If you're home alone and you're looking to give yourself a case of the heebie-jeebies... You've come to the right place. Horror script writers could take notes from these Quora and Reddit users who have lived through inexplicably creepy situations.
About a year ago, I was on my computer at 11pm, sitting at my desk beside the window. Mind you, I live in a ground floor apartment.
I had my headphones in, listening to music when I heard some sort of unrecognizable background noise.
The noise is clearly coming from the window. It almost sounded like scratching.
I was scared to death at this point. The noise began growing louder. I finally grew the spine to get up and walk over to the window. I had to move the slat in order to see what was making the noise.
I move the slat ever so slowly, until I see a man face-to-face with the window.
I was horrified. A burglar? Serial killer? Stalker?
To make it worse, he looked furious that I had noticed him.
I quickly flip the blind back and stand frozen in my room for about 5 minutes. By this time, the noise began again. I quickly turned on the lights in my room and flipped the blinds over again to see the man running away.
I then take the time to plan out what Im going to do next. Then, suddenly. I hear knocking on my neighbours door, followed by a scream.
My only thought was, "IM GOING TO DIE."
I take a bag and jacket and run out the side door. I ran to my friends place and stayed there for the night.
I came back the next morning to find out that the man in the window had knocked on my neighbours door, punched him, and run into his kitchen to grab a knife. Luckily, his friends were over at the time and they tackled the man and held him captive until the police could arrive. Had it been me, a teenage girl who was home alone, I dont think the story would have ended so happily.
Back in 1983, I had a girlfriend who lived in Southern California. Being smitten, I agreed to drive her home from Utah after the end of the school semester.
So we set out for a 10-hour night drive through the desert. Sure enough, the main belt of the car broke around 2 am somewhere in a stretch of barren interstate. We were close to Death Valley. This is not a place to stop, let alone break down. They make horror movies about this stretch of road.
We decide to get out and walk back along the side of the freeway a couple of hundred yards up an exit ramp because in the distance we can see a closed gas station.
As we walked back up the side of the freeway, we realized desert rattlesnakes were coming out of the sand and on to the warm asphalt in the aftermath of a freak summer shower.
That was it for the walking. We immediately jumped back in the car and I drove it in reverse back up the freeway ramp to the closed gas station, pulling under the large gas station overhang just as my radiator boiled over and it began to rain again. A rainstorm in early summer in the Mojave desert. Do you have any idea how unlikely that is?
But our night of weirdness had just begun. (continued...)
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We tried the front door of the gas station, but it was locked. Next to the front door was a payphone. Scratched into the enamel paint was a phone number that said: "Broke down? Call 555-1111-2222."
We picked up the phone and to our surprise, it still worked. So we call the number. A sleepy man answers. We tell him that we don't know where we are on I-15 exactly but we saw his scratched message on the phone and called. He says, "Never mind, I know where you are. I'll be right out."
Forty minutes later, a bearded guy pulls up in a wrecker truck.
Only then do we think about how we're going to pay the guy. We're college kids, we don't have credit cards. We check our wallets and purses and between the two of us we find $40. Thats nowhere near enough, so we decide to say nothing to the mechanic and only cross that bridge when we come to it.
The mechanic struggles a bit with the installation, but after a while, he finishes. Only then do we ask him what we owed .
He scratches his beard for a moment and says, "$40 should cover it." Thunderstruck at our good fortune, we pay him and drive off.
We get to the girl's house about 7am and I drop her off. After a rest, I turn around and start driving back.
I stop at my uncle's house where I tell him the story. He insists that I must find the mechanic again and give him more money. I tell him that I didn't write down his number, but it was scratched in the paint at the gas station.
So I set out to find the station. In the daylight this time and well rested, I pulled off every exit between Barstow and Baker on I-15, crossed over to the north side and look for the gas station where I had just had my car fixed.
The only problem is... I never find it. I didn't even find anything that looked close to it. It didn't exist.
I was about 14 years old. My mother asked me to run an errand for her. "Just go across the street and check on your aunt. She told me she isn't feeling well."
I went there, checked on her, and went home to warn my mother that she wasn't looking well.
"Get back there and bring her here, will you?"
So I did. I helped her collect her stuff, and walked her across the street to our place. She walked along with me until we reached the entrance to our building.
She sat down for a few minutes before climbing the stairway. She grabbed my shoulder - I still feel her hand on my shoulder - and in a very firm manner told me something I will never forget. (continued...)
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"I am climbing this stairway for the last time. I am certain. I can feel it."
We climbed the stairway, very slowly. I helped her sit down on the couch. She smiled and told my mother, "I'm leaving."
She dropped dead at that moment.
I was running around my neighborhood at 3am with my friends in middle school. We were messing around outside when we heard a cop car come flying up with its lights on.
We dove into some woods to hide. The cop car slowed down, put on its search light, and scanned the woods. We stood stone still, the four of us, until the cop passed. Then, all of a sudden, one of my friends sprinted away, off deeper into the woods.
We started whispering to each other, trying to figure out which one of us had just run off and why.
We walked out of the woods and realized that we were all there. Someone else had been hiding in the woods with us.
I met a woman on a dating site about 10 years ago, and we went out for lunch in Providence on Federal Hill. She was very quiet and I was sure she didn't care much for me. It was quite a bit of work to get her to speak about anything and by the end of the evening I chalked it up to experience.
But after lunch she told me she was frightened of Providence and asked me to walk her to her car. I agreed. When we got to her car, she shook my hand and thanked me, and as an afterthought, asked me if I wanted a ride back to my car - she felt she could trust me now. I agreed.
As soon as I got in the car, she wanted to make out, hot and heavy. I was pleasantly surprised. We made plans for another date. We went to the movies. Again, she was very quiet until we got to her car - then she was all over me.
The next day I came home from work, and when I opened my mailbox I found a small package. Inside were two wedding rings with the message we are destined to be one" on in the box. There was no postage. Whoever put it there had put it there in person.
I suspected it was her and I was uneasy. So I called her up. She asked me if I got her package. I said yes. She said, "I went to my psychic. She said you were my soulmate. We'll be together forever." I realized then that she was not right psychologically. I said, "Uhm, I don't think so." And after a discussion of how inappropriate she was being, I hung up the phone.
The next day, when I came home from work, she was parked in my driveway. (continued...)
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I got out of the car, furious. "Who do you think you are, coming to my house uninvited?" I asked her angrily. She was non-plussed. "It's not the kind of house I want," she said, "but we can live in it together until we're married. But I like your cat."
She gestured to the cat watching us from the window. I told her to leave and never return. She did leave but not before telling me that we were going to be together - it was pre-ordained.
For the next year I got calls, emails and love letters every single day. Sometimes she called ten times a day. At first I tried to tell her she was wasting her time. But it did no good.
It has been ten years since this happened. I still get emails from her about once a month. I still get phone calls from her about twice a year. She has never changed her number, so I know now to never answer the phone when I see it. If I happen not to look and do pick up, she takes it as an acknowledgement that I have feelings for her.
I never saw her as a threat, or at least I have never felt threatened. She is just ill. It's very, very creepy. But the creepiest thing about her, in my opinion, is that she is a Harvard-trained medical doctor who is still practicing.
My wife and I drove to this donut shop in Queens from Brooklyn at about 7pm. Really great place. Run by this humble old guy that makes great snacks and coffee.
So we walk in really excited to pick out some donuts. The shop is empty except for this one somewhat weird-looking guy sitting in the front talking on his cell phone, and the owner, who is making himself dinner in the back.
The weird guy is dressed in a turquoise wind breaker and has black hair. He's probably in his late 40s. Skinny. Short. Not well dressed - even for this part of Queens. He's looking around anxiously. But other than that, nothing really out of the ordinary.
The shop is sort of what one would expect from an old donut shop in Queens. It's near the subway and a very busy street so there's a lot of traffic out front. Orange street lights are streaming in through the dirty windows. The walls are yellow and dirty. The place smells like sugar and coffee. There are two noises in the shop: the guy talking on his cell phone and the buzzing of the fluorescent lights flickering above.
We pass by the weird guy as we walk in. It's a narrow entry so we sort of step over his shoes because he's not moving for us. This is when things get strange. (continued...)
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The guy starts narrating everything we're doing to someone on the other end of the line.
Weird Guy: Yeah, they just walked in. It's a man and a woman. He's wearing a brown jacket. She's wearing a black jacket. It looks like they're going to sit down. I don't know what they're doing here.
He says this as we've already passed him and are about 10 feet away.
Me: [to the owner] Is everything okay here tonight? You're doing okay?
I was concerned about the store owner. But he didn't even reply. He just handed me the donuts, took my money and went to what he was doing. My wife and I look at each other and realize that we should leave immediately. We start walking out.
Weird Guy: What do you mean you want me to ask their names? They're leaving. What do you want me to do? No, I won't do that.
We bolt out the door and turn to the nearest brightly lit store. At this point, we're both a little freaked out. We decide to walk around and calm down.
We decide we want to just get in our car and head back home. We have to walk past the shop again because we can't get to it any other way.
We walk out of the grocery store. We start to pass the donut shop. We notice that the lights are now off. The store looks like it's closed. So we walk quickly past and drive off.
Definitely the strangest thing that has ever happened to me.
When I was about eighteen, I got a telephone call from a strange man. The phone in my room rang (for you kids, telephones used to be attached to walls).
I went in and answered it. A mans voice asked, "Is this Courtney Ballard?" and I acknowledged that it was. He told me his name in a tone that implied that he expected me to know who he was. I was clueless.
He asked me again if I was me, and I had no choice but to again say that yes, I was in fact me. He then said, "I'm calling to make sure you're okay. You looked pretty shook up yesterday."
At this point I had to tell him that I had no idea what he was talking about. I had been fine the day before.
He pressed on: "Yesterday? When you wrecked your car?" (continued...)
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Over the course of a very confusing and uncomfortable fifteen minutes, he proceeded to tell me about 'our meeting' the day before: I had come around the corner in front of his house too fast, lost control, and hit a large oak tree in his front yard. I had been shaken up, but the car was driveable and I'd refused all offers of help. He'd managed to get me to reveal my name before I left, and I'd told him that I was on my way home to that small town, but nothing else.
He described me - my size, my shape, my hair length and color. He described my car - not the make and model, but the size, shape, and color.
At first I thought it was a put-on, that a friend was pranking me, but as the conversation progressed, the man's concern was convincing. He had been so worried about me that he'd looked me up and called to make sure I was okay.
By the end of the conversation I managed to convince him that I was okay, that I really didn't know anything about it. He had given me his name and told me where he lived over the course of the call, and he invited me to stop by sometime.
When I hung up the phone, I was actually curious; I went outside and looked at my car. No damage - everything was just as I remembered it. I shook my head and walked back inside.
A few days later I was driving home and this phone call was echoing around the back of my mind. I remembered the man's name, and what part of town he lived in. It wasn't far off of my route home, so I looked him up in the phone book, got his address, and headed that way.
As I came around a sweeping bend in the road I saw a house like the one he had described. In the front yard was a large oak, and there were marks in the grass where a car has recently left the road, leading straight for the tree.
And on the tree, paint that perfectly matched my car.
I got picked up by a gorgeous girl in a club. A very strange occurrence, but I didn't question it because she was gorgeous. She took me back to her place and we started having sex. We were going at it when I hear a male voice call out "spank her."
I look around and there was a guy in the closet, watching us.
In retrospect, I should have stayed and finished, but I got creeped out. I grabbed my clothes and ran out of the place, naked as the day I was born.