If you've had an "experience," by all means share it here.

As for me...well, I'll start with this:

When a person is stabbed in the chest, the blade usually passes cleanly through the ribcage, guided into the gap by the shape of the ribs.

But not always.

You may get chills from the sound of a rake scraping against concrete, or, perhaps, fingernails on a chalkboard...but there is nothing - nothing - more hideous and bloodcurdling as a knife screeching along bone. It’s LOUD, and it resonates so much a bystander will feel it throughout their body, from the tiny vibrations that buzz the sinus cavity to the painful chill that races down the spinal column.

Due to the nature of my previous job (the Homicide Unit of the Public Defender), I bore witness to an unhealthy dose of murders and fatal accidents. Such a job affords the great luxury of hearing every hair-splitting detail about such deaths, and in the course of investigations, there are always some fairly intense visuals to go with.

One day, my boss mentioned that we had fieldwork to conduct regarding a case that I knew involved a rib cage stab wound. I really didn’t want to go, but had no choice: we needed to get a feel for our diagrams and collect any evidence the DA had left behind before going to trial.

We arrived at the scene at approximately 1800 hours, and it was already getting dark in Santa Ana. For those of your that don’t know, Santa Ana is a Southern California scrum hole infested with gangs and broken down tenements. Granted, the city has its nice, safe areas (the massive county civic center where we worked is situated in a neat historic district) but some areas are just plain bad.

My boss is licensed to carry, which was a bit of consolation to the fact that we were walking into a building stolen straight out of my darkest nightmares. I’ll never forget that scene when we pulled up...how the overcast sky cast a drab gloom over rusted metal sheeting…how periodic gusts of wind rustled through the uncut grass. Picturesque, in a surreal and demented way...

Everything started off fine: we peeled back the police tape, turned on our flashlights, and began snooping around the first floor. The room of the actual crime was well-documented, and any evidence of foul play had been suppressed by the barrages of police officers that had trampled through over the past six months. Other than that, the majority of the warehouse consisted of dank and empty space. I recall sitting at a desk, my back to a glass pane that faced the empty hangar. I was looking through a Mead wirebound notebook, and that’s exactly when I first heard that noise.

That noise…

Actually, it was more like a screech, and it was coming from the upstairs loft. My boss and I looked at each other, and he pulled out his 40-06 and flicked off the safety. We made our way to the half-ladder, half-staircase positioned right outside the office and shined our flashlights into the black gap. For a moment, there was silence. Then it happened again.

“Show yourself!” yelled my boss. There was no reply…just that drawn out, sickening shriek, and every time it happened it dug further down my spine. The goosebumps on my arms were almost as tall as the hairs standing up on the back of my neck, and it didn’t get any better when my boss started to climb up the stairs. Inch by inch, he crept up, and between the rib-rubbing howl and the squeak of the old, wooden staircase, I was dumbstruck with fear. I tried not to shake as I kept my light on the second story entrance. My boss slowly peered over.

“It’s coming from a room,” he said. “I think it’s just the wind.” The squeaking became more frequent. I climbed up the ladder/stairs and stood behind him as he entered the last room of an especially dilapidated attic space. We could now hear the shrieking corresponding with gusts of wind that pelted the side of the metal siding. As we entered the room, we saw a tree branch rubbing up against a window pane. It shrieked again, but it just wasn’t scary anymore.

The sudden flush of blood and anxiety that drains out of the brain and back into the extremities is indeed a welcomed feeling, and I breathed a large sigh of relief when I saw what our “ghost” really was. My boss walked out of the room, shaking his head at our chicken shit performance and muttering some blasphemous explicative – his way of dealing with the fright. I just chuckled, and made my way to the window. It took a lot of effort to crack the paint and turn the handle, but the pane finally budged and creaked open. I reached around and broke off the branch. Then I closed the window, and turned for the door.

But then, there was another shriek. Except…except this one was real…

It came out of nowhere, from all around, and I felt it resonate through every bone in my skeleton. But worst of all, I felt it…

…like someone pinned me down, pried my mouth open, and slowly scraped my teeth across a concrete curb…

…and in my chest, I could feel the bone being shaved, and the uneven tug of something being caught and dragged against it. Swift, indescribable pain - I couldn't even scream. And right then, my boss yelled out my name, snapping me out of the trauma.

He ran into the room and found me, as he describes it, “pale as a ghost.” Jawdropped, afraid to breathe, I said nothing. He whispered, “dude...I just fucking saw something.” He was facing the door jam, holding his gun up alongside his flashlight, as if ready to shoot. He had a tremble in his voice I had never before heard.

“Did you hear that?” I asked, referencing my…experience. But he didn’t reply. He just said, “Let’s get the fuck out,” and so we went.

On the way down the stairs, I could have sworn I felt a drop of liquid hit the base of my neck…right down my collar, between the shoulder blades. This scared the living shit out of me at a point when I thought I had no more shit left to scare out. In fact, it spun me around and I almost fell down the stairs. The two of us hit the warehouse floor and bolted. We scrambled across the street to our car, ducked behind it, and peered back.

The warehouse just sat there. I expected some ghastly face to be staring at us from the highest window, like something out of a Hollywood movie. But we saw and heard nothing. At least, nothing besides rusted sheet metal siding and rustling grass…those long green blades standing out underneath the dim gray sky. My boss explained that, for a split second, he though he saw someone squatting in a dark corner of the attic hallway, but it was gone as soon as he did a double take. When I finally took my eyes of the warehouse and looked at him, I saw that he was reaching down his back and checking his palm. I did the same. “Did something drip on you?” I asked. He nodded.

We both found nothing. Not even a trace of water. It’s odd, because despite the gloomy weather and the dubious integrity of the warehouse’s roof, it had not rained in weeks. In fact, it did not even rain that entire night.

Trust me, I would know…

I didn’t sleep.

silver

Some say it could have been a panic attack...

Some say it probably was a freak combination of sudden indigestion and another branch I didn't see...

I don't know. But it happened.

Regardless, it wouldn't be the first time. I will explain more soon.

but man i never knew u did that kinda stuff??

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I felt like putting a bullet between the eyes of every Panda that wouldn't screw to save its species. I wanted to open the dump valves on oil tankers and smother all the French beaches I'd never see. I wanted to breathe smoke.

my parents' house is a nearly hundred year old duplex in a coal town the same age. when my father's father owned the whole thing, he lived in half, and rented the other half to a married couple. the husband died, and the wife eventually moved out. the house was sold to my parents, and i grew up there. i was kept out of the unrenovated "other half", but it didn't stop me from having dreams about that house.

starting when i was around three, i had dreams about going into the other half, about people living there, talking quietly, completely unable to see me, and about going down the basement stairs. it was chalked up to nightmares, except for the fact that i could describe things i'd never seen in detail. nobody figured it was much.

for a long time, i'd hear the sounds of a party going on in the house, in the middle of the night. sneak downstairs, all the lights were off, and nobody was awake. i had extremely vivid dreams about the house, where it felt like i was awake. i still remember most of them, down to the clothes i was wearing in the dreams. the thing that stuck out the most was that in *all* of the dreams i ever had about that house, it was COLD in there. frigid. i'd wake up, and my room would be freezing cold.

i'd notice cold spots, times when i'd walk in the front door and walk through the livingroom to get to the rest of the house, and it'd be freezing cold in one spot right in front of the tv.

i only saw the "ghost" once. woke up in the middle of the night, not startled or anything, and looked around the room. there was a gray figure, middle aged, dressed in a suit standing by my desk. i stared at it for a while, and then i closed my eyes and sat there until morning. i described the guy (i said it was a dream so nobody would think i was crazy) and my aunt showed me a picture that looked just like him.

the guy had committed suicide in the house when my grandfather owned it. somewhere around thirty years before i was born. ok, so i was freaked out and thought i was nuts. then again, i wasn't the only one. the cat reacted to the same stuff i did. when a cold spot would be in the room, even if he was passed out asleep, he'd run away and hide. he'd hiss and bite at things that weren't there. he'd sleep in my room, and in the middle of the night jump up, pounce at *nothing* and tear off into the hall.

i dunno what the hell was in that house, i'm just glad i don't live there anymore.

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kuru
'dancing is the vertical expression of horizontal desire.'
-robert frost

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When 1337 hax0rs start impaling each other with swords and typing code with a hook on one hand, then they can modify the term "pirate."

First off let me remind you that I live in a small town, and have all my life so wilderness knowledge is basically ingrained into my skull.

Anyways, My friend(henchforth, Karl) and I, were out at his place. He lives on a farm/ranch. Its a small scale thing, but his family owns thousands of acres that they log and/or grow stuff and/or let their cattle roam. Now, where their house is, the surrounding area all dates back to pioneer settlements and whatnot. Theres old cabins and houses scattared all around the country.
Now, one day we were out wandering around in the forest near his place, looking for cool things and stuff, when we started to notice something moving around off to the side of us. All we have with us was a pellet gun, so we weren't too bold, but we went to investigate. We figured it was probably a grouse or something. We couldn't find anything, but did notice some tracks in the area that neither of us had ever seen before. While this wasn't cause enough for panic or anything, it was a little unsettleing since we never actully seen anything leave the area we'd been watching like hawks. It was also starting to darken up outside. This is where things turn creepy. About 5 minutes walk before we had gotten there, we had found this old piece of rusted steel. But carved into it was some wierd ass symbol, and the thing just felt omnious. Then a bush in the direction we had been heading started to shake. So we threw a handful of pebbles at it, to try to scare whatever it was out, nothing left. Then more and more bushes started shaking like that, adn there was this noise too, that I can't even describe. We just looked at each other, and bolted. I've never ran faster or been more scared in my life. We sprinted over a mile and a half all the way back to his house, vaulting a chest level fence in one quick leap on the way. We got to his house, locked every door and window, grabbed two guns and sat in the living room with the lights off just watching the fields in the direction we had ran from. (His parents weren't home). Didn't sleep that night. And in all the books we've looked it, we haven't been able to find a matching track to the ones we found.

We've both been stalked by coyotes and bears on various occasions, and this definatly wasn't anything like that. Brrr, now I'm all creeped out again. Thanks alot.

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When my flying days are over, and my death has come to pass
I hope they bury me upside down, so the whole damn world can kiss my ass

this one is true and DID happen to me

but nuthing really scares me cos
[aliens] "all i need to know is where they at"[/aliens]

EDIT: btw ouijji boards are just a form of self hypnotism. i dont believe in that mumbo jumbo but i aint some scully either
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homer as Krusty episode:

lil kid: STOP IT STOP IT he's already dead!

This message has been edited by Dark Knight Bob on May 03, 2001 at 10:22 AM

quote:

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btw ouijji boards are just a form of self hypnotism. i dont believe in that mumbo jumbo but i aint some scully either

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I completely agree DKB. I think they are nothing more than a interface for the subconscious. HOWEVER, that doesn’t preclude them from being supernatural. I personally believe the subconscious holds a great deal of mystery and power that has yet to be charted and understood. In other words, I don’t think spirits are really being channeled, but I do think that some strange fuckin shit can come out of it.

quote:

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Well, I (un?)fortenutly don't have any stories of that calibur (other than the time I cheated death by 5 feet)...

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With a setup like that, you’ve got to tell us more...

quote:

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i dunno what the hell was in that house, i'm just glad i don't live there anymore.

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That’s some creepy shit. So, who lives in the house now? Any confirmation from others?

Anyhow, nice post…

edit: crap

This message has been edited by whiskey@throttle on May 03, 2001 at 10:37 AM

And then finally the boogerman is gonna get some!!!

supernatural my ass try dodging hot lead asshole!

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Homer as Krusty episode:

lil kid: STOP IT STOP IT he's already dead!

Alright, This story is much easier told in person, but I'll give it a go.

Anyways, Me (I was 12 or so at the time) and my family were out camping at Uncha Lake (where we now have a cabin). It was in the evening, around 6 or 7 pm, in the middle of summer. We still had our motorhome and boat at this time(we've sold them both now). My Dad and I noticed the weather getting worse so we walked across the campground/resort (note: That just means the campground have people looking after it, nothing special) over to the dock and buttoned the cover up over the boat to keep the rain that we suspeced was coming, out. We were just on our way back when I stopped to look back, and seen this mass of black water sliding across the lake. So I pointed it out to my Dad, and he said "Hrm, looks like it windy over there"
ME:" Sure would suck to be out in a boat on that *pointing at a couple boats*"
Dad: "Yeah, well, if they're smart they'll just head for the oposite shore, the waves won't be big there"
ME: "Ah. Good thing we got the boat done up"

Then the wind hit. It was at the border between Gale and Hurricane force. There were waves created by this wind big enough to fill up a boat that had 2 feet of water clearence at its lowest point and sink it to the bottom. This was on a lake. No great big body of water, just a lake. It also picked up twigs and leaves from the shoreline, small rocks, dust and dirt and was throwing them around at us. It was about then that we decided to go back to the motorhome and out of the wind. So we started back, and we were about 1/3 of the way back when the wind gave a sudden, short, gust. I'd had to turn away from the wind to keep the majority of the dust from my eye. I just heard this sharp -CRACK-. This was just as we were walking "in the shadow" of this giant poplar tree, the kind with branches only at the top. I turned at glanced up and seen the top half of this 100' tree starting to tip over, it looked like it was heading right for me and my dad. We both just bolted forward and then -WHAM- this big crash RIGHT behind us, and a cloud of debris. I looked back and that damn tree was right there, 5 fucking feet behind me.

About 15 minutes later the storm had passed, and the campground was COVERED in leaves, branches, twigs and other debris.

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When my flying days are over, and my death has come to pass
I hope they bury me upside down, so the whole damn world can kiss my ass

For example, she told me "You lived several lives before this one. Your last one was around 1850, in Northern America. You were speaking French as a native language, and you were a writer but you had problems because for being a woman you were too far ahead of your time. You had 4 lovers, and the last and most loved of them was English-speaking, so you decided to learn English but never got to it 'cause you died before. He gave you a butterfly brooch. The butterfly is your "symbol", and you should have a lot of red around you."

Now, that woman had never seen me before in my entire life, and she told me just like that. And the scary thing is that I actually spent a year as exchange student in Québec, love speaking English more than my native language, want to become a journalist/writer, and like wearing red. When she told me that part of my grandmother's soul was in me, I started feeling really freakish. Anyway, I don't believe in soul wandering, rebirth, spirits, ghosts or anything of the kind. But I'd like to know how she got to make up all that.

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I can resist everything except Temptation. - Oscar Wilde

My mother once did an experiment with an Oija board when she was in high school -- two people left the room, and the class decided on a word that they'd have those two guess. (The people outside couldn't hear, of course.)
When the two people came back in, the oija board told them the word.

<<DUM DUM DUM...>> (more scary music and stuff)

--edit: I didn't THINK that was spelled right... --

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Necesse est multos timeat quem multi timent.

This message has been edited by Prometheus on May 06, 2001 at 08:55 PM

at any rate, i earned my pennies for band camp (geek) working there during the summer as a custodian. That place scared the crap out of me. Doors slammed shut on me, periodically my vaccuum would get unplugged, my mop bucket would move, I'd hear typing in empty offices (creepy). One evening there i saw an older man (i would guess 50's-60's) walk through this wall that was a plastered up door. He turned and looked at me. *shudder*. I quit the next day. Too creepy.

Another experience was the summer I stayed with my friend in virginia city. 6 nights in a row I sleptwalked to the same spot in her bedroom. I was having this dream there was this man standing there, and he was saying something but it was barely a whisper. So I would get up and walk toward him, but the closer I got the dimmer he got, until I woke up standing there. The seventh day I didn't have the dream, but the whole house filled with the smell of roses.

I'm going to sleep with the lights on tonight.

This message has been edited by Nene on May 07, 2001 at 10:00 PM