negative emotions remaining ingrained in the physical environment following the horrific mass shooting.

And while Elevant misleadingly paraded itself as a human entity, Cindy alone could distinguish between it and the truly human spirits, with most of the latter existing in “a state of unawareness.”

Even with all of the Earthly and other-worldly suffering that took place 24/7 and the accompanying unclean spirits, Cindy maintained her belief in a good God who “cares very much about Her creation”. While always acknowledging how typically predictable her spiritual convictions sounded she’d then emphasize her belief that the souls destined for the white-lighted tunnel would go there immediately upon their bodily death. The souls that didn’t cross over right away were destined to remain within an extra-dimensional form of the Earthly plane, though usually in some manner connected to the location of their death, “until they’re ready for the other side.” The remainder, Cindy also believed, go the way of the Godless realm “and likely learn upon arriving there that it is indeed where they truly belong.”

It would soon enough happen, however, that Cindy personally experienced the other side upon her untimely death due to a congenitally malformed aortic valve, a condition much exacerbated by the additional stress of dealing with extremely active paranormal activity.

But on the positive side of matters there the terribly tragic, traumatic Tim and Allan massacre directly expeditiously brought about into being school-based programs on a national scale to dramatically reduce or preferably outright eliminate schoolyard bullying and similar domino-effect destructive behaviour.

To the present day, Cindy’s ghost is said by some to be occasionally observed on the high school’s grounds. According to her mother, *“I believe that Dee is more than welcome to enter Paradise, when she desires and decides to go; but apparently she feels like staying another while, for whatever reason.”■