Things that go plump in the night.
This one time, right, I went out and scored with one of the most beautful people I'd ever seen. they were stunningly good loking, witty and really, really sex on legs. All went well. I got them back to my place and lo, much frisky frolicing was had.

Then when I woke up in the morning I found that the faeries had stolen in during the night and not only had they given me a stinking headache but also they'd stolen away my beautiful object of lust and replaced them with a great wobbling sack of charm-free lard who refused to leave until after I'd cooked breakfast.
Oh, and the faeries had been sick in my shoes as well.

It was damn spooky and terrifying.

I hear that the faeries do this to a lot of people.
(davywavy, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 14:19, Reply)

3 from my work in a loony bin
1. Doing 2:00 am round with another nurse in a "veggie" ward, open the door to one of the bedrooms and see a man syanding next to the bed. He turned and smiled at us at which point we both screamed and ran to the next ward. Came back about 10 mins later with 4 other staff to find man dead on the floor. Weird part was that for 62 years, since birth, he had been a quad with very little brain function.

2. Same place, trying to get an old duck to go inside and go to bed but she refused to go in the building. Kept saying "I won't go in while the white ladies are there". Tried dragging her, threatening her and drugging her, wouldn't move - ended up spending the night sleeping on the verandah. In the morning we found one of the oldies dead. Over the next 5 years that i worked that ward she did it 8 times, dead one the next morning every time. Still does it apparently.

3. I was supervisor one night, got a phone call saying get here quick, we have trouble. Took 2 other staff with me, opened the ward door, place looked like a slaughterhouse, blood on walls, ceiling and floor. In one corner there was a body laying in a pool of blood with a kid squatting down by the head. I asked the staff what the fuck was going on and they just stood there pointing at the body. Looked back and the kid has got one hand inside the skull and sucking the other hand with a look of glee on his face. Turns out the "body" had had a fall against a window and smashed his head. The eater was a little blind kid i'd known for years who just used to sit in a chair and rock all day, never interacted with anyone. It was one of the most gruesome things i've ever seen, big red smile - even the police that showed up all vomitted.

Lots of weird shit happens here, they reckon it's cos of all the "tortured souls" that have died.
(wallynothere rnot without protection, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 14:14, 10 replies)

Castle warnings from another dimension
Tale of the unexplained

Mate of mine had his thirtieth birthday party in a castle in Inverness near Loch Ness in Scotland. Heaps of us flew over (on planes, not broomsticks – it’s not that kind of story). For four days we absolutely caned it, drinking from the wee hours to the wee hours and imbibing a number of interesting substances in pill, powder and tea forms.

Whilst I am fully prepared to admit that the cocktail of amphetamines, alcohol and hallucinogenics in my frazzled brain could have conjured up all kinds of scenarios, here is the one I experienced:

We set off on the Sunday morning (it was to be the last day of the trip) to see Nessie. The boat on the loch had a bar and we were pretty much mashed by midday having merely topped up the alcohol in our sleep-deprived bodies.

On our way back to the castle, my body mysteriously stopped working and I had to be held up to walk to my bed, undressed by my then ladyfriend and left to try to sleep. It was at this point things became eerie.

Fitfully sleeping, I tossed and turned frequently, disturbing my ladyfriend from her own well-earned slumber. She berated me accordingly and I was left to struggle alone with Morpheus. Once I finally turned away from her conceding a consolation shag was utterly out of the question, I noticed a small child dressed in mediaeval rags crawling across the bedroom floor towards me.

The door was slightly ajar which it couldnt possibly have been as my ladyfriend was obsessive about her bedtime ritual and insisted on always sleeping on the same side of the bed, closing doors, setting alarms, placing her gown and slippers and her clothes ready for the morning in exactly the same manner nightly.

On the other side of the door, I could hear activity. I turned over to see if my ladyfriend was disturbed by this but she was unmoved other than by my moving back and forth.

The child crept closer. I closed my eyes as if to ignore it but was struck with an absolute terror of its imminent arrival. With a jolt, I quickly opened my eyes and he became stationary. It seemed I could now control his movement towards me simply by keeping my eyes open.

This immediately became extremely difficult as sleep got its clutches into me and insisted I come with it. My eyes grew heavy and as they closed, the infant moved towards me all the while growing more terrifying to my now shivering, weakened body which begged my mind for sleep.

I dragged my eyes further open. The child was trapped in my returning stare. The door opened a little further and the noise I had heard revealed its scene. It appeared to be a room in a hovel; straw on the floor, dark and smoky from a fire within and occupied by a number of long, lean figures dressed as bedraggedly as the infant. They paid me no heed.

Their obliviousness to me calmed me momentarily and my eyes fell heavy again. In the instant that occurred as my upper and lower eyelids met, I saw the infant reanimated and became instantly aware of my peril yet again. I dragged them open once more, this time even more difficult than the last. I was in dire need of sleep but no sleep would come with the terror that consumed me.

Something had to be done.

I climbed from my bed. The ice cold air shocked me. The infant looked up at me and mewled but appeared less terrifying now as I stood next to its tiny presence. I plucked him up into my arms and moved towards the door. The figures beyond it barely acknowledged me as I placed him inside their domain.

The infant crawled away and I shut the door.

Shivering, I returned to my bed and clutched at my ladyfriend who was oblivious to my presence. Normally my coldness would have shocked her into rancour but she felt not a thing as I wrapped myself around her, one ear and one eye cocked over my shoulder for a movement of the door to another time.

I didn’t sleep a wink as I recall. Moments later the sun began to rise on a beautiful day in Inverness, our castle view over the land the only grey in a dewy shimmering mountainous island of green.

We returned to Ireland that same day and only a small number of weeks afterwards, she left me.

Now, not word one of this tale is a lie. I reiterate, the cocktail of chemicals in my sleep-starved husk of a body was probably wreaking havoc on my rationale but this is not an isolated incident.

Having experienced a number of visions into other dimensions facilitated by psilocybin mushrooms, I try to avoid them as it is nothing short of pant-shittingly terrifying when it happens.

I don’t fervently believe for or against the existence of ghosts/other dimensions argument. I am merely relating to you an experience that I have had. I sometimes think like some of the other contributors to this QOTW that what we see, are in fact, warnings.

Rafter
baz
(bazmorningstar efil4nat3b, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 14:05, 12 replies)

When I was just 7 years old at school…


My teacher stood me up in front of the class and announced…

“You Pooflake, are a useless, underachieving layabout, you are always going to be a useless, underachieving layabout, and you are never going to get anywhere in life”

All these years later…it has come to pass that he was spot on.

Can anybody explain how he knew back then?

It’s witchcraft, I reckon.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 4 Jul 2008, 13:54, 4 replies)

weird premonition - of me by someone else
A few weeks back I was woken at about 2am by a withheld number calling my mobile, i didn't answer and clicked "silence" and went back to bed, a few minutes later it rang again, and then again. eventually I answered it, it was my ex-girlfriend of about 4years ago, who was phoned me and asked me not to go out on my motorbike the next day as she had a weird feeling I was going to get hit off by a blue car. I thought nothing of it and went to work the next day, told a few people and never thought more of it.

I got home from work, all fine nothing had happened. my mum rang me from her mobile telling me that my dad had been hit off his motorbike on his way to work that morning, he was ok, apart from a damaged ankle and a messy looking bike.

thinking this was weird as hell, I went to see my dad, and casually asked him what happened, make and model of car etc.

he had been hit off by an old git in a blue corsa changing lanes without looking. I didn't mention the phone call to my parents. as they wouldn't have believed me. I called my ex to let her know and she had no recollection of calling me. I suspect she was drunk at the time, but she definatly did as there were voicemails and missed calls on my phone, she confirmed she had called me according to her phone records. I told a few people I worked with and my current girlfriend, they all found it very odd.
(wireless_tommer, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 13:44, 1 reply)

Scratching dog :-o
Similar in a way to my previous story. A few years ago, one of my dogs (prince) died of liver failure. He was put down at the age of 14. He was one of those dogs that was part of the family and was really missed! He had a twin sister (jessie) who was still alive after he died but shortly died herself of old age around 6 months later.

Anyway. The day he was put down, myself and the missus were living in London with my parents. I got a call at work from my distraught sister saying that Prince was to be put down that evening. I asked my boss if I could have an extra half hour on my dinner break to pop home and say goodbye to him. On the way home, I picked up my missus from her work and we both said goodbye and back back to work. he was in a sorry state in the cupboard under the stairs, panting, lying on his side. Very sorry sight :-(

Anyway, That evening he was put down and we buried him in the back garden next to other previous family pets.

later that night we went to sleep, as you do. Now it was a very common thing in that house to be woken by prince in the night. He would often sit on the step at the middle point in the stairs where they turned and scratch at the carpet. He did it that often that the carpet on middle step on the stairs was torn and worn away. We never changed it as he would just do the same to new carpet. As I said, this would happen almost every night and I would often get up and tell him to stop. he would then cheekily wag his tail and run down the stairs. Sometimes he would do it again later in the night, others, not.

Now. We had all gone to sleep and in the night I was awoken by the scratching noise. half asleep, i thought nothing of it and got up tell prince to stop. Went to my bedroom door and opened it. The noise stopped. I looked down the stairs and there was nothing there.

At this point I thought "hold on a minute... hes dead!" Shitting myself, I legged it back to bed.

In the morning. Noone else had heard the noises but I swear I did. Maybe he was just saying he was ok :-)
(Bushboy, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 13:40, 1 reply)

WoOOOooooOOOOo
When I was young, about 7 or 8 years old, I had a recurring nightmare about being in the car with my mum and her driving off a bridge into a river. Now, I knew this bridge and where it was, I knew the water in the river wasn't even deep enough to cover the car and yet despite this I kept having this dream. One day my mum got so fed up with me telling her about it for the tenth time that she drove me to the bridge to have a look and show me that the water wouldn't harm us and she wasn't going to drive over the edge. It was fine, we parked up with my little sisters and walked to where I said we'd ended up in the dream (in some weeds by the edge of the bank) and what should we find but a briefcase. Obviously my mum, being nosey, thought she'd have a look inside and there was money and passports and all kinds of stuff in there. We took it to the police and they asked how we'd happened upon the case. Listening to my mum trying to convince the police she was not mad for following up her childs "psychic vision" was hilarious and well worth the nightmares.
I also once had a recurring nightmare about a giant rabbit, the size of our house, covered in Salvador Dali clocks. That one never happened though. Shame.
(tillyecl Tilly, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 13:35, Reply)

Bump in the night :-o
Last year my father-in-law unfortunatly passed away. He was in hospital for around 2-3 months and diagnosed with bowel cancer. The doctors tried to operate but it was a very tricky operation due to the location and size of the tumor. He died during surgery.

A week or 2 later we had the funeral. All went well and he was laid to rest.

The night after the funeral, I and the missus went to sleep as we usualy do. We both fell asleep no problem but I was later awoken in the night by a repetative banging noise coming from downstairs.

It wasnt a knocking. More a metalic noise, as if someone was banging on a metal fence. Now, we have hamsters, and anyone that has hamsters will know that they occasionally like to chew the bars. Ours don't. They have a better trick. They like to knock there wheel over so it is resting on the bars and they run in it so it makes a god awfull noise.

I got up, presuming it was the hamsters and was going downstairs to stand the wheel back up. As soon as I got out of bed, the noise stopped. Thinking nothing of it, I went out of the room and down the stairs.

I checked the hamsters cages and found nothing near the bars that could be banging. The hamsters wernt even out!

Confused, I went back to bed. I was just drifting off to sleep when the banging started again. Repetative bangs about a second apart. I lay and listened, expecting them to stop again after a minute like last time but they didn't.

I got up again thinking "those fucking hamsters arent going to keep me awake!" and decided to go and take out there wheel for the night. Got out of bed and the banging stopped again.

This time, I didnt go downstairs. I was tired and really couldnt be bothered so I got back into bed and fortunatly the banging didnt start again and I slept right through till morning.

In the morning I told my missus of the nights events. She had no recollection and had slept through the banging. Typical. My mother in law, however, heard the banging aswell. She also heard me going downstairs and cursing the hamsters and then returning to bed.

Following this convosation I decided to try and work out what the noise was. I banged on the hamsters bars but nope. Definatly wasnt that sound. We put it down to being something outside in the end but I swore it was coming from inside the house. We gave up in the end.

A few days later I was sitting at the PC and heard a bang. "that was the fucking noise!" I got up and went to see what was banging. My missus had dropped something and it had hit a portable radiator/heater thing that was setup in the living room. I tried myself and knocked on the heater. That was the noise!

Very weird seen as nothing could have knocked it in the night. Especially not in a repetative manner like it was.

It has never happened again since. Maybe it was just the father-in-law saying goodbye or something? I dont really believe in stuff like that but there is no other explanation!
(Bushboy, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 13:27, 6 replies)

Dreams
I've had one or two little paranormal occurences but the weirdest one I had involved what I believe to be a dream which turned out to be true. It was quite a few years back and I can never totally rule out that it wasn't a dream at all but remember what was real and what was a dream had never been a problem for me, and I don't think I would have been so freaked out had there been a reasonable chance the first part had not been a dream at all.

The dream was very mundane, I was just having breakfast reading a newspaper next to the chair before school. I didn't intently read the paper, it was just there and I was glancing at it. It was a rather weird story about a chimneysweep (didn't think they still existed!) whose wife had gone into a labour at home and he'd delivered the baby. I remembered a couple of key phrases, the name of the baby and what the photo looked like.

A few days later I was going through some newspaper to put in the guinea pig hutch and saw a little article saying that a chimneysweep who had delivered his wife's baby had been nominated for some award for his outstanding efforts. WTF?? I spend ages going through the pile of old newspaper until sure enough, there was the exact article I'd seen in the dream! I think it was backdated to a couple of weeks before when I thought the dream had occured, so it would already have been in the recycling pile. I don't know the family and have never met them, why can't I dream useful things like lottery numbers??

A few less spooky dreams have happened since then. I once dreamed there was a public footpath going through my back garden from the back fence behind the wendy house to the front drive. After much fighting through bushes to get behind the wendy house, there actually was a gap in the fence right where the path in the dream was! More recently I dreamed a lift at university went down to a secret basement deep below, when chatting to some lecturers a couple of days later it turned out the lift is an unusual hydrualic design which does actually go down below floor level, and I've been relaibly informed that there is a (small and uninteresting) secret basement corridor down there.

I've only had one useful "prophetic" dream but it was fairly minor and personal and would probably scare the crap out of my housemate if any of my friends read this, guessed who I am and told him! It kick started me into getting something done which would have left me very pissed off for a very long time had I left it even a day later.
(GothicTechie, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 13:17, 2 replies)

Scared my self shitless
I while ago I was given the Japanese version of the ring (1&2). I decided to watch them back to back one night when Mrs Duck was out (she's not a fan of the horror flick). Normally horror films just make me laugh, now these didn't make me crap myself but they put me distinctly on edge.

Just when I'd finnished watching the 2nd one (no where near as good as the 1st) I heard a noise from the garden, my heart rate started to race, I crept towards the curtains, I head something again, I really started to brick it

I slowly moved the curtain to one side and peered out, as soon as I did a hideous, pale & haggared face loomed out of the darkness staring directly at me. I screamed and leapt back, apoplectic with terror!


.... it was my own reflection. The cats were chasing moths. I really can't believe I screamed!

Even though it was about 1am I watched the life of Brian & a couple of episodes of Black books to cleanse my mind of the fear
(sittingduck Attention seeking, bullshitting fuck-knuckle, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 13:12, 4 replies)

Plane Crash
I’ve had the same recurring dream since I was young – I’m entering a park, when I’m knocked to my face by a huge plane screaming mere feet above my head. The large passenger plane drops from the sky 200+ metres in front of me, skidding and tumbling into homes and businesses alike. These tall white buildings crumble in flames and dust, and then there is an explosion. The sound is deafening, and the somersaults of the jet throws up a mixture of soil, trees…and people – passengers, picnickers, housemothers, shopkeepers; seemingly thousands of dead people turning the air to a red mist. I run past a bright blue pond, a statue, past twisted metal and people soup to see what I can do, but am always met with the same horror; no life. No life anywhere. Just blood, flames and the smell of fuel and burning flesh…

I had this dream with ferocious regularity when I was still a schoolchild. I lived in god-awful Northern Michigan and had never been to a place like this park, it was only familiar owing to the regular and precise nature of its nightmare. My parents, and rightly so, put the plane crash fear down to their poor choice in driving past the scorched earth and makeshift memorial of a recent airliner crash in Detroit.

The nightmare continued through my teen years and well into my adulthood. I found myself living in the UK (having gone overseas for the first time to do so), doing bits and pieces of contract work to keep myself financially afloat. I had booked some work with dodgy Russian billionaires on Clapham Common North Side, and off I set to make stupid amounts of money. I walked out of Clapham Common Tube Station and instantly it struck me – Clapham Common was the park in my nightmare. I entered in the same location as in my nightmare and, looking around, I saw the same row of shops that had been engulfed by flames. I saw the same ponds, the same statue, the same bandstand in the distance – my heart was thumping and I was dizzy by this point. I knew exactly where to go, as I had run this journey in terror thousands of times before. I walked to my destination with the grotesque familiarity stabbing me with every step. When I got to my final destination, it was one of the tall white buildings that toppled when the plane hit it. It wasn’t Deja-vu, I hadn’t been there before or in a ‘previous life’. Clapham Common was in my future.

Now, there are the obvious explanations – the formative memory of the Detroit plane crash combined with a lost memory of a video of Clapham Common. Nonetheless, I turned down future work with the Russian billionaires and will never – ever – return to that place. I figure that if I stay away, so will the plane crash. So will all the death.

I still have the nightmare.
(TheSnark oh, c'mon, like you didn't see me coming, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 13:10, 3 replies)

Head on the Door
When I was a wee small kid, I lived in a terraced house in Hammersmith.

On Christmas Day when I was five years old, I went upstairs and saw - on the wall above my bedroom door - a huge, hideously frowning face staring down on me. Not unlike Davros from Doctor Who, as a matter of fact.

I fled, screaming, and my parents had the Devil's work getting me to bed that night.

Fast froward to my teenage indie years, and the purchase of 'Close to Me' by The Cure, which contains the line:

If only I was sure
That my head on the door was a dream

It turns out that fat Bob Smith from The Cure had EXACTLY the same experience as a kid. Only we went a wrote a song with a fabby video starring a wardrobe.

Who/What was it? A ghost nonce? Fred West from another dimension? I shall never know.

Anybody else - he asks - seen similar?
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 13:04, 4 replies)

I have lived
in a few places that I'd consider 'haunted'.

I tend to keep an open mind, as if I don't I find myself scared.

One of the houses I lived in 4 years ago had a poltergeist. I was in bed one night, and I heard a whining sound. But it was like no other sound I'd ever heard. It sent shivers down my spine. I've also heard crashing and banging upstairs when there was no-one there. And sometimes the TV signal would break up and it would go very cold for no reason.

I think someone had died in that house at some point.

And the apartment I live in now has a ghost, but there are no 'bad vibes' in the house. It seems to like to hang around the back of the house, near the bedrooms and bathroom. I know when it's there because there are cold spots. Sometimes I feel something like a spider-web brushing against my face, or just feel like someone is watching me.

But I'm not scared of it. Whenever I bump into it now, I just say 'Hello'. And all the uneasiness stops.

I asked my housemate about it (who lived in the house first) and he said he's experienced something similar.

But that first house. That place really freaked me out. Poltergeists do exist.
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 12:53, 2 replies)

Chased by a coffin....
This happened a few years ago and it's true!

I left the local pub at about 11pm, got to the top of my road and I could hear a tap tap tap behind me....

Looked back and there was a coffin! I stopped and the coffin was still there....I took one step forward and the copped hopped forward!

I started to run for my life but the bloody coffin was behind me, I reached my front door and managed to open it and shut it before it could get me....

Then the coffin started to knock the door down!

As it crashed through my front door I ran upstairs in terror and hid in the bathroom....

I could hear the coffin hopping up the stairs and looking in all the bedrooms.....

Then it tried the door handle, realising it was locked it started to try and break through the door....I was shitting myself so much my ring was goatse size!

It broke through the door and in my desperation I started to throw things at it....

I was throwing everything I could find, towels, tampons, cotton wool balls, shaving foam and nothing would stop it!

It slowly started hopping towards me and in my desperation I started to throw the contents on the medicine cupboard at it....

Strepsils....no good

Aspirin....no good

And in my desperation I threw a bottle of Benylin at it!

And the coffin stopped.
(Lip Up Fatty Fatty Reggae still loves BBQ food on, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 12:49, 9 replies)

very odd
Every evening a hyper i ntelligent flea whispers into my ear and I feel compelled to do as it says.

Don't find is spooky in particular but its certainly super gnat thrall

Hyper flea says to get my coat.
(Halfy By light alone, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 12:44, 1 reply)

down a dark dark alley
i once saw a dark dark figure approaching

as the figure got closer and closer i could make out an eerie dark aura

his face was completely black, framed with a massive dense black fog around his head and shoulders

turns out, not only did he have soul, he also had an absolutely super natural

!
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 12:39, 1 reply)

When I was but a boy
Of around 12 or 13, I had a good friend who, looking back was outrageously camp and unquestionably gay. Not that it stopped us having a good time....ahem.

Before this progresses into a homo-erotic frankspencer effort, let me get back.. This chuffters father owned a fair bit of land out in the country, and a group of about 5 of us went "camping" there during one long hot summer.

Things can get quite scary for an impressionable youth like myself, especially out in the dark in the middle of nowhere.

I know what you're thinking you sick animal and at no point will this story turn gay.

So around midnight the topic turns to ghost stories and urban (or rural! ha!) legends.

It transpired that a few miles out in the country there was an abandoned house where once a woman did live. Now I can't quite remember the details, but this ugly and lonely woman, with such a burning desire for a child "mated" with a rabbit(!) and produced some kind of mongrel humany rabbity monster baby.

However God or nature didn't take too kindly to this DIY family planning and ended this babies life in its infancy.

So off we ambled in the dark to this so called house to find "evidence". Even the talk and walking in the dark was making me shit myself, and for some reason I thought I was being watched - possibly by Rabbit Satan - as we stumbled around the country trails.

We eventually made it to this godforsaken abandoned cottage, and complete with torch plus stick (to help defeat any still-surviving rabbit-monsters) we entered.

My god, it was like the Blair Witch project before that poor excuse for a film was a twinkle in some cunts eye. Scary half torn wallpapers and curtains... Damp on the walls... Weeds growing within.. Awful stench - the lot. Yes I was just about ready to have a full on seisure. Which would be disastrous as we all know rabbit-men like nothing more than to rape semi-conscious young boys.

At the back of what could of been a bedroom, we could see through the murky air, illuminated by the moonlight poking in through the broken old window... What appeared to be... A childs cot....


Naturally we edged closer, pushing each other on to have a look inside. Someone thrust the torchlight inside and my good god yes indeed was the carcass of what looked like a vicious Ferret fully clad in baby clothes. Remnants of dead flesh still clinging to its face. And of course a ghastly snarl like the cause of death was rupturing the anus with a snooker cue.

What.
thefuck.


Cue Goonies like comedy escape with unmasculine screaming. Yes that's probably the most scared I've ever been. Maybe twas the dark/full moon.



Or maybe it was the fact some psycho-spastic dressed a dead rodent up in baby clothes and left it to rot.....
( whenanimalsattackhumans clad in global hypercolour, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 12:28, 4 replies)

Bonsior, Madame. Ah 'ave cerm to 'aunt you...
Before I knew them, my late mother in law and the ex had gone to France with her brother in law, who was a continental trucker. They travelled in his cab, and stayed where he stayed – essentially French road side truck stops. Basic, but comfortable, apparently.

One evening, as tiredness took hold and she started to drift off to sleep, she was jolted awake by a feeling that she wasn’t alone in the room. Not wishing to make any sudden movements that would cause alarm, she slowly opened her eyes and as they became gradually accustomed to the gloom she could make out the shape of a man, dressed in overalls and carrying what looked like a lamp.

She stared. He stared back, before moving silently off to the door. Sensing no threat, the outlaw put her head back down and drifted off to an undisturbed sleep.

The next day she was recounting the tale over breakfast. Her brother in law, speaking a bit of French, had a word with the receptionist and asked if anyone had reported similar goings on.

“All the time, monsieur”, came the slightly unexpected reply.

Turns out that the owners of the truck stop used to employ a guy to indicate parking spots to truckers, who was instantly recognisable due to his sartorial distinctiveness - usually to be found in overalls and carrying a lamp. (Who said the French were fashion icons)? Apparently, he’d been killed a few years ago when a truck reversed over him…
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Fri 4 Jul 2008, 12:11, Reply)

Haunted Halls of Residence sortof pearoast!!!!
It's here : www.b3ta.com/questions/messingwiththedarkside/post53024 , but here's the intersting bit cutted out for those lazy twunts who can't manage click that link!

At uni in Leceister in the early 90's, our Halls of Residence were these 4 big victorian houses which held about 20 people each - a really cool place to live! Fairly big spooky houses and 1 room had lots of wood panelling in. 1 of lads living their was convinced one night he saw something.

He woke up cold one night, looked to the end of his bed and saw a small figure about 4ft high, dressed in a robe, hood up move past the end of his bed, pause, turn it's head towards him, turn away, then continue towards the window and vanish thru the wall. He wasn't the kind to make this shit up, had never seen anything before and was TOTALLY convinced it happened - he was screaming at the time and woke his room mate! He didn't sleep properly for the rest of the term. If any of you went to Demontfort Uni pre-'96 when they sold them off, the house was called 'Town End Close', you'll know what i mean
(TheManofScience, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 12:10, Reply)

Pubs and Spirits
You will not find many people who have worked in the licenced trade in Blighty that have not had some sort of Supernatural experiences.
Mine are probably typical, but this was of no comfort at the time as it led to sleepless nights and more than one set of pappered keks.
I was looking after a really old ex-coaching Inn in the wilds of East Yorkshire, and believe me this place is old. VERY old. It was a couple of hundred years old when Dick Turpin was arrested there (honestly). It creaks, it groans and its bloody scary when the mist rolls in off the Humber.
Anyhoo, one night I locked the pub up and prepared to set the alarms, having to walk through the darkened pub to get upstairs to the flat. It felt weird, and colder than usual but being a born sceptic I dismissed this as a draught or whatever and successfully put the alarm code in and went to bed.
The next morning I got up and unset the alarm and walked through the bar to let the cleaners in.
Being half asleep I didn't realise what was different at first... until I walked straight into one of the bar stools. "Funny," thinks I, "I'm POSITIVE I stacked those on the tables last night!" I stopped and looked around me, realised I had walked into the middle of a perfect circle of about 30 bar stools about 20ft in diameter.
There was no way I could have set the alarms the previous night without walking into them. I had tidied the bar alone, and as it had been a quiet night had actually put the stools up early before i even closed the doors.
So my next thought is "Some cnut is taking the piss", so I call the alarm monitoring company to ask if the alarm had been deactivated at any point during the night. Nope it had gone on at 23:55 and off again at 07:45. There was no rational explanation. I checked all the windows... locked from the inside. All the doors were secure and nobody was hiding in the toilets.
So that night i decided there must be a 'blind spot' in the alarm system and i got my (now ex) wife to set the alarms with me lying on the floor of the pub in exactly the spot that the circle of stools had been.
I laid still for two minutes and started to try and pull the stools towards me. The alarms activated immediately and were as loud as hell. Over the next few days i tried everything I could think of to explain what had happened, and nothing could.

I found out months later when one of the ex-landlords happened to pop in for a drink that it had happened before.... always on February 23rd (but not every year) which was reputed to be the date that a group of guys that had used the pub had been killed by a shell that hit their trench near Paschendale during WW1.
Again Mr Sceptic here thought "how could a group of guys that all knew each other from the pub all be killed on the same day?" A little research later told me that there were 'Pals' regiments that all joined up together, trained together and more often than not died together.
I wandered over to the village War Memorial and found that about 60 guys had died in the first war, and then I cross checked the names on the Commonwealth War Graves website. 15 had died on the same day ( Feb 23rd, need you ask!) with around 20 dying within 3 months either side.
A real hair on the back of the neck moment there I can tell you all.
I tried to track down ex-landlords to ask if they had the same thing happen. Only 3 out of 10 that I had managed to track down had a similar experience to me.

I am no longer a sceptic i suppose, and it still scares the living shit out of me when i think of it.

Length...... 20ft in diameter!
(airliebird Has now found Twiglets in Sydney!!!!!!! yay!, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 12:00, Reply)

The Entity…

I’m a bit uncomfortable posting this after my previous piss taking efforts…

I was in my early twenties and living with my parents. We had moved into a creaky old house and I was ordered to clean the loft out. Begrudgingly, I ventured into the attic and as I cleaned, I discovered a heap of old junk in the corner, which had no doubt been discarded by the previous owner who couldn’t be arsed to bin it.

Being a responsible and sensitive individual, I decided to do the decent thing and hoof all the stuff into a skip. It was our attic now after all.

As I was pawing through the worthless trinkets and knick-knacks, I found a box marked ‘Private’...so you can understand that it was with the utmost respect that I ripped the lid open and peered inside looking for anything of value.

Inside was a 12 inch wooden crucifix, a scarf and a photograph. Although you could tell the photo was very old, the young lady in the picture was very attractive, beautiful even, and she was obviously enamoured with the smartly dressed man stood to her left. I couldn’t help but notice that the man was wearing a scarf just like the one in the box; but more bizarrely, that he bore more than a passing resemblance to myself.

‘That’s a bit strange’ I thought, but put it down to coincidence, left it at that and continued with the cleaning.

Later that day I took the box to the front door with every intention of throwing it away…but as I lifted it up I suddenly felt one of the most unusual sensations I have ever experienced…it was like a surge of energy…consuming me.

Even though I don't believe in this paranormal mumbo jumbo, I changed my mind about throwing the contents of the box away. Instead I put the picture up on my bedroom wall, hung the crucifix above my bed and chucked the scarf in the cloakroom. I instantly felt better. I can’t explain what happened.

A few days later I was about to go out and visit some friends when I noticed it was snowing outside. Without a second thought, I reached into the cloakroom and in the absence of any additional warm clothes I put on the scarf.

Once again and all of a sudden, a strange sensation engulfed me – but stronger this time – I felt as if I was myself, but not myself. I could sense my personality changing as I began to recall memories of a lifetime I had not lived. Visions of a past life…and of a past love.

I was frozen to the spot with fear. But then it felt good. Really good

I began to see flashes...images…of a remarkably stunning woman…so clearly...as if she was stood right before me. I then started to hear whispers. Of course I was scared at first, but they felt so soft, so kind and welcoming, that my heart suddenly skipped a beat and my emotions lifted.

I then felt a strange desire...as if I was being gently beckoned…upstairs to the bedroom.

As I opened the door, I swear I felt myself being flung onto the bed. I first thought I must have tripped...

Yet as I lay there, the warm, sensuous feeling was making my entire body tingle...and I started to harden in the trouser department as the whispers began to make my ears tremble…it was as if they were simultaneously nuzzling me and giving me telepathic instruction on what I was to do.

I couldn’t believe what was happening as my trousers began to unzip…all the time I was entranced by the beautiful but eerie visions of loveliness in my mind’s eye.

In a matter of moments I was totally naked except for the scarf, which was wrapped tightly around me as I lay helpless…watching my body ripple as if delicate hands were massaging me…down…down…lower….

My phallus began swelling and bulging as I felt something remarkably like the tip of a tongue softly rubbing against my throbbing shaft. Everywhere this ‘tongue’ went left a faint trail over my body.

Then the feeling grew more intense. As my penis became tightly gripped I observed a strange ‘rippling’ effect as if something or someone was astride me, and sliding up and down my ever more grateful cock. As we became one, the visions clarified.

I finally understood.

The lady in the picture had been deeply in love with the man, but he had tragically died in the war before they had a chance to consummate their relationship. I was the reincarnation of that man, and she had been waiting patiently for me…all these years…dormant in the house…waiting for my return…and here I was.

I had come home.

I began to softly moan as the momentum began to build – the whispers were now groans…growing louder and harder. I began to arch my back and grind my hips in time to the rhythmic pounding of my swollen manhood. It all felt so right.

Soon, the whole room started to shake, the bed rattled and the furniture vibrated - during the affray the crucifix fell from the wall on to the bed and as I writhed, it lodged itself into my person...yet I was so entranced, so swept away by the force and passion of this entity as I bucked and moved towards the euphoric crescendo of our unified love that I didn’t even notice.

The moment had enveloped me and taken me over…I had lost control and was scarcely aware of my surroundings. I could only focus on the experience.

The intensity increased and increased until I could hold on no longer; and with a final thrust of my loins I abruptly splurged my hot cream into the air. I then watched with silent awe as some of my love seed seemed to simply disappear into space before my very eyes.

And then finally…as swiftly as it had begun, the room was filled with a warm, relaxing aura of purest relief. It was over...

and she was gone.

All that was left was a strange green ectoplasmic residue over my nether regions…and the joy, sweat and memories of two spent lovers finally entwining and achieving their destiny.

I felt whole...complete. I had experienced proof that love never truly dies, and that our souls can live on...to an eternity in harmonious unison.

And that’s the truth.

…

So you’d think my mum would be a bit more sympathetic when she walked in and found me lying on the bed in the middle of the afternoon, dazed and bollock naked except for an old scarf, with a spunk-dribbly half-stonk covered in ‘mushy peas’, and with a crucifix sticking out of my arse.

But that’s mums for you.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 4 Jul 2008, 12:00, 19 replies)

Zak McKraken and the Alien Mindbenders (note - title has nothing to do with post)
‘He’ll flip ya, He’ll flip ya fer real.’

Which was what my friend always said when he got drunk and the subject of films came up.

Wait, a narrative device! We have arrived part the way into the story. Let’s leave that scene now and go back to the start. We will come back to that scene later.

I had an interview in London and as I live far away from London, I decided to mix business with pleasure and crashed the night before at my mates house and then take the tube into the city. My friend lived in Chorleywood and we had gone out into Watford (!) for a night out. It wasn’t as bad as I expected and there were a number of be-skirted succubae wandering around not so much loose as ‘baggy’.

Anyway it wasn’t the tartish succubae that were the problem but the fact that I was getting increasingly hammered on lots of red wine.

I lost my friend as he was chatting up a girl (doing his impression – see aforementioned literary contrivance) in a random pub. I went outside for some air (actually was sick) and then time and space jogged around me and I found myself on a slip road leading onto the M25. As I didn’t know the address of my friend and as my mobile was the size of a tissue box and had stayed in my friend’s house, I was at a loss. I also didn’t have any money.

Cars were whizzing by me and I was stumbling on the grass verge. It wasn’t pleasant. Then a car stopped for me. ‘Thank fuck for that!’ I thought. It seemed like one of those ancient black Mercedes but I couldn’t really tell and I got in the back and asked the bloke driving if he could take me to Chorleywood as I had lost my friend. He didn’t say anything and we started driving. I asked him if he wanted money, trying to discern the close cropped head of the man. He didn’t reply, rolled down the window, and let fly a veritable sputnik of sputum.

I didn’t say anything after that and sort of fell asleep. I awoke and we were outside my friend’s house and the engine was running. I thanked the man and got out, and knocked on my friend’s door. He opened the door straight away and had been watching me from the side window.

“I was worried sick! How the fuck did you manage to walk all the way here? It’s fucking 5am!” he said.

“No, I got a lift with that bloke, it wasn’t that far.” Pointing in the direction where my driver had gone.

“No mate, I just saw you walking down the hill.”

“Bollocks, look I can’t be arsed I need to go to sleep.”

I went to sleep and overslept and missed my interview but I still got the job. So that was good.

My friend still maintains that I walked back but I swear that someone picked me up.



Actually that wasn’t that great a story was it? Oh fuck it I’ve written it now.
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 11:53, Reply)

FIRE!
I have lots of story's for this qotw so I may feel compelled to post more later but this one'll do for now... (apologies for length of post btw)

As a bit of background I specialise in dreaming stuff which ends up actually happening. I knew my little sister would be a girl, on my first visit on orchestra tour I already knew which bedroom would be mine and how to get there, it had identical decoration and everything, I also knew I was going to get my current job before I did however this dream was VERY scary (to me at least).

When I was 15 I used to babysit for a family in the next village to me and stay over at their house. on the last night of november I was snuggling up in 'my' bed (they had a big house and I always slept in the same guest room). I usually slept really well but this night I started waking up at about 2300 with dreams of fire and people screaming. This dream actually terrified me whenever I closed my eyes all I could see was flames and hear people screaming. This went on until about 3am when I eventually dropped off to sleep. The next morning my dad came to collect me and he seemed really distracted when we got into the car he told me one of my mum's really close friends had died in a house fire the night before after being trapped in her room while the house burned down :(. I still have no idea why I dreamed this but it really, really freaked me out.
(anotherdoublewhiskey, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 11:47, 1 reply)

WoooOOOoooOOO................
I'm not a believer in ghosts, poltergeiests, The Banshee, Santa, Jesus etc. but this tail surrounding my mothers family, they all swear it is true.

My grandmother grew up in an old farm house which my cousins still live in today. Nearby lay an old graveyard that wasn't really in use. It was due to be built on, so my mothers family went to rescue their deceased family members headstones.

Now, they had quite a few headstones (Good Ould Catholic Ireland in them days, ie. lots of family members) and they didn't know what to do with them. So they decided to lay them as Kitchen Tiles....I shit you not!

I can actually remember reading them as I sat at the kitchen table as a kid.

Around about this time strange things started to happen around the farm. A man was seen walking the perimeter of the house. He would walk the same path almost nightly.He never said or did anything to anyone but it was creeping them out a bit, so as all good catholics do they had a mass said in the house and he was never seen again ( isn't God fantastic !)

Another day my mother and her sister (they were very young at the time)were playing in the yard. When the time came for them to go home they couldn't. There was a wall around the yard where there never was and to this day never has been a wall. She says she can still remember her sister crying as they looked for a way out, eventually they managing to crawl out through a gap in the corner of the yard.

"What a load of cock!" I declared when my mother told me this but she swears it happened, as does my aunt.

There are many storys about the strange goings on in "Skellig House". There is even a couple of chapters about the place in a book called - "Famous Irish Ghosts".Back in the day a reporter from the big smoke stayed there and reported being "thrown from his bed in the middle of the night" and "the bed was thrown across the room".

My mother reckons the spirits liked company because when the house was empty, things would be moved or broken, noises would be heard from the house even though nobody was home. But when the the house was occupied nothing too strange really happened.

As I said I don't believe any of this, I'm a peaceful atheist, but I have to admit that whenever I visit "Skellig House" there is a weird vibe to the place and I can feel my heart beat in my asshole.
(Kopite Ceoil agus Craic, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 11:45, Reply)

when I was little
if I had to go to the loo in the night I'd sprint back to my room and dive under the covers as soon as I flushed the chain.

For reasons I still can't explain I was convinced satan himself would leap from the flushing loo and devour my soul.
( CowJam, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 11:42, 2 replies)

I live in a 400 year old farmhouse
You'd have thought that after all those years something ghosty would show up. But it hasn't - sorry!
(teasus likes tea, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 11:39, 1 reply)

In London, no-one can hear you scream...
I used to live in a shared house. One night a bunch of my friends came over to my pad for drinks on the decking. Sophisticated buggers, I hear you thinking. Well, to keep the night down to earth we stayed off the Pimms and drank lager straight out of the Can.

Anyhow, I digress. Fun was being had, beer was being drank and hacky sack was being played. Eventually, it being British summer, it got a bit nippy so we dragged ourselves inside to watch a DVD. At about midnight (lame, I know) everyone's getting a bit sleepy/drunk/sick of each other, so the peeps head off to get the last tube. And this, dear friends, is where life got really fucking weird. Weirder than pants made of fluff.

There was a rug in my hallway. I had previously thought it was just there for aesthetic purposes - but as everyone was walking down the hall I accidentally scuffed it up. So, I bent down and picked it up to re-lay it. And bugger me if there wasn’t a fucking TRAP DOOR there! I'm a curious soul so I found the handle and pulled it open.

Shit. Oshitoshitoshit, SHIT. There were stairs. And the lights were on. A horror movie style gust of air blew in to my face (coincidentally, a gust of air chose that time to race down my trouser legs). My so-called friend suddenly started encouraging me to go down there. Being the brave boy that I am, I slammed the door closed, threw the rug over it, and pushed my friends politely but firmly out of the house.

Now everyone had gone. I was alone in the house (everyone else was in Italy, or Birmingham). I sat in the lounge, calmly trying to drink myself in to a coma. Every little noise was making me jumpy. My phone rang, and my best mate was screaming "Swallow your soul!" down the line at me. I hung up, cursing his name. By now it was really getting late, so I decided to retire to bed.

Problem. The rug (concealing the trap door) was in the way. I am now really freaked out by this, so I took a running jump over it. Elated at not being got by whatever monstrous entity that surely lived down there, I went in to my room and climbed in to bed. Lights off. Nighty night world, God bless me.

Scritch.

One eye opened. Whatthefuckwasthat?

Scritchscritch.

Both eyes opened now. I actually felt the click as the sluice gates in my adrenaline glands opened, and felt my hair bristle as my body decided whether it should fight or fly.

Scritchscritchscritchrustle.

I pulled the covers right up to my neck. “Who’s there?” I stammered, afraid that I would actually get a reply. I sat for a full minute, straining my ears to hear the sound again. Gone. I scared it off! Time to get back to sleep. I bedded myself down, and closed my eyes. I began to drift off.

Scritchscritchscritchscritchrustlerustlescritch.

Louder now. By the door. The monster is snuffling at the door. Not on my watch, pal. If you want my brains, you have to fight for them. Grabbing my cricket bat, I turned the light on, ran to the door, threw it open and brandished the cricket bat with all the might of W.G. Grace himself. Except in pants, obviously.

Nothing there. The monster in the corridor was only conspicuous by his absence. I looked left and right. I was safe. Twice in one night I had warned off the supernatural – they knew I was not to be messed with. I could now sleep in peace. Back to bed, then. I turned off the light, closed my eyes and:

Scritchscritchscritchrustlescritchrustle.

Fuck me, it’s under my fucking bed. Light on, drop to knees. Nothing. “Fuck this for a game of soldiers “, I thought, “I’m out of here.” I threw some clothes in a bag, pulled on some jeans, and left, the ghostly intruder still at large. I fled to my friend’s house, who continued to torment me in to the hours of dawn.

Returning to the house the next day, I bumped in to a housemate who had been out the night before. Trying to act casual, I asked her if she’d ever heard any strange scritchy noises in the house.

“You know what? I did one night. It really freaked me out, I saw something dart across the floor and then the sounds started.”

Thank God! I am not mad!

“Yes,” she said “It’s the mouse.”

A mouse? A fucking mouse? I lost a nights sleep, control of my bowels and a good deal of my already shaky sanity over a mouse? I went back to my room, saw the little claw marks in the carpet and then saw the source of my problem. An open packet of Doritos, lying on the floor. That explained the rustling sound.

Sometimes, things are best left unexplained. A mousetrap was bought post-haste, but the little devil always eluded me...
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 11:36, 4 replies)

I can roll dice to my will.
Or so Mrs Spimf tells me anyway. So much so in nearly twenty years she has never beaten me at any board game involving dice. Not once.

she wont play monopoly with me anymore as i just romp round the board hoovering up every property i fancy, throwing the required move with apparent ease. I'll say 'right! seven then' and throw a 7 - really pisses her off.

i deny any special abilities - I don't believe in all that. which is probably why i have never tried it out in a casino

if it were the case though would it be cheating?
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 11:36, 5 replies)