This happened in the fall of either 2013 or 2014, near Montreat and Black Mountain, North Carolina. I’ve gone back and forth for years about whether to share this story, partly because it’s impossible to convey the terrifying nature of tbe event, and partly because of what the experience came to mean to me afterward.

I want to preface this by saying that I grew up in a house where “paranormal” (aka strange, beyond explanation)  things happened often. I was never particularly afraid of that kind of thing. Over time, I developed a sort of fear-facing mentality. I believed that if I acknowledged whatever was there and refused to be afraid, I would be okay, because that had worked *every* time in my experience.

That mindset is likely what kept me at the watering hole that day, looong after most reasonable people would leave.

I was visiting said swimming hole along a creek, a place I'd spent a lot of time at when I attended Montreat College for a semester in 2012. I'd heard all kinds of “fun”  stories about occult practices in the surrounding woods, but no proof of such activities had materialized during my time there.

On this particular visit, I was alone. I'd recently become a Christian and had about a year of sobriety behind me. I wanted to revisit the place where I'd spent so much time as an 18-year-old and reflect on how much my life had changed.

I stopped at a little convenience store near the fork in the road (where black mountain ends and Montreat begins, IYKYK) and bought an old-fashioned Coca-Cola in a glass bottle, because vibes.

I parked in the usual gravel pull-off, crossed the road, and climbed down the short but steep slope to the water. Once I reached the basin, I looked around and was pleased to find that it was just as peaceful and beautiful as I remembered. I climbed up onto a huge, flat-topped boulder, put an earbud in, and popped open my Coke.

The peace ended up being temporary, as almost immediately, I felt like I was being watched. It’s an area with little to no traffic on the road above, and something about being down there is extremely isolating.

I looked around and saw nothing. No creepers behind trees, no neighboring farmers peeking down to see what kind of trouble I was up to- it was just me..

I brushed off the feeling of being monitored and tried to enjoy the scenery. The creek rushed over the rocks, pooled in the basin, and spilled over again into the stream below. There was a brisk breeze, and I could hear the water and rustling leaves in one ear while my music played in the other.

That is, until my phone died suddenly. 

This was jarring but wasn't completely inexplicable. My iPhone was old and notorious for losing its charge. Still, the sudden silence made me even more uneasy. I pulled out the earbud and wrapped the cord around my phone. (Yep, it was wired headphones.)

Part of me already wanted to leave after maybe ten minutes of sitting there, but there was one other spot I wanted to visit first.

To the left of the swimming hole was a path through tall reeds and brush. I'd walked through there countless times as a freshman, usually with friends who took me there to smoke weed between classes. It had always felt more like a magical Narnia setting than somewhere sinister.

On the other side of the reeds was an unusual formation in the landscape: three enormous levels of rock and ground, almost like a series of stages. The lowest was a sandy, pebbly bank beside the creek. Above it was a huge, flat slab of stone, and above that was the ordinary ground, covered in dirt and reeds.

The first thing I noticed was a stone sculpture on the lowest level.

It was unlike any stone stack I'd ever seen before. Five perfectly smooth, oval-shaped stones, each about a foot long, were balanced vertically, one on top of another. A sixth stone rested horizontally across the top. If you think that sounds impossible, you’re picturing it correctly.

The thing also looked impossibly stable. I couldn't understand how the stones could balance that way without being cemented or somehow fastened together.

There was a small fire pit beside it, surrounded by stones. It had a tiny stream of  smoke dancing away from it, which should have been a pretty obvious indication that someone had been there recently.

But I didn't think much of it. It was the era of taking artsy pictures of oil spills and sunflower fields for Instagram, and I decided the sculpture was a necessary addition to my portfolio.

I brought my Coke bottle over and tried to set it on the horizontal stone on top.

The *moment* the bottle touched the top stone, all the stones below buckled, turned inward, and collapsed.

The sharp crack of the stones hitting each other and the ground rang out like a firecracker and echoed through the entire valley. 

I looked down at the fallen stones, startled, and then noticed something strange about the fire pit beside me.

It was swarming with yellow jackets or honeybees. I'm still not entirely sure which. I honestly didn't learn to distinguish between the two until I had kids.

The insects were covering something, mulling around. Occasionally there would be a small space between bugs in which I could see what was underneath them: a wet, bright-red surface.

I leaned closer.

It looked like the intestines of a small animal, covered in fresh blood.

I can't swear that intestines areI was looking at, because I'd never seen anything like that in person before. But that was what it appeared to be.

At this point, I had experienced enough weirdness that a reasonable person probably would have left.

Being reasonable has never been my strong suit, so I  decided to sit for a few minutes and take in the view before going home.

I went back up to the highest level and sat on the ground with my back to the reeds, as I'd done so many times before.

I watched the sun hitting the creek as it  ran around pebbles and stones. But I kept glancing over my shoulder. The feeling of being watched had become almost impossible to ignore, and this time it felt like someone was watching from behind me. I would glance over my shoulder, see nothing, and face ahead.

Until I spun around almost fully on instinct and made eye contact with it.

A massive black dog had emerged from the reeds.

Its head was only a couple of feet away from me, and its front legs were visible through the brush. I was sitting on the ground, and the dog was standing at least a foot taller than me, its head lowered to my eye level.

Its eyes were yellow-green.

It was snarling at me. Its eyes held human emotion and they were furious. Its belly was wet, as though it had just come out of the water, and it had no collar.

At this point, I was pretty certain I was about to die.

I was alone, deep enough into the area that getting help would have been impossible, and my phone was dead. If that dog attacked me and seriously injured me, there was nobody around to help, it would be bye bye for me.

So I did what I would have done with any other dog and tried to play it cool without thinking too hard about the impending, painful death I was about to experience.

I slowly lifted a flat hand toward it and let it sniff me.

My hand was close enough for it to bite off if it wanted to, but at that point, what difference did it make? I figured it was going to eat me either way, so why not try to make friends with it first?

The dog leaned its head down and sniffed my hand.

Then it stopped snarling and its ears relaxed a bit. 

Its eyes relented and ears soften a bit. It looked at me now like it didn’t want to, but was going to let me go. It kept its head low and maintained an expression that I can only describe as threatening.

Then it started literally backing away.

I've never seen a dog back up like that. It was slow. It didn't turn around. It kept its eyes on me and slowly retreated backwards into the thick reeds until it disappeared from view  just a couple of feet in

Anddddd then I decided to run.

My brain was coming up with a rational explanation. Clearly there was a crazy person (cult member, meth head, mountain man…)  must have built the stone sculpture and owned the dog. Maybe I'd knocked over something important to him, and he'd decided to sic his dog on me. Maybe he was nearby with a backpack full of who knows what and a walking stick he intended to beat me with.

I ran toward the reeds that led back to the swimming hole, moving as quickly but as quietly as I could. I kept looking over my shoulder, expecting to see the angry black dog bounding toward me or its owner reaching out to grab my shoulder..

Eventually, I reached the clearing where I'd need to cross several large boulders and climb the short, steep slope back to the road.

I was almost out, but this is where it gets really weird.

Right as I was going to step onto the boulder, I noticed something standing straight up in the foothold.

It was a small (about two inch long), flat, smooth stone balancing vertically on the boulder. I stopped dead.

I don't know how long I stood there staring at it. I remember looking behind me, waiting for the dog or a man to appear, as though someone was about to step out of the reeds and watch me realize how helpless I was.

My body itself knew that I could not, under any circumstances, knock that stone over.

I know how that sounds. But it wasn't a thought I reasoned through. It was an immediate, overwhelming certainty.

This felt like a test I had to pass, or a second chance that would not lead to a third..

So I tried to climb onto a sloping, slippery section of the boulder instead. As I scrambled toward the next boulder, trying not to fall, I saw the same type stone standing upright on it.

Now, this was the exact route I'd taken to get down there.

I knew those stones hadn't been there before. If they had been, I would have knocked them over.

If you've ever climbed around boulders, you know that natural footholds can be limited. You tend to use the same ones every time because they're the only places where your feet fit securely.

These stones were standing directly in those footholds on both boulders.

I froze again.

I had a sinking feeling that I already knew what I was about to see, but I had to look.

I lifted ny gaze to the next boulder.

Two more stones standing straight up.

And the next one had them, too.

I looked toward the enormous boulder where I'd originally sat beside the basin. There were four or more stones standing upright on it.

Then I looked up the slope that I needed to climb to reach the road.

At every spot where I would normally place a foot or grab a tree root for support, there was a stone.

I turned toward the mountainside to my right , where the rock had been cut away to create the valley. It was covered in jagged edges and little cliffs jutting out from the slope.

There were stones standing upright on every jut, every crevice, every edge.

As far up the mountain as I could see, the stones continued.

That was the moment that I stopped imagining a random man with a walking stick.

I no longer felt as though I was dealing with a person and his dog, or any person who was trying to scare me.

Instead, the image of the dog's face began to morph into something much darker in my mind.

I stood frozen and stared over my shoulder, expecting to see the face of a demon emerging from the reeds. I could picture it so clearly in my mind's eye that it almost felt as though I was seeing it, even though there was nothing there.

I don't know how long I stood there.

I was frozen in terror. I felt that if I moved, something bad would happen. But if I stayed still, at least I'd be able to hear something approaching.

Eventually, time passed and nothing happened.

So I went for it.

I hopped from boulder to boulder, narrowly avoiding the stones, and ran to the slope I needed to climb. I stopped once more to listen for anything other than myself, then began scrambling up.

I'd never needed to use my hands to climb that section before. Normally, I could use the natural footholds and tree roots. But I couldn't use them now without disturbing the stones, so I had to climb the slippery, awkward sections instead.

Somehow, I made it to the top without knocking a single stone over..

Still feeling like I was being toyed with and could be snuffed out at any moment, I sprinted to my green Volkswagen, threw myself inside, slammed the door, and locked it.

I finally let out a slight sigh of relief, but I still didn't feel safe.

I peeled out of there as quickly as I could.

As I was driving down the small road with no traffic, a small white, beat up car suddenly appeared and began riding my tail.

I couldn't see inside it. After everything that had happened, I couldn't take one more thing. I was physically shaking from the adrenaline that was surging through my body, and I was genuinely convinced that someone was following me.

I sped through the stop sign and turned left toward town.

The white car turned right.

And that was it.

I spent the three-hour drive home crying and repeatedly recording the story into the voice memo app on my phone. I was afraid that if I didn't document everything immediately, I'd forget what happened, nobody would believe me, or both.

For years, I couldn't shake the experience.

I went on to live through roughly a decade of darkness: addiction, abuse, self-harm, and suicide attempts. I eventually married an abusive man, and when he was at his angriest and I was feeling the most helpless, his pupils would grow and hollow out like saucers. In those moments, I would see the dog's face. 

I couldn't help wondering whether whatever I'd encountered in those woods had followed me.

Eventually, I got out of that marriage. I fled a thousand miles away with my children, got sober, and rebuilt my life. I've now been sober for five years. I'm remarried, and we have a new baby.

My life isn't perfect, but I no longer live under that constant cloud of darkness.

Eleven years after the original experience, I finally returned to the area with my current husband on our honeymoon. For years, I'd been convinced that if I went back, I'd fail the test I'd been given that day and die. I don’t know why that day was different, but I genuinely wanted to go. 

 I wanted to see whether anything remained, and I wanted my husband to see the place for himself.

The landscape had been drastically altered by flooding associated with Hurricane Helene in 2024. The ground was dried up and broken apart, and the place I'd remembered was almost unrecognizable.

But one thing hadn't changed.

The feeling of unrest. The feeling of being watched. Visualizing creepy people behind trees who were aware of us without us being aware of them.

My husband and I kept finding ourselves standing quietly, listening, and expecting to hear something. We were both convinced that someone was nearby, staring at us.

I don't know what happened to me that day. I don't know who built the stones, what was underneath the insects, where the dog came from, or why those stones seemed to appear everywhere along my escape route.

I know fear can affect perception. I know memories change over time, and I know there may be ordinary explanations for individual pieces of this experience.

But I have never been able to make sense of the whole thing.

I'm not posting this because I'm certain I encountered something paranormal. I'm posting it because it was one of the strangest and most frightening experiences of my life, and more than a decade later, I still can't explain it.

Have any of you ever experienced something that seemed to escalate in stages like this? Something that started with a strange feeling, then became a series of increasingly bizarre events, until you felt like you were being tested or deliberately frightened by something you couldn't understand?

I'd especially love to hear from anyone who has encountered a black dog that seemed unusually threatening or had an experience involving strange stone formations in the woods.

I'm open to rational explanations, too. I just want to hear what other people make of it

Da Bug?

Inside, something clicked; I knew then that I was finally more monster than human, but I also knew that this was not always the way.  Let me spin you a tale, one that is very true but could be pushed off as a terrible nightmare to anyone who wasn't actively living in the nightmare. 

But this story is true, or at least as true as I can recall and it all started, I think, when I was eight years old.  I think it started with the eel. Yes, yes, I know an eel isn't a monster but they ARE slimy and gross and for an eight year old? It's a snake. It's scary. You don't know anything other than “ohmigod, I caught a snake” when you're out fishing with your mother. Which I know is still supposed to be normal but after I continue my story, you will understand why I think it started there.  The man with my mother? I could have met him before but something about the interaction in my memory makes me feel like it was a first meeting and my mother wanted it to go well. It did not.

She leaves us alone on the pier to retrieve something from the car. Beer? Cigarettes? I can't remember. It was the 90s. Either or both. Maybe neither. Maybe it was a soda for me. I don't know. But she leaves us alone on the pier and for an eight year old? The unthinkable happens. “I CAUGHT A FISH!!” I’m very excited until I realize that this is in fact NOT a fish, and he, it, the thing on the line was trying to crawl its way up the line. To me.  I didn't know electric eels were a thing that existed, I didn't even know eels in general existed.  The thing on the line proved to be even grosser than a snake, he was slimy and had this muscular build that I was pretty sure snakes couldn't replicate, and man, was it deceptive.  It wasn’t a big thing, but he started thrashing on the line making it really hard for me, let alone any eight year old, to hold on to the line.   So I start screaming bloody murder “SNAKE!! SNAKE!!” As I drop the fishing pole in the water. Her friend, the man, practically dove in to save his fishing rod and here comes my mom ‘do de do de do’ing’ her butt back over to us as fast as he can but I say ‘do de do de do’ because it felt like slow motion for me.  I was crying. I was scared.  And that was just the beginning.

Was the eel part of it?  Maybe.  Maybe not.

Many years pass by with nothing but the ordinary.  Until the day I met him.  We were young, too young.  But I knew just from the first look that this boy was going to mess my life up.  At fourteen, that's what you imagine, isn't it?  You fall in love with a look and plan out your entire life.  Dating, homecoming, prom, college, getting married, having children.  You plan it all out just from a look.  From one single look when you were still a girl.

You spend many years together, something always gnawing in the back of your mind.  Something in your brain always seems to … itch.  It's deep in there so you can’t physically scratch it.  That’s when the moths started to show up.  Everywhere you would go there would be a moth.  Giant ones, little ones, beautiful ones, ones you couldn’t bear to look at.  Tiny ones you couldn’t even see.  The first time you saw one, you were delighted.  As time went on, you started feeling a little agitated.  Why are they following you? What do they want?

That night you awoke to a bzzt’ing that sounded like it was inside of your brain.  It might as well have been.  The sound was loud, so loud, and all you could do was panic.  Your husband shakes the sleep off of him as he hears your screams.  “Hey! Hey! What's wrong?” and you can’t articulate anything.  You're panicking so much.  He realizes that SOMETHING is wrong with your ear because of your posture or something else that only he can perceive as the person who has been by your side for so long.  “Babe, what's wrong with your ear?” and he helps you destroy the moth inside.  You try to flush the ear with water, the sound just getting louder in your ear.  You try baby oil, guessing that it worked because eventually there is no sound any more and you’ve washed all the oil from your ear.  The day has been saved.  But this happens again.  Almost exactly the same way, multiple times over the years.  It always starts with a moth or a gnat getting in your ear and then you panicking and he has to save the day.  It isn’t a fun dance, but at least you have a system now.

Many moons later, life gets really bad for you and you can't keep up with anything anymore.  You’re working more than ever but making less money than ever and you’re living in the worst situation of your life.  You want to get out but you can’t.  You plead for help but are at a total loss when your pleas are ignored.  But, the bugs come.  They come, and they stay.  They overtake your life in a way that you wish you never had to go home.  You wish that you'd just die and that would be the end of it.  But you live in a filth that people shouldn’t live in, and it just gets worse and worse and worse until the day you realize you haven’t slept in months.  You haven’t slept in months because the bugs just kept coming.  There were roaches and ants and they overtook literally everything and you couldn’t sleep because what if they were on you?  How could they NOT be on you? How could you have ever let it get this bad?  You’re a horrible, disgusting, vile creature and you deserved the filth and the shame that went along with it.

You work yourself to the bone in a job that you hate, and that perpetual itch in the back of your head just… gets… worse.  It's almost not even an itch anymore but more of a … oh, the buzzing is back.  It's more of a bzzt now, but constant and at the base of your skull, just under your medulla.  But it still itches.  All the time.

You find an apartment, you find a way out.  You find a way out!  You find a way to get some sleep, a little solace, a little quiet.  Maybe the itch will go away.  Maybe the bugs won’t come this time.  Maybe just maybe you’ll finally be free.

Eventually you move on from the job that you hate, from the environment that you can't stand, the one that just bleeds you for everything that you are.  The one that you sold your soul to and they just kept coming back for any tiny bit they might have missed.   You spent four years in that hell, praying to a god that you don't believe in that things would change and that it would get better but it never did and in the back of your mind, all you could do was surrender to the itch.  But you couldn’t surrender to the itch.  

Your new job was just as frustrating, if not, worse.  You made a unilateral change(supervision to supervision instead of an upwards motion) and everyone questioned it.  Couldn’t accept it.  But they didn’t have the itch!!! You do.  You did.  You still do.  It's there, just under the medulla.  Can't you feel it?  I can.  You can.  We all can.  I’m rambling.  You’re rambling.  We are all rambling.

The itch overtook everything.  You couldn’t go to work without spending the majority of your day in your office, sniveling like a child, crying like a literal baby, the pain in your head just building and building until the day you saw him.  There was a roach in the restaurant.  Everywhere you went, there it was.  You didn’t brother trying to kill him, you felt like he meant no real harm.  At least, to you.  And he didn’t.  But he was there to stand sentinel, watching you go about your day, gaining as much knowledge on your movements as possible.  For what? He would answer none of your questions “Why are you following me?!” “What do you want?”  Well, he couldn’t answer.  He was a bug.  And by now, you were slowly descending into the chaos of the itch.

By this point, the itch was no longer loud or painful, even.  You had grown so accustomed to both the sound and the pain, that it barely registered anymore.  You were secretly putting in job applications, it had been six months, you were ready to run again.  You knew the pattern even if no one else did.  You could be happy at a new job for six months before one tiny inconvenience made you say the words “I want to blow my brains out” and then you realize, once again, you hate your job.  It never seemed to fail.  Even the jobs that you held for longer than six months(all of them actually), you just started looking for another job around the six month mark.  It was always six month increments.  And if you couldn't find a job, you'd just repeat the application process every six months until something bit.  You wanted to grow in your profession, but the only move was up, and in the company you worked for, that was never going to happen.  You needed more money.  Period.  And that's when you noticed the bzzting at the base of your skull getting a little loud again.  Not unbearable, but there. 

And then it happened.  You stumbled upon the job of a lifetime.  You make more money with less hours most of the time.  And the best part is that you don't have to be in charge anymore.  You can let someone else handle all the problems.  But you, i, me, we, who are we?  You’re lonely, a little lost and you have the itch.

One day, coming home from work, a gnat flew up your nose.  For the tenth time in your life, probably.  That’s not an exaggeration, probably not even close to hyperbole.  In fact, ten might be a generous number.  It was probably more.  The gnats treated your nose the way the moths treated your ears, as their domain.  And they weren't planning on stopping until you succumbed to the itch.

One morning, you went in to work with the intention to make yourself a little more presentable than usual.  It had been ages since you wore any makeup of any kind, you just hadn't been feeling it, the itch was just there and so you went and threw on your normal simple go-to, except you made a point to find the ONE lipstick that would stand out.  And when you open the lipstick, out crawls a moth from your makeup bag, straight up your arm and into your ear, faster than you can swat at it.  Another moth crawls out and darts up your arms.  You thrash, as many more moths crawl up your body and into every orifice.  You choke, you can feel them, oh god.  You can feel them, they can feel you.  We can feel you.  Oh god, they need you, oh god they need me.  What is happening?!  Eventually there are no more moths, and you lay in a heap on the floor.  Mangled, a little bloody, broken, and bruised.  You are jerked forward to stand at the mirror.  You watch in horror, as your body slowly heals, and you can feel every bone snapping back into place.  Your neck POPS, sounding like a gun going off in your ear, and you smile in the mirror, before shrieking in excruciating pain.  You feel SOMETHING on your back.  It hurts.  Oh god it hurts!! You curl into the fetal position before throwing your head back, screaming in pain, half wondering how no one can hear you, why no one has come to help.  But you notice something strange happening to your back, the skin starts to split open and beautiful, multi-colored moth wings sprout from the splits in my skin.  You pass out.

An eternity later, you wake up in your bed at home, wondering if it was all a dream until you try to turn on your side, your wings getting in the way.

J’habitais dans un appartement où la porte était blindée. Lorsqu’on la claquait, elle se verrouillait, mais il fallait ensuite la fermer à plusieurs tours si besoin.

Cette nuit-là, j’étais seule avec mon chat. En pleine nuit, j’entends un bruit qui ressemble à celui de ma porte. Sachant que j’avais oublié de la fermer à plusieurs tours car on m’avais dis que ça verrouiller et dans mon appartement après la porte d’entrée il y a un sasse et une autre porte en bois donc je me dis que c’est peut-être simplement le bois qui travaille, car ça arrive souvent.

D’un coup, j’entends des bruits de pas et des ombres dans mon couloir à savoir que ma chambre et mon salon sont collées donc j’entends tout et il y a un simple couloir pour accéder aux chambres et à la salle de bain. Je me retiens de parler ou de faire du bruit. Mon chat ne réagit pas, donc je me dis qu’il n’y a rien. Sauf qu’à un moment, j’entends des bruits de chaises, comme si quelqu’un en tirait une. À savoir que j’ai des chaises en bois sur du carrelage et que les patins en plastique font du bruit lorsqu’on les déplace. Et la mon chat se réveille en sursaut donc je n’étais pas folle à entendre ça et mon chat s’est rapproché de moi.

Je garde alors mon chat avec moi, au cas où il voudrait aller voir. Après une vingtaine de minutes, et après avoir entendu à nouveau des bruits, je décide d’aller vérifier. Et là, ma porte était mal refermée, mais il n’y avait plus personne dans l’appartement. Et les chaises pas à leurs places et ma porte en bois donc la deuxième était ouverte alors qu’elle ne l’est jamais.

Lors de mon déménagement, j’ai découvert que, lorsque la porte était simplement claquée, il suffisait de passer une simple carte pour l’ouvrir, sans même forcer. Depuis, je verrouille systématiquement ma porte et je vérifie qu’elle est bien fermée.

[WARNING: TLDR]

Hello, I wasn't sure what to do at first. After several weeks of note entries in my phone, I've finally decided to hop on reddit to ask for advice.

I, (21) currently live in a town-house condo area. As of recent I have noticed some strange activity, but am wondering if I'm possibly overthinking.

It's worth noting I have BPD (Borderline), and CPTSD on top of a plethora of other mental health conditions I won't delve too deeply into unless completely necessary. The reason I'm mentioning this, is because I had been dealing with strong depressive thoughts and paranoia with my relationships as a result of symptoms from an NSAID I had been started on that mixed poorly with my other primary medications.

During this time it wasn't infrequent of me to overthink, and constantly ask myself questions about others. However, I entered a recovery process by leaning off of the medication I was given since it was an anti-inflammatory for my now healed shoulder. On one of the days during my recovery process, (which included me having to force myself to eat again), I doordashed some Taco Bell.

Things went smoothly. The dasher arrived so I went outside to pick it up. Except something odd happened. As the dasher was pulling in, a sillohuette of a female at the end of the sidewalk leading up to my house could be seen. She dropped her phone, clearly startled as I came outside to get my food. Whether that was because of the noise was to be determined.

I wondered if it was because of the noise she dropped her phone, why was she so close to my house? Normally people walking in this neighborhood don't walk all up on people's garages and sidewalks. Anyway, as she dropped her phone she picked it up frantically and went running. From what I saw she was either on instagram, imessage, or snapchat. I just knew the background was the typical dark color you'd see in a message app. I know now they're customizable so I just let that part go. Im not familiar with iphone either as I'm an Android user, but it was 1000% an iphone.

Anyway...this girl had her hood up, oversized hoodie or jacket, it was dark...and short shorts. Her hair was long sticking out of the hood, and a little wavy. That's what I got out of that split second in the darkness though, with the dim yellow street lights giving some help. At the same time I was distracted by a fat raccoon looking for food right by me, but it definitely didnt take my mind off of what I saw.

The next few nights I waited. And there she was. I was in the kitchen, door was open. I turned my head and there she was near the corner stop sign at the end of the street. Due to my terrible vision, never wearing my glasses when Im supposed to, I saw no details other than her dark form run away around the corner.

The third time I saw her was on my sisters birthday. We were blowing out candles in the kitchen, door was open again. I saw her around the corner except my gut told me she was coming. This time I was frustrated and I chased her. The cake celebration took too long and she got away. But it didn't matter, my sister was more important in that moment.

Since then I hadn't bothered to look out for her. I just stopped caring to look. I can't tell if it's out of nerves or frustration. About a week ago a group of kids got arrested at my local gastation. We had our door open once again, I was in the kitchen, my step mom was smoking, and the commotion down the street could be heard.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw something move by the stop sign and the street lamp. I froze. I went outside to ask my step mom if she saw a girl running at all. She said no, said she only saw a kid skateboarding. Just as she said that a kid on a skateboard went by. I thought nothing of it but they looked over to me and skated away.

After that around 8 pm on the dot I started noticing the skater. Everytime my door was open and everytime I was in the kitchen. Except what struck me as odd with this one other than the girl, was they were just as frantic. Almost like the skating was an excuse to see something.

The skater would skate down the street past the stop sign on the corner, come back to the stop sign at the corner, lock eyes with me. Despite my blindness I could see their head turning towards me, then they would turn away and skate back the other way to not be seen. I thought it was odd but decided it was just a coincidence. The skater wore baggy oversized clothes, and a hat or beanie. I've never even seen someone like this in our neighborhood before. I skate all of the time and wonder why I've never seen them until now.

No move-in trucks recently either. They were such a blur of a person I couldnt even get a vibe off of them.

The girl however...she felt familiar. Everytime I saw her...something dragged me to her presence. I wanted to catch her even though I knew the possible danger. She angered me but intrigued me. It felt like I had known her from somewhere...

For a moment I seriously thought she could've been my co-worker. But maybe I'm just paranoid. Right?

Un giorno di mattina dovevo andare a scuola, quel giorno pioveva molto forte, mentre camminavo un signore mi invito nella sua macchina per un passaggio. Poi mi porto praticamente davanti la scuola io scesi e continuai la mia giornata come se fosse un’altra, dopo un po’ di tempo mia madre mi disse che il signore che mi diedi il passaggio era morto, il signore aveva un figlio ed il figlio a mia madre gli dissi che il signore era morto 15 anni fa ed io l’avevo visto e salito nella sua macchina 2 mesi fa. Io mi spaventai a morte, finora mi metto ha pensare chi fosse quel signore, infatti quando ero in macchina del signore era molto pallido come un morto non so con chi salì quel giorno ma so che non era umano.

Today, I sat down and tried to install RPGmaker (an old[ish] computer program to make games.) I should also preface I've had this computer for YEARS, I had a computer before it and all of its data has been saved on it. Well, after successfully installing it and having my fun; I looked at my files program to find a thing I had just gotten to use, so of course I put "RPGMAKER" into the search query. Well, I found this old file, a whole game file. I've always been into making games, since I was very, very little, so this didnt surprise me. What I found weird was the name; "ihateyou1.3B" I didnt recognize this game from anywhere. I wasnt allowed to download online games unless they were from official stores, so this made no real sense to me. I looked it up and found no other game by that name (if you know this game, or recall it whatsoever, that's be great if you could tell me I'm not crazy.) I'm pretty much an only child besides a couple half-siblings, which meant nobody else could have used this computer, not like my mom would, right? I have no recollection of making this, I do remember making games when I was little but never this one. Well mayhe I do? I dont know, I had a head injury which messed up my memories a little bit from when I was a little kid so of course everything would be foggy. Well, I tried playing it or accessing the files but it always would crash, tell me theres a file missing and that it was never there. I assumed maybe I had to use the proper version of RPGmaker to use the developer files but I tried out like EVERY version and it still keeps crashing. Its like some strange phantom game exists in my computer and I cant seem to access a SINGLE thing from it. Well, after fiddling with it for an HOUR, scanning through ALLLL of my past files trying to search custom keywords or tags; I got one file. It was a photo of a cat, nothing very interesting just a random stock image of a cat I'm pretty sure, I used to really really like cats so that kind of checks out. It was just titled "secretforme" I always was a weird kid, I've known that, but this just feels off, like something I wouldn't do, y'know? I dont know if I want to keep looking into this, I'm usually very curious but I just have this uneasy feeling.

我只想每时每刻阅读人们经历过或者听到的故事，如果你知道，请@我，非常感谢，我是新来的reddit用户。

Somebody hacked into my email they changed the password and other stuff but didnt do anything, all they did was enter my epic games account because i saw two verification codes, one to change my password and one for 2fa i dont know what they where trying to do i saw none of my sprites gone and none of my vbux was gone either so please help and tell me what they where trying to do.

I lived with a couple guys in an apartment complex adjacent to Evergreen State College when I was attending. One night we were just chilling in the living room, shooting the shit and one of them told me and my other roommate the craziest ghost story I ever heard in my life.

Rob worked at a golf course for side money while going to school, so he would wake up super early and in autumn, it’s especially foggy and dark in the early hours of the morning.

Well, one morning him and his coworker (ill call them rob and joe) were out mowing the lawns like 4:30 5am and they came across two people, at least they thought they were people.

They were wondering what the hell these people were doing walking around in such a remote area of the golf course in the dark? So they got off there mows and approached them to see what’s up.

These “people“ were dressed in all black with trenchcoats and it was so dark, Rob and Joe couldn’t see their faces.

They walked up to them and Rob asked these ppl what they were doing and how can they help them and one of the people said “where is tugboat Annie?”. Rob figured they were talking about the restaurant called Tugboat Annie’s that sits in the marina of Olympia (bomb food and vibe btw highly recommend), which they were not too far from like 2 miles.

So Rob starts explaining to them how to get there, he then notices Joe suddenly freeze, twists his body 90° so that he’s no longer facing these “people” and it weirds Rob out so he turns to Joe and says “ yo what’s up man? Are you OK?” Joe doesn’t say anything just stands frozen and as soon as Rob snaps his neck back to look at these “people” again, they had vanished into thin air. They were gone instantly.

Rob turns again to Joe and he’s like yo bro are you OK? Did you just see those people disappear? wtf is going on!? Joe is mute. He won’t talk and just looks completely terrified. This obviously makes Rob freak the fuck out because these people just disappeared in front of his eyes, and now his coworker is completely frozen in fear not saying a word.

Eventually Rob wrangles Joe back to their mows and Joe is completely unable or refusing to talk to Rob about what just happened to them. Rob’s desperately trying to get Joe to tell him what he saw, or say what’s wrong with him, or just say ANYTHING to help him make any sense of what they just experienced. Joe literally wouldn’t say a word that whole morning.

The next morning when Rob went to work, his boss approached him and told him Joe quit his job yesterday and he won’t be coming back. Rob asked his boss why did he quit and his boss said he didn’t give a reason. This prompted Rob to immediately call Joe, and he answered.

Rob asked him why he quit and to just please tell him anything about what he saw yesterday and what happened, just get any dialogue going. Joe told him that he’s sorry he wasn’t able to talk to him yesterday morning but what he just saw psychologically fucked him up so bad he couldn’t talk at all.

Joe then explained that while Rob was sharing directions on how to get to tugboat Annie to those “people”, he got a glimpse at one of the people’s eyes and he said what he saw instantly horrified him, shut his body down, all life force inside of him was completely drained from him and was replaced with absolute dread and he just froze. He said the only thing he could do was to try to turn his body away from these people.

Joe said when he looked into one of those people’s eyes…………… their eyes were pitch black. No whites. Pure black. Completely black. That Black-eye glance instantly traumatized him for the rest of his life.

He decided to quit his job that day and never go back to that golf course again.

This blew Rob‘s mind, had him in complete shock but also some relief that he wasn’t crazy. He had confirmation that he indeed saw what he saw and they both 100% interacted with ghosts but he didn’t get the worst of it, Joe did.

This made Rob go on to ask other coworkers if they had ever seen two strange people ghost looking things in the golf course in early morning hours and he got confirmation from several coworkers that they had seen what looked like people walking around at weird times of night, but never directly interacted with them.

So Rob decided to do some research on tugboat Annie, like why did they ask where tugboat Annie was?

Rob discovered “tugboat Annie” was an actual person, and the restaurant was named after her. He also discovered a story about a tugboat that sank in the marina years ago that killed two men.

He then realized this all makes sense. One of the hallmarks of a ghost and why they stick around and inhabit certain areas and spaces, is because they have unfinished business. Their souls are sort of trapped in that space and they’re essentially trying to complete their mission, whatever it is, so that their souls can finally rest.

That’s when it dawned on him that him and Joe basically ran into the ghosts of these two men that died in the marina, who are still looking for tugboat Annie, which also tracks to why the only words that these ghosts said were “where is tugboat Annie?”

——-

Trippy ass shit. I remember I tried to get Rob to share the story again with me a few more times as the years went by and he always refused to ever tell me that story again. he just didn’t wanna go there again.

And it was crazy because I always thought Joe was like kind of strange awkward or slow or just kinda on the spectrum yk? And Rob was like yeah bro that’s because that ghost experience severely scarred him permanently. He wasn’t always awkward and neurotic like that, but those ghosts shattered his reality and Joe was never really the same after that.

I always wanted to talk to joe about this but never got a chance too. I don’t think he would even want to share that story with me anyway and relive it again.

Fin.

——what prompted me to share this story as my first post is I just learned about the “dark watchers” cryptid today. Their characterization had a ton of parallels and are eerily similar to this ghost story Rob shared with me. I’m confident those were indeed dark watchers. Difference here is these dark watchers didn’t instantly disappear like they typically do the moment they are spotted by humans, they lowered rob and joe’s guards just long enough for them to inflict psychic damage. Ghosts dont always have good intentions. Sometimes they are flat out sinister.

Hello, my name is Ashley and my best friend is Kenny. He is part of the story and we are doing this together. we each have different perspectives of how this happened and this is not a story about the Appalachians, but we still think it is just as terrifying so me and my best friend Kenny we love having sleepovers and we love hanging out and my grandma has a really big nice basement so we decided to have a sleepover there. We walked in and set up everything we were giggling watching videos and having really a lot of fun. when it was time for bed, we both lie down. I had one bed. He had another bed. He had the bigger bed because I considered him the guest. I could’ve sworn I saw a lady in the window, but I didn’t know I assumed it was just a shadow so I closed my eyes and decided to try to go to bed whenever I close my eyes I would see an image. It would usually be something very demonic and very terrifying. I couldn’t figure out what I was when I asked Kenny what was happening and if he was feeling the same thing or seeing the same thing, he said yes all of a sudden we both started feeling like somebody was shoving our chests now, I would’ve brushed this off if it was just me because I do have asthma, but it was both of us. It felt like somebody was shoving on us or sitting on us. We decided to move out of that bedroom and we tried to go to bed in the living room however it didn’t work. We still have the same images but now the pushing was getting way worse we tried turning on the screen, but nothing helped eventually we had to call my mom and tell her to come get us. Here’s what my mom told us in the car apparently my grandma’s been drawn to houses that have something attached to them for years a long long time ago my mom was still living with my grandma and her brother had just moved out. My grandma bought this house thinking it was gonna be a great start for the family. It was going to be an amazing family house some nights for my mom was sitting outside. She would hear horse steps and men shouting, but she didn’t see anything one night. She heard her steps and she heard sounds of water, heard men yelling, and the motion sensor on a camera camera went off. And another motion sensor went and turned on the porch light. My mom brushed it off and thought something was probably happening like she was having anxiety or maybe she was hearing things eventually her brother and his wife visited. She was pretty busy all day so she didn’t get a chance to see them however they were gonna be there for the next morning so it was OK that night my mom‘s brother saw a woman covered in water standing above his bed almost like levitating she had no eyes and blonde hair she was soaked she kept on seeing this woman throughout the night so they left at 1 AM. My mom didn’t know why they left so she was a bit sad but it was OK. They came back a few months later and they were talking about it. My mom realized she wished they told her before because she thought she was going insane and everything added up anyways this is the end of my perspective. Now, my friend’s gonna give his perspective. Hi I’m Kenny and this is my perspective. So basically I have the exact same experience with my friend Ashley. But except like her, I can image the pictures I was seen in my head while trying to close my eyes I could see images of demonic images such as demons. And unholy Christian images. I also saw images like people with gaping jaws and bits and pieces and limbs cut off. and as we decided to go to the living room, I felt like my throat was closing up, and it was very hard to breathe. so honestly, that’s my perspective because everything my friend said is everything that I experienced to. Several months later, we were having a sleepover not at my grandma‘s house but at his house. We noticed some scratches on his face. He didn’t bump into anything we weren’t doing anything that would’ve given these scratches. It was after we had watched a terrifying video and something like this happened to me one morning. I woke up, walked downstairs and all the started. My nose started bleeding and I thought it might’ve just been a normal nosebleed but at the same time, I felt like somebody was following me. I have no idea if this coordinates, but I think we might’ve gotten an attachment.