About a couple weeks after I was born my dad’s best friend, Jim, died. They were really close, and one of the last things he wanted was to hold little me before he passed. His wish was filled, and some short time after that he was gone.
Fast forward 7 years. I’m now a happy 7-year-old with a 5-year-old brother and recently born sister. One day the phone rings, and with my mom out and dad in the washroom I thought it was going to be ignored as we kids were still too young to answer the phone (no call display, we didn’t know if there would be a stranger). But my brother broke the rules and answered. “Hello?”
At this point my dad is out of the washroom and is asking my brother to hand him the phone. He ignores him and keeps listening to whoever is speaking. Before my dad could ask a second time my brother hangs up, looks at him and says, “Jim says hi, and he misses SkywingNova (OP),” then goes back to playing. The look of shock my dad had is what I remember most about this.
My mom had three kids. There’s me, the youngest, and my older brother – but before either of us were born, there was Jonathan. He was a sweet little blonde boy, big blue eyes, known for accidentally repeating Dad’s swears in church. Wholesome kid, great in school, active outside.
When he was almost six, he was riding his bike and fell and hit his head on a rock. He got up and said he felt fine. My mom found him the next morning in his bed when she tried to wake him up to get to kindergarten, one pupil dilated and the other not. She got him air-lifted to the nearest hospital.
During this time, Jonathan’s best friend Nick was sitting at the breakfast table eating cereal. Nick suddenly gets up from the table and goes to the door. When his mom asks him what’s up, Nick says that Johnny was calling for him.
You see, Nick and Johnny lived on separate blocks, but they weren’t allowed to cross the street without a parent yet because they were still fairly young. But they lived close enough to call to one another to come out to talk at their respective street corners.
So Nick goes out to the street corner while his mother receives a call from mine that Johnny was just declared dead in the hospital (idle brain aneurism that was triggered by the fall). Nick’s mom can hardly handle this news and is now wondering where her son went.
But Nick comes back a few minutes later and says that he heard Johnny calling to him but he wasn’t at the street corner when he looked, then sits down to continue eating his cereal. When his mom asks Nick what Johnny was saying, Nick says he had come to say, “Goodbye.”
Before my family and I moved to another state, my father went and visited the area to check on the progress of our new house which was being built. My father was there for a few days and was staying at some crappy Motel 6 in a shady area of town. His room was the last room at the end of the hallway on the top floor.
In the middle of the night on the last night he was in town he is woken by the phone ringing in his room. He groggily answers. It was the front desk and they say something along the lines
“Sorry to wake you, but we’ve been receiving a couple of reports about rooms being broken into and some stuff being stolen. We are calling to make sure you lock your door and are safe.”
My father replies that he is fine and hangs up. He decides to go double check that he locked the door. As he sits up in bed he notices that the door to his room is ajar. Being spooked, he cautiously checks the room and finds that nothing is missing and no one else is in the room.
He creeps to the door and peaks out. Sitting right outside his room on the window sill of the hallway window is his shaving kit. Creeped out of his mind, he quickly grabs it and locks the door. After he calms down a bit he calls down to the front desk and says
“Hey, you just called me about the break ins around the hotel, and I just want to report that my room was broken into when I was sleeping, nothing stolen and I am fine. Figured you would like to know”
The front desk replies, “You must be mistaken, we never called your room and we haven’t received any reports of breaks ins”
My wife’s mother passed away in 2003 from cancer. After the funeral, family and friends gathered at her house for a final celebration of her life. The gathering went late into the evening. My son, 3 at the time, needed to go to bed at that point.
I walked with him up the stairs to where he would sleep. The room that my mother-in-law passed away in was upstairs, and straight down the hallway as you reached the top of the landing. My son and I walked upstairs together, with me holding his hand. As we nearly reached the top of the stairs, my son stopped and wouldn’t move…at the point which he could just see down the hallway. He was staring straight down the hall.
I looked at him, then down the hall to an open doorway to a completely dark bedroom. He just stared, and would not move any further. I asked him “Buddy, are you OK?” His response was…”Daddy. The light. The light scares me.” I looked again down the hallway where he was staring into darkness. “Buddy, you see a light?” “Yes daddy. It scares me.”
I promptly picked him up and went back downstairs. To this day, the hairs still stand on the back of my neck when I think of it.
My dad used to work in a juvenile detention center in the Miami area in the early 70s. He said there was one inmate that reminded him a lot of a young Hannibal Lecter. He wasn’t strong but he was smart and very persuasive. One day he started a riot in his block of cells, just by talking the other inmates into it. My dad and another guard were sent in to check it out an try to calm things down.
Everybody in the block was going crazy, banging on the bars, howling and yelling at each other. Everybody except young Hannibal Lecter. He was standing still in the middle of his cell with his arms folded, smiling and muttering the same phrase over and over, quietly. My dad tried to focus on what he was saying, and after a couple seconds he understood.
The inmate was reciting my dad’s home phone number.
My mom is Native American. She named my sister Chula which means fox. Most likely because of her name sake but maybe not ,my sister loved everything that had to do with a fox. Last November my mom was doing dishes at the sink and looking out the window at the woods like she always does. Well she looks up from the dishes to the edge of the woods and at that moment a Fox steps out of the woods.
It sits on it’s hind legs and stares right at my moms face while she stares back through the window . She said it seemed like five minutes they stared at each other. Suddenly the fox got up turned around and slowly walked into the woods. my mom said her first thought was to call Chula tell her about the fox.
My sister never answered she died in a head on collision that day due to some asshole drunk driver. My mom keeps looking for the fox. It has never come back.
About four years ago I was sleeping and woke up randomly to see a person standing next to my bed. This person was clearly female, but very petite — perhaps a teenager or just tiny in stature. She was facing away from me and had her shoulder cocked up to her cheek, like the way you sometimes see people holding phones. Her hair was in a low ponytail.
There was nothing surreal or ghostly about her. She appeared exactly as you would imagine a person would if you were to waken in a dark room, somewhat illuminated by moonlight. There was no mistaking the fact that someone else was standing only a couple feet away from my bed.
I jolted upright immediately. Shock is putting it mildly. I remember my heart was POUNDING, POUNDING, POUNDING. The worst part about it was… she heard me sit up, and reacted, turning her crooked head around to face me, as if equally surprised to see me as I was her. I was so scared I actually closed my eyes, like they do in the movies, thinking that when I opened then she would be gone and I could chalk it up to some kind of half-dreaming state.
She was still there, staring at me. I started to fumble for the lamp on my nightstand. It felt like god damn forever — I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I was so nervous that the noise would further prompt her to come towards me, or something. When I finally switched it on, she was gone.
I called my boyfriend, hysterically crying and begging him to come over. He refused, and said I hadn’t actually seen what I thought I had seen. I slept with the light on for three entire weeks, I was so scared. I remember I told my mom the next day and she advised me to search every closet in my apartment for squatters, which is perhaps even more terrifying than a ghost appearance, thanks mom!
Spring break of 2010. My buddies and I decided to camp out on an island at a local lake. One night as we are cooking food and drinking beer, a canoe floats by with one guy in it. He asks how we’re doing and we invite him to our island for grilled meat and beers. Being in South Arkansas, we naturally assume that everyone is friendly and wants to hang out. His name was Curt and he was super friendly but really seemed to be sad.
We asked him what was up and he replied “Oh nothing really, it’s just that my friends are probably worried about me.” He looked at me and winked. “they’ll find out soon enough.” That still haunts to this day. Everyone liked Curt and, noticing that it was getting dark and he had been drinking, we offered to let him stay with us that night. He declined saying that he had to get to where he was going and he seemed very adamant about that. I asked where he was headed thinking maybe we could give him a ride on a jet ski or something.
Curt ignored the question and said “you boys don’t know how lucky you are.”
He hopped in his canoe and left. We didn’t think much about it.The next morning we woke up early to do some fishing. As we’re fishing, a police boat pulls up. The officer asks if we’re part of the search party that found the body. We obviously have no clue what he is talking about so he tells us a story about a young man in a canoe that disappeared last week. Apparently divers found his body at the bottom of the lake two days before. The young mans name was Curt Clark. This was so freaky for us that we all packed up and left camp that day.
I was stuck in a bathroom in a creepy house my family was staying at. I was home alone. You had to force the door into the jam to get it to close and latch, only to find out that the knob didn’t work the latch. I heard the side door slam shut downstairs. I thought my dad was home.
I called to him. “Dad. Dad! I’m stuck in the bathroom!”
I heard him walking on the hardwood. Through The kitchen. Down the hall. Stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
“Dad! I’m locked in!” I yelled.
I immediately heard him run up the stairs and stop at the top.
Once more I exclaimed “I’m locked in the bathroom!”
4 more steps to the other side of the door.
The door swung open and slammed into the wall. I stepped into the hall. I looked around. Nobody was there. Nobody at all.
I politely said “Thank you!” and went straight to bed.
I have a younger brother who had an imaginary friend when he was younger. He was also an avid sleep walker.
When he was around three or four, he started talking to someone he called Friya (Fry-uh). He described Friya as a dark skinned man with little clothes who loved to hunt in the wilderness. Then one day he told me that Friya used to live nearby the house a long time ago. And then some white people came and burned him alive and killed his village. Not exactly something you expect to hear from a four year old.
I remember I would be in my room and hear him talking like he was having a conversation and when I would try to check on him, he would immediately become silent and turn his head as soon as I peeked around the corner. Very unsettling.
Well my other brother, the middle child, was visiting his dad for the summer but the day before he got back, my youngest brother told my mother and I that “Friya does not like when (brother) is mean to me. He’s going to scare him.” The night he got home, my mom and I were downstairs and heard a scream that I can still hear to this day.
We ran upstairs and found the middle brother swearing that someone was shaking his bed violently. It was a bunk bed. My youngest brother was sound asleep. A month later, my youngest brother took a bad fall and cracked his skull. He was fine, but never talked to Friya again after that.
He would also sleep walk constantly. And show up right next to my bed and stare at me until I woke up and promptly shit myself.
One night I heard my front door open and close. Since it was 4am, I went to check it out. I opened the door and found my brother at the far end of the yard, in the snow, only in his underwear, staring right at me. Then he slowly waved. Those shivers weren’t from the cold.