Three Stories

I have several of these, some mine, some not. I try to be a fairly rational, skeptical person. I like to see hard evidence of such things. I'll admit some freaky experiences are very difficult, if impossible to explain but I do believe most 'hauntings' can be explained away rationally. But this shit is all true. I'll try to keep them short;

1. When I was 7 or 8 my sister was at a sleep over. I was alone in the room and our house had thick walls and doors so sound didn't travel well. We shared a bunk bed and I was on the top bunk. I heard a distinct, calm breathing on the bunk below mine for a full hour and change. Over the time period I did check the bed and saw nothing and no one atop it. I'm an insomniac and was at the time. I knew what my sister sounded like when she was sleeping. This was not my sister. This was not someone sleeping. To this day I have no idea what or who it was. I had even held my breath to make sure it wasn't some echo of me.

2. My sister used to have this ugly Pinnochio doll in her bedroom(the room we later shared). I should set this up and say everyone was frightened of it but it's just not true. It wasn't sinister or creepy, it had no bad energy. It was just a fuck ugly doll. She was around three or four and because of money and space issues still slept in a very large, spacious cot. It was very, very tall. When my parents stood outside it it reached up to their chests. No child, no toddler could climb in and out of this thing. But despite the fact that my sister didn't at the time sleep with dolls, this Pinocchio doll kept turning up in her bed in the morning, sitting in the corner of the crib. She would tell our parents that at night she would wake and it would be leaning over the side of the crib and looking at her. Our big brother, who was five, was bribed with sweets and toys to admit he was doing it but even at the risk of losing said sweets and toys he denied ever having any roll to play, and this was not a kid that could lie. One day, the doll was just gone. A window was wide open and the doll was gone. What was really weird was that many years later, having never heard about this, I saw the doll in our room. It turned up one day out of nowhere. I didn't really think about it, since it looked old and used. Then a few days later it was just gone. I mentioned it to my sister and that was the first time I heard of what she experienced. We routinely bring this up with our mother and she remembers it exactly as we do.

3. My dad has some that frighten the shit out of me, sorry if they run long. For context, my dad is an exceptionally no bullshit kind of guy. He's pragmatic and often very cynical. He has no time for silliness and foolery, he lived a very very hard life and grew up very young. AND YET;

My dad was a boy scout as a kid. They used to go on a trip each year to take new scouts for their first camping trip. My dad had been a bunch of times before and used to take part in this game where you crept out to a nearby meadow with a clear line of sight to the camp, then had to sneak up on the campsite. New Scouts would be made to camp right where my dad would sneak out and his challenge was not to be seen. He was very good at this challenge and often won. The hardest part was the end when he had to scale a semi steep hill behind the tents without anyone spotting him.

So he was laying in the meadow, waiting for the right time to begin creeping forward. He realised he was being watched and turned to see, standing atop the ridge behind him, a figure. It was very tall, seemingly featureless, and because of the moon light he can tell its black. And like, in colour, not race. Colour. The skin is completely black, like oil or tar, black like black paint. It has no face. My dad is perturbed to say the least. Then it raises it's arms which my father quickly realises are far, far, FAR too long for the body. It holds it's hands limp at the end of the wrists. The arms are rigid , elbows locked , not straight out like a zombie, not at 90 degrees to the chest, but held higher. Then it begins to run at my father. So he bolts, legs it, panicking because this thing does NOT look human at all and doesn't move like a person. He said that he would look back and when he saw it it would be keeping an even pace, say, twenty five feet behind him. Then he would look again and it would have jumped up so it's twenty feet, but he'd never see it move, just get closer. It never, ever lowered it's arms. We tried to run like my dad described this thing, our arms held out and a little up, running full tilt. It's not easy to stay upright.

My dad ran like the devil was on his ass, but part of him still thought his friends might be pranking him. That's when his friends spotted him from the camp site, spotted what he was running from, and lost their fucking minds. They literally laid on top of the slope and reached down, threw ropes for him to use to climb. The scout leader, a grown ass man, a cynical world war 2 veteran(this was the sixties), saw this thing and loses his shit, bellows for my father to FUCKING RUN. My dad hit the slope and was hauled up and over just as the thing closed on him. They looked and it was gone. Just gone. But a dozen or more of them saw the same thing, same out held arms, but it just vanished. Turns out there is a huge local legend about the woods and what resides within, they had all ignored until then.

His other one was; My dad used to have these neighbours called The Smiths and lived with them in a tower block of flats. My dad has plenty of real life horror stories from these flats(his own abusive home, the guy that my dad saw jump from an upper floor, the time a man tried to set my dad on fire by trapping him in a lift and dousing him with petrol...) which we'll call The Heights. The Heights were built quick and cheap in the wake of WW2 to provide housing while relief and repair work was done on our city, which was not London, and was damaged in The Blitz during WW2.

Before they moved to the Heights, the Smiths lived in a house. Mr Smith was often heard beating up Mrs Smith when he came home drunk at night. Mrs Smith, in my dads words, was 'a little simple' and when she was asked about who gave her a black eye or who was in her room the night before she would only ever say 'He did it' but never elaborated. Her sons used to sleep outside her bedroom at night so their father wouldn't get in. But one night they were woken by the sound of their mother being attacked. They could hear their father growling at her.

Only they couldn't hear him. Because he had been asleep down stairs. He was awoken by the sound of commotion the same as they were and came running to see what was happening. They all saw him outside that door while their mother was being beaten. He was the one who eventually smashed the door in and found her crying and bruised saying that 'he hit me again'

Mr Smith had always ardently denied ever laying a hand on his wife and this night at least seemed to prove that.

Many years later, the family had lived in The Heights for a while only The Heights were being torn down and all the residents were being given shiny new houses. Every single family has moved out. Except the Smiths. They had a good, happy life in those flats and didn't want to go anywhere else. They had resisted offers of increasingly nice houses, cash bribes. They had resisted threats. They didn't want to go. My dad was around visiting, he and the youngest Smith were around 17. Mrs Smith was asleep in a back bedroom. Mr Smith was long gone, had moved away. My dad says they heard the lift(elevator) doors open and expected to see someone pass the window that faced the walk way onto which the lift opened. No one appeared. They had the front door open and a curtain pulled across. The curtain began to move in, like someone was walking under it without pushing it aside.

It became apparent a figure, a person was walking, very, very slowly into the room. My dad and Younger Smith were from, as mentioned, rough neighbourhoods. They greeted this figure but when it didn't reply they escalated to wading in and kicking the shit out of it. It didn't react or fall. It kept moving into the room even as they hit and punched it. My dad clearly remembers hitting something solid, a person of some kind. Then as the curtain rose to the height of a person, as if they had walked all the way in, it just collapsed to nothing, fell back limp.

Mrs Smith emerged from her bedroom, smiled her simple smile and said 'He's back'

Younger Smith went and made a phone call and the family cleared out four hours later, took what ever housing they had been offered and just left.

#Unexplained/Paranormal #Area/Woods #Object/Dolls #Creature/Humanoid #Sounds/Growling