Wednesday, November 30, 2016

Jinn Possession

People might think I'm talking BS but its the truth.

I'm Muslim and we have this thing called Jinns which are 'an intelligent spirit of lower rank than the angels, able to appear in human and animal forms and to possess humans.' If you go on YouTube and write jinn possessions you'll find they are very common and can't be faked (A person could be of average build and once he's possessed he becomes very bloated and the voice changes very much'.

So basically one day my household had a little argument and my mum was very very angry. She was sitting down and I went to the kitchen to get her water. My kitchen has a counter which means you can see the sitting area and vice versa. I got the water and I looked up to my mum and she had the creepiest, scariest smile which scares me to this day. You know those smiles you get in horror films where they have a blank face and you know somethings fucked? yeah it was that.

 I dropped the glass into the sink and shouted MAMA! and my bro and sister came running in. She started speaking so weirdly and we all just started reading some religious verses on her and eventually she came back to normal but she was ill for week or 2. The weird thing is my mum has a lot of weird encounters for example dreams, hearing stuff. It's fucked up but thank god nothings happened in recent years.

Tuesday, November 29, 2016

He Feels No Pain

This happened in 2002. My older bro took me to Best Buy to buy me an xbox game for my bday. It was kind of late at night, but after he bought me the game he wanted to get a drink and some snacks from the convenience store nearby. He went inside while I remained in his car just reading the back cover of my game. Out of the corner of my eye I see a hunched cloaked figure near the dumpster that I hadn't initially noticed before. He kept looking like he was going to get up, but would slowly sit back down. Almost like how an elderly gentleman would if he had hip problems or something.

This went on for like a minute or so. Before long I see my brother paying for our snacks and drinks so I decide to unlock the car door for him even though he was still inside. Within 3 seconds of unlocking the door, the cloaked man pops up my passenger's window. I see his face, which is all jacked up from multiple scars and being pale and ugly as shit with creepy hollow-set eyes, he rips open the door and unbuckles my seatbelt and pulls me out.

I land on the pavement and start screaming. My brother rushes out, tackles the creepy crack head child rapist and starts beating him in the face and ribs. I was shaken to the core and started crying. The store owner/clerk was nowhere to be seen.

My brother kept fighting but the man was strong and was able to parry my brother off. He pushed my brother off him hard and my bro flew back into the side of his car, just to the right of where I was sitting. The man looks at us and smiles. His smile was so freaking scary and sickening. My brother told me to get back in so I went into the passenger's seat and closed the door, watching my bro sprint around the car. The man sprinted after him and caught him by his hoodie when he reached the driver's side. I got out and ran to the other side to his the man. My punches were ineffective. He had a solid body and didn't feel pain it seemed.

My brother knocked him out with a barrage of really violent kicks and we got back into the car and drove away so freaking fast. Before leaving the lot I noticed that the cashier was still missing in the store. That convenience store literally closed at the end of the next week. We didn't go to the police and we moved a couple of months later

Monday, November 28, 2016

Goat Man

It was the early 2000s in the Philippines, I was just 5 or 6 years old then when my dad took me and my little brother to their family home for Christmas vacation.

When we arrived, the place had a cordial feel to it at first, y'know, meeting cousins and other relatives...

That night, I slept together with at least 5 cousins at my grandparents' home at the second floor of the house. The house was in a suburb, and was backed by vacant plots of land, formerly rice paddies and the like.

To paint a picture of the room, it was approximately 15mx15m room, at least 20 feet from the ground, with jalousie-type windows on all sides. Typical of suburban Filipino culture ( or just our family), me and my cousins slept on the wooden floor of that room, on a mattress.

Everything went pretty normal for the first few hours, but in the middle of the night ( didn't have a clock or watch then), I awoke for no apparent reason, only to find a SHADOWY FORM by the east window - STARING THE FCK AT ME. It had red glowing circles for eyes and had FCKING HORNS on its head. Overall, it appeared goatish in silhouette.

Struck in fear, being the little prayerful kid that I was, I forced my eyes shut and prayed for what seemed like a good minute.When I looked at the window again, the shadow thing was gone.
I don't know how I managed to sleep again for that night. I'm not a believer in ghosts but whatever I saw back then, convinced me that demons do exist.

Active Shooter

My husband graduated basic training last year and there's this huge ceremony that lasts several days for the families. It mostly went really well!! But we happened to be there at a bad time.

I remember almost every detail because of how fucked up it was, there were about 1,000 of us, all civilians, out in the middle of a huge field that was easily half a mile from any kind of building. We were all crammed into bleachers and all the graduating airmen were filing in ahead of us and getting into formation and there's this SUPER loud music getting pumped in to the whole stadium, very patriotic.

While the music is playing we start noticing that secfo is running off the field, as well as other uniformed/active duty members. I got a pit in my stomach right there but figured I was just being silly. The moment that really made me Want to throw up, the music stopped suddenly and we realized that for God knows how long, in the background, there was a loudspeaker announcing that there was active shooting on base and we needed to go hide.

Which of course we couldn't because almost every military member besides a few helpful off duty guys had LEFT us there, half a mile away from the only building we knew of but we couldn't even get into it.

We were stuck there hearing this repetitive announcement and we even watched every graduate leave. They dropped everything, including the American flag, and SPRINTED off the lawn and we were just left there, confused. I thought we were going to die out there to be Honest. Everyone was freaked out. I had my baby with me and just wanted to run for my life or hide or ANYTHING but be there, in the open, stuck.

In the end we were never in danger. There was a murder suicide on base so the shooter was dead, but we didn't know that. Almost no one did for awhile, to the extent that when the graduates were all filed away and hidden, an officer had them swear in there in case something happened and then they essentially did a fake swear in for us when they came out a few hours later. I didn't know that until way later, a maintaince worker in the building saw it and filmed a little and I got to see it when I struck up a conversation at a Dunkin Donuts lol

Staring Eyeballs

When I was about 8 years old, during recess at school, I noticed a bunch of other kids outside a storage room yelling and warning to others, not to approach the door because "there was an eyeball staring back at you!"

I was curious because I didn't understand what they meant but I could see their fear was real because their faces were pale white as they would try to deter me from taking a peek through the key hole.
I remember bending down slightly so I could get a closer look inside and sure enough, there was an eyeball staring back at me and it freaked me out so much I peed my pants on the spot.

It was only later in the day after I had ended up at the nurses office because of the commotion us kids had created, that a janitor had to go into the room to inspect what this whole mess was about. Turns out that someone had placed a mirror against that door and the eyeball we were seeing was our own reflection!

Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Tourist in a Strange Land

riday finally arrived and my partner in crime Sebastian and I picked up our fellow trippers (Fabienne from Antwerp, Belgium and Jessica from New Haven, Connecticut) in our brand-new mpv. After the all too obvious multi-purpose-vehicle jokes it was time to decide where we’d go. We didn’t have to talk for long about a destination. Of course we would drive off into the sunset, i.e. direction Portugal. The first couple of days were random but very enjoyable. Lots of good food, even more mediocre alcohol, uncalled-for dancing etc... During daytime we didn’t avoid the cultural sights although we probably spent more time at the beaches to shake off our hangovers. The scenery in Portugal was no less than breathtaking. Ironically, the many forest fires seem to have made the Portuguese landscape even more attractive, at least from a distance. The withered trees range in color from gold red to pitch black, contrasting with the bright green of young weeds.

Fall was catching up with us so we turned our back on the beaches and headed inland, towards the mountains. We ended up in the strangest of mountain towns: Bragança. Although not at all a tourist hot spot, Bragança does have an awe-inspiring, 13th century fortress. That’s not why I’ll remember it, though. This town is the spitting image of Royston Vasey, the English village from the comedy series “The League of Gentlemen” where ugly, inbred locals molest and eventually kill innocent passers-by. Obviously it wasn’t that fatal but Bragança did give us a scare.

The first local we saw, we asked for directions to our hostel. A big smile appeared on his face, he opened the door, squeezed his burly body into the back of the car and insisted on showing us the castle first. Scruffy-looking and reeking of liquor, among other things, he introduced himself as Ramiro, owner of the castle. He promised to give us an extraordinary tour. So far, we weren’t alarmed at all and so we decided to go along. The big guy seemed harmless enough; with his placid smile and doglike eyes he almost looked like the village idiot.

Which he apparently wasn’t. When we arrived at the castle Ramiro pulled out a set of keys and opened the gate. No problem, maybe he’s the janitor, we said to ourselves while we set out on our tour. The guy we had figured for a well-intentioned simpleton was now lecturing us on European history, momentarily interrupting his discourse to demonstrate how you wield a 15th century bastard-sword with amazing agility. Maybe it was just the sight of the castle at dusk but all of the sudden Ramiro’s smile didn’t seem so placid anymore... we were all getting a bit spooked.

When our guide, still carrying the huge sword, insisted we’d follow him to the fortress’ dungeons, we simultaneously started muttering protests:
“Desculpe Ramiro, we are all getting really hungry...”
“Besides, we have to arrive at the hostel before eight...”
“Thank you so much for the tour, though.”
“We’ll be back tomorrow, for sure!”
And we practically ran out of the place.

It may have been our heightened self-consciousness but we all felt like the entire village was staring and pointing at us. We did our best to ignore the glares and continued to the only hostel in town, where the weirdness did not cease. By now we were psyched up and seeing ghosts everywhere.
“You are not locals” the clerk stated. Clearly, there was no fooling this guy. We slowly explained him that, not being locals, we had come to this pension looking for a place to stay the night. He nodded understanding. When we offered him our passports, he shook his head and smilingly said:
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll get them later.” I heard Fabienne break into sobbing behind me.
“We are not Americans...” I began in a misguided attempt to relate to the clerk. No reaction.
“Can you recommend a good restaurant?” I tried.
“Yes, we have an excellent restaurant right here” was all he said. Somehow nobody felt like eating at the hostel so Sebastian and I ran out for take-out pizza and Porto while the girls barricaded themselves in the rooms. Seb, as always looking at the bright side of life, laid out the gameplan for the night. After all, the whole thing had provided us with an excellent excuse to keep the girls company at night.

We did feel stupid though, waking up the next morning. No one had been poisoned or stabbed to death. Bragança was no Royston Vasey. Like little kids, we had let ourselves be frightened by some eccentric castle owner. And of course the villagers had been staring; they had just seen four flustered tourists dash out of their castle at nightfall. Word of the weird gringos had probably spread to the pension before we even arrived. You are not locals, indeed.

And so, shamefaced and tired, we got in our car and headed back to Salamanca, contemplating our road trip. On the radio Lynard Skynyrd were giving their best. Sweet home Salamanca!


Monday, November 21, 2016

Campus After Dark

In college I lived off campus, directly across from the practice football field on campus, so my walk to and from school would be partly through sidewalks and then I'd usually cut through the field. At night the sidewalks were lit but the field was dark.

The library at my university closed at midnight and I had been cramming for a statistics class. I remember that clearly because it was such a hard class, I was late at the library studying a lot for it. The building is clearing out and a big group of us are leaving.

A man, taller than me, wearing a really big coat - heavier than necessary for the weather - sidles up to me to chat. I should point out this guy wasn't in the group leaving the library, he had been hanging out across from the doors I came out of. Being friendly I smiled at him, I'm pretty sure he gave me a friendly look when we made eye contact. He was my age and not unattractive.

He asked what brought me there, was I studying for a test, did I like my classes. It was basic flirting as we walked but he was practically whispering. I was immediately creeped out and answered him with just one syllable answers. He walked alongside my left, a couple feet away from me, then suddenly he was inches from my side, opening his coat as if to engulf me. I never should have let him walk this far, I realized, because the path was on the edge of darkness. If I could run ahead I'd be at my apartment, but then he'd know where I lived...and what if I couldn't run fast enough through the dark practice field?

The sidewalk split and I moved to the right, away from his coat. He's asking me if I was going to take him home with me. I look down and he's wearing basketball shorts and at a glance he's either got an erection or a weapon of some kind. I remember thinking it was impolite to acknowledge it. Some terrible sense of impropriety at saying, "oh my, stranger, is that a baton to bludgeon and rape me with, or just the boner you intend to to the job?" Thankfully there's a light in the building to the right and I veer towards the double doors. A janitor is waxing the floor and I scramble inside and slam the door. I tell the worker there's a guy following me, don't let him know which way I go. He started to tell me to wait and he'll get campus police... Then I ran. I ran full speed through that building, out a side door, cut across a parking lot and ran the long way around campus, lit by streetlights the entire way, home.

My lungs and legs burned and I never looked back. Never studied late again and always rode my bike if I was on campus after dark.

Thursday, November 17, 2016

A Ghost Story of Sorts

Something woke me. I lay still on my bed listening. For a moment all I hear is my wife’s rhythmic breathing tempting me back to sleep. Just as my eyes begin to drift shut, I hear a sound from somewhere in the house.

        It’s a new house. Or, at least, it’s new to us. It’s in fact a very old house. Historic was how the realtor described it. Crumbling would be the adjective I would use, but my wife loves the place. I have never heard her say the word potential as many times as she did while we toured the house weeks ago. I’m not nearly as sold on it as she is, but it’s mostly her money, or her father’s money, really, so, it’s the place we’re calling home now.

        I want to go back to sleep. I don’t want to care what the sound is, but my mind can’t be stopped as it begins to explore the possible origins of the noise and I know I have to look into it.

It’s a strange sound, not the usual pipe rattle or mouse in the walls noise. It’s makes me think of some kind of animal's desolate howl, or maybe a distant train whistle.

I think it might be coming from the kitchen.  

        We don't leave any lights on in the house after we've gone to bed. We keep it dark, and the only light that faintly illuminates the house tonight comes from the moonlight streaming in through the windows. We haven’t had a chance to hang curtains yet.

The light from the moon isn’t much, but it’s enough that I don’t feel the need to turn on any lights as I make my way from the bedroom and down a hallway. I reach the stairs and carefully plod down them, making sure each foot is firmly on a step before moving the other foot.

As I reach the first floor, I become certain the noise is in fact coming from the kitchen. I begin to make my way forward when I stub my toes on an unpacked moving box. The living room is a minefield of them.

I keep my eyes on the floor as I move through the living room, trying not to trip over anything. It is because I’m concentrating on the ground that I don’t see them until I’m nearly upon them. Six people, standing in a circle, in the middle of the kitchen.

It’s too dark to see faces, and they seem to be wearing dark cloaks. I almost scream, but fear chokes the sound from my throat.

        I begin to slowly back away. I think maybe they haven’t noticed me. The strange sound is louder here and maybe it has masked the noise of my approach. Maybe I can get back to the bedroom and my cellphone and call the police before they spot me, I think. Then I trip.

I land on a box of dishware, plates shattering beneath me. I look up at the kitchen, certain that the people will be coming after me, but they are still standing in their strange circle, still as mannequins.

Suddenly the living room light turns on.

My wife is at the base of the stairs, finger still on the light switch, looking at me on the ground. I spare her a quick glance and begin to yell at her, to tell her to run, but am stopped short as my gaze returns to the kitchen.

There are no people there. There are six person-like shapes made up of my and my wife’s clothing stuffed with newspaper, like Halloween decorations.

My wife is tougher than I am by a long shot, and she doesn’t so much as make a sound. She walks over to where I’m standing, extends her hand and helps me to my feet. Together we stand just outside the kitchen, looking at scene within.

“I assume that you didn’t do this?” my wife says to me in more of a statement than question.

“Yeah,” I respond silently.

“What time is it?” she asks.

“What does it matter?” I respond.

She ignores my question and looks at a radio we had plugged in to play music while we unpacked. It reads 12:10 AM.

“What time did you go to bed?” she asks as she moves into the kitchen and begins to examine the figures.

“A little after 11:00,” I state after a moment’s thought.

“You didn’t hear anything while you were trying to fall asleep?” she again speaks the question as a statement.

“I did not,” I say as I begin to catch on to her line of thought. “So whoever did this had to have come in after I had fallen asleep, which would probably have been around 11:30 or later.”

She seems relieved that we're on the same page and she responds, “Which means they would have found our boxes of clothing, stuffed our clothes with newspaper…” here she stops speaking and begins to tear apart one of the figures. As she peels off the clothing, she uncovers wire, like coat hangers, providing the figures structure. She continues, “formed this wire into human shapes, and arranged six of them in a circle in our kitchen. All without making a sound, and all in roughly half an hour.”

            "Doesn't seem possible," I say.

“What the hell?” she finally says as if frustrated with the very thought of the situation.

“Agreed,” I say.

        She walks out of the kitchen and goes to the mudroom at the back of the house. I hear her try the backdoor, which is locked and doesn’t open. I head to the front door and try the handle, but it's also locked.

She emerges from the kitchen and into the living room and gives me a look as I stand next to the front door. I shake my head.

“Windows,” she says.

We each move around the house, checking all the windows and find that each of them are securely closed and locked. We come back together in the living room. We stand there in silence for a moment before I realize the sound from the kitchen has stopped at some point.

"Sounds gone," I observe.

"That's what woke me up," she says. "Then I saw you were gone."

"I came down to check it out..." I begin to explain and then am stopped short.

The noise is back, but this time it's coming from upstairs.

"Our bedroom," my wife says.

We look at each other and I can read her thoughts. She wants to go investigate. I do not. I do, however, want to keep her from going up there alone.

“Call the cops?” I suggest?

“My phones under my pillow on the bed. Yours?”


“We could go to a neighbors.”

“That would make great first impression," she says sarcastically.

“What do you want to do?”

“Let’s go check it out,” she says.

          We climb up the stairs.

 I turn the hallway light on at the top of the steps and we slowly make our way toward the bedroom. The noise is the same one that I heard earlier, a soft and hollow whistling.

 “I left that door open,” my wife says, motioning toward the bedroom door, which is now closed.

 I stand motionless outside the door for a moment, and then my wife moves around me and turns the door handle. She throws open the door quickly. The bedroom is dark.

 There is no ceiling light in the bedroom. We have only unpacked one lamp for the room and it’s next to the bed. The bedroom is faintly illuminated by the hallway light leaking into the room and moonlight streaming in through the windows. It's enough for us to make out something that chills me.

There are two dark shapes under the blankets of our bed.

My wife inches her way toward the lamp that is sitting on the ground next to the bed. She turns the light on and jumps back toward the doorway, from where I haven’t moved. The lamp light shows that the blanket is pulled over the figures in the bed.

From the foot of the bed, my wife grabs the blanket by a corner and tugs it off the bed in one quick motion. There, spooning, are two newspaper-stuffed figures, formed with wire, made from my wife and my clothing on the bed. 

There’s also a note.

My wife moves to the bed and reads the note aloud. “It says, ‘Welcome to your new house.’"

by Alone at Night's D.K.

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

Halloween is Live!

Mr. Paleface has posted his performance of my story "Halloween" on his Youtube channel. 

You can follow Mr. Paleface on Twitter. He posts as @MrPaleface

I highly recommend you give it a listen. Mr. Paleface does a great job creating an atmosphere and the story Halloween, I think, lends itself very well to the atmosphere.

We've got plans on future collaborations. I welcome suggestions on which story to offer to Mr. Paleface next. Just leave a message on this post.

If you like Halloween and are looking for more stories you can check out my book on The book is called Terrifying Tales: 13 Scary Stories for Children.

Saturday, November 12, 2016

Mr. Paleface Collaboration

Hello, friends of Alone at Night. We've got some exciting news. We've partnered with Mr. Paleface and he's going to create an audio version of a story crafted by Alone at Night's very own D.K.

The story Mr. Paleface will soon share, not sure the exact date at the moment, is "Halloween". You can check out Mr. Paleface's YouTube feed here. He's got a great voice for telling scary stories, and we encourage everyone to give him your support, and check back often for his telling of the story first posted at alone at night by D.K. -- "Halloween".

You can follow Mr. Paleface on Twitter. He posts as @MrPaleface

Friday, November 11, 2016

Ghosts in the Photography Studio

I work in a photography studio and am often called to come check the building when the alarm goes off.

One night at about 2am, I get a call from my boss telling me that the lights are on at the studio. I was sure I turned them all off, since its a ritual of mine to go to every room and check the printers, enlargers, strobes, computers, everything. Not to mention before I leave and turn the alarm on I turn off the lights and look for any sign of a light i might have missed. So I show up to the studio and every light is on. I mean, If it had a light on it or was electrical and was plugged in, It was on. It wasn't like I forgot to turn off the counter light or one room, all of them were on.

I walk into the dark room to turn off the enlargers and as I turn off the last one, another one turns on. I walked over to the enlarger to turn it off and the switch, which aren't exactly easy to move (think breaker box difficult) was on the focus position. I turn it off and when I walk into the main room the officer was standing there with a puzzled look on his face. (He's a friend of my boss's and was asked to go with me since the studio isn't in a nice part of town.) I asked him what the issue was and he said he thought I was in the studios with the umbrella lights. I told him I haven't even been there yet and he said he swore someone walked by the doorway into that room. We were both freaked out and he went with me into each of the rooms as I turned off all the lights and equipment and then we lef


In the early 2000’s two friends and I picked up a guy in del mar, (north san diego) at around midnight, he was waving his hands, it looked like he really needed help. So we pulled over and he said he need a ride to the local am/pm about a mile away. He hops in our pick up truck, this dude (looks about 30, sorta skinny, wearing an ac/dc shirt) he’s laying on us because it’s a 3 seater. He asks if we smoke weed, we say yes, he says "you guys seem pretty chill, you wanna go blow up a car?" we kindly decline saying we're tired. By this time we've arrived at the gas station and we drop him off. We all notice, he smells of gas, my friend who's driving gives him his business card(idiot). And we go home. Well the next day I wake up. I live on a hill over looking the spot we picked him up at. There's a helicopter hovering over a charred car. "He really did blow up a car" I think. I tell my friends and don't think much of it until later while watching the nightly news I notice the station is showing footage from the chopper I saw earlier in the day. The newscasters mention the charred car and at the end of the story, they quickly mention. "Homicide detectives found a dead body in the trunk...."

I'm going crazy and I call the cops, the dispatch officer late at night is dismissive and acts like I know nothing about the situation and perhaps, maybe, if i'm lucky, a detective will call me back. Sure enough, the next morning I get a voicemail from a homicide detective. He has us meet him at the location we picked him up at. I told him earlier about the am/pm and the AC/DC shirt so when we get there he individually asks us questions. He shows me security cam footage of the guy. He asks if I'd be willing to testify and I say I will if I have to but I'd rather not.

With that the detective thanks us and leaves. He says he'll keep in touch. The cops put out an all-points-bulletin type thing throughout all of the California police stations and some station in northern California alerts them that they know his name, in fact they're looking for him as well for the murder of his heroin dealer. They end up finding out where he’s staying and police storm the house, He charges them, and looks like he’s drawing something from behind his back. So they shoot him dead.

This was all within 48 hours of us picking him up
What happened was he was staying at a friends house who was selling his house. A realtor came over, he beat her up put her in the back of her car and drove miles to the beach where I live. He shot her, put her in the trunk of her car, doused the car in gas, and tried to light the car on fire, but didn’t have any matches so he walked down the road where he found us, and flagged us down. He hopped in our car with a revolver the back of his shirt he had just killed the women with and we dropped him off. 24 hours later he’d be dead.
My boyfriend had to move out off our apartment because he started a new job four hours away, so I stayed there alone for my last semester at school. I didn't think it was going to be a big deal at all until my sketchy alcoholic neighbor on the first floor caught wind of me being alone.

He then started following me in and out of the building, constantly knocking on my door to talk, asking me out, etc. I would sit out on these shared porches to relax and he would corner me out there, so I didn't sit on my porch anymore.

He eventually started following me to class or to bars when I walked downtown. And would start pounding on my door at midnight screaming at me about going out with friends. He would constantly lurk in the hallway that faced my bedroom and "sing" to me.

One night he came up and yelled at me in front of a friend of mine, and went to grab me by my throat and my friend called the police. They didn't do anything because my neighbor was the "town drunk/jester/would never hurt anyone/etc" bullshit. My landlord wasn't even available to talk until a month after it got bad.

Wednesday, November 9, 2016

Car Thugs

The time i was being stalked and harassed by a bunch of teen thugs in a car

I was about 12 or 13 years old. One time I'm walking to my psychiatrist for my weekly appointment. Its a half hour walk and after dark. I enjoyed walking, especially after dark when things were quiet, peaceful, and slow and no one else around. No, i didnt live in a dangerous neighborhood nor did my walk take me through any dangerous neighborhoods.

As I'm about half way to my destination, a car, a cadillac, comes driving down the street. Some people, both male and female, in the car are sticking themselves half way out the windows and are taunting me and jeering me as they drive by. A bunch of people in their late teens or early 20s. I ignore them and keep on walking. About a minute or two later, the same car comes down the street again and those people are jeering me and taunting me again. I dont know who they are. Maybe they live in the neighborhood. I still ignore them and keep walking.

Another minute or so goes by and again they come driving down the street, taunting and jeering me. Now I'm worried. They're circling the block over and over, deliberately focusing on me.

As soon as they reach the corner and make their turn and are out of sight, i duck behind some bushes in someones front yard and wait. The car comes again down the street. This time, not seeing me walking down the street, theyre not jeering. They pass right by me in my hiding place and turn the corner. I think they think I've finally reached my destination, one of the houses on the block, and went inside and as a result, drove away. I thought wrong. Stupidly i leave my hiding place and go back to walking on my way to my psychiatrist. I shouldve stayed there behind those bushes much longer because i hear the car approaching. They spot me and start taunting and jeering me again. They turn the corner.

This time i run towards my destination but i know i wont get far before the car and those kids catch up with me again. So to that effect i decided to hide again behind the bushes in front of an apartment of an apartment building. This time resolving to stay there for good until the thugs in the car gives up their searching for me. I'm hiding there behind the bushes for not long. Maybe about 30 seconds or so when the guy whose apartment it is, pops out from his apartment, asking what I'm doing hiding in his bushes. At first he probably thinks I'm a burglar or something, but i explain to him how I'm walking to my psychiatrist and how I'm being followed and harassed by a bunch of kids in a car, which was why I'm hiding in his bushes. The guy can instantly tell from the tone of my voice and my facial expressions that I'm telling him the truth. He can see how scared I am.

Just then the car comes down the street and pulls right up at the curb directly in front of us. They look at me and the guy I'm with. Not a mean looking guy (in his late 30s-early 40s), but tough and serious looking enough. He's not wearing a shirt. But he's wearing a sleeveless undershirt which reveals that this guys upper body is very well toned, slightly muscular, and no fat.

I'm looking at the car and I realize that its missing a few people inside. The car doesnt look so full now. The guy I'm with just gives them a mean stare. He asks me, "You know them?" I explain that no, I dont know them at all. I havent the slightest idea of who they are.

Just then, as the car is sitting there, about 3 of them approach walking from the other direction. The car was traveling east to west. Those 3 were walking on foot from west to east. So thats why the car seemed not so full. They were looking to escalate the situation. They werent satisfied with just driving by and taunting me. They changed tactics. A few of them got out of the car up ahead and started walking towards me while the ones in the car took another turn around the block. Their plan now was to physically trap me in between themselves and their car. Perhaps grab me and drag me into the car with them for whatever reasons. But seeing my tough guy guardian angel with me, the kids walking towards the car instead got into the car and it took off.

The guy offered to stay with me for a little longer or if i wanted to, to duck into his apartment to stay there until i was sure that it was safe to continue on my journey. I had a feeling that this was the last I was going to see of those guys and their car and i didnt want to be late for my appointment. So i thanked the guy for his offer, but declined. And decided to head on my way. The guy went back into his apartment and closed the door. I looked at the closed door and hoped that I didnt make a mistake by turning down the guys offer of better safety, because I was still scared. Thankfully I was right about not seeing the car again. The rest of my walk I was unmolested.

I reached my psychiatrists office. I told my therapist about what happened. He insisted on calling the police. The police came and took a report from me. Thats the last I heard of it. On my way back home, i usually took the same route that i came from, up the same streets. But this evening, i varied my way home, taking some different side streets to walk on. Never saw that car or those thugs again.
Here is, via google street search, the very spot I hid. That door was the guys apartment. That grassy area behind that low black metal fence on the left was where the bushes were that I hid behind. Back then the bushes in that spot were way tall, wide, and thick. Enough to hide a 12-13 year old kid behind. If I hadnt ducked behind those bushes, I would have walked right into their trap and God knows what they had in store for me once they had me trapped.
When I was 16, my friends and I had and apartment inn the building his parents owned. It was an old building, in Chicago and had tunnels that Al Capone and company had built that his dad blocked off
We used the roof as a place to go an smoke cigarettes. You had to get through the attic to get there though. There were no lights so the only lights we had we from our shitty flip/brick phones.
One day, my friend Manny and I were going up to smoke. I told Manny I had to piss, so I did in the apartment.

I went up and felt like there was someone there. It was pretty common for us to mess with each other, so I said, "Manny, I know it's you. Quit fucking around. I followed this shadow figure, thinking it was him.

I yelled, "Stop playing, I know it's you" as I followed this figure. Then I heard, from downstairs, Manny, say, "What?"

I was terrified. I had just followed "him" to a corner. I ran back downstairs and asked if he was there. He was, talking to his gf at the time and I told him I didn't want to go upstairs.
I know what I saw. People always try to say "maybe the shadow was your own" That's not possible because I had a Motorola flip phone at the time and I was only holding that in front of me.
I saw a shadow person, and I know others have too.

Election Results

Life never ceases to be more frightening than even the best scary fiction..

Thursday, November 3, 2016

Inside Knowledge

This is long, but without a doubt the most inexplicable, creepy thing that's ever happened to me.
June last year a man from Pakistan began messaging me on Facebook, assuming it was a scam account I ignored his attempts at conversation and thought little of it. 6 months later the random messages started to pop up again, several times a day, with personal information about me he couldn't possibly know.

Every day for almost 4 months this stranger wrote to me knowing details about my life that I'm certain aren't on my Facebook profile. He knew where I'd worked, where I live, my phone number, the brand of smokes I buy, how I'd become unemployed, my parents separating and my daily routine.
I'm not easily spooked but he was trying to get under my skin and it was working. I told a few close friends who were skeptical at first, figuring he'd gotten my information off Facebook, until they read the message thread for themselves and could see how serious it was.

Of course I considered the possibility an acquaintance of mine was behind the account posing as this man. Unfortunately the timeline dated back to 2012, had hundreds of photos, check ins with family and friends on the other side of the world and appeared legitimate.

He intimidated me for months dropping facts about my life every now and then to scare the shit out of me. Finally he explained he wanted to come to Australia and if I helped him he would pay me. At first I was amused that he thought I could be of help, making a joke of his idea. He obviously didn't appreciate my response because he started mentioning my dad and sister.

I was more angry than scared by that point and decided to contact the National Security Hotline. I figured if this individual was willing to pay a stranger on Facebook to worm his way into Australia they'd want to find out why. They also didn't think I was bat-shit crazy, so that was a huge relief after all the looks others had given me.

A few days passed after the call, the messages continued but I had peace of mind knowing I'd reported it. Maybe I had overreacted? Maybe I was bat-shit crazy? Or perhaps one of my friends was behind it all!

Obviously the authorities weren't taking the situation as lightly as I'd thought, because detectives turned up at home to get the story from myself first hand. As bizarre as the situation was, it was comforting knowing that they listened and had my best interest after being made to feel like an idiot for months.

The messages stopped the same day I spoke to the detectives at my house, giving me reason to believe action was taken when they left. I'll probably never know the details, but it's probably best that way anyway.

Mistaken Identity

I'd been living in my first apartment alone for maybe two weeks. It was a basement apartment which meant cheap!!! and the windows were right at ground level so you could see legs and shoes walk by. There were two bedrooms. I slept in one with the blinds closed, but the other room's window had some water damage so I kept the blinds all the way up to let it dry out before maintenance came. That room had nothing in it but spare boxes from moving in.

One night, I was asleep and then suddenly completely awake and alert. Every fiber of my being suddenly on edge. I looked at my phone and saw it was around 4am. I laid in bed for a minute before I turned towards my closed window and saw it: a large dark shadow of a person with a flashlight trying to see in to my bedroom. I instantly freaked. I quietly grabbed a small hunting knife and stealthily moved to the hall so I could see into the other bedroom-the one whose window coverings were WIDE open. As I peaked around the corner, the person was scanning the floor of my bedroom methodically with the flashlight. They were big, had on heavy boots, and keys that jingled.

At this point- as a single girl alone in a shitty apartment I thought this was it. I was 100% prepared to take my little hunting knife and fight this fucker. My adrenaline was sky high. At that moment, my phone buzzed and I got a text from a friend on the police force who literally asked, "what's going on at your apartment?" I thought - yep, this is a bad guy... he's peering in my windows and is going to bust in any second now.. but then he went away. I didn't hear from my police friend after I texted him back.

I decided to go lie down on my bed and just wait to see what happened next. Not five minutes after lying down, someone knocked on my door with incredible force. The panic mounted again. Now- I have no peephole, no safety chain...just a deadbolt. At the top of my voice, in case it's a murderer I want to wake people up, I yell, "who is it?" I hear a meek voice reply that it is the police. My first thought is now that is a clever plan to get s girl to open her apartment door. I stood there silently before I heard the voice say again, that I wasn't in trouble. I opened the door a smudge, ready to slam it, to see two cops, one backed away from the door and one up the steps. They must have seen my tiny little knife or something.

They proceeded to apologize for scaring me- they were the ones looking in my windows. I yelled at them and possibly cried a little... the adrenaline finally broke, okay? I got the whole story from my friend the next day- turns out a fellow resident of the apartment complex had gotten drunk, lost his keys, and broken in to his own apartment to go to bed. They thought it was mine and were confused by the lack of broken windows.... I was terrified at the time, but it's a good story now.