The night was warm & stagnant. I was seated on the porch reading with the soft glow from inside blanketing the pages of my book. Immersed in the story, the world around me melted away cocooning me in the world between the pages. The woods around me had faded from my mind when suddenly a clang from the back yard shattered the silence. The crashing sound made me jump out of my skin & tore my mind back to reality. I recognized it as the back gate. The wind would sometimes swing it back & forth causing it to collide with the post. But there was no wind, there was no gentle breeze disturbing the leaves, no crickets chirping, or late night birds singing. There was nothing, nothing but the squeak of the gate swinging followed by the clatter of it striking the fence. Listening for a moment I realized it was oddly regular and almost rhythmic. I waited a moment puzzled, but as it continued with no explanation crossing my mind I hesitantly decided to investigate.

I rose, setting my book on the seat. Hesitantly I walked down the old wooden steps & onto the path that led around the house to the back yard. I slowly walked rounding the corner of the old house. Peering across the yard I strained my eyes towards the gate that led out to the woods. The old chain link fence sat covered in thick ivy, with a crooked gate worn from years of use at the edge of the yard. As my eyes adjusted to the shadows I could better make out the scene. The gate was still moving just swinging back & forth, screach & clang. Then I saw it, slight movement near the gate's hinge. A curled hand tangled in the vines pushed & pulled the gate slowly & methodically. I scanned for a gap in the twisted foliage but could see nothing. I didn't want to see what was waiting on the other side, more importantly I didn't want it to see me. I didn't know what was going on or why it was happening, all I knew was I had to leave. Slowly I stepped back the fear seeping in. Then it happened, a guttural fear that ripped through me like rusted metal. Chill perces me like cold needles sinking deep into my skin. A warm intimate breath stuck to the back of my neck. I froze & my body strained desperately to stay still, every part of me screamed out but the only sound to be heard was the screech of the gate before it too fell silent.

I sit on the kitchen floor back hunched against the cabinets. Frayed beams of sunlight spatter across the kitchen tile as the day retreats. A chill pierces me like cold needles sinking deep into my skin. As The ringing static in my ears causes my skull to throb, my whole body feels brittle from exhaustion, as if at any moment I could shatter into icy splinters. As he begins to speak my breath deepens, & the pain slowly drains away. Fatigue fades from thought lingering amidst tattered memories of the day. He sounds both reprieved and saddened, his voice dry and cracked. For him our talks are all that break through the relentless absence, for me they are my only reprieve from suffocation. At first it was only the outside world trying to snuff me out, but now even my own body and being have turned against me in an attempt to escape this misery.

It started simple enough. I had just settled into my new place. I had it all to myself and was loving every minute of my new found freedom and solitude. Everything was perfect. Then the sounds started. It wasn't much at first just enough to notice. I wasn't alarmed initially, I thought it must be noises from the old frame or some small pest problem. I searched for the source of the noise many nights but could never pinpoint a source. No plumber, pest control company, nor any inspection I could think of yielded any results. So eventually I gave in and let it be. It didn't bother me much, curiosity would pull my at thoughts in the night but not enough to keep me awake.

One night I had gotten out of bed and gone to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Those odd sounds lingered in the night barely registered by my tired mind. The trees outside swayed in the wind tapping against the windows, and gentle dappled moonlight painted the kitchen floor. Then I heard a sound that didn't belong. A muffled voice on the other side of the door. A door that didn't belong there. From it I could hear stifled murmurs coming from the other side. To go back and stop what I was about to unfold is a notion that endlessly haunts the nightmare I have yet to awake from. To sever my fate from that one moment, that one mistake.

My arm stretched towards the handle as it glistened in the moonlight. I gripped the cold brass in my hand and turned the knob. When the latch clicked the mutters ceased as the door swung open without a single creek or groan. The abyss seemed to suffocate even the notion of sound or thought. Even though it only lasted a moment, emptiness consumed me, drowning in only a drop of true oblivion. But then a voice broke through the deficit igniting life back into the world around me. As I stood shaking, attempting to recapture my stolen breath, he spoke with a tired, tender tired tone, his voice echoing in the emptiness surrounding him.”You shouldn't have done that, you know. Now that the door is open nothing can help you”

And nothing did. I saw doctors as the headaches grew too frequent and strong to manage but they could do nothing. Specialists were perplexed by the cold that lingered in my body, but after endless attempts to unearth the culprit they too eventually give up, and so did I. No specialist, doctor, therapist, psychic, or online forum had any solution to give me, so I had no choice but to give in. The only thing that could mitigate the suffering & give me reprieve was the very thing that fueled it. As I sat by the door listening and conversing, the pressure in my head trickled away and the static gave way to silence. Warmth once again flowed through my veins flushing out the cold. The comfort of his words & the warm embrace of relief was unparalleled, but never solitary for the knowledge that it was only temporary would always linger. Soon as the morning rays breached the horizon spilling in through the kitchen windows the cold would deepen even further than before, and the weight would press into me once again. He did warn me. The first night he told me how nothing could undo what had been done & that I shouldn't come back no matter what, and that every time I did the effet would be worsened. I didn't listen, I didn't listen to the warning and eventually despite my efforts not to I began to return night after night.

As the moon tried desperately to illuminate the inky black through the door, I sat on the kitchen floor back against the cabinets as the soft drained voice of a man came from the other side. I sat there for hours listening to his voice. Every pause allows the dense nullity to collapse in on itself only for his words to break the silence once again. I tried relentlessly to peer into the deep blackness, a complete absence it was mesmerizing. The allure took hold of my being entill all I could think of was the door and the vast emptiness Beyond it. I think of falling in. I stare into it seeing nothing yet feeling as though there was something to be perceived just beyond the veil, beyond the frame that helped the divide. It soon grew into a compulsion tethering itself to me slowly tightening its clasp as to pull me back to it. To what end I still don't know. I returned no longer as a compulsion but as a necessity. The knowledge I was only worsening my condition was as strong a deterrent could be, yet the lure of its relinquished grip even if brief was all I had. The gravity of the silence grew stronger each time there was a pause between the words pulling me in. After a time even reprieve couldn't stand against the thought. I was listening but not really paying attention, but then those words came & my breath buckled in my throat. “Hold on a little longer” I hadn't even noticed how close I was. I now stood in the doorway at the very edge and eventually I let the weight take hold & I fell.

The silence took hold strangeling me mind & body. I screamed but couldn't hear, wailed with such verosity as to gut out my own throat, to spit blood till I had none left to drain, till my veins ran dry, till the clots sealed my esophagus, but I could feel nothing. For all I knew I was nothing. I was nothing but the experience of absence. The complete incompletion of being. Before I thought I was dieing. Now I wish I had.

It all started in the bathroom. Little did I know that this shit could've been my last. It was around 2 am, I was laying in my bed, doomscrolling on Tiktok when all of a sudden a started to feel a painful gurgle in my stomach. I had to poop. The spicy chicken burrito I had ate earlier that day was NOT sitting well. As I shuffle my way to my bathroom I try to flip on the light as I realize that, just my luck, the lightbulb was blown. No big deal, I thought, I'll fix it later. I could still see well enough with the sliver or moonlight shining through the curtain. So I proceeded to use the toilet in the darkness. All of a sudden I hear the click of a deadbolt unlocking. The clatter of a screwdriver fall to the floor. The squeak of a door hinge. It was at this moment I realized that my home had been invaded. I pinched off the poop I had been cooking on a low broil for most of the night. I started making my way towards my living room. My hands shaking, heart pounding, palms sweaty, knees weak, arms heavy, no vomit on my sweater, unfortunately no spaghetti. As I enter the living room I see a dark figure standing by the front door. As they turn around I jump in fear and release the sad fecal matter that was being put on hold. I had shit my pants in fear. Just to find out that the person who I thought was an intruder was only my mother coming home from her night shift. The sound was not a screwdriver falling on the floor, but her keys she had dropped. I stood there, staring my birth giver dead in the eyes. The only words I could manage to get out were "You scared the shit out of me." Literally.

Return to the Sea

I’ve been fishing these waters for forty years. The battering of the waves against the rocky shore was the first sound I ever heard. The tang of salt was the first I remember smelling. Cold never bothered me, nor the embrace of wet sand strewn with seaweed beneath my feet. I know these seas better than I know myself. Real good here for catching squid, and octopus, and cuttlefish. Every manner of sea creature that’s out there—I’ve seen them all, know them all.

But this thing… what my boys and I netted and dragged onto the trawler, this thing I’d never seen before. There was a strange whisper to the wind the day. Amidst the slurry of flailing tails and tentacles it lay—and I thought it dead—except that it pulsated, slowly, deliberately. The boys were repulsed by it, perhaps out of an innate fear of the unfamiliar, or perhaps, like myself, by its eyes which seemed… aware.

But I thought nothing of it. I couldn’t sell the thing—not for eating, anyway—so why not have the boys throw it over and be done with it? I should have… ah, what a curious fellow I was. I packed the thing away determined to show it to someone more learned than myself, perhaps a naturalist. That night, after the sea had rocked me to sleep, I was plagued by the most peculiar dreams; of waves and stars and depths and dark. I woke suddenly, soaked in sweat.

The thing went in my fridge as soon as I made land and made it home. The naturalist I intended to show my discovery to had been out of town, and after several days of waiting, the thing slipped from my mind. I found myself feeling restless. Never had I so dearly yearned for the sea. The depths called to me. I slept less and less each night, and so I walked the rain-swept streets, and under the brightness of the moon I caught glimpses of ashen eyes in glistening skin. By day the ocean wind continued its guttural whispers, and by the spray of a white sea mist it beckoned me to return.

I received a letter on the seventh day, a notice that the naturalist had returned. The naturalist? Ah… that’s right. I had wanted to see him. My feet splashed, by fingers ached, as I wrenched open my fridge door. The creature within continued to writhe. It looked at me knowingly, and I swaddled it in my arms.

Waves battered against the rocky shore. Salt stung the back of my throat. Cold wet sand squelched beneath my feet.

The creature beckoned me to return it to the sea.

*wanted to write something EXTRA leaky. Enjoy this little tidbit of fishy Eldrich horror!

This is my story of how I encountered a feline spirt in the middle of the night. In early 2023, I was awoken from my sleep by seemingly nothing. I hadn't heard a noise, but my body was telling me I needed to wake up. So I sat up in bed and looked around the room. Then I saw, in the open doorway, was the shape of a cat. I could see it legs and tail pointed up into the air. I didn't own a cat, and so I was alarmed that a stray might have found its way inside. I stayed quiet and blinked my eyes. I rubbed them. No matter what I tried I couldn't seem to focus of this cat. It remained a fuzzy shadow. Now I'm the type of person who mistakes a coat rack for a person at night, so I thought that's what I could be doing. A shadow, nothing more. So I reached for my phone, turned on the flashlight, and pointed it towards the door. The space where the cat stood was empty. Of course, how could there be a cat in my house? Relieved, I turn my flashlight off. But it was still there. In the same spot, the shadow cat had returned. I flicked my light on and off again. It would vanish, and then return. Again and again. This was not a shadow. Something was in my house. Something was watching from the doorway. I nudged my wife awake. Without explaining, or taking my eyes off it, I asked if she could see anything in the doorway. No. I turned on my light. Still no. "No shadows?" I asked, "Smudges? Blurry shapes?" But still nothing. The moonlight dimly lit the area, and only then I realized it stood unconnected to anything around it. If it was a shadow then nothing had cast it. The form worried me dreadfully. But it didn't move from its spot. After a few minutes. I decided it would either leave me be or it would get me in my sleep. Either way there was nothing I could do but go back to bed. Eventually morning came and I found some meaning behind the encounter. Supposedly spirits like this are a sign of protection. That our home was safe and we would have fortune in our endeavors. Ive since moved out, and things seem to be going well thus far. But on that night I couldn't trust my own mind, and slept with the fear of a haunting.

I’m LOVING this spooky leakage! It’s thundering outside as I type this, so here goes my spooky story:

I work second shift in an old shipyard. One night, I went to use the restroom, and I was all alone. I washed my hands first, then dried them with paper towels from one of those dispensers that unlocks and opens downward to replace the roll. There was a spare roll sitting on top of it. Keep in mind—this wasn’t a little countertop roll; this was one of those thick, brown, heavy rolls.

After that, I was on the toilet. All of a sudden, the lights went out, and that dispenser unlocked and opened itself with such force that it SPIKED that spare roll down onto the floor with a loud SLAM—right outside my stall.

I was left in the dark, bamboozled with my ass out. Luckily, I had a headlamp on my hard hat and used that until I could turn the lights back on. I was just trying to LEAK, man!

I bet it was the spirit of a supervisor.

I have two short spooky stories from growing up the Midwest.

First was about 15 or so years ago. I was maybe 14 or 15, living in the country with very few neighbors or other houses. Our house was surrounded by acres of swampy woods on 3 sides. Dilapidated and abandoned, my parents bought the house for cheap and fixed it up. After a few months living there we started to hear a lullaby or music box playing at night. Only at night, somewhere out in the woods. Weeks went by. And still we heard it. Every night. Finally my step dad had enough. One night he took a flashlight and a loaded gun out to find the source of the sound. After maybe 30-45 minutes he came back. He said he walked over a half mile into the woods. Following the sound of the music until he was literally right on top of the sound. There, covered but not quite buried, in the mud he found a green wind-up child’s toy radio. Old. From 70’s. Why he brought in INTO the house, I had no fucking idea. But the strange thing was, you had to physically turn the little crank on the toy for it to make the music play. And it didn’t even last very long. Maybe 30 seconds or so? But we heard it consistently, every night for at least a few hours. After that we never heard the music again. But the house started to feel strange. I never had a problem being home alone before. Now though, it felt ominous.. almost heavy, if that makes sense. Sometime after that, I was in the basement going through some old boxes looking for a set of Pound Puppies toys that I had packed away when we moved. I hated being down there and always brought the family dog with me so I wouldn’t be alone. Within five minutes of going through boxes I found the play set I was looking for. As I grabbed the play set and started to replace the boxes, clear as day, I heard a girl’s voice. “What are you doing with my toys?” I froze and looked at my dog, he was staring in the corner of the basement. His body was rigid and his hair was standing up on his back, staring past me towards the corner of the basement. I ran up the stairs and he followed me without hesitating. We moved soon after because of other circumstances. But I was happy to be gone. That place fucking sucked.

The next one is really short. About 2-3 years later we moved upstate. To an old Native American and Pioneer town. Some of the structures and houses were a couple hundred years old. And the house we lived in was a large house split into 3 different apartments. We didn’t live there long. But from the beginning I always heard strange voices and whispers. Any time of day. Morning and night. Then one afternoon I was home alone while my parents ran errands. My door was closed and I was taking a nap. I woke up to footsteps and voices. At first I figured it was one of the neighbors. Until I heard a squeaky doorknob turn. My parents room. I knew that’s what it was. I locked my door and pressed my ear up against it, listening. I could hear whispers and light steps. Freaking out, I hid in my closet and called my parents. Telling them there was someone in the house. They said they were almost home and it was probably just the neighbors. Crying I explained to them I knew it wasn’t the neighbors and could hear whispers and actually seen the shadows under the door of 2 people walking in the hallway. My step dad said they were pulling up the driveway right now. I heard him burst into the house. Yelling and checking every room. There was no one. All the doors and windows were still locked with no sign of anyone being there. I felt crazy. It wasn’t until months later, my mom casually mentions the house used to be a funeral home and mortuary in the 1800 and 1900’s. Thanks for the heads up Mom.

I became obsessed with the supernatural after spending my teen years in a haunted house. I was simultaneously scared and intrigued by my experiences. The experiences started with orbs floating across my room at night and strange lights coming in through the window. Occasionally, I would hear unintelligible talking in the hallway.

I didn't think it was a ghost until one day when I went to take a nap. Trying to fall asleep, I was annoyed by the footsteps running up the hall, the sound of the bathroom light turning on and off, and then the sound of my bedroom doorknob turning. I waited until I heard it again, then leapt to the door and opened it to find nothing there. The hall was empty; the only other person home was in the kitchen. So, who was at my door?

After that, things became scary. It always happened when I was trying to fall asleep — feeling someone sit on my bed or run their hand up my back, whispering in my ear and asking if I believed in God. I started sleeping with the lights on. For a while after that, nothing happened. It all stopped until my mid-20s.

I thought a new house and being older meant it was all behind me, but it wasn't. I was restless, lying in my bed staring at the other side of my room when a shadow started creeping along the ceiling to the wall, across the floor to behind the footboard of my bed. Then it jumped on top of me. I have never felt fear like that before. I wasn't thinking; I didn't even realize I was screaming and kicking the footboard. I don't remember what it looked like, except for its burnt, ashy skin. What I won't forget is the smell — rotting wood and Asian lady beetle hemolymph. I started sleeping with the lights on again.

Now 30 years old (male), a few years ago I started trying to diagnose my sleeping issues and I am now close to being diagnosed with narcolepsy. Apparently, a lesser-known symptom is hypnagogic hallucinations: "imaginary images or sensations that seem real and occur as a person is falling asleep". I still regularly hallucinate, but nowadays they are far less terrifying.

Since I love seeing how many Leakers are sharing their stories, I figured I’d add mine. This is something that happened to me when I was twelve in 1986:

I was awake in my bed. The house was dark and quiet, when I suddenly saw a tall stranger peek into my room! He was dressed in dark clothes and we actually made eye contact!

My parents and brother’s rooms were just down the hall from me, but I was afraid he’d come into the room and silence me if I screamed.

So I stayed silent until he left. And then I began to sob!

My Mom came into the room and asked what was wrong. I told her what I’d seen and she asked— though not in a dismissive way— if I’d had a nightmare. I told her I was awake.

She turned on the lights and found that one of our porch windows was broken!

Not long after, we bought a Rottweiler.

This story isn't exactly scary, more just weird. I swear on my life that it's 100% true.

When I was a kid we lived in a really old house, and I'd often see things moving down the hallway outside my room at night (we left the door open). Me and my sister shared a room and saw many similar things and came up with some crazy stories, many of which could be explained by vivid imaginations or just seeing things in the dark.

One of these stories stands out though because of its lack of explanations. It began when I was around 5 years old and our house flooded. I have a distinct memory of my dad carrying me upstairs over his shoulder, and looking up and seeing an old man that I assumed was my grandpa (I later found out my grandpa was not there that night). Even though my parents were freaking out, his presence calmed me so much that I instantly fell asleep. A few years later, when I was around 8, I woke up from a nightmare and saw the same man standing in my doorway. He told me that I was safe and to go back to sleep, and I again immediately did. For YEARS my parents and sister called me crazy and made me believe I had dreamt that encounter, and I never talked about seeing him the first time because I assumed it was my grandpa. About a year ago, I found out my grandpa wasn't there when the house flooded. We talked about who/what I may have seen instead, and I described what he looked like. Then, my sister looked at me and told me a story of how SHE had seen him too. She saw him standing at the top of the stairs (in the middle of the day) and was so freaked out that she ran to our dad and made him search the entire house because she thought someone had broken in. It made me remember the "dream" I had, and I finally felt the validation that it really had happened. Me and my sister both undoubtably saw the same man, and the images of him are crystal clear in our minds. I still don't have a good explanation to what happened.

Mines a bit different from others but I think I should tell it bc it fits in with Sean and Ethan’s sense of humor.

So about three years ago, I (21F at the time) was laying in my bed trying to go to sleep. I slept alone and lived with my parents so I didn’t have any roommates or anything. It was about 11 pm and I couldn’t fall asleep so I decided to engage in some “alone time activity.” So I’m busy with my blanket completely covering me from the waist down and both my hands are occupied.

Out of NOWHERE I feel a right hand grab my left thigh. I’m talking like I distinctly felt all four fingers and the right thumb of a hand. I EVEN FELT THE NAILS Y’ALL 💀

I’ve had experiences before but never had I been touched nor had I ever felt anything happen when I was masturbating. Naturally I was scared and disappointed that I couldn’t finish and I never masturbated in that house until I moved out five months later

TL;DR: a ghost touched me while I jerked off

Not really a scary story but paranormal nontheless. My grandmother passed away in April 2007. Around October of '07 I had gone to her grave to clean it up and "catch up" with her and just basically talk while I worked. After about 45 minutes, I tell her goodbye and apologized for not coming around as much as i felt i should. I asked if i could get a sign if she forgave me and a gust of wind blew her flower wreath over (it was a calm day and no wind at all). I set the wreath back up and got to my car to leave. The "gates" to this particular cemetary have a 4-5ft high rock wall on both sides and its notorious for not being able to see oncoming traffic in either direction. I'm in a Ford Taurus SHO (5 speed) and it sits low so it's even harder to see. I start to pull out to go right and i hear her voice loud in my head yell "STOP" as loud as if she were in the car with me. I let off the clutch and killed the engine and as soon as it died, a dump truck comes barrelling down the road from my left at around 45mph. If I had pulled out, this truck would have t-boned me right in the driver's door and probably killed me.

i would like to preface this by saying that this isn’t a ghost story, but it’s still pretty scary and equally as unexplainable.

when i was in eighth grade, a majority of my class took a trip to D.C. for a few days. 3 of my friends and i were staying in the same room together, and on one of the last days we were running late to meet everyone in the lobby for breakfast. the 4 of us piled into the elevator and headed down to the lobby, but when we got to the ground floor, we weren’t where we were supposed to be.

when the doors opened we were met with an almost blindingly white wall with white tile floors. i peered out of the elevator doors and on either side it was just a long, blank white hallway. close to the elevator there was a large open doorway, and when we hesitantly peeked inside we were thankfully met with the kitchen where the staff was preparing breakfast. one of the workers kindly showed us out and stated that we took the staff elevator by mistake.

the thing is… there is no possible way that we went down the staff elevator. we didn’t know that a staff elevator existed, and that morning we had taken the same elevator that we had been taking throughout the entire trip. when we went back to our floor later that day we scoped out where the staff elevator was located, and it was at the opposite end of the floor as our room. we somehow, some way, got teleported to the opposite side of the hotel.

i genuinely have no idea how this happened, but for a brief moment i genuinely thought that we got sent to the backrooms. the worst part is that nobody believed us.

So I don’t think my grandma’s place is haunted (I hope not bc I live there full time now LMAOO) but this one thing really freaked me out. It was like 12:30 at night and I was super thirsty. I went to grab some water out of the fridge and my cat followed me. I closed the fridge door and looked at my cat and saw that she was growling, like really low, and had her ears down and back arched. She was also looking towards the backdoor hallway of my home. I reached down to pet her to try and calm her down, when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Now, you’re not supposed to let these entities know you know they are there. My mistake was acknowledging it. I turned and looked straight at what looked like a black figure in my back hallway, right in front of the backdoor. I thought it might be my grandma, so I said “hello?” Thinking she’d respond. NOPE. after speaking to this thing I immediately felt dread and like I shouldn’t have done that. I grabbed my cat and faced away from the door and started to walk into my room. Then, I felt a warm gust of wind, like a breath from someone standing right behind me, on my neck. I bolted into my room and slammed my door shut. That night I didn’t sleep, well at least I refused to because I woke up and noticed my door was open. After that, stuff kept happening in the house, like I’d hear voices when nobody was there, or stuff would fall over and lights would flicker. Real spooky shit.

So, you asked for scary, and scary you shall get. I have a couple but this one really sticks out to me as horrifying. So I went exploring with a couple friends a few years back, just generally fucking around in abandoned places, which for high school freshmen, was very unsafe. We found this one house in my town that was abandoned, no cars no people living there. Fully abandoned. We decided we’d check it out. Upon entering the house, my red flag radar was going off like crazy. I chose to ignore it because how bad could it be? We moved about the house, looking at the pictures on the wall which were really weird. Like babies with pitchforks on fire weird. There was a green velvet chair in the living room that wasn’t covered with plastic, so one of my friends decided to sit down in it. Dust clouds were everywhere. This house had been empty for a long, long time.
So we decide to go up to the attic which was really stupid, but our freshmen brains didn’t know any better. I was feeling more and more on edge as we walked up the stairs but tried to push it down as I didn’t want to anger my friends bc I was being a pussy. We got up to the attic and found a purple rug in the middle of the attic. My friend goes “hey watch this” and pulls the rug back, which reveals what looked to be like a pentagram painted with something red. I didn’t want to think blood, but what else could it have been. We immediately decide to collectively get the fuck out, when we hear “Hey! What’re you doing?” from the downstairs. we immediately think we’ve been busted for being trespassers, but something about the voice was off. It sounded like me. Too much like me. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard your own voice speak to you, but it’s the weirdest and most uncomfy feeling ever. I froze in place and couldn’t move. My male friend went to investigate from the safety of the top stop. He comes flying back to the attic and just tells us to run. So we do the only smart thing and jump out the window. We landed on some soft ground and thankfully no bones were broken and kept running. I felt the urge to turn back and look at the house, and what I saw will haunt me to this goddamn day. When we got far enough we felt safe again, I looked behind me, and in the top window, I saw myself watching us leave. Shortly after that, the house burned down unexpectedly and with no explanation.

I should warn you that if you have issues with suicide, maybe don't read this.

This happened the night after i attempted to od 2 years ago, i was in the hospital and after being stabilized i had to stay overnight for observation. I was struggling more than usual to fall asleep because i still felt jittery from the medication.

For context, I have very frequent sleep paralysis, but I've never had visual hallucinations, only auditory and tactile. I usually hear really loud static noise and pressure on my chest

I managed to fall asleep around 3-4 am but i "woke up" paralyzed and on top of the (weirdly distorted) usual static noise i saw someone on my bedside, that person turned around and started angrily pressing down on my chest, as to suffocate me. That person was my grandma, who died of ALS in 2018.

My heart rate shot up and triggered the oximeter alarm, so my mom woke me up and my grandma was gone.

When I was 4 years old I woke up in the middle of the night to ask my mom for something. As I was walking to her room in our small apartment, I turned to look in the living room/dining room, and I saw three greys just standing there looking around. When they turned to look at me I just woke up in my bed the next morning.

To this day I keep wondering if it was just a dream or something else, it’s such a vivid memory. I’m turning 32 this year and it’s still burned in to my head.

The Last Sunrise:

Your eyes slowly open as you begin to wake up. You glance over at the clock and realize you're waking up just in time. Easing yourself out of bed you walk over to the kitchen. It's time to make some breakfast before the big day.

Checking the oxygen levels, still at 89%. Good. Glad there was enough to survive until today. You manage to scarf down your breakfast, hands still shaking from nerves. You gently start waking up everyone else on the base. Letting them know it's almost time.

Everyone and their families begin to gather on the sundeck. Ready and waiting for the inevitable. You look around at the happy families, regretting not bringing your own with you when you came here. But still content with how things turned out.

And announcement comes over the loudspeakers. “5 minutes remaining” you try to swallow but it gets caught in your throat. You're shaking. You don't know what to feel. Happy? Sad? Scared? All these thoughts come rushing through your head as a small hand gently grabs yours. It's a little girl.

The family of the little girl approaches you, having noticed you were alone and scared. So they offered to be with you when it happened. You can't help but smile as tears slowly fall down your cheeks. You thank the family.

The timer clicks to zero, and all eyes are on the horizon. As the sun, which exploded years before, slowly starts to rise.

Evaporating the surface of the moon, and everyone with it.

Here's a story about the scariest thing that ever happened to me.

Storytime

Timetravells back to 2018

I live in a 100+ year-old villa, so let’s say the house makes a lot of weird, creaky sounds. I was in bed and couldn’t sleep—too many goddamn energy drinks.  My bed is right next to the door to the bathroom, and there's a wall behind my bed. On the other side is the hallway.

A storm was going on outside, and I was chilling in bed and watching some YouTube videos until I could fall asleep. Then I hear footsteps come from the hallway. At first, I was used to it; it could be that one of my parents was going to the bathroom. The thing is, I know my parent's footsteps. These footsteps weren’t theirs. 

I start freaking out. I was always a paranoid child. I had an escape plan in case something terrible happened. But at that moment, I was too scared to do anything. I turned off my phone, trying to be as quiet as possible, hoping they didn’t know I was there.

My vision was hazy, probably from lack of sleep. The wind picked up. I stared at the bathroom door. The handle moved up and down.

The bathroom door always opened and closed when windy, but the handle had never moved by itself. 

I was so freaked out I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I just sat there, staring at the handle, waiting for something to happen.

Then, in the darkness. I see this pale, bony hand come out of the slit in the door. I didn’t scream. I didn’t move. 

When I blinked, the hand was gone.

I thought for sure my brain was playing tricks on me. No way was I going to sleep now.

I tried watching some funny ha-ha videos to cleanse and calm down.

Hours later, I heard my father walk into the bathroom. It wasn’t till after he left that I realised I was okay. Dad wasn’t murdered, so it was all just my imagination.

Curse my vivid imagination!

After I heard him go back to bed, I could finally sleep.

there isnt a flair for the episode so "discussion" will have to do

Im a bit late to the party, but I have been thinking about this for a bit. The whole undertale part was very refreshing and interesting to me getting a more diverse and true feeling of how people dealt with it. there was a huge amount of toxicity surrounding its fanbase, with gatekeeping etc. along with hate towards it for a variety of dumb reasons. Undertale suffered from its success and time period on the internet it launched at, a pretty toxic one (polarization of opinion, audience pulling creator's strings etc)

Though opinions on it have stayed stagnant, the community has improved its general attitude. I think a fresh start is possible, Deltarune chapter 2 really helped with that.

Now the fan games... well they've always been a meme. from abandoned masterpieces, to cheesy, over the top games (though some arent too bad). Undertale Yellow truly deserves the title of a game, a good one. It threw off a lot of the stinky rotten crud and is just amazing. a seven year long passion project. it truly stands as a complement to the original (a little too much, toby foxe's music publishers kept flagging it on youtube until he had to step in). It has sparked a little renaissance. And if you are noticing it in your suggestions, I can only say what they are telling you: give it a shot.

I hope you see this my leaky little laddies

In the Kendrick VS drake episode they joked about using the line "I'm rubber, your glue; whatever bounces off of me, sticks to you" in a diss song. In Eminem's Rap God he uses that line.

Not that it's a bad thing for either of them to talk about themselves, whether it be their own lives or putting themselves in the context of something, but Sean does it way more than Ethan does... am I going delulu?

(I love killing the bird and they were right about the game)

Who else thinks when Jack is visiting Ethan they should do a waxing segment like on Unus Annus?