Thursday, December 16, 2010

Suicidal in Sweden

{Thanks for Marcus for sharing his story. Though, we're still taking scary dream stories, Marcus's tale is a true event, and not a dream. - AANSS Staff.}

It's currently December, and as I live in Sweden the month is almost always one with plenty of snow and cold. Seeing it reminds me of something that happened to me around 2001, in December, when I was eleven years old.
Back then, my family used to live in a house in a pretty calm and typically suburban neighbourhood. This particular evening, I remember the snow was falling down hard and, being winter, it had already turned dark. My parents had gone out for the evening, leaving me and a friend of mine alone in the house, but seeing as this had always been a calm area, it wasn't a big deal (I was pretty used to being home alone).

Anyway, our house had a pretty big basement, and one of the rooms down there had been converted into a living room where most of the entertainment could be found. I remember that me and my friend where sitting down there playing video games, when suddenly I heard a noise. It wasn't like some big crash or anything, just a faint murmuring. Thinking nothing of it, we proceeded with what we were doing until – there it was again, louder. This time, it kept going, so I got up to track it down, only to come to the conclusion that it must've come from upstairs. In fact, the more I listened, the more I realized that it sounded just like a voice. Male, from someone in their 30's or so. And it wasn't a friendly voice either. He sounded angry. At this point, my friend could hear it too, and the first rational thought that struck us was – someone's broken into the house.

Our thought was more or less confirmed a moment later when we started to make out words. I can't quite recall what was said, but I do remember that it struck me as strange and almost incoherent, as if he possibly had some mental disorder. I remember that me and my friend both went completely silent after that. We both stood there, staring intently at the stairway leading upstairs, waiting for someone to burst down the stairs at any moment. I remember that in the span of the twenty minutes or so we stood there, it felt like an eternity. Eventually, it had been quiet from upstairs for a while and we were starting to get the impression it was safe. The basement of our house had windows near the top of the ceiling (since it wasn't completely ”submerged” underground, in lack of a better way to explain it), so we could use those as a way to look outside to the street. What we saw were flashes of blue and red, and we instantly realized that someone had called the police.

Upon entering the street, we were greeted with an eerie sight – the snow-covered ground had small droplets of blood in it, trailing along the street going by our house, ending in a small red puddle. We were greeted by another kid I knew who lived further down the street, and he told us about what had happened. Apparently, this man (unknown if he had a mental condition) had appeared on our street, wielding a knife with which he had previously cut his wrists (not fatally, but enough to cause him to bleed heavily). He had tried to enter some of my neighbours' homes and even asked one of them if he could borrow some rope (strange, but my best guess is he was suicidal and perhaps wanted to attempt a hanging?). Someone had called the police and he had been arrested right there in the street, but not before literally covering it in his own blood. Anyway, he probably didn't pose much of a threat to others but I know the experience scared the hell out of me. There's also the little fact that – I still don't know if he was actually in our house or not.

Have a good one!


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