Sometimes life glitches, and there is not possible explanation for what just happened. It's not a ghost, but something way more real and disturbing. These people won't ever forget the strange and deadly experiences they're still trying to wrap their head around! Content has been edited for clarity.
"I was probably around 6 or 7, in Turin, Italy. My mother, my sister, and I were at the train station, about to go visit friends in Rome. My mom wanted to call her friend, just to let her know our train would be a few hours late, which is very common there still today. She takes us to a payphone and tells my sister to hold her hand as she keeps an eye on our suitcases. I was to hold my sister's hand. As my mother's calling, out of the blue, a tall man grabs my hand and starts walking me away from my sister. He starts asking me questions, like if I had many friends in school. I was too shocked and young and naïve to understand what was going on. Panic started kicking in, and for some unexplainable reason, I started focusing on answering his questions. Then, a few feet away from the main entrance of the station, I get my other hand grabbed again, this time by my mother. I've never heard her scream so loud in my whole life. The man literally ran away as fast as speed itself, and I could only keep staring at him disappearing in the distance as I heard my mother cry and beg for forgiveness, while hugging me as tight as she ever did. Then I look back, and I see my sister pointing her small index finger at me, like she's petrified, with tears in her eyes. I read my name on her lips repeatedly, which she probably couldn't speak. I don't know if she saved my life, or where I would've ended up if I had left with that man, but I definitely owe her everything. And as for my mom, whenever she hugged me after that, she always waited for me to let go first. She never broke the contact before I did. I love her so much, and though I can no longer see her now, I hope she knows I always did and I always will. Honestly, I cannot even imagine what she went through. It never came up again in the future, but I hope she forgave herself for it. It's by no means her fault, and I sure hope she knows that. She's the strongest woman I know, and I hope she moved on and that this incident doesn't still haunt her. Thank you for taking the time to read. It was so many years ago now, but I've never forgotten this moment, and it was surprisingly not that easy to write down. I now realize what it sounds like, but my mom is alive and well. She's still in Italy, and I'm now immigrating to Canada, I've been here for 3.5 years. Still waiting to go back and see her and my sister once again. Hopefully that'll be one day soon."
"Don't worry, this isn't paranormal, but it is beyond terrifying. My best friend completely vanished in the fourth or fifth grade. Her entire family just got up and left without any warning whatsoever. I finally received a phone call from her months later, saying how she missed me and was safe, but she wasn't allowed to give me any sort of details. Right then, someone came into her room, and she needed to hang up. To this day, I have absolutely no freaking clue what actually happened. Every now and then, I try to find my old friend on social media, but I haven't had any sort of luck yet! I was a little kid when this first happened, so I have no idea what actually had happened. Witness protection has crossed my mind. It could also be worth mentioning that her family was from a foreign country overseas. It could simply be that someone back home had an emergency, and they had to go help take care of that person or something. I like to think that there was a totally harmless reason for it, and I just can't find this person because she isn't on any American social media. It's like this person no longer exists! I want her to be safe and happy, whatever the reason may be. I just really wish I knew what actually happened on that fateful day!"
"I worked as a night auditor at an old hotel. It was around two in the morning, and I get a phone call from the pool room, which is supposed to be closed. I pick up the phone to answer, and all I hear is very heavy breathing. I hang up the phone and check the cameras, but all the lights are on in the pool room. So I go down the hallway to kick whoever it is out. But as I get close to the glass door, the hallway gets cold enough for me to see my breath. The door is completely fogged over and all the lights were out. I open the door, and the light above me comes on because they are motion sensor lights. I am looking around, but I don't see anything. Then the light comes on across the pool from me, but nothing is there. Then every light in a path begins to light up around one side of the pool, as if something is walking towards me. I ran out of there so fast and locked myself in my manager's office and stayed until sunrise. But the worst was yet to come.
I had played it off in my head as bugs causing the motion sensor lights to go off. I was telling my manager about my experience so he would get a good laugh. When I told him about the phone call from the pool, he didn't laugh at all. He asked me if I was 100% positive the caller ID said the pool room, and I confirmed this. Then he told me there hasn't been a phone in the pool room for thirty years. I told him that would be physically impossible. He told me to go look for myself. I looked and there was no phone in the pool room. How had I not noticed that last night?! To this day, no matter how many ways I try to rationalize it, I just can't. It is completely unexplainable. Whenever I tell this story to someone skeptical, they always try to help me come up with a logical explanation, but they can't/ It really is too strange to believe, and I find myself still thinking about it all the time. There is seriously no logical explanation I could ever think of!"
"Years ago now, my best friend and I were in a cafe just wasting time, and we saw a man watching us through a mirror hanging on a nearby wall. Something about this man was so bone-chilling, so creepy, that our guts immediately kicked in and we both looked at each other in horror. He continued to watch us, so we left the cafe and joked about it on our walk home. We were about sixteen and just brushed it off. About a week later, this man comes into my work, his face and whole presence is unforgettable. I texted my best friend and informed her that he was at my work, yet again, staring at me without ever looking away. He was pretending to browse the store’s inventory, but he obviously intended on not buying anything. He just stared and stared. I told a co-worker and walked away for a bit. Strange, but it was a small community, and you see the same people everywhere. Side note, both my best friend and I have lived in this community for most our lives, and we had never seen this man. Alright, fast forward to a few weeks later, and we are at a store late evening in a completely different part of town. We are browsing and the man is there, at this shop that we hardly visit. He walks in the downstairs entrance and looks directly up at us, as we were looking over the upstairs railing. We nervously giggle and shout profanities in disbelief at how crazy this whole thing was. We told our other friends we were with what was happening, and we immediately left. A little later, he returned to my place of work, spooking me just as much as he did the first time I saw him. My co-worker and manager tell me to go upstairs and pretend to do something to not be around him, but he immediately follows me upstairs. He hastily walks up to the desk I was behind, and before my manager can pull him away from me and ask him to leave the store, he looks right at me and says, 'Can I ask you something? Do I make you uncomfortable?'
I don’t know what it was, but something took over my body and I filled with dread. I immediately started crying. I have NEVER had anything like this happen to me. This man had never talked to me before, just look at my friend and I really intensely. My manager tells him he needs to go now and never come back. The thing is that everyone immediately picked up on the very strange, creepy, and uncomfortable 'energy' he put out. My co-worker had no idea what he looked like, but he immediately pointed him out when he entered our work and asked if that was him. Everyone agreed something was very, very off. Our HR woman asked that I be walked to my car when I was getting off work late from that point on. I wish I could convey with better and more descriptive words what kind of feeling this man put off. My best friend and I still discuss it, even though it was nine years ago. He was banned, and all the managers were notified of who he was. But one day, when we were packed with people, this man finally returned. My coworker informed me that he was here, and my manager ran to tell this man to leave. Unfortunately, the owner had something else in mind. He got to the man first, shook his hand, and he proceeded to walk this man up to me to talk. I was about seventeen, and this was a grown man. I started to cry and had to leave work immediately."
"The Drums. For context, I'm part Native American but hardly look it. My great grandfather was full blooded, but we don't really have much connection to that ancestry, since he was put into foster care in his youth, and records from that time regarding Native Americans are not great. 6 or 7 years ago I was very sick. My housemate at the time checked up on me a few times and forced some orange juice down my throat, but for the most part I lay in bed sweating and hallucinating. I was out for 10 full days and lost 15 lbs during that experience. I definitely should have gone to the hospital, but I luckily ended up pulling through on my own. When I saw my mom a few weeks later, I was talking about the different hallucinations I had, like how my pillows and blankets were in a war with each other over my body, swimming through syrup and such, until I got to the drums. There were a few times at my worst that I had heard deep drums playing, what sounded like five to ten at a time, and my mom turned white as a sheet when I mentioned it. She said that she had never told me about the drums, but she had heard them too, as had her mother, only when they were deathly ill. In looking up the phenomenon, it seems like there's some connection between the sound of drums and heartbeats and healing in the tribe we are related to (Ojibwe), but we can't really explain it. Coincidence? Ancestral memories? I'm not religious or spiritual, but part of me believes that I was on the verge of death, and either the drums were the indication of how close I got or something pulling me back from the brink. Either way, I'm not eager to hear them again anytime soon."
"I got home really late from a trip, about two in the morning. I had to park on a dimly lit side street to get to my place. As a single female in her late twenties, I call someone when I have to walk alone in the dark like that. I call my dad, who is in a different time zone and three hours behind. He knows the drill, and we’re just chatting. As I’m walking up the hill to my condo building, there’s a cluster of small trees and shrubs across the street, where a fence ends and a bank parking lot begins. Two shady looking guys come out, one smoking. At first, I thought they were out for a smoke. They then started walking toward me. Not toward another building or car, but me. They then separate and one is on either side of me, which felt like I was being surrounded. As this happens, I tell my dad, which they can both hear from where they are. I say, 'I have two guys coming toward me, I think you need to call the police.'
As soon as that happened they made a ninety-degree turn and headed down the street. I still think about it often. I sometimes feel like I’m blowing things out of proportion. I considered that there were two nearby residential buildings that would’ve heard screams, and that the threat of someone calling the police on the other end of the phone wasn’t much of a threat, because who knows how long it would take the cops to get there. Then I go back to my gut feeling, the way they came out of the cluster of trees, made a bee-line to me, then surrounded me in a creepy way that I can’t explain. I still don’t know whether it was all in my head or not, but that was a terrifying experience. Since that time, I’ve parked in the bank lot that’s well lit. I have to get up and move my car when they open at 8, but that scared some sense into me. It scared my poor dad as well!"
"Years ago, I was renting an apartment in a place a bit off the beaten track, but still reasonably close to a city. One day, my landlord came by and introduced me to a new guy who was moving into a nearby apartment. We talked for a bit before the guy headed off to his new apartment to unpack. The landlord had also stayed and chatted, and once the guy left, he told me that I shouldn’t tell anyone that the guy was living there. The guy originally came from a country with a very repressive regime, and the landlord explained that this regime might be trying to locate him. He was living under an assumed identity that had been set up by the government of my country to protect him from his home country’s regime. The landlord had talked to the police about it, so he knew everything was actually legit. He asked me to keep an eye out for any strangers in the area. This was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone, so any outsider would be noticed quickly. If the guy needed to hide, he had come to the right place. Later on, I got to know the guy quite well. He was a really chill dude, and I could for the life of me not understand why anyone would consider him a threat. Once I got to know him, I asked about his situation. He was surprisingly open about it and explained it as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be hiding under an assumed identity. He had been an outspoken political dissident in his home country, which was enough to get you into trouble, but there were other factors as well that made his case a bit worse than normal. There was no confirmed threat against him, but the authorities in my country would rather play it safe, at least for a few years.
Fortunately, nobody ever came looking for him. Both of us moved away from that place after a few years. I haven’t seen him in a long time, but I hear he’s doing really well. Before, I had no idea that anything like this existed. It was similar to the witness protection programs I had seen in movies, but used for a much different reason. Some repressive regimes apparently have a reputation for harassing and sometimes even assassinating dissidents who have fled abroad. This type of program is there to help people from such countries. It could explain a lot of strange events people have encountered!"
"It was1988, and we were renting a refurbished house that was part log cabin from the 1700s. I was on the John in the bathroom, when I heard three very loud knocks on the wall beneath the bathroom window. I looked out the window - nada. Thirty seconds later it happened again, and again nothing was outside. Later on, my wife and I decided to plant some stuff beneath the bathroom window outside, and four inches down we hit a concrete slab. Turns out the bathroom used to be entranceway to the log house. It was super spooky! We lived in that house for three years and never heard these knocks before or after. We actually built a log house that we moved into and have now lived in for thirty years, so we are well aware of the pops and other sounds logs can make as they expand and contract seasonally. Now the knocks I heard that day weren’t even close. They sounded exactly like someone knocking on a door. Funny thing is that I am not a believer in ghosts or the supernatural, nor am I religious, so to me this was just a weird, unexplainable thing that happened two feet away from me while sitting on the toilet. Our log house is in the Blue Ridge mountains of VA and we get monster tulip tree moths as big as your hand. The sound they make when hitting glass is a tiny thump, as opposed to the loud triple knock I heard twice. We also get stupid male cardinals that attack their own reflection while puking up berry juice on the window glass, but those aren’t triple knocks either.
Also, this reminded me about my fluorescent light spookiness. The log house we built is a huge 5500 square feet that I designed around a 1933 Moller pipe organ which we pulled out of a church in Batavia, Illinois. It featured about 500 pipes and a bunch of wind chests, and a huge 16-ft wide walnut cabinet for the pipes. I had my shop in the basement, where I did part of the organ restoration, which took me two years to complete. I finally had all the wind chests, wiring, and cabinet ready to go, and I was staging all the wood and metal pipes to go into the organ. I would grab a pipe from the garage where they were stored, put it on my workbench for cleaning, then go upstairs to place into the organ. I have three double-bulb florescent fixtures above my workbench, and I noticed that each time I brought another pipe in, one of the three fixtures would be dark. It was a different fixture each time, and I never saw one go from light to dark or dark to light. It would just change while I was getting the next pipe. This never ever happened again in the 30 years we have been in the house. The organ was dedicated to Christine Benson, a spinster member of the church, who paid for the organ in 1933. My wife has always been convinced that Christine was signaling her approval of my restoration efforts. In any case, the organ is the central feature of the house, plays great, and is well loved. My wife believes that Christine knocked on the bathroom wall, telling me to get my lazy butt busy with moving and restoration, and the spooky fluorescents were her thanking me for getting it done. Not likely, but it makes a decent story."
"This took place back in 1973, but I still remember it so clearly and vividly as if it happened yesterday. I went into work one day and saluted Warrant Officer Fardy because he was in uniform. That was weird, since he always had worn civilian clothes. He waved me on and said he would be there to join me in a minute. I got to my office and expected to be the first one there, since I was the lowest ranking guy there and had to show up first and make the coffee. I was surprised that the chief, a captain, and his senior sergeant were already in the office. The captain asked me to sit down at my desk. I thought I was in trouble. He said he had some bad news. Warrant Officer Fardy was killed in a head-on collision at 3 a.m. that morning. I protested that I had just seen him outside in the parking lot. The captain said he and the sergeant had identified the body just an hour earlier. I was stunned. They were serious. There was no need to go out and check. A couple hours later, I asked for permission for some time off and went home to cry. Of course, neither he nor his car were in the parking lot. It was at Ft. Meade, Maryland, in the Army Warrant Officers are to be saluted by lesser ranking soldiers. He wasn't on guard duty. He was standing next to his car with his hat in his hand, as if he had just gotten out of the car. A captain, a commissioned officer does have staff of lesser rank. 'Chief' is just a term for the guy in charge. It isn't a rank."
"So one day I was upstairs in the bathroom, sitting on my porcelain throne, just minding my own business while I did my business. A few feet across from me was a metal towel rack, which stood almost as tall as me. I live in a pretty isolated little rural town, and for a long time our power grid was a bit iffy. Every time it rained or the wind blew, some connections cut out, power flickered, and ancient transformers exploded. It's mercifully better now, probably because over the last five years all the old transformers did in fact explode and got replaced. But during those semi frequent power outages, I kept a flashlight with a magnet on it hanging from the stand, just in case. Well, this afternoon, that flashlight got a bug up its butt and leaped off of the stand, falling at my feet. Now, please try to envision this: I'm sitting there in one of the more vulnerable positions a person can find themselves in, I'm alone in the house, and this flashlight jumped, not fell, from the stand. It arched in the air between the stand and my feet. Things that simply fall don't arch in the air. Nothing else happened. No disembodied voices growling sinister things at me. No hazy apparitions wandering about. No other closet door swinging or pot banging such as you would expect from rural cow town ghosts. It was just silence. It was the creepiest moment of my life as I sat there waiting for, well, something else to happen. I finished up, picked up the flash light to put it back where it belonged, and I went back downstairs. I'm only a little embarrassed to admit I was afraid I had heard something walking down behind me after that. But no, all was quiet. That was years ago. I have no idea how that could have happened. It hasn't happened again. I hope it doesn't because no one needs any of that business on the throne! Should you believe this story? I wouldn't, to be honest. But I've no way to prove what happened to anyone, nor that I'm not a liar by habit. All I can do is present it how it happened and wonder."