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- [00:00]
Host
Hey, welcome to Scary Stories and Rain. Before we begin, be sure to check out my brand new podcast Scary Stories and Fire. If you would prefer the same great stories but with a super relaxing campfire background, the link is in the description. Also, if you haven't yet, I highly recommend you subscribe to this podcast. If you enjoy listening to Relax or fall asleep hundreds of hours of stories and rain for 299amonth that will get you access to all episodes with zero ads. Consider subscribing and I hope you enjoy this episode.
- [00:38]
Ryan Reynolds
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- [00:49]
Narrator
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- [00:58]
Ryan Reynolds
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- [01:00]
Advertiser
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- [01:11]
Narrator
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- [01:34]
Advertiser
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- [02:05]
Narrator
My mother's side of the family is fairly vast. She has three brothers and three sisters, all of whom are married and have several kids of their own. It goes without saying that when summer rolled around and it was time for the annual family vacation, there would be endless hours of fun, fun and entertainment. My grandparents were fairly wealthy individuals and with a share of their fortune each year they would rent out a lake house, cabin or beachside mansion for our family to resort at in its entirety. For the year in question, my grandparents decided to rent out a large four story lakeside home. It was complete with a dock, game room, movie theater, vast kitchen, and even a tube slide system that went from floor to Floor. What was supposed to be a blissful escape would soon become home to one of my worst memories to date. Before we delve any deeper into the story, I would like to do a quick explanation of the layout of the home because it's pertinent to the understanding of the rest of the story. The house was built upon a very steep slope that led down to a lake. The house was literally built horizontally off of the side of the hill. So on the part of the home that wasn't connected to the hill, there were long stilts that connected to the base of the home to the bottom of the hill. For additional support of the home, brick was added in between the stilts, creating a vast canaveral like room underneath the home, only accessible by a cellar door at the bottom floor of the house. This pit or room had no insulation, dirt floors, which in reality was just the bottom of the hill and filled with spiders and other small rodents and such. It was highly recommended by the homeowners who we were renting the property from that we do not venture down into this area because it would be a 10 or so foot drop to the floor and no ladder for assistance returning to the bottom floor of the home. So anyone that found themselves in this place would practically be imprisoned in a tall, dark cement hole. Alright, back to the story. After all the pleasantries with my family and settling in for the first couple nights, all the more mature members of the family, which included me, my brother and all my aunts, uncles and their significant others, decided to play a game commonly known as sardines. The game is basically inverse hide and seek, where there is one hider and the rest of the players are seekers. All the lights in the home are turned off, creating an atmosphere of complete darkness. The hider is given a minute to hide and once they are settled, the seekers begin their hunt. If a seeker happens upon the hider, then they silently slip away and hide in the same place as the hider until all people are hidden and only one seeker remains. Now that you have a quick synopsis of the game, house and large number of people playing, you can see how this could be the perfect concoction for a fun time. My uncle Mike was the one selected to do the hiding. First we shut out all the lights in the home and after the given minute of hiding time, the hunt was on. My brother, aunts, uncles and I searched the first couple floors to no avail, searching under each table, in each closet, and behind each couch. After about 15 minutes of searching and nobody seemed to have found him an idea sprouted in my head. Though I dismissed the thought at first, I couldn't stop thinking about that cellar door and that space that lay beneath the home. Being that I was on the younger end of the family, around 17 years old, I wanted to impress them by being the first one to find him. So I silently crept away from the group and down the last two stories I had to go to get to the bottom floor of the house where the cellar doors were. When I got there, I found my body physically shaking with adrenaline, and after opening the door that closed off the little closet sized room that held the cellar doors, I was trembling with fear. They just looked so ominous. And in the dark lighting, I walked up to them and placed a hand on each of the handles. Before I even opened the door, I was able to hear scuffling and maniacal giggling from the room. This assured me even more that I had found him, and my fear turned into excitement when I learned of his presence. I flung the doors open and looked down into the dark abyss of the hole. I quietly whispered down at my uncle, telling him that I had found him and that I was going to drop down and join him. He just kept laughing and laughing, which really unnerved me because it was unlike him to do that sort of thing without at least admitting he had been found or telling me to join him. Really wanting to be the first seeker to find him, I slowly began lowering myself down into the hole, hanging onto the ledge of the cellar door and letting my feet dangle into the hole. I could hear his laughter getting louder and heard his footing shifting as he began to walk closer to me. A horrid stench assaulted me the second that I lowered the rest of my body into the hole. I still clung to the cellar door, not allowing myself to drop the extra five feet or so. Being that I was closer to the ground now, I could start to begin to see his shape, and it looked off. I couldn't make out facial features, but seeing his slouched posture and lanky arms made me hold onto the ledge of the cellar door for a moment longer in hesitation. In that moment, I heard my aunt's voice calling for me, telling me they had all found my uncle and that I was the last to find him. My mind didn't piece the two together instantly, but when it did, saying that I could feel my heart sink to my stomach wouldn't be an exaggeration. The immense, overwhelming fear that I felt in that moment I have yet to feel ever again. Without a moment's hesitation, I pulled myself up out of the hole and instantly ran to my aunt calling for help, screaming about the man underneath the house. She looked confused at first, but sprung into action when she too heard the laughing from the hole. She called my uncles down while she phoned the police and gave them my quick description of the man. But because we were in the middle of nowhere, it took them about 25 minutes to arrive. When they finally did, it was a flurry of red and blue lights. But what unnerved me the most was that a full SWAT team arrived as well. A dozen men poured into the home, which felt intense for what seemed like a mentally ill home invader. Within moments they came out carrying a deranged looking man in handcuffs. It wasn't until later on did I get the full details of the story. The man that they had arrested was indeed a mentally insane person with a warrant out for his arrest for the mutilation of his ex wife. I also found later that the stench that was coming out of the room was his feces. It appeared he had been trapped down there for several days. He claimed he had gotten himself stuck down there when he had initially broken into the cellar to elude police capture. It has been around three years since this incident and its memory has become less and less intense with each passing day. However, some nights I lie awake at night thankful that I did not let go of that cellar's ledge. I don't fly anymore. I used to a lot actually. It was a big part of my job to fly around the country to pitch investment prospects at meetings held for wealthy hedge fund managers. It was a cushy job. I mean it paid far far more than it was worth. But now I work from home and I drive everywhere. I'm talking everywhere. I live in New York City, but my parents live down in Florida since they retired. And yep, I drive down there to see them three times a year. Sometimes it's pretty bad, but I'd rather drive all that way and get stomach flu from bad roadside tacos than fly. And now I'll tell you why. It was a regular flight from LaGuardia down to Houston. Another business trip to finance flirt with oil rich investors down in Texas. I was sat in a window seat in business class. Takeoff was pretty normal. Everything was peachy. Nothing I hadn't done a hundred times before as I thumbed through the inflight magazine and browsed the drinks menu. I had to get up at like 5:30 in order to make the flight. And I have never been a morning person, so as soon as I was able. I shut the window flap next to me, closed my eyes, and tried to catch a few Zs so I would be as fresh as possible for the afternoon meeting. Then, just as I'm about to drift off, but a loud pop noise. In my weary state, I actually thought it was some champagne bottle being opened by some celebratory suit who was opting for the fizz breakfast. I look around and no one has a bottle. There is no attendant with an ice bucket. Nothing like that. Then some horrible idea pops into my head, and in order to belay my seemingly irrational feelings, ears. I slide open to check on the plane's left wing engine. I remember expecting it to be fine. Nothing had ever happened on a flight before, even though I had had those little flashes of fear previously. But it was not fine. The popping sound had been exactly what I had feared. There was smoke billowing from the engine, a thick stream of dark vapor that trailed along as we flew. I grabbed an attendant and silently pointed out the window, not wanting to raise too much of a panic. When she looked, she turned pale, then rushed up the aisle in the direction of the cockpit. Moments later, others were noticing what I had seen. Cries of panic sounding from all along the plane as more and more people noticed the danger we were in. People were rushing over to the left side of the plane, looking out the windows and screaming. All while the air hostesses aboard were trying everything they could to both keep calm as well as keeping the passengers calm. Right before the terror reached a fever pitch, the pilot comes over the intercom. I think that was the weirdest, most surreal moment of my life, when people were losing their minds. But the captain was calm to the point of seeming bored. I suppose that's just the level of training they receive. The captain tells everyone to keep calm, to go back to their seats, and that the plane will be making an emergency landing at the nearest airport, which by that time was an airport in Virginia. We actually landed just fine, and the only remotely bad thing to really happen that day was that I had to rearrange the investment meeting. But I swear part of me thought that plane was about to become a fireball as the engine exploded and we plummeted towards the earth at like 500 miles an hour. It was probably the most terrifying experience I have ever endured, and despite me trying to, I was never able to get on a plane ever again. So like I said, I drive everywhere now. And as much as it sucks, it's better than getting the cold sweats and panic attacks from sitting on a Runway somewhere, just waiting for the engines to go up in flames.
- [14:26]
Ryan Reynolds
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- [14:54]
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- [15:32]
Narrator
So this story is a bit unsettling and weird. The events of this night I didn't really consider scary until years later when I really reflected on what truly happened. I am 30 years old now, but was only 15 during the events of this story. The evening started fairly normal, a bunch of my friends and I just hanging out thinking we were cool because we were at the state fair without any adults. It was a group of about 10, 10 of us if I remember correctly. We decided to post up towards the back of the fairgrounds where all the rides were. We were just talking, telling jokes and trying to impress the girls that would occasionally walk by. During our time hanging out in the back, we were approached by a very strange looking person. He was an average height, a little thick in the belly, bald, but was sporting some hair on the sides. He approached us with great confidence and said in a stern voice, you guys waiting for the ship as well? Thinking this was more comical than scary, we kind of just laughed and responded with the ship, what are you talking about? The man smiled and flashed his chipped teeth and again in his confident voice said, yeah, the ship from space. Are you guys here to board as well? Well, being kids we just thought this was a joke. We laughed hysterically and just thought this guy had a lot to drink or something along those lines. After we had finished basically laughing in the guy's face, I finally responded to him saying where's the Ship going. He responded confidently, the Andromeda Galaxy. See, of course that was the last straw for us. We were just about hunched over in pain. We were laughing so hard. Well, the man finally realized we were laughing at him and changed his tune real quick. The confident voice suddenly became faint and the man said, go ahead and laugh at me. When they come, you will see. We responded by basically saying whatever and stepped away from this crazy guy. At this point, he started to follow us and was now irate, chasing us and was yelling about the aliens. Finally, after a few minutes of this and lots of stares from the people at the fair, I turned around and said in my blunt 15 year old voice, dude, leave us alone. We don't want any part of your ship or aliens. Still treating this as a joke, but more annoyed and creeped out than anything else, we just kept walking. The man finally yelled, stop. We all turned and looked at the creepy UFO man and he said, almost in tears now. I've seen you in my dreams. You've been on the ship with me. They chose us. Officially creeped out, I pushed the guy away. He surprisingly went backwards quickly like he weighed nothing. After that, he just started laughing. With all the commotion, we noticed many fair goers forming a circle around us. To make sure there wasn't an issue escalating, the crazy man started pacing around the circle of people that formed and started to ask everyone in almost a desperate voice now, are any of you going up? They will be here soon. We need to get ready. This poor guy was met with tons of laughter. I started to feel bad for him. It seemed like this person was really suffering from some sort of crazed delusion. While the man was interrogating the other fairgoers, we used the opportunity to make our way to the main entrance. Honestly, we were just done with the guy and done with the night. It was starting to get concerning and we really didn't want any trouble or to have something happen that would need our parents to get involved. Once we got to the main entrance, we took a shuttle back to the parking lot where my mom was picking me up along with three of my friends. We got to the lot and she was not there yet. So we just waited by the entrance the lot until my mom got there. Right on cue. Directly across from the lot, which is essentially a heavily wooded area, we saw the same guy just standing there staring at us. We did not say or do anything to provoke him this time. We just watched and waited anxiously for my mom. As we stood there, we noticed that the man just kept pointing up to the sky. He didn't look like he was saying anything, but we wouldn't have been able to hear him if he was anyway because he was probably at least 100 yards away in the distance. We finally saw my mom driving up in our green Windstar van. As we approached the doors of the van, we noticed the man was now somewhat rapidly approaching us, not running but walking briskly I would say. We started to move fast, not really knowing if this guy was dangerous or not, and as I got into the passenger side, the man waved from the side of the road and I just barely heard him say I'll see you up there, as he smiled awkwardly at the van. It was not until years later when I was telling this story that I realized just how disturbing it really was. We had no idea if this guy could have caused us har harm, if he was insane, or if by some crazy chance there was some truth to his delusion. I often used to wonder what happened to that guy. I never saw him again. I still attend the fair every year and honestly I always go back to that spot at the back of the grounds to see if the strange man would ever come back. Either way, it was a very strange and interesting story I really wanted to share. Just makes you wonder what goes on in other people's minds and what their true intentions are. This story takes place two years ago when I was living in the same house as my two younger sisters and my father. We lived in a neighborhood that wasn't necessarily unsafe, but wasn't the best neighborhood for people to live in. I can recall some neighbors getting arrested for selling drugs when I was maybe 5, but this story is not about them. In the summer of 2018, my sisters and I would stay up late into the night, sometimes only going to bed after the sun had risen. I was 17 and my sisters were 15 and 13. My father would go to bed early as he was a responsible adult. To explain the situation best, I need to describe what my house looked like. It was a one story home with four doors on the front of my house, three of which opened to our living room and one of which opened to my bedroom. Our backyard fence had been knocked down by a storm recently and we had two doors on the back of the house, one that opened to the kitchen and one that opened to my father's room. One night around 12:30am I was doing what I usually did. I was listening to scary stories on my phone as I made art on my iPad. I didn't use earbuds because I'VE always been paranoid that something might happen while I'm using them. My sisters, who shared a room down the hall from me, were doing whatever they did at night. It didn't really concern me. My father was fast asleep in his room. Now, I don't know about all of you, but I always end up very on edge while I'm listening to scary stories, so I'm hyper aware of what's going on around me. You can imagine how hard I jumped when I heard a sharp pounding on our front door. Four hard thuds could be heard throughout the house and I could hear the front door shake with the strength of each knock. I held my breath, hoping that I had heard wrong. I really didn't want to think someone was at my front door. At this moment, my middle sister Jen came running into my room, trying to keep her steps silent. She looked at me, eyes wild. You heard that too, right? She asked, voice trembling. I swallowed and nodded, heart pound pounding in my chest. We need to go wake dad up, I responded and started towards my father's bedroom. She followed diligently behind me on our way to our dad's room, my youngest sister, Ness, peeked her head out from her room. She too looked scared. I opened my dad's door and shook him awake, trembling slightly. One of my worst fears is someone breaking into our house. Dad, someone's at the front door. Even as I said this, I felt sick. Ugh. What? My dad said, groggy and not at all happy that we had woken him up. There's someone here, Jen whispered. I heard it. Someone knocked on the door, I said. My dad slowly got out of bed. He knows that my sisters and I always jump to the worst conclusions whenever anything happens, so he assumed we were doing the same here. I watched silently as he went to the front door, my stomach leaping to my throat. There's no one out there, he told my sisters and I, absolutely unimpressed. As he looked through the blinds, my heart sank a little. I kind of started to doubt myself. But my sisters had heard the knocking too, so I knew I wasn't alone in this. We tried to reason with him before he went back to bed, but he didn't believe us, too tired to really care about what we were saying. Dejected but scared, I ended up taking my mattress off my bed and sleeping in my sister's room for the night, taking a baseball bat and laying it next to my mattress. My overactive imagination had me thinking that whoever was at the door was out to hurt us, and I knew I would have to defend my younger sisters against any danger that dared to enter our house. The next day passed just fine. My sisters and I knew that we had heard something and our dad brushed off our attempts to explain it. He thought we were sleep deprived, or perhaps that a large bug had hit our door, which was ridiculous. It wasn't until 11pm that night, when my father was lounging on one of the couches in the living room, that we heard the pounding again. Only this time it was much more aggressive and directly on the door behind my father. My father let out a loud what the? And charged towards the front door. I had been standing in the living room when the pounding occurred again and my sisters had rushed to stand next to me after hearing my father shout. We were all shaken. Our father never yelled like that. I started to cry as my father went to rush outside and confront whoever was out there. I begged him not to go outside because I thought he might get hurt. He told my sisters and I to call the cops and he cursed some more when he realized that whoever had knocked on the door was gone. My sisters called the cops and they arrived fairly quickly, talking with my dad about what was going on, claiming there had been other complaints about this happening nearby and explaining that they would try their best to find out who was doing it. The police did a search around our house but didn't find anyone, even searching the backyard where I was afraid the perpetrator might be. The police assured us that someone would patrol the neighborhood that night once the cops were gone. My dad apologized for not believing us the night before. We said it was okay and left it at that. He locked all the doors and stayed up later than my sisters and I. I couldn't calm down, so I slept in my sister's room that night as well. Eventually, though, I put this situation behind me. A few months had passed, but not without nightmares and sleep paralysis about the whole ordeal. Most nightmares ending with someone breaking in and hurting my sisters. Nightmares. Other nightmares ending in more brutal ways. I had thought nothing more of the whole thing, that is, until one day I came home from school and Ness ran up to me, buzzing with energy. She proceeded to tell me that apparently the cops had found out who was knocking on everyone's doors about a month or so ago. It was an older man who lived a few houses down from us. They had gotten him to stop and I am not sure if he was given a warning or whatever. He was a little unstable mentally and nobody had opened their doors for him. Ness then told me that the same guy had been arrested earlier this day. I was shocked he had only been knocking on people's doors at odd hours of the night. I'm happy to say that he is in jail and no longer lives in that neighborhood. I haven't done any more looking into his crime other than trying to confirm it for myself the day he was arrested. I'm also happy to say that after another recent event where someone tried to break into our house, my father installed a ring doorbell, the doorbell with a camera, which gave my sisters and I some comfort. I really hope this man gets what he deserves, or maybe that he gets the help that he needs if he really is insane Former Funeral Director here the cemetery I run is really old, like by a good few hundred years at least. It must be since the church next to it was constructed during the 17th century. Considering the fact that it is a pretty rural place as well, most people back in the day were buried with only wooden crosses and such, no stone or marble. So as time goes on, crosses rot and wither away, new people get buried, etc. Nowadays, due to less people living out here in the sticks, the cemetery is really run down and overgrown. So as some of you can imagine, when you keep burying bodies in the same small patch of dirt for that many centuries, eventually the soil has been worked over dozens and dozens of times. So in the end it consists mainly of bone meal. You can't even rake over the flower beds there without accidentally uncovering some teeth or finger bones or something equally grim. It's nothing but fragmented skeletons all the way down under the thin turf. The soil sort of resembles the kind of dirt you would see near sandy beaches, except on closer examination, all the light colored parts are just bone fragments rather than crushed seashells. Not really scary or unexpected, just super eerie until you eventually get used to it. You learn to treat anything recognizable as human remains with respect and just tuck it away out of sight under the plant or whatever else you were putting there. Anyway, so someone was taking care of their relative's grave and decided to expand the area around the grave. For some reason, the people around here are not particularly fond of grass, rather preferring a well leveled ground with zen garden lines made with a rake. The person removed the grass and was spreading sprucing up the place with a rake. When they pulled up a bunch of snow white hair from the dirt, they must have freaked out and ran out of there, leaving the cemetery attendant to stumble across what is essentially hair coming out of the ground. She reported it to the church and supposedly they reburied the remains. Even with all my years as an undertaker, I'm not entirely sure how there could have been a body so close to the surface. But there's another incident that sticks with me even more than that one. My business partner and I had just gotten back to the funeral home from a house call for a 27 year old woman who tragically passed away. As we were moving her body from the cots to the embalming table, we heard an audible click and the radio across the room turned on full volume of static. It's one of those old radios where you turn the volume dial until it clicks to turn on. We both looked at each other, pale as ghosts. He happened to be an extremely religious man and this event visibly shook him. He found an excuse to leave early. Not long after the incident, I shut the radio off as I typically used my iPhone to listen to music while doing embalming work. When I had finished the procedure and was attempting to move her from the embalming table to a dressing table, I heard that click from that old radio and it turned on full volume yet again. At that point I was fairly freaked out and left. Not long after. My partner and I never spoke of it again and nothing like that ever occurred to my knowledge. Before or after. Just a few days ago I had the strangest experience I have had in the 10 plus years of driving a cab. I picked up this well dressed and good looking middle aged man. However, when he opened his mouth he said the strangest things. What started out as an entertaining discussion ended up as an all consuming fear. I'm going to explain everything. Saturday night I was working the graveyard shift. Most of my fares come from bars. I had just dropped off a pair of drunk women. It was around 3am when I noticed a well dressed tall man waving me down. The neighborhood combined with his fancy suit spoke possible big tipper to me. Once he got in and closed the door, he removed his hat, a fine looking straw fedora. His clothing and movie star good looks were out of place. I feared at first that I'd picked up a time traveler. I did the usual and asked him where he was headed. I don't know really. I'm in town on business and I was looking for someone to show me around. His answer made me chuckle. It seemed awful late for a sightseeing trip. As long as you're paying mister, I'll drive you anywhere. And that was how it all started. For the next two hours or so I showed him around town. The university, the Capitol building, the usual touristy stuff. At Some point during our little tour, I remembered why he said he was in town. So what kind of business are you in? His reply made me laugh even more than his first. The guy was a natural comedian. I'm what some people would call a contract killer. We had been having such a good time so far, I decided to go ahead with the ruse. Okay, mister, I'll play along. Tell me how it works. How does one go about hiring a contract killer? Well, a woman contacts me how they do, so I'll keep to myself. If their references check out, we move on to business. She gives me the names and any other info I ask for. If I decide to take the job, we move on to money. If we agree on a number, then I go to work. With all that anonymity, I asked him how he made sure that he would get paid after he offed someone. It appeared my choice of words made him laugh. It probably wouldn't be wise to tell you that part. We professionals have to keep some secrets to ourselves. Okay, fair enough. Well then, how does a client know you've completed the job? I regretted asking the question even before I finished asking it. Even though it was a stupid question, he still entertained me with an answer, albeit with a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. We live in a time with a 24 hour news cycle and multiple social media outlets. Don't you think if your dad died suddenly, that someone's not going to contact your mother first? If you don't discover it on your own, someone is going to tell you. Once I'm paid, my relationship with the customer ends. She's ultimately on her own after that. The last part of his answer brought up another question in my mind. If something goes wrong per se, and she gets arrested or implicates herself, what do you do? He thought for a moment before answering. I imagine he was considering how much he should say to a stranger driving his taxi. Some contingencies have been put in place to protect myself. First off, if I have done my job right, the client shouldn't have any information about me to give to the cops. And if on the off chance I screw up so badly that she can, I have multiple exit strategies. I certainly won't let the police get their hands on me. None of us get to live forever. There were a few times I had to remind myself that this was a game. He made it fun nonetheless. His imagination and forethought wowed me. We had been playing this game for hours before I had thought to ask him how he got started in his business. I Joined the army fresh out of high school. It seemed my work caught the attention of my superiors. They referred me to a couple of gentlemen in the government. And I worked for them for 10 years before I made the decision to go into business for myself. I gotta tell you, mister, you're really good at this stuff. You really should be a storyteller if that's not what you're really doing for a living. I'm seriously impressed. And I wasn't blowing smoke. This was the most fun I had had driving a cab in my entire life. I was used to dealing with drunks and arrogant businessmen. This was a blast. Thank you, young man. I appreciate everything you have shown me tonight. I could tell by the way he was talking the night was coming to an end. It was just as well. The sun would be up soon and I was beginning to flag myself. I took the opportunity to ask one more question. One I should have asked far earlier. He had said earlier in the night that he was in town on business. Did that mean he was here to take care of someone? A sly grin grew across his face as he thought on his answer. As a matter of fact, I was. However, I received a message at the last minute to cancel the hit. I get to keep the half she had already given me, so I didn't mind. That's business. It happens on occasion. That's a woman's prerogative after all, isn't it? To change their minds? I hope her and her old man work it out. Anyhow, that's how I ended up with you. Just as the first rays of the sun broke over the horizon, he pointed out a place to let him out. There were a few hotels at the end of the parking lot and I assumed that was where he was headed. He reached over the seat and handed me ten $100 bills. Before I could argue, he told me to keep the change. Keep the change, kid. You earned it. I had a great time tonight. Thank you, mister. I had a great time myself. And thank you most of all for that awesome story. As he stepped from the cab, he said one last thing. Thank you for showing me around tonight, Adam. Take care of Linda and stay out of trouble. I pulled out of the lot and headed for home. My hope was that Linda would have breakfast going. That was when it hit me like a hammer. How did that man know my name, not to mention my wife's? My license was nowhere. He could have seen it. I reenacted the night's discussion in my head. There was never a point in which I told him it would have ruined the game. I didn't ask him his and there was no reason for me to tell him mine. Certainly not my wife's. How did he know I was married anyway? I hadn't worn a ring in years. I lost it down a drain and never found it. He could have guessed. The problem with that is Linda and I had just gotten back together last week. We had been separated and considering divorce for two years before that. When I pulled into the driveway of my house, a terrible idea came into my mind. Was there a possibility that guy wasn't making up a story no one would dare tell someone, even a stranger, in such a bold and frank way that he was a hitman? If he was serious, the fact he knew my name and my wife's could only mean one thing. Even if it was true, I wasn't ready to accept it. While Linda and I sat and ate that morning morning, I couldn't stop myself from watching her. I was terrified that my wife had wanted me dead. Even if she had changed her mind, there was no way she would admit it if I did ask. Either answer would most likely destroy the fragile peace we have built between us. I need to know. You listening? What do you think? Am I crazy or is this really happening? This story takes place all the way back when I was still in high school. In order to earn money to fund my video game addiction, I regularly tutored this 11 year old girl. We actually got along so well that the parents ended up asking me to babysit her and her little brother a couple times. One night in particular, the parents were meant to go downtown to watch a baseball game before a few drinks with friends, telling me they would be back earlier than midnight. Basic babysitting job, right? Wrong. Right around 8:00 in the evening it started raining pretty hard. We all lived in a Gulf city at the time and storms can blow in fast before turning into flooding really fast. Once it became horrifyingly clear we were in for one big storm. The parents tried to get home as quickly and safely as possible, but the streets had already started to flood and apparently they ended up trapped in a parking lot. The irony was lost on on me at the time, but not today. The kids parents called and we agreed I would spend the night in their guest bedroom while they booked themselves into a motel. I had the kids go to bed while I sat up in the kitchen to do homework and watch Netflix. After a little while I started to notice water seeping in from under the back doors. They had a large house with like Three double doors to the back, so it was very large with lots of square feet. I got every towel in the house and started wiping up the water and using the towels to block the door. After this had mostly been cleaned up, I went back to the kitchen table to watch more Netflix. Not much else I could do right, but it couldn't have been any more than like 15 minutes later when the power cuts out and all the lights shut off. This freaked me out a bit bit. But I tried to stay as calm as I could. That's when the burglar alarm went off in the other room. I pretty much crapped my pants. I was in a pitch black house with two young kids surrounded by flooded roads that no one could drive on. After a minute or so of almost blind panic, I realized to my horror, I was the closest thing in the house to an adult. There was no one looking after me. In fact, I was directly responsible for those kids. So I grabbed the biggest, sharpest kitchen knife I could find, then went to go check all the doors. They were all still closed and no one was in the house. So I called the parents. It turns out the alarm went off when the power cut out and I just needed to shut it off with a code upstairs. This happened about three more times over the next few hours. After the power came back on. I thought things had chilled out, but then we got a tornado warning. I went and got the kids from upstairs and we all hung out in this study for about an hour until the warning passed. At this point it was 2am and I passed out in the guest bedroom. The parents woke me up when they got home at around 7am a.m. and I drove home past giant fallen branches and stalled abandoned cars. It was surreal, but thankfully everyone was safe and well in the end. I have heard countless stories about other people's experiences with sleep paralysis and I thought I would share my scariest ones. A lot of people have heard of the shadow people. I have had an unknown black force pin me down in bed, suffocating me. However, the other two instances I have had are more bizarre and I still think about them quite often. About four years ago, I was 24. I still lived with my mom since I was in my second year of nursing school and it was just easier to live at home while going to school. Going to bed one night all seemed well until I woke up. For no reason, I couldn't move or talk. I heard almost static mumbling sounds on my left. Completely terrified, I listened as I tried desperately to move. Slowly, this static starts to get clearer and I hear young voices, children's voices. They begin chanting you're going to die. And giggling after each chant. It was like they were singing a nursery rhyme. They chanted the same thing over and over again. My heart was pounding out of my chest. Logically, in my head, I was telling myself this wasn't real. For all those that aren't religious. This may not seem like it makes sense, but I decided to pray in my head to make it stop. It was like I was screaming in my head because I couldn't physically speak. It felt like an eternity before it went away and I was able to move again. I rushed out of my room to my mom and told her everything. I didn't go back into my room that night. She looked at me with disbelief. I don't know if she truly believed me or understand sleep paralysis. Regardless, it's something I will never forget. My second story was around the same year when sleep paralysis becomes a recurring theme every night or every other night. I just started to sleep with the lights on. For added comfort, my cats would sleep on my bed and cuddle with me until I fell asleep for a while. No instances of sleep paralysis occurred, so I just assumed this is what I needed to do each night. Like usual, I went to bed with the lights on and one of my cats, Salem, curled up in my arm while I slept, I woke up with a feeling of all too familiar dread. I couldn't believe what was happening. I felt like I was being watched. To my horror, I can't make this up if I wanted to. Disturbingly saw a white figure on the right side of my bed standing very close to me. My heart felt like it dropped into my stomach. I see piercing bright blue eyes staring at me. I glanced down at my cat, seemingly unaware of the figure and sleeping soundly. This eased me up a bit. Seeing this made me remind myself that this wasn't real. After a few moments, the figure disappeared. Even with the lights on, I did not feel safe. I don't experience sleep paralysis as much as I used to, thankfully. But those are two instances I will never forget. And if you suffer from sleep paralysis, you know exactly what I went through and how horrible it truly is. When my mom was 16, a year before she got pregnant pregnant with me, she was having the same dream every night for about a year. In this dream, she and a boy around her age would be surrounded by a group of men in a cemetery. My mom had no idea who the boy was, but every night a man from the group would stand in front of them and ask, would you die for him? My mom would answer no, being that she had no idea who the guy was. The man would ask the boy, would you die for her? The boy would reply, no as well. One night, however, the man asked the boy first, will you die for her? He said no as usual. The man then turned to my mom and asked her, will you die die for him? She isn't sure why. Maybe out of curiosity of what would happen or fear of getting hurt, she said yes. The man stared at her. The man then said, your fate is sealed and so is his. But this time he didn't hurt them. She just woke up My mom was a model and on this specific day day she had a fashion show that she would be doing in another nearby city. Her aunt had come to drive and accompany her to the show along with my mom's best friend. Everything was fine. That morning my mom got dressed, her friend came over, her aunt arrived and they piled into the car ready for the three to four hour drive. While on the highway, my mom noticed she had forgotten something at home. They were only about 10 minutes out at this point with plenty of time to spare, so they turned around to go grab it. Just as they turned around listening to music and singing along, my mom's friend asked to turn the music down. Do you hear that? She asked. My mom and her aunt were silent for a moment before hearing a strange scraping sound like metal on concrete. They looked around for the source of the noise but saw nothing around them. There were no other cars on the road. When they got back to the house, my mom ran inside as her friend and aunt checked the car to make sure the strange noise wasn't the car. Everything looked fine to them and my grandfather even checked and gave them the okay. This all took maybe 20, 30 minutes. With that, they shrugged it off and headed back to the highway. When they finally got on, the highway was now covered with police cars blocking off a lane where they could see a horrible accident had taken place. My mom's aunt approached the scene slowly as a cop waved her down telling her to stop. Give us a second to clear this lane of debris. What happened? Her aunt asked, clearly shocked at the scene. It was a head on collision, he replied. When did this happen? We were just here 30 minutes ago. The officer looked shocked. It happened about 30 minutes ago. You didn't see anything? They explained that they had heard a strange noise that sounded like metal scraping against concrete before exchanging worried looks as her aunt asked, is everyone okay? No ma'am. You ladies are lucky. It sounds like if you had been running even three seconds late, that could have been you. With that, the officer waved them through and told them to have a nice day. But as they passed the wreckage, my mom looked out the window to see them removing a body from the car. Her heart sank when she realized it was the boy from her dream. She never had that dream again. It, it, it.