19 Super-Creepy Brushes With The Paranormal

source: Thought Catalog

For two years my mum had a recurring nightmare in which the mirror at the end of the room, facing my parent’s bed, would turn transparent and there would be a man standing behind it. When redecorating, they removed the mirror from the wall, to find a hole behind it, with a small empty room, leading to nowhere.

Got lost with girlfriend at night in Waco, Texas. Roads were deserted. No people. No cars. Then saw one lone person standing on the corner as I made a turn. I heard a friendly male voice in the vehicle, as if sitting in the back seat, say to me, “You’re going the wrong way.” I noticed I was, indeed, going the wrong way on a one-way street so I did a U-turn. The road took me directly to the main highway. Asked my girlfriend a bit later if she heard the voice too and she burst into tears because she had been so freaked out by it she thought she was going insane or something.

When my wife was six years old she fell into a well. She couldn’t climb her way out and started to cry. She heard a girl’s voice tell her not to worry and directed her to a group of stones that were jutting out far enough for her to grab ahold. The voice told her to climb out and she did.
When she got out there was nobody around and she ran home. Told the story to her mother only to find out that a little girl had drowned in that same well many years ago.

My friend was driving without his glasses on in the middle of back country Maine one night. For those who have never been, you drive hours without seeing civilization. Just trees and trees. He was in a daze, when he saw something up ahead in the street. He stopped, couldn’t quite make it out. It was moving. But moving very slowly. He got curious, moved real close to it on his truck. “Is that a baby?” Sure enough, it was a baby. He gets out of the truck, just stunned. Surely this baby is abandoned. Walks over there, goes to pick it up. It’s a baby doll being dragged by slowly by a string. He got out of there fast as he could.

A couple of years ago I was out for a run with my dog. Over the fields behind my house. We came across this old abandoned mansion. It hadn’t been lived in in at least fifteen, maybe twenty years. The rich guy who owned it had went bankrupt and now the bank owned the house.
I decided I’d take a look through the house. It was pretty cool. Run down but it looked like someone had left in a hurry.
I decide to head home. Once I get back I go for a shower. Afterwards I walk into the kitchen and start to make a sandwich. I bring it over to the table and there it is. A post-it note. “You come into my house, I come into your house.”
Naturally I freaked out. Got my dog and got out of my house. Phoned my parents who then passed it on to the police. They said it was likely squatters and some guy had followed me home but it was nothing to worry about.
That was the last we heard about it. No way I’m ever going back to that house.

As kids, my cousin had an imaginary friend. He called him “Bee-jebuh” (we never got around to how it was actually spelled, but I’m spelling it the way he pronounced it.) He claimed that his Bee-jebuh was a monster but he was a nice monster, and he would occasionally tell him to do things. After a few weeks of this, he was told never to talk of Bee-jebuh again.
Apparently, this name was strikingly close to Beelzebub, so his mother (who is fairly religious) put a stop to that. Now the creepy part. I was recently telling my girlfriend this story. It was dusk, and we were in the car, parked, but the car was on. As I told this story, the internal lights on the car came on, as if the door was open, and both of our phone simultaneously went haywire. She forced me to stop talking about it after that, and to never mention it again.

My dad used to live in a house that had some weird things happen. Curtains moving, things not being where you left them, remotes ending up in places that were impossible to reach. But never anything violent or harmful. One week things started to feel different. The whole house started to feel uneasy which was a new feeling despite the weird activity. One day my stepmom and I were alone in the house and started to smell burning matches. Which is an incredibly distinct scent. We walk around trying to find where it was coming from and she eventually finds the source in the pantry. It was a pile of burnt matches about 10 inches wide and 3 high. We were alone in the house and were watching a movie together. No way it was either one of us and the kitchen was just off the back side of the living room so we would’ve heard if someone was there. Nothing nearly that profound happened again but you can bet that we were out of there when the lease was up a month later.

A few years ago, I was in the kitchen with my sister and my mom, and I saw this huge spider. This thing was at least 8 inches in diameter, just sitting on the back of one of the dining room chairs. I freaked the fuck out and pointed it out to my mom and my sister. Neither of them saw the spider. I turn back to the spider, and it’s right in front of me. “Can’t you see this??” I asked. As I’m looking at this spider, they both say there is no spider there and that my joke isn’t funny. That whole incident still bothers me.

When I was 16 I was home alone and suddenly felt the need to check the doors were locked, like urgently. I walked quickly to the front door and turned the lock just as a guy appeared on the other side and tried to open it. It didn’t open because I had locked it a millisecond earlier. I could see him because our door was partially tinted glass, I’m not sure if he saw me. He immediately turned around and walked away. WHO THE FUCK WAS HE?! He was early/mid twenties, really well dressed, black suit. He didn’t try to knock, he just tried to open the door. Never saw anyone like him again.

It’s crazy, but funny enough that people always think I’m making it up, despite being able to cross-reference with two other people with the same exact story.
When I was a kid, my brother and I used to visit our cousins three hours away. One time our parents went out and left my brother and I with my two cousins. The older cousin had something else to do and so the three of us (probably 10-13 yrs old) were on our own. For one reason or another we were in my aunt and uncle’s bedroom when I looked into the living room and, clear as day, saw a pair of my uncle’s disembodied dress slacks dancing away in the living room.
Obviously I freaked the fuck out and called my cousin and brother over and all three of us witnessed it. There’s no way it could have been a prank because the legs were moving and dancing and everything. There was too much dexterity for them to be controlled by a prankster.
To this day all three of us can collaborate this story. My cousin, who is now a missionary, even swears it happened. Despite the fact that it’s far outside the realm of her beliefs, when we talk about it, she just takes a breath and says “….yeah, I remember those dancing pants.”

I remember when I was in Mexico with some of my cousins we started a bonfire outside an abandoned warehouse. Reaching nightfall we got the fire going and we settle down around. We talked and laugh and what not. It wasn’t till one of my cousins noticed an odd human like figure standing in a distance. This person or thing was wearing a blackened dirty white gown with their hair over the face looking down. We all stood up and got behind the oldest cousin (two of my cousins and me) I remember asking in Spanish who they were and what they wanted. The fact that it wasn’t responding got us uneasy. Shortly afterwards it started to glide towards us. My blood shot cold seeing that. We were in disbelief and frozen. Once we snapped back we started running and screaming back to the ranch. No one know what that was really nor did return there when night fell.

I did IT work for a gun range that rented out guns for you to use on the range. As you might expect, there were quite a few squirrely “Don’t Tread On Me” types in there at any given time, so I always paid close attention to what was going on in the shop and range. There were windows into the range, so you could see who was shooting. One day I noticed a lady in there loading up, who I hadn’t seen come in. I rebuked myself for my lack of vigilance and went about my business.
It happened again a couple weeks later, and I resolved to keep an eye on the range, but she got out of there without me noticing somehow. This pattern repeated several times over the following weeks, until finally I heard about the lady that had come in a few years back, rented a gun, walked into the range, and shot herself in the head.
I noped right out of that gig.

This happened to my uncle before he married my aunt and became part of our family. He lived with his previous wife and two kids in a house for most of their lives, and his wife suddenly became terminally ill and died a few months later. Throughout her entire life, she was a very kind person, but she hated the green curtains in their living room more than anything. She would apologize about them when guests came over, talked about how much she hated them whenever they went to home improvement stores, and tried to keep them out of view as much as possible. I’m not sure why she or my uncle never got around to changing them; could have been financial problems, distractions, couldn’t find ones they liked, etc. But they never did. The green curtains remained.
The night she died, my uncle and his kids spent the night with her in the hospital and returned home the next morning. They said after being in the house in silence for about an hour, those green curtains came crashing to the ground. My uncle and cousins didn’t know whether to be absolutely terrified or laugh. They immediately threw them in the garbage and later picked out new ones they thought she would like. I have no doubt that she took it upon herself to finally get rid of those curtains.

I moved to Huntsville about 5 years ago. Here in Texas, Huntsville holds the state prison so It’s creepy just for that. Along side the prison, very very old houses remain. I dated this guy for about a year and he lived in the row of old houses right off campus. He lived at one end of the row in a house built in the 20s. Everyday as I walked down to his house I passed a gorgeous white house built in the 1800s. Tall, 3 stories and sits on top a hill. It’s torn up and it has no windows or doors, But I always found it fascinating and haunting at the same time. I hoped one day the boarded up doors would be open so I could go explore. Well one day I got my chance. The board was cracked open and we went right on in. Creeping in from room to room everything was boards and nails and completely deserted and falling apart, but Creepy enough, the only thing that remained in any of the rooms were the clawfoot tubs. there were two downstairs and they were beautiful. I almost fell through a couple of holes but I managed to make it up to the 3rd floor. Again, a clawfoot tub sat deserted in the hallway. I made my way around and landed in the final of the 15 rooms. The top left corner. It looked out onto the street we had entered and it had a staircase that led to the attic. As soon as I walked into the space (mind you, there are no doors) I knew I had to leave. I can’t explain it but it became unusually cold for the Texas weather the hair on my neck stood up. I felt like I needed to run. and I did. Right back down the hall passing all the creepy tubs and out the door. I didn’t return. Fast forward about three weeks, I worked for the campus hotel and we were selling a Huntsville ghost hunting book which included houses from around town. I worked the late 3p-11pm shift and no one was around so I read it happily until I came across a story about that white house! According to the previous owner, the house used to be a morgue. The clawfoot tubs that remained in the house were the original tubs they used to drain the dead bodies in before they prepared them. And it said sometimes people see a figure of a man who is supposed to be the original owner in the “windowless window” up in that left corner room looking out onto the street. Nope.
Here is a tiny article selling the book I read.
Here is a tiny article about the home I found.

A few years ago, I lived in a little cottage style house that was built in the 1920s. It was a charming house and I loved it, but weird things happened in that house. The first thing we noticed was that we couldn’t place anything made of glass on the counters in the kitchen and turn our backs, because the jar would fall to the ground almost instantly and shatter. I tried putting the jars on the backside of the countertop, against the wall, but they would still somehow fall off and break as soon as I left the room.
From the first month we moved in, I would hear vomiting noises, coughing, and sobbing coming from the bathroom. My roommate had stomach issues that year, and no one would answer when I asked if everything was okay, so I just assumed she had the pukies and wanted to be left alone. This went on weekly for about ten months, and one day my roommate and I were hanging out and she asked if I was feeling okay. I said, “Yeah, I’m fine, why?” “I heard you throwing up earlier this morning, and I was worried about you. Why were you crying?” “…Uh… I thought that was you.” We were the only ones home that entire week.
We realized that we thought the other person had been sick and crying in the bathroom for the entire year, but it was neither of us. We never figured out where the sounds were coming from.

When I was about 9 or 10 some of my family was in town, so naturally I had to give up my bed and sleep on the living room couch. At some point during the night I awoke abruptly only to find myself staring at a small boy. The kid was probably a little younger than I was at the time, but the problem was I could see through him. He looked like what I like to describe as an early 1900s paperboy, complete with the hat and socks up to his knees. He was glowing a blueish color, he didn’t say anything to me, nor I to him. I just kind of laid there looking at him and then he was gone. I never say anything like that again, not in my house, not ever.

I was at home sitting on the couch with a friend of mine and my mom leaves to go to the store. We’re hanging out doing nothing in particular and my friend falls asleep sitting up, so I take a picture with my new camera phone and show it to him, “Haha, you fell asleep, what a dufus,” something to that affect. Two weeks later I’m going through my pictures and I’m looking at it and I realize that someone is in the other room just 10 feet away. Even weirder is that this person has the same posture and stuff as my mom, same haircut (short and spiky) and whatever the thing was, was very dark and facing the camera, because the eyes caught my flash like a cat’s eyes. Just two brightish dots. The figure was in the brightest room in the house so there’s no reason it should have been so shadowy. I showed my friend in the picture, who knows my mom well and I don’t say anything to him except, “Who is that in the dining room?” And very typical of my friend, he sarcastically says, “Your mom, my god, don’t you know your own mother when you see her?” “Uh, G, remember, she wasn’t home when I took this picture?” And he just says, “Yeah…you’re right.” I didn’t push it further because I know he’s a little superstitious and junk and he seemed a little nervous. I looked at the pic constantly trying to figure it out and then one day, it just disappeared.

When I was 12 I was on vacation with my parents. I left the room to head to the pool by myself.
On the elevator ride down to the pool a man entered the elevator.
He didn’t look at me. He just said the name of the town and state I lived in: “South Attleboro, Massachusetts.” Without looking at me. I was about 1000 miles from the town he spoke.
I, being young and a little naive said “yeah! How’d you know?!”
Until the ground floor. He just said “I guess you just sorta look like it.”
He was probably 50. Wore sunglasses. Indoors. Looked ready for golf.
I told my parents and they wouldn’t let me go anywhere alone the rest of vacation. Don’t think I ever saw him again.
I was not wearing any clothing that gave my hometown away. I was wearing a Duke Blue Devils basketball hat and a Jordan Bulls jersey.

One summer my brother went to Ghana and came back with a bunch of souvenirs. He went back to school and left them all with my parents. My parents used to live in a two story bungalow, where my brother and I had bedrooms in the basement directly underneath theirs. One night around 2 am, I woke up to hear heavy footsteps right above me… I tried to ignore it and go back to sleep. Because he was such a loud snorer my dad would sleep in my brother’s room as well. In the morning my dad asked my mom what she was doing walking around at 2 am. She denied that she was, but I backed up my dad because I heard it too. She continued to say it wasn’t her, and the next night it was same thing… heavy footsteps at 2-3 in the morning. My dad and I attempted to recreate the footsteps, used hard-steel boots, but nothing came close to the sound.
I started having weird-ass dreams. In them I felt awake and would see a big dark figure in the middle of my room that would move closer to me, then when it would reach out to me I would wake up to more footsteps. I once had friends over after a party, who all between 2-3 am asked if there was someone in the house… I couldn’t really give them a response other than “oh yea those are just the ghosts.”
Finally we decided to try to move all the souvenirs my brother brought back, which included 6 African masks… when we really looked at them, there were a few that were terrifying, like really demonic looking, so we put them in the garage. This is what really got me…. For the next two days, birds would fly into the glass of my parents’ bay window in their bedroom and die. We had to pick up like 15 dead birds. It only stopped when my dad got rid of the masks…
We blame the masks, but I still have no clue why this shit went down. 

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