Hedonist reminds me
On Max Payne the levels in between the main story where you have to follow the bloody footprints in the dark abyss, and the baby crying is in the background.

If you strayed, you fell and had to start again.

That really fucking creeped me out, cant find a link tho
(Monkeystrumpet monkey. Monkey, MONKEY!!!, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 16:30, 2 replies)

We don't go to Ravenholm....
Had to play that level with the sound off
( h3donist tryin' to play me out as if my name is Sega.., Fri 8 Apr 2011, 16:26, 3 replies)

Salford Uni - About 2003ish
Me and my mate were down visiting a mate who was studying there.

I was on a very abrasive carpet on a dorm room floor, and was having trouble sleeping when suddenly my mate who came down with me sat up bolt upright and looked at me.

He didnt say a word
He didnt blink
He just stared, then lay back down and didnt move

I shuffled under uni mates bed and nestled in with his guitars....very disturbed.

He didnt remember it at all, but i still do
(Monkeystrumpet monkey. Monkey, MONKEY!!!, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 16:25, 2 replies)

People
particularly those who use the Internet a lot.
( Goatworrier had your mum and she was shit, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 16:16, 1 reply)

That woman who was pregnant with octuplets
This was in the news about, what, 2000? She was advised to abort, as the chances of survival were minimal. Egged on by the ghouls at News of The World, she ignored medical advice and went on with her pregnancy. When she miscarried, there was a ghastly, grotesque and fucking creepy funeral with eight little caskets being carried.

What an abhorrent scenario.
(McChinaman banned, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 16:14, 2 replies)

This... This is creepy.
www.nowmagazine.co.uk/celebrity-news/522129/kate-middleton-turned-into-princess-catherine-doll/1/
(Rob.S, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 16:14, 3 replies)

Don't know whether this is creepy or just very odd
Mr and Mrs Hamilton lived in the Brisbane suburb of Sherwood, in a short street that ended just past their house at a park gate.

They had been invited to a wedding for one Saturday night but Mr. H had a cold so Mrs. H went alone. On her return just after midnight she turned into the street to find a police car parked across the street.

She stopped and was asked who she was and why she was there, she showed her driving licence and pointed to her house. The police told her to make sure everything was locked up, so she parked in the garage, locked the car and the garage and went inside.

Mr H woke and they talked it over for a few minutes, and carefully locked the house. Just then they heard the police car start and leave, so they went to bed.

Just before seven the next morning the telephone rang. It was the Ipswich police - about 25 miles from Sherwood. Their car had been recovered undamaged.

"But it hasn't been stolen!"

The police gave details, so they checked the garage. It was open and the car had been stolen.
(Redemption blamed it on the Bossa Nova since, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 16:09, 1 reply)

Large pieces of machinery creep me out...
Giant fans especially and even more so if they make a loud noise. I hate walking past a large JCB digger, I jump out of my skin when any large generators start up in the plant room at work while I am in there, farm machinery makes me freeze to the spot in fear and the machine room at the Manchester Museum of Science & Industry makes my blood run cold.

Probably because I was forced to watch episodes of Casualty on BBC 1 as a child...every week some poor sod would get hacked to death by a combine harvester or get his hand jammed into some machine at a production line :(
( Bamboo Steamer, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 16:01, 2 replies)

I am the one doing the creeping
Ever since puberty I have sleepwalked and have pretty regular night terrors. It's a pretty horrible feeling to wake up and see shadow men stalking around your room, anyway I digress.
As my Mum tells it; She was sleeping quite peacefully when she started to get a feeling of being watched, she wakes up with a start and there I am, standing at the side of her bed just staring at her with empty eyes. She asks me whats wrong and I reply 'where's my Mum?' she answers that she is my Mum. I ask her again and start flexing my fists she replies in the affirmitive. I start to climb on top of her trying to grab her arms all the while asking where my Mum is. She is pretty scared by this point. My Mum is tiny just 5foot and about 7 stone. I was a big 5'5" girl (it was all puppy fat...). What was scaring her most was that I wasn't shouting just very quiet and monotone and looked like I was about to get violent. She eventually convinces me that she is who she says is and takes me back to bed but couldn't sleep a wink that night. I didn't remember a thing.

Another that creeped me the fuck out was on a skiiing trip with school I sleep(slept?)walked from our room across a corridor into our old male teachers room, who I must have woken up, who then woke me up to take me back to my room, he was only wearing a pair of tight yellow briefs. I will never forget that sight *shudders*
(Bababoon, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 16:00, 1 reply)

When Steve Irwin died
and there were lots of stories about how little Bindi Irwin is bravely carrying on, appearing at his televised memorial service, in stories in women's magazines, and now she's got a CD...

Every story told how this was a child coping with grief, and how brave and touching it was. To me it seemed to be as a child being promoted by her mother as a media personality. Immediately after had Dad died. With a theme of 'my Dad's dead'.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 15:53, 5 replies)

Bizarre coincidence or message from beyond the graaaaaaaaaaaaaaave???
My grandad died after a prolonged spell in hospital after a botched heart bypass operation during the age when hospital waiting lists for life saving operations were 3-4 years. I was mortified. He was the first person I really knew to die, and at the age of 64 and still in great humour it was a shock to all of us. He was one of those guys you thought would be around forever.

He was a bit of a hero to me. He'd caught the end of the WW2 just as it was ending, his main contribution was driving his truck up one side of the Spanish Steps in Rome, and down the other side in a drunken bet, then after demob he became a lumberjack, then went on to be a fireman, then after his first heart attack and forced early retirement he became a St John's Ambulance trainer. Proper working class champion and liked by all who met him. We'd grown really close when me, my dad and him started a voluntary woodland regeneration project doing manly things like chopping down dead trees, lighting bonfires and lumberjackerly type pursuits. Probably not the best idea for a guy with a heart problem, but he was as stubborn as he was proud.

His funeral was a really emotional day. The crematorium was packed from front to back and out the door with people from St John's, his old Fire Brigade a couple of Lords (still not sure how they knew him) and a ton of friends and family. The shear number of people there was testament to how many people's lives he'd touched. I couldn't see through the tears especially after the readings.

Fast forward a few hours and we had to leave my Nan in their bungalow and head back home, exhausted and emotionally battered. Our route home took us across the Salisbury plain and past Porton Down where he was stationed when he was in the Fire Brigade.

My dad was a contracts manager at the time, and was test driving a Ford Granada to see if it was any cop as a fleet car. This was the first car we ever had that had all the bells and whistles like electric windows, central locking and a sunroof. Anyway, we were driving along in silence, my sister asleep, and as soon as we got to Porton Down the central locking went nuts. It started locking and unlocking at an insane pace. It lasted for about 30 seconds until we'd finished driving past the entrance to Porton.

My sister woke up and wondered why we were all looking at each other, mouths open, eyes on stalks. It never happened before, or since. If it were an electrical fault you'd expect to to happen more than once.

The scientist in me still thinks it must have been something weird they were doing with an electromagnetic doo-da in PD that day, but there's part of me that really hopes it was a message from my grandad letting us know he was still about and everything was going to be OK. He could have done something slightly less terrifying though, he nearly caused another three heart attacks that day.
( Draconacticus Reject shampoo. Demand real poo!, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 15:52, 7 replies)

Lego policemen and jails.
It's like having a Care Bears Department of Homeland Security.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 15:47, 1 reply)

MIcrowave Auditory Effect
discovered when people living near radar could detect when they were switched on by hearing clicks.

also known as voice to skull technology
www.google.co.uk/search?hl=en&q=voice+to+skull&aq=f&aqi=g10&aql=&oq=

US Patent 6470214 www.google.co.uk/search?hl=en&source=hp&q=patent+6470214&btnG=Google+Search&aq=f&aqi=&aql=&oq=
Professor James Lin live demonstration of the "Frey effect" www.youtube.com/watch?v=9wpfOSGm0wc&feature=related

raven1.net gives good info on the stalking and harrassement done with the tech by private groups and intelligence agencies with LIDA machines etc www.raven1.net/uncom.htm#KOHNX and other patented devices used to transmit voice or wavelengths to modify behaviour from remote locations direct to the chosen victim
www.raven1.net/uncom.htm

The entry on the Federation of American Scientists website reads:

Nonlethal weapon which includes (1) a neuro-electromagnetic device which uses microwave transmission of sound into the skull of persons or animals by way of pulse-modulated microwave radiation; and (2) a silent sound device which can transmit sound into the skull of person or animals. NOTE: The sound modulation may be voice or audio subliminal messages. One application of V2K is use as an electronic scarecrow to frighten birds in the vicinity of airports.
www.fas.org/sgp/othergov/dod/vts.html
(her, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 15:39, 5 replies)

Mexican guy sleeping in a video game.
I used to have this dream, where I was in space, in a checkers-pattern infinite floor, with trees and the surrounding ground floating around, like clouds. Under one of those, there was lying a mexican guy, sleeping, the sombrero covering half his upper body.

But yet, I KNOW he's observing me. And that creeps me out. And then comes the penguins. THOUSANDS of those pesky, flightless-biting black chickens. All of them are staring at me in a scary way. And all of them are thinking, and I can hear every single thought: they all are thinking about the mexican's guy name: Gonzalezz.

I had this nightmare for years. And I found the culprit in a computer magazine from 1985: img855.imageshack.us/i/gonzalezz.jpg/
(surak, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 15:37, Reply)

sprouts.

(nappy rash, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 15:29, Reply)

Indian New Wave Hitler
is not going to let his love die.

For certain values of 'love' and 'die'.

LINK.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 15:29, 4 replies)

Bette Midler

( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 15:24, 1 reply)

Right then, one more.
(wavy lines)

///////////////////
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
///////////////////
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Back many years ago when Nurse Ratched and I were still young and somewhat happy, we used to visit her parents a fair bit as one does when they're young and happily married. Her parents lived in a single story house on a hill that had been a farm before heart attacks forced Erle to give up farming.

Erle had a tendency to be a miserable old git at times, and had a pretty bad drinking problem. He'd usually keep it under control while we were there, but I saw him truly drunk off his ass more than a few times. But even sober he was often a bit of a bastard.

Being an alcoholic, his sleep schedule was pretty erratic, and it was common for him to be awake at two in the morning, smoking unfiltered cigarettes and listening to AM talk radio at the kitchen table. There were many times when I woke in the night to go to the bathroom and heard him in there, the radio blathering on about something as he hacked in that deep smoker's cough that he had.

We were with him on the day he died, as it happens- we met up for a Fireman's Field Day and brought along the boys, who were not quite toddlers at that point. We had a very nice day together, then Nurse Ratched and I went home while they went back to theirs. When they got home he was feeling tired, so he sat to watch TV for a bit, then had a massive coronary on the couch and was dead in seconds.

That was in late 1991.

////////////////////
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
////////////////////
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

My three kids, now aged about 12, 11 and 9, go to visit their grandmother during the summer with their mother. As there are only two actual bedrooms in the house, the boys sleep in what used to be Erle's office and my daughter sleeps on the couch in the living room.

When they come back a week later, the kids come over to my place (by now Nurse Ratched and I were divorced) and I ask them how the visit was. They all flatly refuse to go back there to stay ever again. I found this surprising, as their grandmother is a very sweet and nurturing person who invariably showers kids with attention and cookies and whatnot. But it wasn't an issue with Grandma, or anything like that- it was the sounds from the kitchen in the night.

They took turns describing it- the sound of a radio being on, someone opening cupboards and taking out dishes, footsteps, an occasional deep hacking cough, but when they went to the kitchen no one was there and the radio was off.

I had never described Erle's habits to them.

Even now (ages 21, 20 and 18) they refuse to stay in that house.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 8 Apr 2011, 15:17, 2 replies)

Losing my rationality
There was a wee earthquake a few years ago, with the epicentre in Market Rasen, if you remember. I used to live about 50 miles from there.

The earthquake struck at about 1 in the morning.

I was in bed with the lights off, earphones on, the cat by my feet and my eyes shut. And the bed started shaking. More than it should’ve done with a cat perhaps jumping down from it. I opened my eyes and my fucking wardrobe doors were banging and the bed continued to shake. Frankly, a bit like The Exorcist.

It stopped pretty quickly. My cat had jumped off the bed and was stood in the doorway looking shit scared. I got up and wondered exactly what had happened, never having been through a minor earthquake before. Earphones off, I looked out the window and there was some seriously creepy fucking calm. There were no car alarms going off. There were no lights on in other houses. Not a stitch out of place: just silence, and normality. My heart, on the other hand, was damn near bursting through my ribcage.

And I thought, ‘what the fuck was that?’

And I thought, ‘did that only happen to me?’

And to my eternal shame, my first conclusion was that it was a poltergeist – which my adrenaline-fuelled brain thought more likely than a fucking earthquake in fucking Yorkshire that caused no fucking car alarms to go off.

Took me ages to get to sleep after that. The cat didn’t seem to mind too much after a minute – it licked itself and looked bemused, as per usual. Wasn’t till the morning that I realised it was an earthquake. Thank the Lord.
(Land of Green Ginger It's dreamy weather, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 15:17, 8 replies)

Dead Baby
My step son and his girlfriend's first child was still born. Very sad (but maybe if she hadn't smoked throughout the pregnancy...)

Last Christmas we received a nice photo of the two lovely living grandchildren plus a nice shot of the dead one all dressed up in it's finest clothes.

Mrs V & I were a bit wierded out by this and the photo is currently residing at the back of the wardrobe.
( Vambo, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 15:15, 12 replies)

The bantha who sits next to me at work spent about fifteen minutes after getting back from lunch talking in unnecessarily explicit detail about her fanny wax
I wouldn't mind that much, but I was trying to eat sushi at the time
(Darth Foxtrot A one-man army dedicated to making fetch happen, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 15:08, 3 replies)

The child catcher in "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang"
That is all
( shinyshinyscalp less a man, more a way of life, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 15:06, 1 reply)

Pearoast: The Spud
The house in which I spent my youngest years had a little lane running behind it - effectively, a second driveway - providing access the rears of the houses along my road. Next door to us lived a couple of girls a little older than brother and I; when she came to visit, their grandmother used to be all kinds of nice to us. She did, however, warn all four of us about The Spud.

The exact nature of The Spud was left unclear - though even now I'm pretty sure that his name ought to be capitalised. The important bit was that he lived down the lane, and was dangerous. As a means of keeping small children from disappearing off down said lane, the story of The Spud was phenomenally effective. I was terrified to venture more than a few houses down (which was odd, considering that by the age of 3 or 4 I was being sent off on errands to the grocer's shop half a mile away... but there you go). I never went down the lane, and certainly not on my own, probably until I was at junior school.

How did I picture the Spud? About 6 foot, white, and segmented. In other words, while at infant school, I was terrified of the Michelin man.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 15:04, Reply)

The orphanage
Scarecrows? tick.
Clowns? tick.
Scary cellars? tick
Little girl ghosts? tick
Disabled people? tick
Little disabled girl people ghosts? tick

i decided to see this on my own in the cinema. When the car hits the person I let out a cry like this "AAAiiieEEEE!!!" and I liked the way the producers thought "could we make this any more unpleasant? fuck it, lets put a clown in the background for no reason".
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 15:02, 3 replies)

3 TV related ones
1. Ghostwatch - Aired on BBC1 on halloween in early 90's - Scared the living masturbation out of me - and I lost a good percentage of my forearm muscle over the next few days. Made it worse when I had to walk home alone through the village after watching it at my mates house.

2. Some programme about aliens who had big three legged spaceships - Tripods (thanks google). Had nightmares about those three legged tall bastards for weeks!

3. Beast - that crap modern day beauty and beast programme set in New York where he lived in the subway. Not scarey but just creepy. Although it didn't help that my step brother told he would come through the window above the stairs at us one night - the twat!
(Clit Ninja is having a white space party!, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 14:55, 4 replies)

Whilst it's nothing on R. Jimlad's night terrors, it certainly scared the piss out of me.
I woke up in the middle of the night with shoulder-ache, so rolled over onto my side and nearly shat myself when something heavy, cold and clammy suddenly grabbed my face.

There were a few seconds of sheer panic (and probably some girly screaming) before I worked out that I'd fallen asleep on my back with my hands behind my head, and my arms had gone to sleep. When I'd rolled over, I'd tried to move my arm down by my side, but in it's bloodless state I'd only managed to move it about a foot before it had dropped cold and lifeless onto my face.

I keep hoping that I'll see someone else do this, as I reckon it'd be pretty entertaining to watch someone sleeping peacfully, roll over and slap them selves in the face before sitting bolt upright and flailingly try to defend themselves with unresponsive arms from an imaginary assailant. But maybe /that's/ just a bit creepy?
(luckybluecoat, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 14:44, 6 replies)

Watching Leon
and thinking, "She'll be worth one soon"
( monkeyboyalpha jumping on the bandwagon since, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 14:40, 5 replies)

What Happens After
I can usually remember my dreams, normally nonsensical garbage, but very occasionally I have quite vivid and complicated dreams - the sort with plots, sub-plots and colourful characters, all of which making some kind of logical sense. About five or so years ago, I had a dream a few levels of vividness above the aforementioned complex dreams, that unnerved me to my core, and to this day, it still creeps me out just a little.

Normally, I am at least in some way aware that I am dreaming, quite how, I can't really explain - I just am. In this instance, I had no idea until I awoke, it was that clear. To this day I can remember all the detail, the feelings - everything, just like the memory of watching a brilliant movie, or having read an excellent book. I was on a cruise ship, standing on the deck at the bow of the ship. Below my feet were light-brown wooden slats that made up the deck, around the edge were metal railings painted white about 6/7 foot high (three rows with vertical bars every metre or so). Behind me would be the cabin area, but I never turned around to look at it - I was just aware it was there. The ocean was unnaturally calm - just very fine ripples. No land was visible, and it was getting late in the day. The sky was a beautiful shade of pastel blue, but was still quite bright. The sun was reflected across the silent water.

The reason I was there was to wait for the end of the world. There were some hours yet to go, but it was going to happen. I wasn't feeling upset, regretful or anything else - it was just like that moment you hear someone else’s bad news "oh, I'm so sorry to hear about that!" but inside you really don't connect with it. It's just an abstract concept.

Time passed - there was now an hour to go. A few people were now up on deck, milling about. I did not recognise anyone, and in all honesty, didn't care. The sun was lower in the sky - the day was dwindling and fine wispy clouds were picked out in a pastel pink, all reflected in the still calm sea. It iswas peaceful and wondrous, yet I was feeling somewhat sad - I was going to die.

More time passed; there was now 30 minutes to go. More people had appeared on deck, a few were up on the railings looking out, some were in groups, others, like me, stood on their own. Everyone was silent, maybe contemplating their demise. By now it has really begun to hit home, my life would be over and I started to think of my family - none of whom were there with me. Over the next 20 minutes, I thought not only of my family, but about the things I should have done, the things I should have said, the things I should not have said. Opportunities I had missed and choices I had made. For the first time in a long time, I cried.

Soon, it came to the end. 10 minutes to go, 5 minutes, 30 seconds.

10, 9, 8,

Still silence.

7, 6, 5,

There was no sun, yet the sky was still the same pastel blue,

4, 3, 2,

Resigned to my fate, I stood and watched.

1.

In the distance a flash of unimaginably brilliant white light - the only thing that it could be was some form of nuclear explosion - that is the only explanation I can think of.

Darkness. There was no pain, no heat, no force knocking me down, just an all-consuming darkness. I had no body, I was dead.

No pearly gates, no St Peter at the door like a halo-ed bouncer asking if I'd lead a good life, Nothing.
Now I am not a particularly religious man, in fact not at all. I was brought up as a Catholic, but since my mid-teens seriously doubted that heaven, hell or even God, exists. Still, I am gutted. Throughout my life I've been lied to . There is nothing - when you are dead, that is it. Goodnight, folks, that's all you get. Show's over.

Hmmm. Something clicked. A thought - a nagging little nugget of concern. I struggled to bring it out of the sub-conscious and into my conscious thoughts.

"If I'm dead, and there is nothing, how the hell am I discussing this absurd situation with myself?"

It was like I had dug around in my pocket, produced a key, stuck it in a mysterious lock and found that it fits. Something was about to open. That one thought, that one concept was monumentally important. Suddenly I had the realisation that everyone has to come to that conclusion. That simple notion "I'm still here" is like a pass, a ticket allowing you to move on. I knew that whatever happens "after" was about to be revealed - it was like the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. I was about to understand everything... An immense feeling of wellbeing descended on me - now I was about to learn whatever it was all about....

And that was when my alarm went off. I sat bolt-upright in my bed and yelled out most of the expletives I knew, plus a few I didn't realise I did. I was drenched in sweat, out of breath and was shaking like a leaf. So what the hell was supposed to happen? What was I going to discover?

For the following days I was a bit out of sorts - quite shaken by that dream. I was questioning life, my feelings on death, and what happens after.

A few weeks later, however, I was back to normal, having dismissed it - it was just a dream, that was all. Occasionally I remember it, like now for this QOTW, and how real it seemed, like no other dream I've had before or since, and that still creeps me out just a bit. I would love to know quite how my brain would have dealt with the "what happens after" part of the dream, but I guess one day I'll find out for real, just as we all will.
( theoriginalsteve <this space intentionally left blank>, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 14:36, 12 replies)

Thanks to Snowy for reminding me...
Climbing in Snowdonia, nice long visit meant we were staying in a shelter up in the mountains. There were quite a few other climbers there, so much laughter was had. (Most seemed to be directed at us.)
The bunk room had just one bed left. There were three of us, so it was quite a cramped night, I remember having weird (possibly even, dare I say it, creepy) dreams.

When we woke in the morning, all the other folks were looking at us in an odd way.
"We can tell you now, the reason that bed was empty is because a chap died in it the night before."


May I pre-empt your disdain, shit story is shit, but all I have till my memory is jogged further,
( Blind Meach Cautiously optimistic, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 14:16, Reply)