Monday, December 28, 2015

Alone at Night is up for sale

Alone at Night has served as a source for all things creepy for many years, now, and the Admin is ready to move on to other projects. If you have ever wanted to run a website now's your chance, and you don't even have to do any work. Alone at Night is for sale and we're entertaining all offers. Interested parties should email for more information.

Friday, December 11, 2015

I Killed a Man

I worked as a bouncer in California for five years while I went to college. There were lots of fights and squabbles. But they usually ended with no one getting hurt. With a few exceptions.
One in particular was a fellow who ran in, jumped over the bar and started throwing the bottles everywhere. Then he lit a match and threw it on the ground. Fire didn't spread or do anything because it missed the alcohol. But I was grabbing him and hauling him back over the bar to restrain him while they called the cops.

He slashed me across my neck, clavicle, and chest with a switchblade and when I grabbed his arms to protect my face he still cut my face six more times. 96 stitches.

I was on my own. Just some kids in the bar and a female bartender so I just pushed his knife back into his throat while he kept trying to slash at my face, snapping his wrist in half in the process. I wasn't even trying to kill or do any of that. I was just scared shitless I was going to die defending a bar. Even worse was while I was trying to stop his bleeding he was still swinging at me. He was definitely on some uppers.

My guilt is that even though I was bigger and more experienced, I wasn't able to just solve the problem without any serious injuries. So I killed somebody.

With 9 witnesses, cameras, and one phone video, there was nothing criminal.

But I can't touch someones arms or hands without feeling like I'll snap their wrist in half backwards. It was sickening. Of course I quit the next day.

He was the ex boyfriend of another bartender who wasn't even there that day. I think he might have killed the bartender that was there though so I'm glad I was there.

Thursday, December 10, 2015

the infamous masturbator

I work at a hotel. All the night audit staff have taken at least one call from the infamous masturbator - a guy who phones in during the dead of the night and tries to make an overly complicated reservation just to beat off to the sound of a woman's voice. It's absolutely bizarro.

Apparently he hangs up right away when the male night auditor answers, but if one of the girls is on that night he'll go through his process and ask a whole lot of convoluted questions that no one asks at 1am for a simple room reservation. I've only gotten a call from him once luckily, but he started asking really strange, invasive questions, ie. wanted to know how old I was, if I was with anyone, etc, just creepy things. It kinda clicked with me after a few minutes like "oh shit, it's the masturbater" so I politely asked him to hold on while I tranferred him into an empty line. Another girl I work with stayed on the phone with him much longer than I did and said she hung up after you could hear him obviously beating his meat and breathing really exaggeratedly into the phone. Ever since she's been able to recognize his calls pretty quickly.
Worked at a service station, one night between 2-4am someone kept ringing up I'd answer and they would just do weird breathing over the phone, it was annoying but righto just got on with work. At 5am went to go out the back door for a break and stood in something I look down and there was blood everywhere someone had killed and cut open 2 hare's and spread the blood and internal organs over the back door and walls there was bloody handprints and bloody footprints it was messed up. I got a creepy feeling I was being watched so I did a 1 finger salute and went inside (pretending it didn't bother me, didn't want to give whoever did this the satisfaction of seeing me cry).

Monday, November 23, 2015

True Story

I’m a skeptic, and even though I’ve had my “experience” I’m still skeptical as to what was going on. My family and I moved into an old house in New England. New England is full of old houses, by the way. This particular one had been in the town since it had been settled. When we moved it, the place was a wreck, and as my parents would have it, they began to renovate the place, which is when things started happening. The day we moved, my sister and I went down to check out the basement, a low ceiling, dimly lit, dirt floor basement, separated into several sections.

As soon as we were at the bottom of the stairs, we were filled with a sense of uneasiness, we walked back into the next section and the uneasiness turned into dread. It was cold and lit dimmer than the first area, and then there was the totally pitch black back room, where the dread was unbearable. It was a sensation that to this day I can’t explain. But this is not enough to account for a ghost story.

My family was out of the house on one particular day. I was there and my father had left for lumber only moments before I laid down to take a nap. I’m not sure how long I slept, but I was awoken by a deafening banging. As though someone was pounding on the walls with a hammer. The force of each blow shook the house and shook me out of my bed. I got up and looked out the window to see if my dad had returned, my car was the only one in the driveway. The banging stopped after a couple of minutes and in a state of grogginess, I went back to sleep, dismissing the incident.

On another evening, I am alone in the house after dropping my girlfriend off at her house. I’m upstairs watching a movie in my parents room. The house is old, as I mentioned, and it makes a lot of very distinct noises. From downstairs, I hear the rusty doorknob leading to the barn turn. The sound is unmistakable, I heard it a thousand times when I would step out for a smoke. I froze and shut off the TV, listening hard for any other strange sounds. I crept back to the doorway to my room and from below, in the dining room, I heard the light switch flip on, it makes a loud popping sound when you switch it, again this is an unmistakable sound.

Saturday, November 21, 2015

Never Know Who to Trust

I'm fairly certain that my old landlord was organizing robberies of the tenants.

Last year I was living at this place, and one day as I'm in the shower I hear the door knocking. I figured it was just the UPS guy or something leaving a package (they usually knock when they do). I got out of the shower and I heard someone walking around the living room. I knew for a fact that my roommate wasn't home so I went to check it out. It was a guy from Orkin (the exterminator company).

I asked him what he was doing, and he said he was there because my roommate had made an appointment. I asked to see paperwork but all he had was a crumpled up post it note with my roommate's name and my unit number on it. I asked how he was able to get in and he said that the management had given him a key (which they are allowed to do if they get consent from the tenant).

This was fishy for a variety of reasons: 1) I had never seen anything more than the occasional spider at that place, which is hardly reason enough to call an exterminator, no matter how much of an arachnophobe you are. 2) If my roommate made an appointment, he would have told me that someone was coming by. Additionally, if he was expecting someone, he would do it on a day where he would actually be able to be there himself, so to make an appointment on a day where he wouldn't be present is extremely unusual for him. 3) I told him about what happened later that day and he said that he never called for an exterminator, and even if he did, he would tell me (reinforcing reason #2). 3) We confronted the management for giving out our key without our consent, and they were adamant about having gotten the permission. She claimed that a request for an exterminator was made over the phone by my roommate, but my roommate denied ever having done that.

Anyway, it sounds like it could have been a simple misunderstanding, but later on I would run into people around the complex, we would get into small chit chats, and more than a few times some of the other residents would mention that an exterminator that they never requested showed up at their apartments, or say that they came home to stuff having been stolen. Because of this, I firmly believe that someone in the management is/was organizing these break ins, but I can't prove it (I tried filing a police report but they did nothing). Thankfully, I had to move out for unrelated reasons.

Friday, November 20, 2015

Devil's Footprints

Here's an old mystery for you all. After you read it, leave a comment and share your thoughts. Can you explain the Devil's footprints?
--taken from Weird Encyclopedia

On the morning of February 9th, 1855, thousands of mysterious tracks were found in the new-fallen snow that had fallen upon the town of Devon, England. The tracks, which resembled those of shoed horses, covered over 100 miles and through five parishes. Rather than navigating a straight or even near-even course, the tracks were found to go up the sides of walls, into gardens, onto roofs, up and down the sides of fences, and other avenues which were impossible for any real creature to follow.

Given the impossibility of the trail, and the cloven-hoof aspects of the tracks (not to mention the fact that they were apparently from a creature which walked on two legs), most of the local citizens agreed the footprints could have been laid by only one being: old Satan himself.

The footprints were reportedly seen by hundreds of persons, and were mentioned in both theTimes of London and the Illustrated London News. Citizens debated in the papers’ pages about what could have caused them – despite the spread of religion, this was, after all, the 19th century, and there were those who sought more rational explanations for the tracks than simply blaming them upon a creature like Old Scratch.

Various animals were trotted out (pun intended) as the possible cause. A Reverend Musgrave theorized that it could have been a pair of kangaroos, which had escaped a private menagerie in a nearby town; the naturalist Sir Richard Owen suggested that it could have been a certain species of badger, which tends to leave behind tracks suggesting a bipedal creature. Other suggested beasts were certain types of cats, otters, foxes, cranes, and mice. These, however, do not explain how any terrestrial animal could have (for example) traversed 4-inch-high drainpipes or walked vertically up walls, nor how the trail could abruptly stop at either end.

Naturally, there are more romantically-minded individuals who suggest that the footprints were caused by some supernatural type of being – if not the Devil himself, then perhaps an animal spirit, or even Spring-Heeled Jack, the mysterious English figure whose gravity-defying adventures were nearly synonymous with this account. Some have suggested the presence of extraterrestrial beings, who might have the technology to leave such imprints.

And, of course, there are those who seek more prosaic explanations: that the footprints were created by perfectly normal animals, and the acounts of the trails’ length and meanderings were exaggerated in the telling; that it was some sort of ‘mass hallucination’ (whatever that means); or even, possibly, that it was a stunt to increase newspaper circulation on a terribly boring, snowbound day.

Friday, November 13, 2015

What's in the Tent?

This story takes place in August of 2013, in the mountains of Southern Oregon. I am a USAF Security Forces Airman (military policeman). My girlfriend was at work, and as a blisteringly hot day began to turn into thunderstorms, my buddy Nick (another military cop) and I decided to go explore some back roads and get out of the heat in town.

Southern Oregon is criss-crossed with logging roads, some actively used, and many totally forgotten and grown over. Nick and I spent many of our days off starting on roads that we knew, finding roads we didn't know, driving for hours into the mountains, eventually navigating back to paved roads. On this particular day, with storm clouds building over the mountains, we set off on a road we had never been on, and began the drive into the mountains.

After driving for around an hour, we hadn't seen nor heard any signs of other people in the woods. We rounded a bend in the thick fir woods, and emerged in a meadow that was totally surrounded by thick aspen groves. The meadow was perfectly flat, and eerily still. We both noticed the strange stillness almost immediately; no birds, hardly any insect noise, no squirrels, and certainly no other people. On the far side of the meadow, right at the edge of the tree-line, there was a picnic table. The table was very odd, however. It was painted a bright orange, and was much larger than a typical picnic table in a park. Remarking on this, Nick drove through the meadow to get a closer look.

I remember being apprehensive as we approached. The whole scenario was exceptionally strange; the overall silence of the aspen grove was unsettling. Also, it was nearly impossible to see far into the trees as aspens grow extremely close together. When we parked by the table, I hopped out of the passenger seat of the truck to check it out. I'm not very tall, only about 5'5", regardless, the table was ridiculously oversized and practically unusable. The seats were nearly at chest level, meaning I would have to climb up to even sit on them.

As I was looking at the table, Nick called me over to the truck, and I noticed he was looking back into the aspens. At first, I couldn't see what he was looking at, but then I noticed a splash of color that was completely out of place in the thick trees. A small one man tent was set back in the trees, about 50 feet from the strange table.

I had an initial feeling of dread, and felt certain that there was someone in the tent, and if we could see the tent, they could see us. There were no campgrounds in this area; no people, no main roads for miles. Surely someone camping so remotely would be, at the very least, a strange person. However, as we observed the tent, we didn't see any movement or hear any sounds coming from it. Nick suggested I call out; I didn't want to, but I did. "Hey! Anyone in there?", I yelled.

No reply. Feeling completely on edge, Nick and I thought about driving away and leaving this strange area. But we began to fear the worst; what if there was a body in the tent? What if somebody had gotten kidnapped? Foolish, I know, but we thought it, all the same.

After some debate, we decided to have Nick turn the truck around to drive away from the camp; should we need to leave in a hurry, he would be waiting behind the wheel. With my heart pounding, I started walking through the trees towards the tent. I was totally keyed up with my senses on full alert. When I reached the "campsite", several things struck me as odd. Backpacks were scattered all over. No fire had been built, no wood collected. The tent... The tent was literally full of backpacks, and women's clothing. Full of dread, I turned to leave and tell Nick what I had seen. As I left, I heard Nick start yelling.

"Let's go! Let's get the fuck out of here!" Not knowing why he was yelling, I ran back to the truck. When I broke out of the trees, I saw a beat up old Ford Taurus on the road, blocking us from leaving the meadow. I immediately leapt into the passenger seat, and Nick floored the gas pedal. The car was occupied by two men; a third person was laying against the window in the back. As we drove across the meadow, the driver attempted to block us from the road, but Nick drove around them and accelerated the way we had come from. I looked back and saw the car attempting to turn around on the narrow road. Nick drove like a mad man, and though I was honestly terrified that they would catch up, we hit the the highway without seeing the car again. I still do not know if the person in the back was male or female.

I called the State Police, and they promised to send a Trooper out to check out the scene. However, I received a call the next day from a Trooper stating that the campsite, the back packs, and the women's clothing was all gone, though he could tell people had been in the area. The strange table was still by the thick aspen grove. I have not returned to the area, and do not intend to.

Monday, November 9, 2015

Violence Seems to Follow Me

For a while in my life I lived out of my car. I was 16. My parents marriage was a decomposing thing for as long as I can remember, rotting from the inside. Violence was a norm in my house, and we all faced it in our own way. Dad was the hand of "justice" and would smack my mom and myself around at whatever real or imagined provocation that for some unknown reason flipped his switch that day. Mom would beat me as a sort of release valve, keeping her from simply dying, I think. A few times CPS was involved, when things got so far out of hand that our neighbors had no choice but to act. All of this lead to me being 16, in my car, and living in a Wal-Mart parking lot.

The town in which I grew up is small, but anymore in America, a town only needs a few thousand people to warrant a Wal-Mart to come in and become some sort of physical embodiment of lower-class turmoil. When I was 16 I was working full-time and going to school. After work I would drive to the library and do my homework and mess around on the computers until closing time, and then I would get in my old Mazda MX6 and drive to the Wal-Mart. There I would park in the side lot because it had the lowest level of lighting which helped me sleep.

I would sleep with the keys in the ignition. It was a small town, and there was little crime, but I was a sixteen year old girl, in my car, sleeping in a parking lot. Chances were not something I could afford to take. In the winter I would crawl into my sleeping bad, wearing my coat and shoes to sleep. One evening as I began to crawl into my sleeping bag a rusted passenger van pulled up the parking spot directly next to mine. In the yellow sodium lights I could make out a figure in the drivers seat, but couldn't see much detail. I slithered out of my sleeping bag, not waiting to see what this person was planning, turned my car on and drove off.

That night and the next several, I parked in the library parking lot to sleep. The problem was that the library lot was occasionally patrolled by the police, and one evening, just a few days after my strange encounter at Wal-Mart, I awoke to the flashing lights of a police car. I bullshitted an excuse about running away for the night, because my parents wouldn't let me go to a party. He made me promise to go home, and he followed me as I drove off, so I had to drive back to my house. I got out of my car, walked to my front door and opened it. It was late and my parents were asleep. I remember standing just inside the front door, eyes closed, willing my parents to not wake up. After a moment, the cop drove off, and I was back in my car headed to Wal-Mart. There are few others places in my small town where a car parked all night wouldn't arouse suspicions.

Winter had been especially bad that year, and snow fell thick and often. In my little side lot parking space, my car quickly was covered in snow. Not long after parking, and sliding into my sleeping bag, snow had collected on my car windows, screening out the sodium parking lights and my view.

I remember waking up because I was cold. The sleeping bad I used was a shittty $25 number from Wal-mart for kids to use in the living room, and not a serious winter bag. Though I was wearing my coat, and shoes, I was still cold. It took me a moment upon opening my eyes to realize that the inside of my car was too bright. The light from the parking lot lights was streaming in through my driver side window. Someone had brushed the snow off.

In a panic, I began to squirm my way out of the sleeping bag, which is like a contortionists trick in the tight confined of my car. As I struggled free, I noticed outside my window the same van that had parked too close to me last time. Again, it was parked right next to my car, invading my space. I could see footprints in the snow leading from the van to my car. I didn't see the driver or anyone else in the van, which had me wondering if they were around my car. Only my driver-side window had been brushed off. I couldn't see out of any other window. I was finally free from my sleeping bag, when a person began to wipe the snow off my passenger side window. I saw a white, long-fingered, bare hand pushing away the snow. I turned the key, still in the ignition, and my car started on the first try.

The problem was that my windshield and back window were still covered in snow. I turned the wipers on, but the weight of the snow was too much. There was an electric whine, as the wipers moved maybe a quarter of an inch and then stopped. The hand that had been wiping off the snow on my passenger window began to tap its fingernails against the glass. The snow had only been wiped from the bottom half of the window and I couldn't see anything above the man's chest. I hit the wipers again, and got no where.

The tapping fingers turned to a hammer fist. Pounding, pounding, pounding against the window.

I put the car in reverse, trying to remember the immediate layout of the parking lot, trying to see in my mind's eye where the cart corral and the cement light stands were in relation to my blindly careening Mazda.

Once free of the immediate vicinity of the, could you call it attacker, I rolled my driver's side window down and leaned my head out. I put the car in drive, and drove away from the side lot, the van and the strange man. Near the entrance to the Wal-Mart, I put the car in park, left it running, got out and cleaned off the windshield and back window in about ten seconds. I got back in the car, checking my rear-view, waiting to see the van's headlights come around the corner of the building, and drove off.

Violence seems to follow me.

Sunday, November 8, 2015

Stick Indians

I'm a pretty avid backpacker in the PNW. Sometimes I'll hike for days on end without seeing another person. I think it's exhilarating being completely alone, there's really no feeling like it. You get used to it, but personally I can never help but be on edge. The environment is completely serene and friendly, but there's a constant feeling in the back of your mind, it's hard to put your finger on. Most of the time you'll be chugging along, comfortable in your mind, but when you stop for rest, or to fill up on water, you can't help but look over your shoulder.

Nothing bothers me much out in the woods. I've run into brown bears, had elk trample through camps late at night and much more. But one night was different. I was on a deep backwoods hike, in the late fall off-season. was pretty cold, but the snow hadn't quite started falling yet. I like that. In fact, I usually plan my trips this way. The forest ranger I talked to when I was organizing the trip said I was the only hiker she knew of who'd be up there at the time. I was using dispersed camping sites so far off the beaten path they don't have fire pits. That night was 5 or 6 miles from the trail Into the area. I set up camp at a site about a hundred yards from a a stream, close enough that a faint babbling was audible. I'd lit a fire, cooked dinner, read for a while and was settling down to sleep. I lay listening for a while to the sounds of the woods and the creek. Just as I was nodding off, I think I hear voices. Nothing distinct, no clear words, but clearly a group of people was having a good time, laughing, maybe telling stories around a campfire.

A feeling of dread came over me. I thought: "I shouldn't leave the tent." Fear like I've never felt engulfed me. All the hairs on my arms, legs, and on the back of my neck stood on end. I lay there for a while in panic, the voices carrying on laughing indistinctly. After a while they receded into the background noise. I still didn't leave the tent, I was too afraid.

The next morning after a very short night's sleep, I searched the surrounding area, and the path to the site. The few shoe prints I found were faded and worn around the edges, too old and too few to be from the size of group I'd heard.

I tried to shrug it off as nerves, maybe nervousness got the best of me, but I couldn't shake a certain tension. I made good time to my next site, the last of the trip, looking around a little more than usual. Still nobody to be seen.

That site had no stream. Dry camping isn't a blast, but it's doable if you pack enough water for cooking and drinking for the night. It was a lot quieter, just the chirps of bugs and the wind rustling the trees. I cooked my dinner, and stayed up a good while after dark sitting on a log, looking at the stars and listening to the sounds of the forest, trying to hear the voices from the night before, but there was nothing. I turned in for the night, stretching every act out. I lay there, restless for what felt like hours. Finally, calm comes over me. And the it's back. Nothing threatening or particularly scary, just the sounds of a group of 15-20 having a good time, barely audible above the background noise. This time I'm calm, and there's what seems like an internal dialogue in the back of my mind: 'Why not join them? Sounds like they're having fun.' "I'd really rather stay here." This is entirely unconscious, and goes on for a while. I'd never experienced anything like this. I was worried that I'd lost it. After a time, the noises faded away into the white noise, and I felt that I was alone.

The next day I packed as quickly as I could and got out of Dodge. During the day I was more at ease, like I had always been in the past. I was relieved when I got to the car and started back home.

I told the story a few times, and every time I felt a little of that dread from the first night. I really had no reason to feel strongly about what had happened. I just heard strange noises in the forest, nothing extraordinary, but I felt it.

On one occasion, I told the story my teacher who's native. He got quiet for a minute, then said I had run into stick indians. He said that it was good that I didn't leave the tent. Stick indians are evil and dangerous being that prey on children and women. The look on his face was sober. He told me not to go back to that place again. These spirits are extremely aggressive and attack and kill at the slightest provocation, including even saying their Salish name, which he refused to do.

Saturday, November 7, 2015

A few tales of misadventure

I haven't been as outdoorsy since I've been married, but my father is like the trailer park version of Survivorman and I've picked up a lot of his knowledge of how to make it being feral. He lived out in the desert with next to no money in a tent for 8 months straight and we used to regularly spend weeks out there.

I've also veered off trail and come across strange things all over the place. Sometimes dangerous, other times just straight up creepy.

Denim Guy
I've posted about this one before. When coming down a steep trail on my way back to my car I heard a rustle in the trees not far from me. There was some guy clad in thick denim that had his arms raised in a really creepy attack sort of position. As I turned to look at him his whole body pivoted perfectly toward me. I don't know exactly what he was doing but it was definitely with malevolent intent. I reacted way too quick for him though and jumped like a mountain goat down some boulders and put some insane distance between us in a short amount of time. Called the rangers about it when I got back down, but don't know if they found him.

Mischievous Elves?
I don't really know... Just... Weird as fuck. Once again I went off trail and started aimlessly wandering in the general direction of a peak in the Uintas. From up a steep slope and from behind some very thick treeline I started getting pelted with green pinecones. Those shits hurt. They were flying at me from quite a distance, and I tried to angrily chase down the source but the terrain was was too difficult to negotiate quickly. I didn't see one shape or even the hint of movement through the trees at all. It's like the pinecones were coming from absolutely nowhere and arcing perfectly through thick trees and nailing me almost unerringly. Not a one hit a single tree or branch and that would have been impossible for me to do. Worst part? I could hear faint, high-pitched, creepy laughter.

Desert Stalkers
Me and a buddy were doing some back country hiking in the Great Basin in an area where all sorts of weird shit was prone to happening. There was some restricted military base in the general area, lots of military testing and maneuvers, and lots of crazy ass weirdos that came through that area. We crested a tall hill and were looking out over a valley when we saw two other guys on a hill across from us. I took a look at them through my binocs and they looked pretty normal. One had a rifle, but that didn't concern me because LOTS of people would skeet shoot and such up in that region. I decided to give them a holler and wave just to let them know we were in the area just in case they were shooting. Well, they noticed us and the guy with the rifle raise it and pointed it in our direction. I tried to dismiss it as him using his scope to be able to see us as we were pretty far away. We resume hiking and next thing I know I hear shots landing on the hill we're on. Not terribly close, but fuckin' A. We hoof it down that hill and up another one and I break out the binocs again. Well, those two guys had now made it across to the hill we were on before and were skulking around the brush. Fuck that. I decided we needed to get back to camp, but that we couldn't make a beeline because it would take us across the valley and we would be spotted in a second. I saw that there was an old, dry washout that was the perfect depth to conceal us. We snuck our way down into it and it was literally like being in a trench surrounded by sheer dirt walls. We followed it around and out to safety, but it was pretty harrowing being in there because you couldn't see too much above and so we had no clue where those guys were.

The Bloodbath
Back to creepy. This was out by a campground of several natural springs. A friend and I (same buddy from before) decided to strike out and go explore some very dilapidated and ancient-looking farm structures we'd seen earlier in the day. We decided to go at night because fuck being sane, right? It was a small cluster of buildings far off next to some woods. We hiked through the brush to get there, but there was also a really torn up, weed-choked dirt road that led to it. The buildings were completely decrepit and looked like they were going to collapse if we breathed too hard. We went to the biggest barn-like building and immediately began to smell death. As we got to the interior we noticed some REALLY unnerving things. First, despite the fact that these buildings no longer had any functional purpose, it was clear that people still went out there. There were fresh footprints that did not belong to us. Second, there seemed to be blood spattered all over the fucking place. Third, there were pieces of wood that had been sharpened into crude, short stakes that were absolutely drenched in blood. Fourth... There were scattered clumps of what looked - to me at least - to be human hair. Lastly, it looked like someone had used the blood-stained stakes to try and scrawl something on a couple walls and on a load-bearing post in the center of the building. I couldn't make it out, probably better that way. So yeah, we decide to GTFO immediately. We decide to leave via a slightly different route because we were ultra paranoid that someone was watching and would follow us back to camp. As we made our way back we hit a truly putrid wall of that death stench again. We found the source. It was the rear half of a calf. Just the rear half. The front half was absolutely no where in sight. The worst thing about it though is that this animal was cut clean in half. It did not look like an animal attack at all. No other wounds, just perfectly snipped in half. We made it back to camp and left the next fucking morning.

Dead Seagull Ritual?
Another odd one. Hard to really put it into words. I went out to the Great Salt Lake one day and an area of the "beach" had these long lines of dozens and dozens of desiccated seagull bodies, all very neatly arranged in rows. There were like 3 or 4 arrangements like this. However, the really fucked up thing about it is that alongside these rows of death were all of these metal rods coming out of the ground at a slight angle. Fuck it, I can't explain it, so here comes a shitty drawing. I can't really think of a context where this sort of fucking thing makes sense.

Thursday, November 5, 2015

Walking on Water

My dad said he used to go work on a boat, fishing for whatever he could catch. And by boat I mean, a 20 food boat would take a crew of around 8 people off to the middle of nowhere, in a lake, and drop them off on a very small, one person boat ( kind of like a canoe size), and the small boat would be anchored in place. But he would get dropped off around 9 at night, and they would pick them up around 3 in the morning.

He said he did this for a month and actually enjoyed the loneliness out there. He would say that it would be pitch black some nights, and some nights, the sky was beautifully lit with stars.

One night, it was pitch dark and kind of foggy. As he was just fishing as usual, when he could hear a strange noise behind him. It sounded like something trying to sneak up on him, on the water. He turns around, and the fog gets thicker, and can barely see a hint of light. He tries to see what it is, and he said it looked like a humanoid figure walking on water, towards my dad. By this time he is freaking out. He only has with him some food and water, a fishing rod with extra bait, and a mtitool. He said he stared at the humanoid object, for the next few minutes, as it walked towards him. When he first saw it, it was about 100 yards away. After a few minutes, it was around 35 feet away, and he could tell it was a person walking towards him. He is freaking out, since he is in the middle of a lake, and there appears to be a person walking on water, towards my dad. He reals in the fishing pole and gets ready to use it as a weapon. The humanoid figure has a lamp with him and is holding it to the front, while walking towards my dad. As it gets near my dad, it Speaks. It says my dad's name. My dad stays frozen, as this figure is around 20 feet away from my dad.

My dad asks who the figure is, and the man asks if he wants to go home. My dad then realizes it sounded like his friend. And as the person walks up to my dad, he can clearly see it is one of the persons that works with him. The man tells my father that the big boat broke down and that they are walking back to shore. And that he can just jump off the boat, they are but 2 feet deep of water. My dad laughs and jumps off the boat, and in to the water. Leaves the boat there and decided to head back to the pick up zone.

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

A Well Dressed Ghost or Crazy Goes for a Hike -- You Decide

This happened about two years ago on October 27th, I do a lot of hiking and I wanted to share with you all what is without a doubt one of the strangest things that I have experienced while hiking.

while on the way back from the summit of mt San Jacinto in California ( a fairly popular trail ). Just as day was changing over to dusk about 4 miles and 2000 vertical feet (a good 2-3 hour hike) from the tram we spotted a woman dressed in all black flapper attire with the exception of a white scarf. this woman was in dress shoes and carrying a very nice beaded purse. she was walking very intently and at a hurried pace up the mountain. If your familiar with the hike its at the top of the Wellman divide.

Nearly without words i asked her if she was lost, to which she replied "I'm on the trail arent I" her face looked grey and her lips were sort of blue(it was pretty cold outside ). so as quickly as she had passed us she was gone. My friend and myself looked at each other like "now we have seen everything." after conversations with other hikers on the way down that had also seen her i was kiddingly remarking that i was sure we had seen some sort of ghost looking for a lost love much like the mysterious lady in black story folklore. it was a truly bizarre experience.

about an hour later we were resting at round valley and we saw her again. Thankfully my buddy had the wherewithal to grab his phone and snap a few photos.

keep in mind this is literally in the middle of the forest at 9000 ft elevation. a good 2 hours hike from anything and the temps were around 35 degrees..the fact that is so close to Halloween was not lost on me either. At any rate I make no claims of the supernatural ( but I’m not ruling it out) but i thought everyone might enjoy the story and the pictures of this truly strange encounter. we shot a short video ( you can hear my friends wife get annoyed at our amusement ) i hope you all enjoy.

Tuesday, November 3, 2015

Ghost on the Mountain

Some friends and I would take my truck up in the mountains during the winter time and tow someone on a tube across the snow. We'd drop the tailgate in my old long bed Ford and a few guys would sit in the back with one of those bazillion candlelight spotlights. 

When I was driving it'd be fun to make really wide turns in the dark so the person on the tube didn't have the luxury of headlights or taillights to somewhat illuminate their trail. The person in the bed of the truck with the spotlight would be funny and shine the light clear off to the side so it was pitch black if you were on the tube. 

One particular winter night a snowstorm was rolling in so we headed up to the usual spot and it was DARK that night. A friend was on the tube, I was driving watching my mirrors as I'd swing him wide enough he had little light to see anything. The guy with the spotlight shined the light clear to the side of the truck and as I checked my mirror and I made eye contact with a guy dressed in jeans, a red plaid shirt, and a blaze orange ball cap. As we made eye contact I lost all control of my body for probably only 5 seconds, but it felt like an eternity. 

I stopped the truck and turned it around and asked the guys if they saw him. They all said no, so I flipped the truck around and turned on the high beams and they shined the spotlight all over. I got out and looked for footprints in the fresh snow and saw nothing.

That night we went back home and I told my dad about the weird experience and he didn't think anything of it. A week later on the news the police reported finding a body in the area close to where we were and asked for any tips. My old man convinced me to call the police and tell them we were up in the area and saw that guy. 

I called and the police said they'd send an investigator over. He came over to the house, I recalled the same experience saying it happened 7 days earlier. As soon as I said that, the investigator asked me "you are sure on your date?" Which I was positive, and he showed me a picture of the body they found wearing the same red plaid shirt and blaze orange ball cap. He informed me the body had been on the mountain for at least 1 month so I must have just seen something. Turns out it was a man who suffered from some mental handicaps and committed suicide on the mountain, 1 month prior to when I saw him.

Because of Her Skin

Monday, November 2, 2015

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Noise in the Night

I spent 3 months in North Western Utah in 1999 doing graduate field work. I was alone for almost all of it. I read Lord of the Rings, played guitar, laid in the dirt staring up at the stars... very fun.

Anyhow, one night as I was sleeping, I heard a strange noise (see Edit below) around 3AM that jolted me awake instantly. I was in a tent and about 30 feet away from me, I heard a grunt that lasted about 4 seconds. Maybe it was a throat clearing? It was an animal noise.

Most alarmingly though, it had a definitely aggressive tone to it. It sounded like a challenge. There were no bears in the area - but mountain lions were possible, although quite rare. (I didn't hear any of the insane mating calls for the 3 months).

I sat bolt upright and grabbed my flashlight (I had no weapons with me other than a small knife and that was somewhere with the cook gear). I waited, quiet as a mouse for about 30 seconds listening for any noise. It was dead quiet. I could've heard anything. But - not a single sound.

As quietly as I could (but it sounded like when you're opening a bag of chips when you're trying not to make a sound), I positioned myself at the tent zipper then suddenly yanked it open and shined the flashlight. Nothing.

Then I bolted for the truck about 50 yards away. I made it and looked around with the flashlight. Nothing.

It was out there watching me - unless it ran away when I ran to the truck. I had the window cracked a bit and watched and listened for about an hour. Nothing.

I laid down in the back and tried to sleep but it was quite chilly and I was wearing only a pair of underwear and my huge scratchy wool sweater that was luckily in the backseat.

The next morning I looked for tracks but saw nothing. And for the next 6 or so weeks I slept in the back of the truck.

Edit: here is a similar noise that I heard. Listen to 0:05 to 0:09 (or more accurately from 0:40 to 0:45) of this video. I did NOT hear the super obvious cougar snarls at 0:10 to 0:13.

Saturday, October 31, 2015

Dariusz Zawadzk

Dariusz Zawadzk is a really interesting artist. We at Alone at Night are fans of his work and think you should be too. Below are just a couple of samples of his stuff. Click here to go to his Deviant Art page.

Water Spouts

I was working on a shrimp boat that was out to sea. Unbeknownst to me, most of the coastal shrimpers just go out for the day. For reasons unknown to me, our captain took us way the fuck out there. I think he said something about trying out new shrimping grounds.

Anyway, we were heading into a storm (turned out to be a cat 2 hurricane) and the boat was rocking. We got our rescue hear I and waited for the inevitable. It never came, but none of slept that night. It was eerie passing through the eye. Totally calm, while everything else raged around us. We had all made our peace. The next morning we had either gone through it, or we came back the way we came. Either way we were on the edge of the storm. The captain was tired so we "took the day off." The first mate and I sat on the deck for a fair bit of the day watching the last of the hurricane and the start of a new storm.

We thought we had this smaller storm beat. We lowered the boom masts again, and braced for heavy seas. The first mate brought along a bunch of weed, and taught me how to roll a joint in your hand, and how to smoke it. By this time is was getting late in the day and the storm was getting more energetic. Lots of thunder and lightning. We could see the reflective light and hear the thunder so we knew it was at least 10 miles out. The first mate who was pretty stingy otherwise rolled me a big ole' fat joint and told me to enjoy it. Of course I was in hog heaven. It never occurred to why this skinflint was sharing all this with me. He absolutely didn't have to, hadn't before, and wouldn't afterwards. At some point it dawns on me. So I ask why now, and not last night when I was wholly terrified in a life vest and high vis ocean survival suit thing.

He points off in the distance and I see a little itty bitty funnel cloud. Looks like a tornado. In the open water they're called water spouts and they're just as dangerous. So I get kinda worried. The first mate laughed and said look around. There were at least 13 water spouts within a few miles of us. The first mate wasn't watching the storms. He was watching these water spouts pop up every so often, getting a little closer each time. By now the captain is awake, and we're booking it anywhere but where we were. By the time all was said and done we had gotten passed by three different spouts, got a rain of sand dollars, jelly fish, and a load of other ocean goodies. We had one go directly over us and touch down 10 yards from the deck. I was scared of the hurricane, but these salty dogs were totally and completely terrified of the water spouts.

Friday, October 30, 2015

Out to Sea

When I was 23, I was a dock-hand for a boat-rental club. I bought myself a 27ft Catalina sail boat and lived on it at the docks for about a year while I worked for the boat club. I would often get toasted on 101 proof peppermint schnapps and go joy-sailing late at night on the Chesapeake Bay for kicks. 

One night my main sail tears, and my atomic 4 engine breaks down. I drift out of the channel, drop anchor, plug in my back-up batteries to power for my anchor light, and bed-down in my forward berth to wait until morning for one of my co-workers to tow me back in. 

I'm about a mile offshore, well out of the channel in about 60ft of open water when I hear a rhythmic thudding on my hull beneath me. It was like someone was doing a semi-fast snare-roll with closed fists against my hull. There was nothing in my head that I could figure could make that noise happen besides someone diving under by boat and literally beating on it. 

I went topside with my flash light to investigate and couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, and the sound continued on and off for about 15 minutes then stopped. It was a calm night with nearly no wind or waves at this point, and I visually couldn't see what could have been making the noise. It came from mid-ship so it couldn't be the motor being weird or something, and I checked my bilges for any anomalies and couldn't find any. 

It left me pretty shaken up because I just couldn't figure what could make that sound as loudly, and as precisely as it was. I could FEEL the bumps hitting against the fiberglass hull. I eventually got back to sleep and made it back to the docks next morning. I dove on my boat that day to check for anything amiss and didn't find anything off. Needless to say that was the last time I went out alone at night..

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Thursday, October 29, 2015 Series of Halloween Appropriate Stories

The website specializes in compiling long form journalism from across the web. Today, it seems, they have a list of long form articles that are Halloween appropriate. They have an interesting an new look at the Elisa Lam mystery (if you haven't heard about this, read up on the story and then watch the video), and several other interesting reads.

We at Alone at Night highly recommend checking some of the out.

Knock at Night

I live on a compound by myself (I know it sounds Waco-ey, but It's really my tiny home, work shop, and a couple of other buildings for food/equipment storage and a guest room).

One bad snowstorm knocked my area OOC, so I decided to hunker in for the long haul. I spent almost two weeks without leaving.

Three days in, I get woken up to a knock at the door. I get up to answer it and halfway there, I realize the only way this guy could knock on my door is if he broke the lock.

So I grab my shotgun and ask him through the door who he is and what he wants. Guy says nothing and keeps banging. I go out the back door and sneak around front and I see a man who is on the ground, covered in blood, and shouting (albeit quietly) for help.

Turns out he was driving and crashed and dragged himself 5 miles down the road until he came to my place. By then he realized that I forgot to lock the bottom part of the gate and weaseled in.

Luckily he survived.

Summer Camp Scare

Happened in High School. I was at a summer camp that separated boys from the girls. We would normally sleep in separated cabins, however this being a nice night, our councilors decided it would be nice to camp outside. Being overly testosteroned high-schoolers given new freedom of the outdoors, we decided to separate from our supervision and bee line for the girls camp site. Upon successfully reaching their site and being dumbfounded at what to do, we decided that throwing miscellaneous items into the fire, creating subsequent explosions would be a good ice breaker. Unfortunately due to our brilliance we were quickly brought back to our camp and separated from the girls.

Not being discouraged we decided to regroup and try again. As we began to leave for their site again we heard an extremely loud bang, as if from a high caliber rifle. The sound was followed by another bang. Followed by silence. We all became paralyzed unsure what to do. Was it from the girls site? We were too afraid to find out. We could see a flash light in the distance mulling around the area. I only remember lying quietly, barely able to sleep, joking with fellow campers who would get shot first if that bang was indeed from a gun.

The next morning we woke up, alive and very confused to what had happened. I actually only found out what had happened when I got home from camp. A man had shot his ex at a house right by the camp site we were staying that night. What stood out to me the most, other than aforementioned, was an interview with a neighbor who didn't call the police right away, because she figured the sound was from some stupid kids blowing up things at a camp site.

Monday, October 26, 2015

There's Evil in the World and You've Got to Watch Our for It.

Prior to me moving in with her, my little sister had her then-husband leave her with a 3 week old baby girl just as she was going through post-partum depression. Bad, right? Well, things got worse once a stalker got involved.

Started with Facebook messages from some unknown accounts detailing what she was doing day to day, even online, to then threats of raping her and my niece. Then phone calls of heavy breathing. Facebook messages and emails threatening to kill them both. Went to the police and they told her to avoid the internet and phones, even at work, despite one instance of a FB message with pictures of a babysitter watching my niece.

My sister can't find a babysitter now and has to take off work. It got so bad that she was desperate enough to call upon our shitbag of a father to get involved. Now he's a guy who's been to prison twice on attempted murder charges and has a record beyond that a mile long. Probably bipolar; certainly nuts. The best father a brother and sister could grow up with. His one redeeming trait was that he would probably kill to protect what he loved, so my sister invited him to live with her. His 4th wife had just kicked him out and he was on the street, so he accepts the offer and the stalking stops immediately.

He watches our niece, he does chores, he keeps sober during the day, and he's apparently as watchful as an old bloodhound. Apparently a changed man. My sister gets no messages or phone calls, sleeping well for the first time since before she was pregnant. The mean ol' coot does his job admirably... for about a week and a half.

He gets it in his head that it's the husband doing it, so one night, shitfaced on the porch outside the apartment, he gets in an argument with one of my sister's neighbors and becomes absolutely convinced of his idea, despite the fact that the husband was in Oregon most of the time now at a new job, being there at the time the photo of the babysitter was taken. But, he'd heard from my sister that he was in town for the weekend and at 2 AM that night, the stalker text messages my sister telling her that our lovable dad had just taken a katana to her husband's kneecaps outside his friend's apartment. He followed this up with a picture message of our dad being loafed away by the cops at the scene. He's currently serving another prison sentence for that.

Two days later, she's up visiting me in Indiana, staying about a week. Back home in Tennessee, the stalker smashes a window to her apartment and dumps trash inside, stabbing a message into her fridge with a corn jigger. It's a photoshopped picture of me and her in Indiana featuring a grotesque thing with a dog on her side of the picture. She comes home after phone calls from the neighbors, and is advised by the police investigating the burglary, of all things, to move away, despite the way this stalker's following her around. They apparently can't do much with the case because there's no fingerprints, no trail this guy's leaving behind him, even online.

A week later he bursts into the apartment again and knocks my sister unconscious. He topples my niece's crib with her in it, proceeding to douse her in orange juice. The neighbor next door hears the wails of my niece and walks in on a tall white guy in a ski mask prepping to do something with my sister. She attacks him and in the ensuing fight sustains multiple wounds from a hammer, including a caved-in eye socket, but she manages to fight him off. Other neighbors call the cops during this fight. And yet, the f****r gets away.

The case hits the local news for the next couple of days and the cops get DNA of the suspect from the neighbor. For the next week, a black and white sits outside my sister's place. However, the trail goes cold because the guy's not in the system anywhere.

Up north, I now have the ammunition I need with my parole officer to move to Tennessee. They allow me to move there so long as I get employment, which I do with a Private Investigator's office thanks to (ironically enough) a bail bondsman who'd "worked" with my dad on numerous occasions. I move in with my sister and a year later we move out of the apartment into a house in a much nicer neighborhood. My sister takes karate. My niece is watched by armed family friends during weekdays. In the 3 years or so since I've been in Tennessee, there's been two phone calls and a picture message of her at her karate studio late at night, but nothing much besides that.

There's evil in the world and you gotta watch out for it.


So this happened 3 years ago when I was living with my parents in Meeteetse, Wyoming. Super small and secluded. It was Halloween and my parents decorated the house and we expected about 3-4 kids to show up as the house is about a mile from a subdivision and parents usually drive their kids. 

At 8 I took in the chair with candy because I figured no one else would be coming around. I'm in the basement where there are no windows and very little sound can get out and it's about 11. All the lights upstairs are shut off because I'm going to bed. 

I hear a knock at the side door (which no one ever knocks at). I go upstairs and the flood light which usually turns on automatically wasn't on. So I flipped on the other light that lights up the basketball hoop area. There's a person in one of those "old man" masks that have the crazy hair just standing there. He is just looking at the house. He sprints to the back where the patio is. I hear loud banging on the back windows. Honestly the loudest kicking I've ever heard. I rush over and the person is just staring. Then he runs away and I do t hear anything for 5 minutes or so. 

Then I start hearing the knob to the main door being forcefully jiggled back and forth. I ran upstairs to the bedroom and went to the crawl space in the attic. I immediately dialed 911. This was the first time I ever dialed 911 so I don't know what I was expecting but the operator didn't seem to be very shocked or wanting to send out a car very quickly. I remember repeating my address like 12 times and the lady kept saying "calm down sir." 

She wants me to stay on the line but I'm afraid if the guy got in he would know where I was because of my voice. I hang up and I can hear the knob being slammed like he had a hammer or something. I'm having a full on panic attack and I'm wheezing trying to get air. Then I hear the side door (original door) being kicked super hard. At this point I'm shaking so bad the dust from the floor boards is flying up in the air.

 I hear a window smash and I immediately know he's going to get in. I hold my breath which makes the wheezing worse. I'm going to die. I'm listening to hear footsteps or anything. Nothing. The actual amount of time I spent up there was around 16 minutes. I swear it was an hour. An officer showed up and pounded on the door. I ran downstairs and flipped open the door. I told him everything as well as the backup Sheriffs that got there. They all kept saying a "friend" was probably just trying to scare me. I had no friends in Wyoming. None. They looked around the house and wrote down some shit but nothing really happened. They left and I drove behind them to Cody, WY and got a hotel room. I still can't sleep without all the lights on

Friday, October 23, 2015

Lost Time in the Arctic Circle

I grew up in the arctic.

In the town I lived in, as long as it was a clear night, it was an extremely normal occurrence to see all sorts of strange lights move across the sky. Keep in mind the winter is long in the arctic, which means longer amounts of time being spent under the stars. It's quite beautiful, as long as you don't mind the cold so much. Sometimes I would drive a snowmobile a few kilometers out of town, shut it down, and just lay down on the snow looking up at the majesty of it all, the only thing disturbing the silence being the occasional breeze.

The northern lights are also a common occurrence. Doesn't happen everyday, but often enough that they start getting ignored after a while, as long as they aren't too spectacular anyway.

On one particular night, without asking my parents (it was their snowmobile), I decided to go on one of my midnight drives out of town. I drove a few kilometers over the hills to find a spot devoid of light pollution from town, shut off the machine, and settled in to a good spot to look up and be introspective.

It wasn't all that interesting a scene. A few satellites passing here and there, some relatively boring activity affecting the magnetic field, etc. And then I started noticing a clicking noise...

At first I thought it was the sound of the snow machine cooling down, as engine expands and contracts a lot in the cold. But the source of the sound definitely wasn't coming from that direction. My next thought was there must be an animal nearby in which case I need to get out of there fast (you don't really want to mess with a wild animal). But, the clicking is far too regular for an animal to produce it. It was fairly mechanical sounding. And again, the source of the sound isn't coming from anywhere around me laterally. It was coming from up. So naturally I look up determined to ascertain the origin of this strange noise.

I see what I always see: stars, northern lights, a lazy satellite crossing the sky...all normal stuff. But before I dismiss it altogether and begin heading home, I notice something strange in the Aurora Borealis. There were three rather strong points of light. I ignored them at first thinking they were oddly symmetrical stars, but this proved false. They were definitely getting brighter. I kept staring in morbid fascination as they grew stronger and stronger, yet still only remaining single points in the sky. All the while the clicking noise is getting louder and louder and more pronounced, almost like someone started with tapping a pen on a desk to clacking billiard balls together inside my head.

Then it stops. The lights are gone, the clicking is not heard, and aside from being a little stiff, cold, and rather petrified, I'm fine.

So I jump back on the snowmobile thinking maybe I'm going crazy. The machine takes a little longer than usual to start up, and I'm beginning to worry, but soon it's running and I'm heading back to town. As I'm driving back several plausible scenarios as to what occurred are running through my head. I'm thinking it could've been a helicopter from the mine, or some strange northern lights behavior etc. Probably not that big a deal.

I pull up to my house. Lights are all dark. Strange. It wasn't that late when I left. Open outer door as quietly as possible, remove winter gear, enter inner door. House is quiet. Really quiet. My parents are teachers and are usually up late marking or watching T.V. All I'm thinking is I have to get to bed without anyone noticing. Proves to be easy as I'm soon under my covers. I go to set my alarm for the next day. All of the sudden everything makes sense.

Engine hard to start, stiff, rather chilly, nobody up when I was gone what felt like relatively short period of time...

It was almost 11:00pm when I left, and now it was creeping up on 6:00am. I stood, staring at clicking lights for almost 7 hours.

I never ended up sleeping that night, and I don't go on late night snow machine rides anymore.

The Terrible Hormigas

I spent an entire year in my cousin's finca in Colombia. It's very deep into the mountains and 90% of his land is covered in forest. That whole year was basically one massive nope. I can say that at least every other day something completely crazy would happen. One of the things i remember the most was "la ronda". 

One day I was picking some tomatoes when suddenly the whole mountain goes silent. Not a single animal made a sound. Note that this is Colombia and there are many birds there. Anyway, I stop what I'm doing and listen closely because what the fuck. That's when every fucking critter imaginable starts coming out of every hole and every crack and starts hauling ass uphill. Massive tarantulas, huge cockroaches, beetles, mice, rats, etc. Anything that crawled on land, basically. Then the dogs started barking and whimpering. That's when my cousin yelled "la ronda, la ronda!" Which basically means "The round, the round!"

 He tells me to get inside the house . He gets this bag out with some sort of poison and starts pouring it outside the house. I then hear what sounds like running water coming uphill from the trees. I looked outside and saw what was probably millions of ants crawling up the mountain and eating every living thing in their path. It was absolutely terrifying. i couldn't see the ground because there were so. Many. Fucking. Ants. Luckily, the poison worked and they crawled around the house. My cousin was happy, however, because the ants killed whatever pests were around.

Thursday, October 22, 2015

Special Ops

Lived in Germany for many years while my father was stationed there ( U. S. Army). We lived off base in private housing and I LOVED it!! That country is amazing, the vast forests, the mountains, the countryside, the farmlands, the little towns..everything.

I quickly became really good friends with some local boys whose parents owned the towns dairy farm. We were Always in the forests running around and exploring. Fishing, playing army, etc.. I was around 8 or 9 yrs old around that time (37 now)..

One night, stayed late at the farm hanging with the guys. Left about 9 or 10ish, it was dark, but then moonlight gave pretty good vision that night I remember.. I lived just across the soccer field and a small corn field from the farm. As I'm walking through the soccer field I see a bit of movement, just real quick, from the corner of my eye along the tree line at the edge of the field. I quickly step up my pace. As I turn to take my usual path through the corn field to my house, I see at least half a dozen silhouette figures emerge from each side of the rows of corn on the sides of the path. I froze so hard! They just stand there.. Then there's one behind me. Before I can snap around and haul ass, He asked, in German, where I was going..

I turn around now and what I see surprises, but relieves me also.. I answered in English and told him I was heading home.. He was then curious about my English.. Turns out it was a team of special forces operators (I mean, these guys were decked out in so much tactical gear I couldn't comprehend how they were able to move so stealthily. Night vision goggles, packs, bags, weapons, there was even a dog. They looked like total fucking bad asses) who were using these small towns off base to do some training.. I just happened upon them this particular night. I'll never understand why they chose to break cover and show themselves. They could have easily just stayed put and I would've walked right by them non then wiser.. They walked me home as it was on their way back they said.

Wednesday, October 21, 2015


Screaming in the Woods

I spent about six months last year WWOOFing, which is essentially volunteering on organic farms in exchange for room and board. One of the farms I stayed at was actually an off-the-grid homestead near Mt. Hood, Oregon, populated by shamanic hippies (who had some wild stories, themselves!) and while not remote, was deep enough in the mountains that we had no neighbors for at least ten miles in every direction. Beautiful, forested land with an amazing view of Mt. Hood from the garden. I was camping every night for about two weeks before weird things started happening.

The first bizarre occurrence happened not to me, but to a fellow WWOOFer, who I'll call J. Now, I am not particularly outdoorsy-- I grew up in the woods in north Florida and spent my formative years getting lost in places I shouldn't be, but I don't have a great deal of camping experience and only the most basic survival skills. I am comfortable in the woods, but only until sunset. J, a true outdoorsman, had been a forest ranger in the Alaskan bush for two years prior and frequently went on weeks-long solo-backpacking trips. He had shown up at the farm a few days after me and had set up camp over a mile further down the mountain than I had, which I initially thought was a dickish move but later came to appreciate because he played his harmonica at all hours and nobody needs to hear that shit. He was a slow-talking Minnesotan that favored all things logical.

One morning, we met up for breakfast and he asked me if I had heard "all that screaming" the night before. I hadn't. He told me that he had been laying in his tent with his headlamp on, reading a book when he heard a deep, rumbling scream just outside his tent. He turned his lamp off to listen more closely, and realized that his entire tent was illuminated from the outside, as if someone was aiming a floodlight at it. In the few seconds after he turned his headlamp off, two things happened in rapid succession-- the screaming cut off as if someone had flipped a switch, and the light from outside clicked off. He listened for footsteps, but heard nothing. After a few moments of silence, he turned his headlamp back on and left his tent to investigate, because I guess he had never seen a horror movie in his whole goddamn life. He said that there was nothing in the clearing and no movement from the surrounding forest, even though he hadn't heard anything leave and the scream had been very close to, if not within, his camp. Then he apparently shrugged to himself and went to sleep, or maybe he passed out in fear and was too much of a man to admit it.

He told me this over breakfast and I was horrified. He said he'd never heard an animal that sounded like that and could not explain the light, except that maybe a hunter had found their way onto our land. But then where did they go? He listened for footsteps and heard nothing. He didn't seem worried, just a bit perturbed. It was very Minnesota of him.

Everything was quiet for a few weeks after that incident. J left for another farm, and I remained in my old campsite, only about 3/4 of a mile down from the main cabin. I was comfortable in my tent and no longer jerked awake at broken twigs or animals moving through the brush. I was very proud of myself-- look at me, an outdoorswoman!-- which was, of course, when the screaming started.

I was laying in my tent, just on the edge of sleep when it started. It was a deep, low roaring-- unlike any animal I knew to live in the mountains in that region. I consoled myself by saying it was an injured black bear, a fucked up wolf, some kind of Lovecraftian mutant elk. Then, from farther down the mountain, something else began screaming, answering. The two whatevers shrieked at each other for the better part of an hour. I laid in my tent, trying to psych myself up to hike back up to the main cabin, but couldn't quite commit. I laced up my boots and put on my headlamp in case I had to make a run for it. Eventually, the screaming stopped and I somehow managed to sleep.

I woke up somewhere around 4am to something very large shuffling in the bush directly behind my tent. I laid in the dark and listened, absolutely terrified. Elk, bear? It was too large. I could hear it ruffling branches of trees at least six feet off the ground. I heard it take a step, and then another. Bipedal. Human? Hunter? A hunter would never be as loud as this thing was, and I seriously doubt they would disturb an obvious camp site. Besides, in the month I'd been on the homestead at that point, I'd never heard a gunshot. I'd never seen anyone other than the people I was working with this far up the mountain, for that matter. I laid there, considering my options. It moved slowly, like it was picking through the bushes behind me-- which, in retrospect, of course it was, I'd camped right next to wild blackberry. I laid and listened and waited for a long time, almost until sunrise. It was moving slowly down the mountain. I laid in my tent long after the noise died out.

When I finally managed to rally my nerves and leave my tent, the brush behind my tent was obviously disturbed. I thought about investigating, looking for prints, droppings, but decided I'd rather just repress the whole thing and deal with it when I was far, far away from these woods. At breakfast, I asked my host, A, about the screaming. She was delighted that I'd had a run in with the "forest people." She said that years ago when they'd moved onto the land, the forest people would get into their garden and make a mess of things, so she'd started leaving baskets of produce for them as a sign of goodwill. They'd left the garden alone since then.

I camped out for another week before it got too cold and I moved into the main cabin, and never heard anything weird again. Pretty anticlimactic, but I guess real life usually is. Still very bizarre and interesting-- as a lifelong student of all things esoteric, it verified a lot of suspicions I had... mostly that weird shit happens in the woods. It's also pretty telling that everyone I met in the Cascades-- granted most of them were of the shamanic, metaphysical persuasion-- had a Sasquatch story.

There were a few other strange things about that place, but this story is by far the most interesting. Oregon is a weird, wonderful place.

I Work Alone

I was a field engineer doing software installation and commissioning on telecom equipment controllers. I work alone. These units are located at cell sites/tower bases which your phone connects to in order to provide you service and connectivity from your cell service provider. A lot of these towers are in very very remote places. In this particular project I would go in the day after the construction crews completed their tower and electrical work, I would be by myself with just my work truck, air card and laptop.

This particular site was in rural Virgina. I probably still have the email from when I was on that project with the site's coordinates so I will try and post those later if i find them. (If its not against policy of course) The site was about 2-3 miles into the deep woods of VA, it was near a now abandoned mine of some sort, not sure exactly what they were mining for but there was very old mining carts and drilling equipment scattered about as I was driving to the site. It was starting to get dark but this was supposed to be a quick in and out type deal, LTE commissioning usually takes 1 hour or less and since I saw a civil war era cemetery connected to the gravel road which leads to the site, I was in more of a rush than usual. See the thing is, when you try and rush things, specially because of fear, you WILL fuck up... And boy did I fuck up.

Something that should have taken one hour took over four. When I finally completed my work and closed my laptop screen I realized how dark it was outside, and that I was all alone at the base of a tower in the middle of nowhere. I quickly gathered my belongings and headed towards my car which was probably 60 yards away at the gate of the compound where the tower was located. When I tried to close the gate behind me it was so dark that I couldnt see the chain and lock, so I put my car in reverse, put the e-brake up and shut off the ignition. This way my reverse lights were lighting up the gate for me so I could close it. Just trying to give you an idea of the utter darkness I was in.

After all that I headed down the trail to the secondary gate which leads to the site, about 1/2 mile from the actual compound. Same situation as before, too dark so had the car in reverse. Well when trying to close this gate I heard in the distance what I can only describe as the most menacing and evil female laughter. It sounded like it was pretty far away but I got shook to the bone. I left that secondary gate wide open and noped the hell out of there. On the drive out I remembered the cemetery I had to drive by. Needless to say I didn't look at it when drove past it on the way out.

After speaking with the construction crew that built the site, they also said they heard people whispering in the woods at night but could never spot anyone. They also heard what sounded like people picking at rock with tools but they were certain no other construction or anything was taking place anywhere for miles on end.

Tuesday, October 20, 2015


Alone at night is a one-stop shop for Halloween. We have everything you need: scary stories. scary short films, reviews of scary books, scary art. 'Tis the season for a little fear.

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Accidental Creeper

I work in IT and a couple days a month I have to work late after everyone else has left the office because I am running jobs that cannot take place while users are in the system. The important thing to take away from this is that most nights the entire office is completely empty but, twice a month, one person is in there working late.

Most of the time on these late nights I just stay in the server room because there is security door with a door code and I hate going in and out as it requires me to punch in the code every time. It's just easier to stay in there and run everything from in there.

So . . . somewhere during this time period the cleaning crew that had been performing janitorial services in my building lost the contract and a new company stepped in. The old cleaning crew knew me, had bumped into me numerous times, and had a rough idea of when to expect me. Not generally a problem. I didn't realize there was a new cleaning crew and, apparently, no one thought to warn them about my weird shift.

So, anyway, this woman is cleaning what she thinks is an empty office. Little does she know that I'm actually in the server room at the same time. Late in the night, around midnight, I have to wait for one job to finish before I can star the next. So, I decided to do some cleaning up.

A former coworker recently retired. Nice guy. Really friendly. But he was also a pack rat. He worked there for over 20 years and never threw anything away. Empty boxes, obsolete calenders, and AOL CDs littered the place. Now that he was gone, we were trying to get rid of a couple decades of useless debris.

I grab an armful of empty boxes, step out of the server room, go around the corner where we keep a card for recycling and dump the boxes in. The cart was empty so I knew the cleaning crew had already been through. Not a problem, just an observation. I go back into the server room.

Apparently the cleaning woman came back about that time and saw that the cart she had just unloaded was now overflowing with boxes again. She apparently called out to see if anyone was around but - well - server rooms are loud. I never heard her.

She turns off the lights in the office and starts doing a runner for the door. She goes down the hall and into the break room to head out the exit that way. The lights come back on behind her. She goes back into the hallway and the office is empty again. Even more boxes are in the cart (yes, I had gone back into the server room by the time she got back). She turns off the lights again and bolts for the exit. She's now outside the office and heading for the elevators. The reception area has glass doors and she sees lights turn back on again.

Now the entire time this is happening she is never there when I come out of the server room. I know that the cleaning person must have turned out the lights but I don't see anyone and I'm turning them back on because it is almost pitch black in the office and I don't want to trip over anything. I'm not playing mind games. Just each time I think I just missed them and they've already left.

The cleaning woman by now is creeping back in the office trying to figure out what is going on. She's tip toeing down the hallway when, finally, we are both in the hallway at the same time.

She . . . apparently didn't realize what the server room was or something. She certainly didn't realize there was room in there for someone to be working. She's looking down this dark hallway and I round the corner. Apparently, from where she was, it was like seeing a silhouette of a man just appear. One moment the hallway is empty and the next there is someone standing there facing her.

I don't realize she's there as, once more, I'm carrying out trash.

I hear a panicked shout and look up to see this stranger in the office retreating in terror.

Fortunately she calmed down enough to ask me who I was. I think seeing a guy wearing a polo shirt and carrying loose garbage must have been more reassuring than, say, a prison jumpsuit while carrying a machete.

"You scared me!" she said.

Her scared? I was the one who just got screamed at.

Monday, October 19, 2015

Camp Invasion

This happened to myself and a close friend (both 23 y.o. males) just last month.

We decided to go on a two night backpacking/camping trip in the Adirondack mountains of New York. We are both very comfortable with nature, and spend a lot of time camping, hunting, fishing, etc.

We hiked about 5 miles into a small lake and set up camp on a small beach. This was not a heavily trafficked area, and we did not expect to run into anyone. Our first night there as we were sitting around the fire, we saw a flashlight moving on the other side of the lake around 10:30. This was fairly unusual, however we did not think too much of it.

But, as time went on, this flashlight kept moving around the lake getting closer to our campsite. We kept discussing who could possibly be wandering around the woods in the middle of the night, and we did not particularly want an unwelcomed guest.

Once it was clear that the person (or people) were heading for our campsite, we moved off into the woods nearby to see who wandered up. I took a small axe with me, and he had a .22 rifle. Now we weren't expecting trouble, and we certainly didn't want to make any, but we figured we might as well cover our bases.

Now, the moment of truth, the flashlight comes near the light of our fire and it is one man. He has a beard and is probably in his mid 40s. The scary part was he was carrying what turned out to be a pump action shotgun. He walked around the campsite a few times, and then proceeded to enter our tent. After rummaging around for a minute or so, he came out and started yelling "I know you're out there, why don't you come and say hello?".

My friend and I remained motionless under a hemlock tree about 50 yards away. That is when the man proceeded to fire his shotgun into the woods (not too far from where we were). He also swung his flashlight around several times. After what felt like hours, he grabbed my friends backpack and a few articles of clothing we had drying off near the fire and threw them in to burn.

My friend, who had trained the .22 at the man, asked me if he should shoot. I told him absolutely not, unless he spots us and starts to point the gun in our direction. Thankfully the man moved off from where he had come after a little while. We waited until his flashlight was on the other side of the lake, ran out, grabbed everything we could fit in my pack and took off (it was now around 2 or 3 A.M.).

We RAN out the trail with flashlights, and made it back to my car as the sun was coming up. We immediately went to the police department and reported it, where we also spoke with some forest rangers. That was it, I haven't heard anything back from the police.

Saturday, October 17, 2015

Strange Muttering, Getting Closer

I live in a small wood cabin on a farm in the countryside of Catalonia, Spain. Usually shared with one other person, I had a few weeks alone. Never lock the door, hot weather means bedroom window is open although wooden shutters are closed (with thin gaps to outside). Pitch black surroundings.

I had one of those nights where it's hard to sleep. Around 4am, I hear screaming in the distance. There are around 5 typically sized fields between cabin and the village. Alhough this is far, I assume it's someone in the village messing around.

Goes quiet. Starts again, this time it's clear that the person is screaming something. Although not a native to the area I know this isn't language, it's jibberish. He is screaming words that completely don't make sense, and that I've found it impossible to imitate since, and he's screaming them angrily. I'm on edge now but I tell myself it's a drunk person on their way home in the night. Half an hour later I've calmed down and it's been quiet for quite a while.

Then I hear the voice again. This time, there is no screaming. I can hear them speaking the jibberish at a normal level. This means that they are within the property. I freeze, too frightened to go lock my front door (the front door area has a lot of windows and I'm afraid to see them/them to see me), and instead stare at my bedroom door, with a plan to barricade should I hear someone entering the cabin. The muttering fades away just as the sun begins to rise. I lock my door now.

Eyes in the NIght

I used to live in rural Panama in a community with no electricity. The whole town is inside by sundown, around 7pm, and asleep by 9pm. One night, I'm outside at around 11pm photographing stars and I have to turn my headlamp off while the camera is taking the picture, usually about 30 to 150 seconds at a time. 30 to 150 seconds of almost complete darkness. When I finish a photo, I'll turn my headlamp back on and look at my camera to adjust settings and take another shot. One time when I turned my head lamp on, I saw a pair of eyes just about fifteen feet away in the bushes staring at me. I've got friends who have worked setting camera traps throughout the country and I've seen picture evidence that there are still several types of big cats alive and well in the area. I lean down to pick up some rocks, look back up, and the eyes are gone. My house is about 100 feet away. I do my best to turn my handful of rocks and dinky tripod into weapons and run as manly-like as I can back to my house. I never went back out to take pictures at night.

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

Terrors in the Morning

My fiancé and I rent a house together, and we live alone.

About two years ago, my fiancé and I were lying in bed. It was actually pretty late in the morning-- 10:30 or 11:00 AM., or so. I'd been awake for about ten or fifteen minutes, and my fiancé was just waking up.

We lied there, talking softly about whether or not we should get up yet, or try to go back to sleep for a bit, since he had the first half of the day off of work, and it might be nice to catch up on sleep since we'd had a busy couple of days. He was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, and I was on my right side, facing him, with my hand on his chest while we talked. In that position, I had my back to our bedroom door, which was maybe 8 or 9 ft. away from the bed behind me.

Suddenly, an odd feeling came over the room. Seriously, it felt like the air in the room was suddenly either sucked out, or made very, VERY heavy, and it almost felt like I was under water, or gravity changed... and the room seemed to almost feel like it was tilting to the side. It felt like the air in the room was pressing down on top of my body, while at the same time slowing down time and making me dizzy and loopy. My ears were popping.

Well, I thought it was just me feeling this, and for a moment, I wondered if I was having a blood pressure drop (I get those sometimes, though it still wasn't quite what it felt like), but my fiancé said in a very frightened voice that sounded like he couldn't breathe very well, and like he couldn't get out the words without struggling, "Do you feel that, too? What's happening?!..." And that was when I knew something odd and scary was going on, because he was feeling the exact same thing.

I tried to speak, but my speech actually came out kind of slurred and I had to force the words out of my mouth to say "I don't know...I can't move..."

He said "I can't...either..." and I saw him trying to turn over onto his side, and trying to raise his arm up. He just kept saying "what's happening? What's happening?"

I tried to raise my arm up, too, and found that I couldn't. Again, it was like being under water, and in an intensely pressurized room. I started trying to push myself up, to see if I could sit up... I couldn't do it. It was just too heavy.

Then, we both heard the doorknob of our bedroom door turning.

It was turning over and over again... almost like someone was trying to come in, but they weren't jiggling it, or trying to open the door... it was actually turning in a rhythm. It was turning back and forth, back and forth, in a rhythm at about the same tempo as a metronome. Like a beat to a song. It was very deliberate.

We were both terrified and we froze-- the first thought in my mind was that someone had broken in, though I couldn't figure out why they would turn the doorknob back and forth, back and forth in a deliberate rhythm, especially because our bedroom door has no lock on it. They could just open it and walk right in.

We couldn't move, that weird heavy-gravity feeling that was holding us down still would not allow us to move, but I was trying to, and I could feel my fiancé trying to, as well. All I was able to do was turn my head very slowly and look over my shoulder at the doorknob, and watch it turning. I could see it.

Then, we both heard it... singing. Two children's voices, what sounded like a pair of young girls, started singing a song that I could not make out most of the lyrics to, and the only clear lyrics that I could make out was the very last word at the end of the sentence: "dancing".

So let me clarify what I'm trying to describe: These two young girl's voices were singing an almost nursery rhyme type song outside our bedroom door, while turning our bedroom doorknob back and forth, to match the tempo of what they're singing: the doorknob is going chhck-chhck, chhck-chhck, chhck-chhck, chhck-chhck, as these little girls' voices are singing:

"Something, something, something something! Something, something, daaaaancing! Something, something, something, something, something, something, daaaaaancing!"

...and the doorknob would turn with each word they sang, keeping perfect rhythm.

I couldn't make out nearly any of the other words of this song they were singing, except for the word "dancing" at the very end of each stanza.

And they were singing it in a way that was kind of playful and taunting... maybe, for instance, kind of like two little girls would do if they were teasing an older sibling, or their mom or dad, by coming up to a room they're in, shaking the doorknob and singing at them, just to tease-- the song almost sounded made up, the way kids sometimes sing little made-up songs to be silly or playful.... Just trying to give you a feel as to how this sounded. It also sounded like they were laughing, or trying not to giggle while doing it.

So, as this is all going on, and I'm watching the doorknob turn as these voices sing at us, and near the end of the song, I turn my head-- in slow motion-- back to my fiancé to see if he's seeing and hearing the same thing I am, and I can now see has finally managed to be able to turn his head and he was watching the doorknob, too, and the look on his face... was just... I'll never forget it. His eyes were as big as dinner plates, I've never see him that shocked or that scared...his face was just white.

And then the song ended. It was short, just two stanzas, then just as soon as it started, the doorknob just stopped turning on the very last word of the song, "daaaaanciiiing", and all at once, that heavy, dizzy weight that had been holding us down and making it so hard to move and breathe just lifted. Just went away. Just like that. Suddenly we could move again, and the air and gravity felt normal.

It seriously was all over, from start to finish, in about 10 seconds.

My fiancé sat up and goes "What the hell just happened?", and he jumped over me and out of bed, raced to the door and yanked it open. Nothing was there. We don't have a hallway, it's a small house and our bedroom door opens right up into the living room, and he just looked out into it and goes "Nobody's out there!"

I got up and ran over to him, and looked for myself. No one there. House empty, and our two cats were both backed up against the far wall of the living room, hissing and growling. They'd either heard it, too, or even seen what did it... and from the spot right in front of our bedroom door, all the way through the living room, through the dining room, and out to the kitchen door, there was this trail of heat. I don't know how else to describe it, it was just a trail of heat. The air just felt hot and oily, and you could almost see a haze, like fog, trailing from our bedroom door, through the house, to the kitchen door.

We checked both the front door and the kitchen door. Locked. Both locked.

We both sat back down on the bed, and we were just shaking. We kept asking each-other "Did that really just happen? We both heard the same thing right?" and yeah... we both felt the air pressure holding us down in bed and making us move in slow motion, and we both heard and saw the bedroom doorknob moving back and forth in rhythm, and then both heard the two little girls singing that song. So, I know it wasn't a hallucination or anything.

The only difference was that my fiancé understood a couple more of the lyrics of what they were singing, though not many-- he said it sounded something like "and we come in a'dancing!" or "and we go a'dancing!"

It was just so unsettling and spooky. And to be honest, the way the girls' voices sounded, they didn't sound mean or creepy-- they seriously sounded like two, real little girls who were just having fun and teasing us. It didn't feel or sound malevolent, or anything... it still creeped us out, just that it happened.