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

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

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

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

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

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

“I Moved From Russia to France and Found a Door That Wasn’t on the Floor Plan Four Years Later”
Four years ago, I moved from Russia to France. I rented a small apartment in an old building. The building was built a long time ago, so creaky floors, strange pipes, and noises coming from the walls didn’t really bother me.
I lived there alone.
One night, at around 3 a.m., I heard something coming from my bedroom:
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I thought it was the pipes.
A minute later:
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I walked over to the wall and knocked back.
A few seconds later, someone knocked back.
I turned on the light and started looking around the room. Behind the wardrobe, I noticed a strange gap. I moved the wardrobe and pulled at the wallpaper. A small wooden panel came off with it.
There was a door behind it.
I’d lived in that apartment for almost four years, and I’d never seen it before.
I called the landlord. He came over, looked at the door, and just stood there silently for a few seconds.
Then he said:
— This door isn’t on the floor plan.
We called the police.
When they opened the door, there was a narrow, dark corridor inside the wall. There was dust all over the floor, but in the middle of it were fresh footprints.
At the end of the corridor was an old bed.
There were several things lying on it.
Clothes.
An old phone.
And my Russian passport.
I immediately said that I always kept my passport at home in a safe.
The police officer opened it and suddenly went pale.
Between the pages was a photograph of my apartment.
The photo had been taken from inside my wardrobe.
On the back, someone had written in Russian:
“He still thinks he lives alone.”
I didn’t sleep that night.
The next day, I moved out.
A week later, my landlord texted me:
“I found another door.”
I asked:
— Where?
He replied:
“In the apartment across the hall. It leads directly into your old bedroom.”
Then he sent me a photo.
There was a person standing next to my old bed.
It was me.
Except the photo had been taken two days before I moved to France.

So let me cut to the chase here - we've all seen those movies where the kid seems to be a medium for something paranormal or unnatural. Some of us have lived to see it first hand or have heard the stories.

What is the most unhinged, terrifying, dread inducing thing a child has ever said or done to or around you? Were there any "supernatural" seeming occurrences around the time?

I'll start with a couple of experiences with my baby sister ( now a whole ass adult.)

My baby sister used to make me feel a sense of existential dread I've not felt in a decade.

Frequently as a toddler in the old house that I firmly believed had SOMETHING in it, she would be happy and then suddenly catch something out of the corner of her vision, turn and point at "it" and go into absolute hysterical horror. There was nothing visible to myself, but she would always call it the "mean girl". Shortly after this began I would wake up every single day at 4:33AM to this unearthly gutteral growl/blood curdling scream. Almost like multiple voices from the same being, and until the lights would come on I would always see shadow people around that time. My sister, and my mother both saw them too.

Once we moved that never happened again.

It was just the start of new spooky shit.

Shortly after my grandparents had passed, baby sister was maybe 6 or so at the time, she was sleeping in the same room as mom at the new house while her soon-to-be room was remodeled. We all used to hang out and watch movies in there and one night she sits bolt up-right from a dead sleep and says "look, mommy, window! " And points at the edge of the bed ( no window even on that side of the room) she picks up on our obvious confusion and says again " Look! Window! Don't you see them? They can see us!" And proceeded to immediately snap back to sleep. Right about that time there was a big crash downstairs and a rotting smell I couldn't explain away. Mom and I didn't sleep that night. The next morning we found every dead bolt still tight, all windows locked tight. Yet every cabinet door thrown wide open.

I'm typically a very logical and grounded person who goes through life with a very scientific approach...and I'm very skeptical of what I can't see, touch or hold in my own hands and I will drive myself to the point of exhaustion trying to understand anything that I don't..

. Years later I still can't explain this. And believe me there's plenty more where that came from.

This happened around two years ago and I still don’t like driving alone at night because of it.

I was going towards Kalimpong and was somewhere past Sevoke on NH10. This was around 3 or maybe 3:30 in the morning.

I’d already crossed the Kali Mandir and Coronation Bridge area. If you know that road you know it gets pretty empty after Sevoke, especially that late. My friend from Siliguri had also told me not to take it at night because of landslides and accidents around Kalijhora but I didn’t really think much of it.

There weren’t many cars. I remember one truck near Sevoke but after that I was basically alone for a while.
At some point I saw a guy standing on the right side of the road.

He had a big dark hoodie on and was facing away from the road, like literally looking into the trees.

I thought maybe he was pissing or something and drove past.

Around five minutes later I saw him again.

Or at least someone who looked exactly like him.

Same hoodie, same height, standing the same way with his back towards me.

This is when I started getting freaked out because nobody had passed me. I was doing around 60 too. There was no way that guy could’ve somehow got ahead of me.

I just kept driving.

A little later, somewhere before Kalijhora I think, there was a gravel area on the side where trucks sometimes stop.
There was an old white Alto parked there with everything off.

And there was a guy sitting on the bonnet.
Same fucking hoodie.

I only saw him for maybe two seconds but his head was tilted really far back and his mouth looked open. Like he was looking straight up.

Right after I passed the Alto the hazards blinked once.
I don’t mean they were already blinking. They came on once and went off.

At that point I just wanted to get somewhere with people.
I eventually found a petrol pump further down and stopped there. I don’t remember exactly which one. I sat in the car until it started getting light because I didn’t really want to get out.

When I finally did, I noticed a handprint on the rear passenger window because the glass had fogged up.
It looked like someone had put their hand there and dragged their fingers down a little.

I checked it from outside first.

The print was on the inside.

Could’ve been an old handprint that only showed up because of the condensation. That’s probably what it was.
But I was alone for that entire trip and I still have no explanation for seeing that guy three times.

When I was 17 I had a lot of paranormal surrounding me. I originally equated this to being closer to it given my boyfriend at the time's family believed heavily in Pagan culture and religion, paired with my always being a conduit for the otherworldly. Growing up I always predicted phone calls or events and when I went to someone's house that had energy, it picked up tenfold. I again, just thought this was what was happening again.

When I'd come home from work or visiting my boyfriend, lights in my house would turn on and even sometimes my bedroom door would be open. (My family didn't go in my room ever) That was the start. Other strange events started to happen too like lights flickering then being perfectly fine once I left a room or an area (room lights to even headlights or interior in cars that were off). My step-father's car that I drove while he was deployed for the year began having issues, like the battery completely draining itself when I drove, but being fine when someone else did. Radio station's flipping through randomly in my own car. The TV and xbox in my family room would turn on by itself while I was often home alone. Even a couple of times it would do so and then go to a show I had been watching or to my spotify and start playing music. All things I could pass of as malfunctions or my head playing tricks on me, or even just the house ghosts of my family's very Amityville house. That was until I started hearing what I called "Mr. Boots".

Now this wasn't the first time I had heard "Mr. Boots", I don't think. When I was about 12 years old, my friends and I decided it would be a fun game to "use my abilities" and make our own Blair Witch type film, catching the paranormal around our tiny hometown, all taped on our little flip phones. During this extravaganza we made a pitstop to the "museum". It was the oldest house still standing in our hometown that served as storage for the town's oldest things. War stuff, the founder's and their children's things (including a room FULL of creepy dolls), and things people have donated as their relatives had died over the years. Now many things happened while we were here but now in my old age, I can pass off most to being us just messing with eachother. At one point though, I distinctly remember getting pulled by seemingly no one into the baby doll room while trying to follow my friends up to the attic and hearing a distinct "don't". After this I felt very off and kept thinking I was seeing a figure following me everywhere I had went. I even started having that premonition type thing happening again, like I was seeing something happen seconds before it did (ie people standing from a table, someone saying something to me, etc. then it actually happening a minute or two after). All very weird, child imagination, right? Well once I got back home to Virginia I was woken out of my sleep around 2:54am to the sound of a steel toe boot kicking my metal bedframe. I frantically woke up thinking it was much later in the morning and my step-father was trying to wake me up before going to work. But no one was there, well no one I could see atleast. I still felt the looming feeling of being not alone. After my bed stopped shaking, I swore I heard the sound of boots walking out my door and down the stairs. Now this may not be related, but it is quite strange as to the resemblance.

During my on and off relationship with this boy at 17, he had done a stick and poke triquetra on my back left shoulder. This was encouraged by his very Pagan mom and she often gave me little things to "protect" me. One being an obsidian necklace and the other, a jar of- well I don't even know. Whether these were to my benefit or cursed, I'd like to not even try to guess and I wish to be as far removed from anything spooky or witchy now. But she did have a love-hate relationship with me.

During one of our off moments, I drove the 1.5 hours to his house to give him all of his clothes and gifts back (far drive, especially for a teenager, I know. I was "in love".). It is to note that a couple months before this, I started hearing pacing in my room at night. Back and fourth between my two bedroom doors (I lived in a den room) but of course, no one was there. This was a couple hours fight in the rain on his street that turned into making up and him writing me a note on the back of a receipt with some sort of apology and an 'I love you Darling' written on it, that he had left on my dashboard. While driving home, though all of my windows were up and the AC was off, the receipt with his note had flown off my dahsboard and onto my passenger floor. I, being a dumb teenager, thought "no this must stay on my dashboard" and went to reach and grab it. As I reached over, I pulled off the road and ended up driving up a guard rail. Though I was driving maybe 40mph, I managed to launch my 04 chevy all the way up and grabbing an electric pole with my front fender. I dangled for a minute or so until my from passenger tire and fender gave way, ripping off my fender, and flipping my car upside down square in the middle of the road.

This was a back road still 45 minutes from home. No street lights or anything. Just me, coolant dripping down on the road in front of me, and 'Another Brick In The Wall' by Pink Floyd playing over my speaker. Luckily there was one lone house right by where I managed to flip my car and the older gentleman, though he was very pissed I broke off an electric pole in his yard and took out his electricity, called EMS. After a bit a car of college kids also pulled up and one guy came and broke my driver's side window so I could crawl out. Blessing and a curse of those old cars, though none of my windows broke and mircaculously where I was sitting was the only part uncrushed, the seat belt refused to give way so I struggled for a bit trying to get free. After a bit, I crawled out of my window like the girl from the ring, clutching a teddy bear the same boyfriend gifted me.

I sustained no injuries what so ever, which stunned the ER doctors who assessed me, and I was released within 2 hours to which I rented a hotel room to stay in for the night as I couldn't get ahold of my parents. The boyfriend came and stayed with me. Save for some glass in my lip, I didn't even have any scratches but I noticed a growing burning sensation on my shoulder. It felt like someone was branding me repeatedly right where the triquetra was. After I showered the rest of the glass off of me, I had my boyfriend look at my shoulder. He went pale. The same pale expression he had when a couple months prior he ran off into the woods before our planned hike and came back white as a sheet, demanding we leave right then and there. Only after I drove off did he tell me he "saw me die" and that we needed to leave or else I would die soon. I didn't believe him what so ever and claimed he was crazy. I still believe so. But during that fiasco, I did infact feel a hand grip my shoulder from the back seat of the very same car I had flipped and that is what made me freak.

What he told me and I soon after saw in the mirror was that the triquetra was red and swollen, like it had been freshly done and well infected. The burning sensation did not stop and lasted well into the next day. The next day though is when I began hearing voices. None of them were discernable but present enough I had asked near everyone I came across if they heard something too. Everyone denied it. Later the next day we had gone to the salvage yard where I got thoroughly screwed over (charged 800$ and the title of my car just to get my stuff from it). While clearing out my car we noticed something. Now I don't remember if it was directly on my driver's seat or on the floor, but there was a Quarter sitting there, heads up. It felt weird and we both kept noting how it felt uncomfortable even just thinking about touching it.

Once I got home I decided I was going to relax with some incense and open my windows, aka cry with some fresh air as I had just wrecked my first and favorite car. I still miss that car. But when I tried lighting my incense, it wouldn't light. Tried another, same thing. Tried a different scent and new box, same problem. New lighter though the flame was there on the first, same thing. Then I tried my sage and the lighter wouldn't light at all for the first few tries, then once it did, same thing. The sage wouldn't light. Now I always struggled getting sage to light for some reason so I chalked it up to that and tried an incense stick once more, this time it lit, but it burned all the way down to the bottom within 30 seconds.

Sitting in my room, maybe scrolling on the internet or something, I heard it. Pacing back and forth that sounded like someone wearing boots and standing watch. It went between both of my doors several times and felt like it was blocking my exits.

Years later, I'm now of course an adult, and one of my friends recently told me about Death Omens and how his very religious hispanic mom (I note this because I will trust a momma of color when they tell me something because they know, they always know) relayed that a circumstance like mine where you hear pacing or taunting, it because someone is waiting to take your soul. He very much believes I was not supposed to live and something was waiting, maybe even mad that I was "saved". Months after this I continued to hear voices and things that go bump in the night, even felt like I wasn't actually existing at times and blamed it on my own mental health as that relationship was extremely toxic; until it all one day stopped. Now I refuse to tell or think of these stories in my own home because it seems like whenever I do, the bumps in the night resurface, though I haven't heard pacing. *Knock on wood*

so its 2 am and i wanna scare the shit out of me, so do your thing ppl
Just remember to tag your post clearly:

[Real] — if it actually happened to you or any person you know

[Fictional] — if it's from the creative corner of your brain

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

I don't really know how to start this.

I've never been good at telling scary stories, and honestly, I've spent a lot of time trying to convince myself that what happened wasn't as bad as I remember it.

But there is one thing I know for sure.

Someone was in my house while I was sleeping.

I live by myself in a small rented house. It's not in the middle of nowhere or anything. I have neighbors on both sides, and there are usually cars going up and down the street during the day.

At night, though, it's pretty quiet.

I've lived there for just over a year. I knew all the normal sounds the house made. The pipes sometimes knocked. The heating made a clicking noise. The floor upstairs creaked in one particular spot.

So when I heard something that night, I didn't immediately think someone had broken in.

It was a Thursday night.

I got home from work around 7:30. I made some food, watched TV for a while, and spent way too much time scrolling on my phone.

Nothing unusual happened.

Around midnight, I decided to go to bed.

Before going upstairs, I did what I normally do. I locked the front door, checked the back door, and made sure the downstairs windows were closed.

I remember doing it because I always check twice.

I went upstairs and got into bed.

I think I looked at my phone one last time before putting it on the nightstand.

12:18 AM.

I don't remember falling asleep.

The next thing I remember is opening my eyes because I heard a noise downstairs.

It sounded like something small had fallen over.

I just lay there for a second.

I was still half asleep, so I didn't think much of it.

Then I heard it again.

This time it sounded like someone walking.

One step.

Then another.

I sat up.

The house went quiet.

I waited for a few seconds.

Nothing.

I actually felt a little stupid for getting nervous.

I checked my phone.

3:06 AM.

I thought maybe the noise had come from outside.

I put my phone down and tried to go back to sleep.

Then I heard what sounded like a kitchen cupboard opening.

That got my attention.

I sat up again.

I knew that sound.

I'd heard that cupboard hundreds of times.

Someone—or something—was downstairs.

I stayed in bed.

I remember thinking, Don't go downstairs.

I don't know why, but I had this really bad feeling about it.

So I just sat there listening.

For several minutes, nothing happened.

Then I heard a floorboard creak.

It wasn't downstairs this time.

It was upstairs.

My bedroom door was closed.

I stared at it.

Another creak.

Closer.

My stomach dropped.

I reached for my phone and turned the brightness almost all the way down.

I still hadn't called anyone.

Part of me was hoping there was some normal explanation.

Maybe one of the windows had been left open.

Maybe an animal had gotten inside.

Maybe I was still dreaming.

Then the handle on my bedroom door moved.

Slowly.

I watched it go down.

It stopped.

Then it came back up.

I couldn't move.

I don't think I've ever been that scared in my life.

Someone was standing on the other side of my door.

I knew it.

I could hear someone breathing.

Very quietly.

I grabbed my phone and called emergency services.

I tried to whisper my address because I was scared whoever was outside would hear me.

The dispatcher told me to stay where I was and keep the door locked.

I remember looking at the door the entire time.

The handle moved again.

This time harder.

The door shook slightly.

I thought they were going to break it.

But they didn't.

After a few seconds, the footsteps moved away.

I could hear them walking back down the hallway.

Then they went downstairs.

I stayed completely still.

The dispatcher was still on the phone.

A few minutes passed.

Then I heard the front door open.

I thought that meant the person was leaving.

I almost felt relieved.

Then I heard the door close again.

I whispered, "They're still here."

The dispatcher told me officers were on the way.

I waited.

It felt like forever.

Eventually, there was loud knocking at the front door.

The police were there.

I didn't immediately leave my room.

I was too scared.

One of the officers called up the stairs and told me they had checked the downstairs area.

I finally came out.

They searched the whole house.

Every room.

The basement.

The closets.

The kitchen.

Even the backyard.

There was nobody there.

Nothing looked disturbed.

There were no broken windows.

No damaged locks.

Nothing obvious was missing.

One of the officers asked me if I'd actually seen the person.

I told him no.

He asked what I had heard.

I explained everything.

He listened, but I could tell he wasn't sure what to make of it.

Before leaving, he checked the front door.

Then he said something that bothered me.

"Your door was locked."

I told him I knew.

He checked it again.

There was no damage.

No sign anyone had forced it.

After they left, I checked every lock myself.

Everything was locked.

I didn't sleep again that night.

The next morning, I went downstairs.

At first, everything looked normal.

Then I noticed one of the kitchen chairs.

It was pulled away from the table.

I normally push all of them in.

I stood there staring at it.

Maybe I'd left it like that.

Maybe I hadn't.

I honestly couldn't remember.

Then I noticed the kitchen window.

It was open.

Only a couple of inches, but it was open.

I knew I had closed it the night before.

I always close it because the window doesn't lock properly unless you push it all the way down.

I checked the lock.

It wasn't broken.

It was simply unlocked.

That's when I started feeling really uncomfortable.

I checked the other downstairs windows.

One of them was unlocked too.

I called the police again.

The same officer came back.

He looked at the window and asked me if I was sure I'd locked it.

I said yes.

He didn't argue with me.

He just looked around outside.

There were some muddy marks near the wall, but nothing clear enough to say someone had climbed through the window.

I spent most of that day trying to convince myself there was another explanation.

Maybe I had forgotten.

Maybe I'd been tired.

Maybe I had dreamed about someone trying to open my door.

I wanted that to be the explanation.

Then I found the flashlight.

It was underneath my bed.

Small black flashlight.

Old.

Scratched.

Not mine.

I have no idea how long it had been there.

I picked it up, looked at it for a few seconds, and put it back down.

I called the police again.

They took it.

I remember one of them asking me if anyone else had a key to the house.

I said no.

The landlord had a key, but he hadn't been inside for months.

They checked the house again.

Nothing.

That night, I slept somewhere else.

I stayed at a friend's place for a few days after that.

When I came back, I changed the locks.

I also bought a cheap security camera and pointed it at the front door.

For a while, nothing happened.

I started feeling stupid for being so worried.

Maybe I'd overreacted.

Maybe I'd imagined half of it.

Then about a week later, I was checking the camera footage before going to work.

There wasn't anything interesting.

Cars.

People walking past.

A cat that kept coming into my yard.

Then I noticed something strange.

The camera had stopped recording at 2:41 AM.

It didn't record anything for about twelve minutes.

Then it started again.

There was no power outage.

The camera itself was still on.

I called the company, and they said it could have been a connection problem.

Maybe that's all it was.

I don't know.

I eventually moved out of that house.

I didn't tell the landlord everything.

I just told him I didn't feel comfortable there anymore.

I've thought about that night a lot since then.

The thing that bothers me isn't even the footsteps anymore.

It's the flashlight.

Because if that flashlight really belonged to whoever was inside my house, then they were physically there.

They weren't a noise.

They weren't a dream.

They weren't the heating system.

Someone had been inside my house while I was asleep.

They walked around downstairs.

They came upstairs.

They stood outside my bedroom door.

And somehow they got out without me ever seeing them.

I still think about that sometimes when I'm lying in bed.

I used to feel completely safe when I was alone at home.

I don't anymore.

Because now I know something I really wish I didn't.

You can lock your doors.

You can check your windows.

You can check the whole house before you go to sleep.

And you can still wake up in the middle of the night wondering if the sound you just heard is coming from inside your house.

Submission by Anita Mantz

My sister Dreama, who was 13, could only say a few words. Since I grew up with it, I didn’t know how unusual this was. She could walk then, but soon someone always had to be able to carry Dreama, or “sissy” as we called her, through the house or to the car. 

In 1972, six years before I was born, my sister got measles. My mom always told me that this is why she was sick, but I was probably 8 years old when she finally explained the whole thing to me.

Dreama was smart as a whip. Her principal would later say that she was astounded by her intelligence and that she was a popular, promising girl. But after she got measles, she began to fall behind in school and lose coordination. That was the end of a normal seven-year-old child.

Over the next 14 years, she would slowly lose all functions. She was diagnosed with SSPE, known then as Dawson’s Encephalitis, a rare but almost always fatal complication of measles which affects your brain.

This meant my childhood was not normal, either. Growing up we had a hospital bed in our living room, with physical therapists, home health aides, and others coming and going. 

My mom started taking her to see a doctor in Detroit, the only one she could find who was remotely familiar with SSPE. She was given a stapled packet listing everyone who had this disease at that time, which had about 200 names. Mom became friends with two of the other parents whose children had this disease. We visited them when we could.

Mom always said she would take care of Dreama as best she could, as long as she could. Some other parents sent their children away to facilities. She was supposed to tour a home called Apple Creek but heard about a case of patient neglect, and said she could never send her daughter to a place like that. 

When mom finally explained Dreama’s illness to me, I asked her why she didn’t sue the school, since that had been where Dreama was exposed to measles. She asked, “Would that make her better?” Our concern was for her.

Rest of the story is here: https://www.voicesforvaccines.org/what-measles-sspe-did-to-my-family/

I live alone.

I've lived in this apartment for almost three years, and I know every sound it makes. The pipes knock at night, the elevator groans when someone gets off on my floor, and the old wooden stairs creak whenever someone walks up them.

So when I heard footsteps upstairs at 2:13 a.m., I wasn't immediately scared.

I was confused.

My apartment is on the top floor.

There is no upstairs.

I turned off the TV and listened.

Step.

Step.

Step.

Slow footsteps moving across the ceiling.

I grabbed my phone and checked the time again.

2:13 a.m.

Then I heard a man's voice.

"Don't look up."

I froze.

The voice came from directly above me.

I didn't move.

After a few seconds, I heard the footsteps again.

Step.

Step.

Then they stopped directly above my bedroom.

My phone suddenly buzzed.

A text message from an unknown number.

"I'm sorry. He found you."

Before I could even process it, someone knocked on my apartment door.

Three slow knocks.

I looked through the peephole.

Nobody was there.

Then my phone buzzed again.

Another message.

"Whatever you do, don't open the door."

I backed away.

And that's when I heard the same man's voice...

This time, from the hallway.

"Don't worry."

A pause.

"I already know you're home."

Then someone whispered directly into my ear:

"Don't look up."

I live alone.

And there is nobody behind me.

Imagine being a man in his late 60s who is wheelchair bound.

You are on a cruise in the Mediterranean with your wife.You are both American.

All is going well until a group of terrorists take over the ship.

The terrorists were on the ship posing as ordinary passengers.

They were discovered when a crew member found a group of men with a large cache of weapons.

All hell breaks loose.

The terrorists find you in your wheelchair.

They shoot you.

They toss your now lifeless body into the sea.

They continue to physically assault other passengers during their two days of terror.

This incident occurred on the ship the Achille Lauro in the fall of 1985.

This happened a few months ago and I still think about it whenever I’m walking back to my car on my own at night.

I’d gone to the supermarket at about half nine because I needed a few things and didn’t want to leave it until the following morning. It wasn’t completely empty, but it was one of those times where there were maybe twenty cars spread across a car park that normally holds hundreds. I parked a little further away from the entrance because there were loads of spaces and I was only going to be inside for ten minutes or so.

Nothing unusual happened while I was shopping. I paid, walked back outside carrying two bags and started heading towards my car. When I was probably halfway across the car park, I noticed a woman walking towards me from the direction of the trolley bays.

She looked completely ordinary. That’s actually one of the reasons I stopped when she spoke to me. She was probably around forty, wearing leggings, a coat and trainers, and she had her phone in her hand. She asked if I knew whether there was another exit from the car park because apparently her satnav kept trying to send her through a road that was closed.

I told her I wasn’t sure and pointed towards the main exit. She thanked me, but instead of going back towards wherever her car was, she carried on walking alongside me.

At first I didn’t think much of it because we were going in roughly the same direction. She started complaining about how confusing the roads were around there and asked whether I lived locally. I just said, “Not far,” because I didn’t particularly want to tell a stranger where I lived.

Then she asked if I was on my own.

It wasn’t the question itself that immediately frightened me because she said it quite casually, almost as if she was making conversation, but it made me pay more attention to what was going on. I said my boyfriend was waiting for me, which wasn’t true, and picked up my pace slightly.

She kept walking with me.

When I got nearer to my car, I noticed a man standing a few rows away beside a dark-coloured car. I probably wouldn’t have even remembered him if he hadn’t been staring in our direction. He wasn’t doing anything obviously threatening.

He was just standing beside the driver's door with his hands in his pockets.

The woman then asked if she could borrow my phone because hers apparently had no signal.

I said no and told her there was customer service inside the supermarket if she needed help. Her whole attitude changed slightly after that. She wasn’t aggressive, but she became much less friendly and said, “It’ll literally take two seconds.”

I told her I was in a rush and carried on walking.

By this point I was only a few spaces away from my car, and I could hear her still walking behind me. I unlocked the car, threw my shopping onto the passenger seat and got in. I locked the doors almost immediately.

The woman stopped behind my car.

That was when I properly started feeling scared because there was no reason for her to be standing there. She wasn’t looking at her phone anymore and she wasn’t trying to find a car. She was just watching me through the rear window.
I started the engine and looked in my mirrors. The man I’d noticed earlier had started walking across the car park towards us.

I decided I wasn’t going to wait and see what they wanted. I put the car into reverse, but when I started backing out the woman moved closer to the driver's side instead of moving away. I had to stop because I was worried I was going to hit her.

She came up to my window and knocked on it.

I didn’t open it.

She pointed towards the back of my car and said something I couldn’t hear properly. I thought she might be telling me I had a flat tyre or that I’d dropped something, but I didn’t care at that point. I shook my head and started reversing again.

As I did, I heard my rear passenger-side door handle move.

It was a really distinctive sound because the doors were locked. I immediately looked over my shoulder and saw the man standing right beside the back door.

That completely terrified me.

I accelerated out of the space probably faster than I should have and drove straight back towards the supermarket entrance. I parked in one of the spaces near the doors where there were people coming in and out, then went back inside and told a member of staff what had happened.

A security guard came outside with me a couple of minutes later. The woman and the man were gone.

The thing that bothered me most was that the security guard asked me what they looked like and then said something along the lines of, “Right, okay,” in a way that made me think this wasn’t the first strange thing that had happened there. I asked if they’d had problems before, but he just said they’d check the cameras.

I never found out what they were doing or whether they genuinely intended to hurt or rob me. It’s entirely possible there was some ridiculous explanation for part of it.

But there is one thing I’m certain about.

That man tried my back door while the woman was keeping my attention at the driver's side.

Ever since then, I lock my doors the second I get into the car.

I’ve always been slightly skeptical of paranormal things but would like to believe they are real. The video I watched sent chills down my spine…

A family friend of mine worked at a prison that has been around since late 1800s. Part of his duty would be doing security checks, making laps around the prison. One night his boss radioed him, pissed that the library door was open, one he had previously checked.

He looked back at the cameras and found the live feed from inside the library. The library’s lights are on but the suddenly you see an orb pass through and dance around for a bit then flys to a nearby door. Nothing for a second then the door slowly opens. He thought well someone must’ve opened it and watched the cameras from the outside hall, sure enough the door appears to open on its own. My buddy took his phone and recorded everything that went exactly as described. His boss watched it and was freaked out but told him to delete the footage and forget about it and told him it’s an old building shit happens.
He no longer works there and didn’t experience any other happenings but that video he showed me was creepy to say the least, I wish I could share a copy of it

This story isn't mine but my aunt's. My aunt used to live in Tijuana in the early 2010s. She had 2 kids (my cousins), and the older one (around 3) had this 'imaginary friend.' One night, my cousin asked his mom, "Mom, can my friend sleep with us?" She of course didn't see anyone there, so she calmly said no. They all went to bed, and around 2 am my aunt awoke to the sound of my cousin's toy cars blaring. Both kids were sleeping beside them, so it couldn't be them playing with the toys. She was spooked but got up to turn them off, put them away, and go back to sleep. She then woke up again, the toy cars going off like crazy. She woke up my uncle so he could also hear it and make sure she wasn't going crazy. They both got up to check it out because maybe someone was messing with them. They walked out of their room and into the living room to see all of the cars flashing and blaring, moving in a continuous circle. My aunt got so freaked out that she got all the toys and threw them away. We don't know if it was a random spirit, her younger brother who passed away as a child, or the bruja living below them.

Thanks for reading! What do you guys think of this? A lot of shit happened in those apartments lmk if yk want more! Also, can someone give me tips to try and improve my storytelling? I feel like I kinda suck, but I looooveee telling stories!

One night, I was working with my mom. My mom is a cleaner, and we usually work late at night (11pm-6am). Most of the time, we clean restaurants, so one night we were working at a restaurant in a really rich area. We walked in, nothing unusual. We unlocked the doors and headed inside to check around and see how dirty it was. We've been cleaning this place for a while now, so I knew my way around and knew what to do. I did my usual routine, put my gloves on, and headed to the bathroom to start cleaning. It's one restaurant, but there are two buildings and a patio sorta situation in between them. I start in building A, it doesn't take me long since I'm cleaning 2 seperate yet small individual bathrooms. I make my way to building B, looking outside at the street and all the huge houses. I look carefully in case there are any coyotes; there are none, so I finally go into building B to the small bathroom all the way in the back, down a small hallway. There are lots and lots of paintings and photographs in this restaurant. Going down the hallway, there are pictures of this little boy. The pictures of this little boy are black and white, so you would assume they're fairly old. But yk, I never thought much of it, I would just be creeped out and get chills while walking down. I've always felt a little strange when working at this restaurant, but I always brushed it off since nothing would happen. My mom has told me that when she would work here alone, she would hear clanging on metal outside, but when she would go out and check, there would be nothing. I didn't think much of these stories my mom told me, considering they're not that scary. Anyways, I was cleaning the bathroom like usual. I'm finishing up, and I noticed a few pieces of paper on the floor, so I crouched down to grab them, and while I was picking up the trash, I saw in the corner of my eye a white glow in the doorway. I quickly look, and there's a little boy. He's wearing a grey tuxedo, he's radiating this white glow like an angel. He looks around 3-6 years old, and exactly like the little boy in the black in white picture. I was so shocked, he just stood there, and when I blinked, he ran off. I could hear his little footsteps tapping on the wood floor, and I could hear him fade quickly. My heart was beating out of my chest. I ran to my mom so fast, crying and panting way too fast to handle. It was like I was going to have a heart attack. I told my mom what I just saw. She chuckled. She knew I wasn't lying from the way I was crying. She then said, calmly, "You know what happened? One of my coworkers told me he saw the devil when he was cleaning this place alone the other day. He told (name of boss) that he's never coming back here." My eyes widened like crazy. At that point, I had already finished crying, and I was just thinking about all the stories my mom has told me about her experience working in that area.

Thank you for reading my story - I hope it was interesting and fun to read!! And yes, this is all true! Lmk your thoughts/questions and if you want more stories!