As a teenager my parents moved into another house, because our previous one caught fire. One morning I woke up smelling breakfast, I’m like hell yea moms cooking pancakes, bacon and eggs. I mean the smell was right on the money. My brother and I get up to see no one cooking and my mom asleep. Ok, whatever. Tell my mom about it later and she looks crazy shocked. Sad the landlord told her jokingly about it being haunted by an old lady that cooks breakfast sometimes. She never told us until then. Only time it ever happened.
When I was about 8 I woke up at my grandparents house to my cousin saying, “Wake up lets play hide and go seek!”
I looked around couldn’t find her. “She said don’t quit come and find me.”
I searched high and low. She spoke to me in all different parts of the house. Finally I burst into my parents room and said, “Is Ellen hiding in here”
And they said, “She isn’t coming until tomorrow.”
From when I was five until I was about seven, I used to see faces outside my second floor bedroom window all the time. We were living in a tiny farmhouse in a heavily wooded/secluded area, and obviously nobody was out there. But every night, I’d see them. Some were just normal faces, others had weird expressions, and others were horribly distorted and disfigured. I still distinctly remember seeing those faces, but up until recently, I’d chalked it up as a false memory and insanely overactive imagination.
About seven years ago, we moved out of that house and a family friend, Jake, purchased it. Jake had a daughter, Lily, who was (at the time this took place) five years old. About two years ago, I went over there for a visit and Jake asked my boyfriend for some advice, since he was studying to be a doctor.
“Every night Lily claims she sees faces in her window, and she won’t go to sleep. Anything you can recommend to me?”
Turns out Lily’s room is my old room, and she is the same age as I was when I started seeing them. I just about died.
I’m a science fanatic. I do not believe in this kind of thing. But for the life of me, I can’t explain my way out of this one.
They filmed parts of the Exorcist at the college I went to. There are all sorts of spooky urban legend type stories told about the “cursed” filming of that movie, feel free to look them up.
I love ghost stories and urban legends, but our Exorcist campus stories didn’t do much for me. The idea that the filming of a Hollywood movie would bring ghosts or demons or whatever to haunt college kids in their dorms was not particularly creepy or interesting. Certainly less so than other campus legends we had like the dorm that used to be an old morgue or the secret tunnels that ran under campus that were used to wheel bodies to the said morgue. I liked those ones, but The Exorcist stuff just seemed hokey.
Several weeks after classes had ended my junior year, I was scheduled to leave on one of those overseas volunteer trips that college kids do. Our group was scheduled to leave from campus and head to the airport together early one June morning. We decided it would be fun to all spend the night before on campus together.
All the dorms had been emptied out for the summer, with the exception of the one or two they kept open for summer students. One of the people coming on our trip, however, was a school employee who lived on campus in a nice air-conditioned apartment in one of the closed-up dorms. As you’re probably guessing by now, yes, it was a dorm in which they filmed an Exorcist scene, supposedly in the basement.
Out of the whole group of us, there were only two guys, me and my friend Brian. The girls all decided to have a big sleepover on the floor in the staff member’s 4th floor apartment. Brian and I decided to go off and find an empty room with beds (but not an air conditioner unit) to stay in down the hall. Partly because we wanted both wanted to sleep in a bed, partly because hours of late night girl talk didn’t interest us, and partly because we knew about the haunted reputation of the building and thought it would be fun.
There was a lot going on in my mind that night. I was super excited about the trip; I had never been overseas before. I really wanted to get a good night’s sleep so I started off the trip feeling good and not crabby. The room Brian and I chose was incredibly hot and stuffy though, even with the windows opened as much as they would go, and my mind was racing the whole night, thinking about the long flight in the morning. The hours just dripped away.
At some point after hours of lying awake, I started feeling like I had to pee. The only open bathroom in the building was down on the first floor. I knew that getting up and going to the bathroom was just going to make me feel even more awake, so I tried to fight it. Also, as much as I didn’t put much stock in the silly Exorcist ghosts or whatever, the idea of going down to the first floor in the dark didn’t seem particularly appealing.
Eventually though, the need to pee was just too strong. I got up and, using my cell phone as a light, found my way to the elevator, went down to the first floor, relieved myself, and started back up. I got back into the elevator and pressed the button for the 4th floor. Instead, the elevator decided to go down, taking me to the basement. Being that there was nobody else staying in the building that night besides us, my heart started pounding. I had been in sort of a sleepy daze, and suddenly I was wide awake and thinking what the fuck is going on.
When the doors to the basement opened, I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to look out. I felt my way over to the panel and peeked out just enough to find the button for the 4th floor. I pressed it. The doors started to close, but then jolted, as if someone had stuck their arm between them to stop them.
So, I’m just standing there in the elevator, it’s deathly quiet, I’m breaking into a cold sweat despite the fact that the building was like a furnace, and I keep pressing 4, and the door keeps trying to shut but can’t. Eventually I open my eyes and look out, just to make sure there’s not actually something stuck between the doors, and all I see is the pitch dark of the basement beyond. I’m starting to think I’m going to have to go out into that darkness and find the stairs if I want to get back to the room.
That’s when I hear it, and I swear to god this actually happened, I hear a person muttering something off in that darkness. I close my eyes again and just keep pounding on that button and eventually, the doors are able to close and they take me back up to the 4th floor.
Suffice to say, I never got back to sleep that night and I started off the trip being really crabby and feeling out of sorts.
When I was little our house had an upstairs apartment that my grandfather lived in. My grandfather would sit in the front window smoking, drinking coffee and just watching the neighborhood. He was very sick from Cancer and died in our house. A few months later, a new family moved into the house across the street from us. The wife and my mom became friends. One day the lady across the street asked my mom who the old guy was that lived upstairs and would sit in the window smoking and drinking coffee. No one had moved in upstairs.
A few years ago, I was at home with my parents and sister. My sister and I were sitting on the couch in the living room (facing the kitchen) and my parents were in the tv room (to the left of the kitchen). My sister and I heard a noise in the kitchen, but shrugged it off. My mom approached us and asked if we’d heard that noise. We instantly felt a sense of dread and said yes. In that instant, all 3 of us saw a black shadow float at the top of the entryway of the kitchen, then disappear. I walked over to the kitchen, peeked in, and saw that every cabinet was wide open. I hated that house after that.
When I was about 12, my mother’s friend asked her and her other church friends to visit his house a pray over it. Ever since he had moved in he had seen dark shapes, smelled bad things, experienced cold spots, heard voices, and his wife had been acting weird.
My mother took me with her because, I presume, I had nowhere else to go. Whoever had lived in the house before had drawn weird symbols in the garage such as the “all-seeing eye” and the whole place just had a very uncomfortable presence. This man had never stepped foot in his storm cellar (this is oklahoma so it’s separate from the house) and the shelter just had an evil feeling emanating from it. They all decided to open it, not thinking there would be anything there. When they opened it, there were dozens of dried-up dead cats and chickens that apparently had been sacrificed. This is in the city so no real reason to have chickens down there. It was just a terrible, evil feeling.
My cousin committed suicide by jumping off the renaissance building in Dallas, Texas. We buried her in the spring around Easter. She loved stuffed animals and cute things so I wanted to send her off with one. I had found a stuffed rabbit to leave with her at her grave site the day we were burying her. I put the rabbit and a rose on the coffin as they were lowering it into the ground and left once the ceremony was done. When I got home the rabbit was on my dresser, I was so confused and still have no idea how it got there.
When I was born, we lived in an apartment. It wasn’t big, but apparently there was one little hallway that absolutely terrified me starting when I was about 15 months old. I would just stand stock still, frozen in place, wide-eyed refusing to go past it. When they asked me what I was scared of, all I would say is that it was “the luck-luck.” Not long after, we moved to a house a few blocks away, where we lived until I moved out on my own. No sooner had we moved in than I became terrified of the back end of one particular hallway, acting exactly how I had in the apartment and insisting that it was the luck-luck. Apparently, I seemed to be most scared of the corner up by the ceiling, but I would avoid the whole hall at all costs.
As I got older, I stopped being afraid, and while I could remember how scared I’d been, I realized one day I couldn’t remember what I thought the luck-luck was.
30 years later, I was living in a different state in the house my husband and I night when we found out I was pregnant with our daughter (first kid, born when I was almost exactly the same age as my mom when she had me). She started to have nightmares not long after turning 1, but one night when she was about 16 months old, she woke up screaming like I’d never heard before. I ran up there and she’d just woken up from a really bad dream, but she was inconsolable long after I picked her up. I started walking her all around the house just trying to soothe her back to sleep, but finally I had to pee, so I took her into our bathroom and turned on the light. As soon as we walked in, she stopped crying and called right down. I’d never seen her do anything like that, so I asked her, “What were you so scared of, my sweetheart?” She looked right at me and replied without a beat, “Uck-uck.”
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