scary stories from 4chan 2009 part1
DISCLAIMER: here i go again! going around 4chan (in /x/ this time) looking for creepypasta.
and re-posting to share.
some of them are short, some come in parts.
will be putting divisions between stories and all that yadda yadda.
CREDIT GOES TO ANON!! :3
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before anything, comments: the thread i found was supposed to be things that actually happened to the people writing them, or to their friends or whatever. some are just weird, others arent that creepy, not that many trolls. wont be posting the ones i think arent worthwhile. :3 here we go.
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My friend and I had been driving around the Blue Mountains and we were coming home, around 7pm, we're both pretty tired. We're driving along and we see this hitchhiker girl with a bright red jacket on, and we both see her but neither of us say anything about picking her up even though she's going our way. After about 15 minutes my friend is like "Man that chick was pretty hot. We should go back and get her". I'm reluctant for obvious reasons, but I drive back and pick her up. She gets in and she seems pretty normal, her name's Jess. I'm mainly concentrating on driving so I don't really talk to her much, but my friend is chatting her up and they're both giggling and talking in the back. Eventually we get to the place she wants to be and we drop her off and head back home. The next morning my friends going nuts over this girl, and he wants to go back to see her. He can't drive and she's about half an hour away so I agree to drive him there. When we arrive, we knock on the door and an old lady answers the door. We assume she's her mother and ask her where Jess is and she looks at us in disgust. "What do you want?" she asks, and we explain that we were the ones who drove her home last night. "Who are you? Why would you come and do this to an old lady like me?" she snaps. Puzzled, we ask her what she's talking about and she says "My daughter has been dead for over 10 years. She's buried at [name] cemetery". My friend, even more confused shows her a photo he took of her. The old lady gives us a horrible look, on the verge of crying and slams the door. My friend and I visit the cemetery and at first we find nothing. As I am about to leave, my friend yells my name with urgency. I rush over to where he's standing to find a gravestone with "Jessica" on it. Laying in front of it on the ground is the girls bright red jacket. We ran to my car, and I drove home in silence while shaking heavily.
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mmm..not all that original..and kind of predictable..neeext.
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My father's family came here from Cuba back in the 60s, and being typical spics, all moved into one house in Newark, NJ. We're talking about 10 people under one roof. Now this story takes place in 82. I was 2 and my sister a newborn. My father had moved out and was living on his own with my mother. But I'm not talking about that house, I'm talking about the spic house, and bear in mind everything I'm telling you guys here is what I've heard from family that's willing to talk about it, so take it for what you will. Things started normal in the house at first, but little things were just off... like things wouldn't be where you left them, some unexplained noises. A little unsettling, but whatever. But then my Aunt started having these crazy nightmares. In them, she was being violently raped by a man with no head. Her husband would wake her up as she screamed, and she'd tell him how it felt so real. He'd do his best to calm her down and try and bring in some sense of normalcy. Now take this for what you will, but my Aunt ended up pregnant. Everyone was happy and rejoicing, as this would be her and her husband's first child, but in the 4th month she went into premature labor. Everyone knew the child would be lost. When the fetus was "delivered," it did not have a head. I wish I could say the story ends here, but it gets worse.
Shit was now being thrown around the house. There were loud bangs and other noises all through the day and night. One of my Aunts, a lil old lady about 4'9" and 95lbs, would say that the spirit in the house would talk to her and tell her he didn't like all these people in his house. Now my father is a rational and cool headed to a psychotic degree. I've seen him nail his hand to a wall, and after failing to pry the nail out himself, cut out the section of wall around his hand, drive to the hospital and ask them to "start it so he can get it out." When he was on a plane that they thought was going down and everyone was freaking, he yelled at the other passengers to shut up and accept it. Naturally, he didn't believe in this ghost shit. He thought there was a rational explanation to all of this, and when my lil old Aunt would go off about the ghost while he was there or something went down while he was visiting, he'd yell at everyone. All that changed one night when he came speeding home. Before coming to my house, he stopped at my hyper christfag neighbors' place. He banged on their door at 1am until they let him in and gave him a bunch of crosses, which he proceeded to put up all over our house. He begged my mother to not sleep and just watch over him while he slept. If my mother got up to feed my sister, he would follow her and sleep at her feet. He also pissed himself several times. My mother asked what happened the next day, but he wouldn't tell her. Finally... she got something out of one of his sisters. Shit was now being thrown around the house. There were loud bangs and other noises all through the day and night. One of my Aunts, a lil old lady about 4'9" and 95lbs, would say that the spirit in the house would talk to her and tell her he didn't like all these people in his house. Now my father is a rational and cool headed to a psychotic degree. I've seen him nail his hand to a wall, and after failing to pry the nail out himself, cut out the section of wall around his hand, drive to the hospital and ask them to "start it so he can get it out." When he was on a plane that they thought was going down and everyone was freaking, he yelled at the other passengers to shut up and accept it. Naturally, he didn't believe in this ghost shit. He thought there was a rational explanation to all of this, and when my lil old Aunt would go off about the ghost while he was there or something went down while he was visiting, he'd yell at everyone. All that changed one night when he came speeding home. Before coming to my house, he stopped at my hyper christfag neighbors' place. He banged on their door at 1am until they let him in and gave him a bunch of crosses, which he proceeded to put up all over our house. He begged my mother to not sleep and just watch over him while he slept. If my mother got up to feed my sister, he would follow her and sleep at her feet. He also pissed himself several times. My mother asked what happened the next day, but he wouldn't tell her. Finally... she got something out of one of his sisters.
Apparently as they were playing dominos my lil old Aunt was saying that the ghost was here and he's not happy and going through her usual shtick. My father, having had enough, got up and went to her, grabbed her by the shoulders and told her to cut the shit. Then, this lil 4'9" 95lbs woman looked at my father, yelled at him "Get you're fucking hands off me!" in a voice not her own, and tossed him across the room. In the same voice, she/he then addressed the room and said how she/he unhappy they were all in HIS house and that he would not let them leave (they were trying to sell the house at this point cause they were too freaked). He/she said that if they tried to leave he/she'd make sure they suffered for eternity with him. One of my Uncle's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he started speaking in a strange language that no one could ever identify. My father ran for the hills at this point, leaving there ASAP.
He never returned. Eventually they sold the place for 10,000 under market.
They all packed their bags for Miami, where all good Cubans eventually go. 30 days after moving in to their new house, my 53 year old grandfather, who was in perfect health, died of what was called a stroke, but if you ask anyone in my family, they'll say the ghost took him.
A weird post script to the story... many years later my father's family came up from Miami for a visit and decided to hang out at a bar in the old neighborhood. While there, a guy at the bar was eyeing one of my Uncles the whole night. Eventually he walked up to my Uncle and, without warning, punched him right in the face. As people were dragging him out of the bar, he could be heard yelling "You know about the house and you sold it anyway, you son of a bitch!
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This story takes place about two years ago, and might be familiar to some /X/philes as I was posting during the events. It all started when I went out west to Vancouver to visit my father. I only see him twice a year at most, and he had recently bought a new house - I was going to help him repaint it for some extra cash. My grandmother was also staying in the basement suite until her condo was finished. The house was in a smaller town, and wasn't terribly old or new. The previous owners were a young Chinese couple that had bought the largeish house to take care of their aging parents instead of putting them into a nursing home, and moved when both had died. There was a definite hospital feel to the home, I could understand why my father wanted to repaint it. The walls were in shades of antiseptic yellow and green, and looked about as inviting as a nurse's station. I'll say now that I was already a nighthawk, and operating on EST time - making my regular late bedtime even later. The first incident was minor, and happened while I was staying up late on the computer. I thought I heard footsteps in the outer hall, and felt a presence outside the closed door of the office. I froze, thinking it was my dad coming to yell at me for being up so late - but after a moment so it left (I figured he had been listening to hear if I was awake, but didn't give a shit.)
Even considering my discomfort as I walked down the hall to my room, and some apprehension as I fell asleep (Normal, since it was my first night sleeping the new house) I didn't consider the footsteps or presence strange in the least.
What was strange was the next morning, my dad asked me when I had gone to sleep - apparently he hadn't woken up in the night and checked on me. A little weird, but whatever.
The next night was nothing interesting, I heard people speaking downstairs later that evening - my grandmother walking around and talking on the phone. There was still the apprehension before sleeping, but I chalked it up to not being used to the bedroom yet.
The third night is where it starts getting weird. My dad was going over to his girlfriends for the night, so it was up to me to feed myself and finish painting. I got to bed around 3am, and was just about to fall asleep when I heard the voices below my room at the front door.
A man and a woman conversing in regular tones (I heard them fine without straining my ears) though I couldn't figure out what they were saying - there were words but for some reason it was like there was some sort of audible 'mosaic' over them. I chalked it up to being tired. After a few minutes the conversation ended, and their were footsteps coming up the stairs and then moving throughout the hallway - when they stopped I simply rolled over and went to sleep.
The next morning at the breakfast table I brought up that I was surprised he had come home so early. My dad looked at me like I was retarded, and said he hadn't gotten home until 9am. This was a definite surprise to me, as the footsteps and voices had been so NORMAL and authentic - I hadn't thought of any other possibility.
Confused, I asked if it could have been my grandmother - to which he responded that she went to bed at 9:00pm every night in time with her evening medication. That caught me off guard as well, considering I had distinctly heard movement and voices far later than that the previous night. My dad said that was impossible, as her medication knocks her out. He's also looking at me like I'm retarded at this point.
I ask if he ever hears voices or noises at night, and he says no and tells me to stop talking and start painting.
Night four - the events of this night are what prompted me to contact /x/ for advice. I stayed up late on the computer again, this time more aware. I waited for voices and footsteps, and aside from a general feeling of discomfort that prompted me to leave every light on and close the curtains of the office - nothing happened while I was online. When I did leave the office, I hurried to my room - the feeling of discomfort growing stronger in the hallway.
3am again, and things pick up. Like before, I hear voices below at the front door. Again, regularly pitched and as clear as any regular conversation. The voices don't stop as the footsteps carry to the stairs though, only falling silent as they reach the hallway.
Starting to feel tight in the chest, very much trying to pick out tell-tale signs it was my dad sneaking his girlfriend in. No such luck - there only seem to be one set of footsteps despite the two voices on the stairs. I hold my breath as they move down the hall, to the bathroom- then back and forth repeatedly. Holding my breath still as the footsteps continue, but this time stopping in front of my door.
Not breathing, feeling like a ten year old trying to hide from the boogeyman by being very still.
Apparently still and quiet doesn't make a goddamn difference. The doorknob starts to rattle. At first my brain is racing, telling my racing heart that it was in my head - I'm just jacking myself up. Wrong. The doorknob rattles enough that I can't ignore it, even if I wanted to. All I want now is for it to stop, screw curiousity - then the door starts to move. Not shake, but move in and out in the frame - like someone holding onto the knob and pressing their weight against it.
This goes on for what feels like forever, and in actuality was maybe two or three minutes. None the less, it took me forever to fall asleep and the next day I was jumping at everything and paranoid.
The next night is a repeat of the same, minus the door shaking.
The next few days, I don't sleep - I stay on /x/ all night and talk to people - the most activity I hear/feel is the footsteps in the hall and at times a presence behind the closed office door. I have the feeling as I move through the house during those days, that something is watching me and is well aware I am avoiding sleeping and being in my bedroom at night.
So you're probably wondering now, what was my resolution to this? I'll admit it straight out, there was now. I decided to sleep at my other grandparents, I couldn't handle it anymore - and I haven't been back since. My dad proposed to his girlfriend before I visited again the house had been sold.
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talk about TL:DR....
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One night I was in my bed, and from my bed where I put my head at, I can look into my brother's room. Now I had another brother who I shared a room with, but him and the brother of the room I could see from my bed were at a party.
So it's late, I'm thinking 1 AMish, I'm about 7-8, and my parents are asleep. I looked into my brothers room and I see a fucking "figure", or shadow. It's on my brothers bed, sitting at the edge. It's in the stance of someone playing a guitar (you know, guitar on lap.) And it's just... there. I've never been so scared in my life.
And you see, the odd thing is, the brother that sleeps in that room, he plays the guitar. When I first saw the figure, I thought it was him.. except I realized he wasn't home.
I was frozen in place for the next few hours, where I eventually fell asleep looking at the figure. Before falling asleep, I could have sworn it turned to look at me and I saw red eyes. The next morning, I ran into my brother's room, I thought since it was a full moon outside, maybe the moon reflected a picture like a hologram, almost (my brother had TONS of pictures of people playing guitar on his wall.) But no pictures had the image of what I saw.
That brother eventually moved out, and now the brother I used to share a room with sleeps in that room. But to this DAY, I refuse to go to sleep without closing that door. I refuse to go into there by myself unless I absolutely have to. I hate going in there, I feel like I'm being watched. My grandma used to sleep in that room, and she's terribly religious, so I think she might have brought a spirit in there or something. But I get chills just THINKING about it.
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will have part2 up in a bit.....but LJ is seriously annoying me right now.
it keeps block quoting...how do i stop that???
and re-posting to share.
some of them are short, some come in parts.
will be putting divisions between stories and all that yadda yadda.
CREDIT GOES TO ANON!! :3
--------------------------
before anything, comments: the thread i found was supposed to be things that actually happened to the people writing them, or to their friends or whatever. some are just weird, others arent that creepy, not that many trolls. wont be posting the ones i think arent worthwhile. :3 here we go.
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My friend and I had been driving around the Blue Mountains and we were coming home, around 7pm, we're both pretty tired. We're driving along and we see this hitchhiker girl with a bright red jacket on, and we both see her but neither of us say anything about picking her up even though she's going our way. After about 15 minutes my friend is like "Man that chick was pretty hot. We should go back and get her". I'm reluctant for obvious reasons, but I drive back and pick her up. She gets in and she seems pretty normal, her name's Jess. I'm mainly concentrating on driving so I don't really talk to her much, but my friend is chatting her up and they're both giggling and talking in the back. Eventually we get to the place she wants to be and we drop her off and head back home. The next morning my friends going nuts over this girl, and he wants to go back to see her. He can't drive and she's about half an hour away so I agree to drive him there. When we arrive, we knock on the door and an old lady answers the door. We assume she's her mother and ask her where Jess is and she looks at us in disgust. "What do you want?" she asks, and we explain that we were the ones who drove her home last night. "Who are you? Why would you come and do this to an old lady like me?" she snaps. Puzzled, we ask her what she's talking about and she says "My daughter has been dead for over 10 years. She's buried at [name] cemetery". My friend, even more confused shows her a photo he took of her. The old lady gives us a horrible look, on the verge of crying and slams the door. My friend and I visit the cemetery and at first we find nothing. As I am about to leave, my friend yells my name with urgency. I rush over to where he's standing to find a gravestone with "Jessica" on it. Laying in front of it on the ground is the girls bright red jacket. We ran to my car, and I drove home in silence while shaking heavily.
--
mmm..not all that original..and kind of predictable..neeext.
----------------------------------
My father's family came here from Cuba back in the 60s, and being typical spics, all moved into one house in Newark, NJ. We're talking about 10 people under one roof. Now this story takes place in 82. I was 2 and my sister a newborn. My father had moved out and was living on his own with my mother. But I'm not talking about that house, I'm talking about the spic house, and bear in mind everything I'm telling you guys here is what I've heard from family that's willing to talk about it, so take it for what you will. Things started normal in the house at first, but little things were just off... like things wouldn't be where you left them, some unexplained noises. A little unsettling, but whatever. But then my Aunt started having these crazy nightmares. In them, she was being violently raped by a man with no head. Her husband would wake her up as she screamed, and she'd tell him how it felt so real. He'd do his best to calm her down and try and bring in some sense of normalcy. Now take this for what you will, but my Aunt ended up pregnant. Everyone was happy and rejoicing, as this would be her and her husband's first child, but in the 4th month she went into premature labor. Everyone knew the child would be lost. When the fetus was "delivered," it did not have a head. I wish I could say the story ends here, but it gets worse.
Shit was now being thrown around the house. There were loud bangs and other noises all through the day and night. One of my Aunts, a lil old lady about 4'9" and 95lbs, would say that the spirit in the house would talk to her and tell her he didn't like all these people in his house. Now my father is a rational and cool headed to a psychotic degree. I've seen him nail his hand to a wall, and after failing to pry the nail out himself, cut out the section of wall around his hand, drive to the hospital and ask them to "start it so he can get it out." When he was on a plane that they thought was going down and everyone was freaking, he yelled at the other passengers to shut up and accept it. Naturally, he didn't believe in this ghost shit. He thought there was a rational explanation to all of this, and when my lil old Aunt would go off about the ghost while he was there or something went down while he was visiting, he'd yell at everyone. All that changed one night when he came speeding home. Before coming to my house, he stopped at my hyper christfag neighbors' place. He banged on their door at 1am until they let him in and gave him a bunch of crosses, which he proceeded to put up all over our house. He begged my mother to not sleep and just watch over him while he slept. If my mother got up to feed my sister, he would follow her and sleep at her feet. He also pissed himself several times. My mother asked what happened the next day, but he wouldn't tell her. Finally... she got something out of one of his sisters. Shit was now being thrown around the house. There were loud bangs and other noises all through the day and night. One of my Aunts, a lil old lady about 4'9" and 95lbs, would say that the spirit in the house would talk to her and tell her he didn't like all these people in his house. Now my father is a rational and cool headed to a psychotic degree. I've seen him nail his hand to a wall, and after failing to pry the nail out himself, cut out the section of wall around his hand, drive to the hospital and ask them to "start it so he can get it out." When he was on a plane that they thought was going down and everyone was freaking, he yelled at the other passengers to shut up and accept it. Naturally, he didn't believe in this ghost shit. He thought there was a rational explanation to all of this, and when my lil old Aunt would go off about the ghost while he was there or something went down while he was visiting, he'd yell at everyone. All that changed one night when he came speeding home. Before coming to my house, he stopped at my hyper christfag neighbors' place. He banged on their door at 1am until they let him in and gave him a bunch of crosses, which he proceeded to put up all over our house. He begged my mother to not sleep and just watch over him while he slept. If my mother got up to feed my sister, he would follow her and sleep at her feet. He also pissed himself several times. My mother asked what happened the next day, but he wouldn't tell her. Finally... she got something out of one of his sisters.
Apparently as they were playing dominos my lil old Aunt was saying that the ghost was here and he's not happy and going through her usual shtick. My father, having had enough, got up and went to her, grabbed her by the shoulders and told her to cut the shit. Then, this lil 4'9" 95lbs woman looked at my father, yelled at him "Get you're fucking hands off me!" in a voice not her own, and tossed him across the room. In the same voice, she/he then addressed the room and said how she/he unhappy they were all in HIS house and that he would not let them leave (they were trying to sell the house at this point cause they were too freaked). He/she said that if they tried to leave he/she'd make sure they suffered for eternity with him. One of my Uncle's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he started speaking in a strange language that no one could ever identify. My father ran for the hills at this point, leaving there ASAP.
He never returned. Eventually they sold the place for 10,000 under market.
They all packed their bags for Miami, where all good Cubans eventually go. 30 days after moving in to their new house, my 53 year old grandfather, who was in perfect health, died of what was called a stroke, but if you ask anyone in my family, they'll say the ghost took him.
A weird post script to the story... many years later my father's family came up from Miami for a visit and decided to hang out at a bar in the old neighborhood. While there, a guy at the bar was eyeing one of my Uncles the whole night. Eventually he walked up to my Uncle and, without warning, punched him right in the face. As people were dragging him out of the bar, he could be heard yelling "You know about the house and you sold it anyway, you son of a bitch!
-------------------------------------
This story takes place about two years ago, and might be familiar to some /X/philes as I was posting during the events. It all started when I went out west to Vancouver to visit my father. I only see him twice a year at most, and he had recently bought a new house - I was going to help him repaint it for some extra cash. My grandmother was also staying in the basement suite until her condo was finished. The house was in a smaller town, and wasn't terribly old or new. The previous owners were a young Chinese couple that had bought the largeish house to take care of their aging parents instead of putting them into a nursing home, and moved when both had died. There was a definite hospital feel to the home, I could understand why my father wanted to repaint it. The walls were in shades of antiseptic yellow and green, and looked about as inviting as a nurse's station. I'll say now that I was already a nighthawk, and operating on EST time - making my regular late bedtime even later. The first incident was minor, and happened while I was staying up late on the computer. I thought I heard footsteps in the outer hall, and felt a presence outside the closed door of the office. I froze, thinking it was my dad coming to yell at me for being up so late - but after a moment so it left (I figured he had been listening to hear if I was awake, but didn't give a shit.)
Even considering my discomfort as I walked down the hall to my room, and some apprehension as I fell asleep (Normal, since it was my first night sleeping the new house) I didn't consider the footsteps or presence strange in the least.
What was strange was the next morning, my dad asked me when I had gone to sleep - apparently he hadn't woken up in the night and checked on me. A little weird, but whatever.
The next night was nothing interesting, I heard people speaking downstairs later that evening - my grandmother walking around and talking on the phone. There was still the apprehension before sleeping, but I chalked it up to not being used to the bedroom yet.
The third night is where it starts getting weird. My dad was going over to his girlfriends for the night, so it was up to me to feed myself and finish painting. I got to bed around 3am, and was just about to fall asleep when I heard the voices below my room at the front door.
A man and a woman conversing in regular tones (I heard them fine without straining my ears) though I couldn't figure out what they were saying - there were words but for some reason it was like there was some sort of audible 'mosaic' over them. I chalked it up to being tired. After a few minutes the conversation ended, and their were footsteps coming up the stairs and then moving throughout the hallway - when they stopped I simply rolled over and went to sleep.
The next morning at the breakfast table I brought up that I was surprised he had come home so early. My dad looked at me like I was retarded, and said he hadn't gotten home until 9am. This was a definite surprise to me, as the footsteps and voices had been so NORMAL and authentic - I hadn't thought of any other possibility.
Confused, I asked if it could have been my grandmother - to which he responded that she went to bed at 9:00pm every night in time with her evening medication. That caught me off guard as well, considering I had distinctly heard movement and voices far later than that the previous night. My dad said that was impossible, as her medication knocks her out. He's also looking at me like I'm retarded at this point.
I ask if he ever hears voices or noises at night, and he says no and tells me to stop talking and start painting.
Night four - the events of this night are what prompted me to contact /x/ for advice. I stayed up late on the computer again, this time more aware. I waited for voices and footsteps, and aside from a general feeling of discomfort that prompted me to leave every light on and close the curtains of the office - nothing happened while I was online. When I did leave the office, I hurried to my room - the feeling of discomfort growing stronger in the hallway.
3am again, and things pick up. Like before, I hear voices below at the front door. Again, regularly pitched and as clear as any regular conversation. The voices don't stop as the footsteps carry to the stairs though, only falling silent as they reach the hallway.
Starting to feel tight in the chest, very much trying to pick out tell-tale signs it was my dad sneaking his girlfriend in. No such luck - there only seem to be one set of footsteps despite the two voices on the stairs. I hold my breath as they move down the hall, to the bathroom- then back and forth repeatedly. Holding my breath still as the footsteps continue, but this time stopping in front of my door.
Not breathing, feeling like a ten year old trying to hide from the boogeyman by being very still.
Apparently still and quiet doesn't make a goddamn difference. The doorknob starts to rattle. At first my brain is racing, telling my racing heart that it was in my head - I'm just jacking myself up. Wrong. The doorknob rattles enough that I can't ignore it, even if I wanted to. All I want now is for it to stop, screw curiousity - then the door starts to move. Not shake, but move in and out in the frame - like someone holding onto the knob and pressing their weight against it.
This goes on for what feels like forever, and in actuality was maybe two or three minutes. None the less, it took me forever to fall asleep and the next day I was jumping at everything and paranoid.
The next night is a repeat of the same, minus the door shaking.
The next few days, I don't sleep - I stay on /x/ all night and talk to people - the most activity I hear/feel is the footsteps in the hall and at times a presence behind the closed office door. I have the feeling as I move through the house during those days, that something is watching me and is well aware I am avoiding sleeping and being in my bedroom at night.
So you're probably wondering now, what was my resolution to this? I'll admit it straight out, there was now. I decided to sleep at my other grandparents, I couldn't handle it anymore - and I haven't been back since. My dad proposed to his girlfriend before I visited again the house had been sold.
--
talk about TL:DR....
-------------------------------------------
One night I was in my bed, and from my bed where I put my head at, I can look into my brother's room. Now I had another brother who I shared a room with, but him and the brother of the room I could see from my bed were at a party.
So it's late, I'm thinking 1 AMish, I'm about 7-8, and my parents are asleep. I looked into my brothers room and I see a fucking "figure", or shadow. It's on my brothers bed, sitting at the edge. It's in the stance of someone playing a guitar (you know, guitar on lap.) And it's just... there. I've never been so scared in my life.
And you see, the odd thing is, the brother that sleeps in that room, he plays the guitar. When I first saw the figure, I thought it was him.. except I realized he wasn't home.
I was frozen in place for the next few hours, where I eventually fell asleep looking at the figure. Before falling asleep, I could have sworn it turned to look at me and I saw red eyes. The next morning, I ran into my brother's room, I thought since it was a full moon outside, maybe the moon reflected a picture like a hologram, almost (my brother had TONS of pictures of people playing guitar on his wall.) But no pictures had the image of what I saw.
That brother eventually moved out, and now the brother I used to share a room with sleeps in that room. But to this DAY, I refuse to go to sleep without closing that door. I refuse to go into there by myself unless I absolutely have to. I hate going in there, I feel like I'm being watched. My grandma used to sleep in that room, and she's terribly religious, so I think she might have brought a spirit in there or something. But I get chills just THINKING about it.
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will have part2 up in a bit.....but LJ is seriously annoying me right now.
it keeps block quoting...how do i stop that???