Glowing Yellow Eyes By tomandcarrielester

Glowing Yellow Eyes By tomandcarrielester

Glowing Yellow Eyes

By tomandcarrielester

I had yellow round glowing (like a light), what my son and I can only describe as eyes staring at us.

The dog was on the enclosed porch going ballistic, when my son and I had to go calm her. It was the middle of the night and the dog was so ferocious, she seemed as if she wanted to tear through the door on her hind legs. We walked up to the window to peer out and I realized I wasn’t going to see anything, the light wasn’t on. I tried anyway, because the dog was going crazy at the door.

I looked out the window next to the door and saw what I thought was a yellow light. I then moved to the next pane in the window where the screen wasn’t going to interfere with my view and the two round glowing, what I call eyes, seemed to turn and look away from the dog and at me. It seemed to be observing me, as much as I was it. It appeared to be crouching in front of the door on the front walk.

I moved to the door window for a closer look and it disappeared before I got to the window. I then looked at my son and I said that was weird. My son said,”What?” I said,”It looked like…yellow…” I paused and he said,”Eyes”.


He said,”I have seen that a couple times before. I just closed the curtain and ignore it.”

This happened about 3 months ago and it really has not left me. I still get really shaken up by it and I don’t want to go out at night anymore. I live in a rural area in the country. And I want to just say there was no other light for it to be reflecting eyes from an animal. I am quite aware of how animals eyes reflect from light hitting it, I am also a hunter and knowledgeable in that respect. Anybody have any information I sure would appreciate it. I just want to know if it’s a harmful.



Dorm Ghost By monkeynavigated

Dorm Ghost By monkeynavigated

Dorm Ghost

By monkeynavigated

Freshman year of college and I was visiting my friend, Catherine, at University of Georgia in Athens. She lived in Brumby at the time, a girls’ dorm. Being underage, we spent our night smoking pot and goofing off in her room with her next door neighbor and another girl, Danielle, who had also gone to high school with Catherine and I.

The night was typical until Catherine’s roommate joined us. She had just come back from the shower (they were communal, one for each floor) and said, “You guys have to come with me; there’s a girl singing in the showers, and she has the most beautiful voice!” Having nothing else to do, we obliged. And just as she said, there was the most lovely singing coming from one of the showers. There were twenty or so showers lined up on two walls, but only one of them had water running. Pertinent details: The shower curtains were such that they could not be closed even if pulled tightly as possible; there was always an inch or so uncovered on either side. They were almost see-through and also quite short so you were going to see at least ankles if anyone was in there. (side note: what pervert designed these?) There were also no speakers or ventilation system to be seen except for the drains on the floor. The point of all this detail is to tell you that although there was a single shower going with the curtain closed there was no one in that shower stall or any of the other ones. We looked and looked, and all the while this girl is still singing beautifully, the voice reverberating from that one shower. Upon this realization, all of us looked at each other, utterly spooked. A moment later Danielle darted out of the bathroom as fast as a champion sprinter. The rest of us followed her a few seconds later, though not at a run.

Upon reaching the dorm room, we found Danielle sitting on the bed shaking and chain-smoking with an ashtray in front of her. We pressed her as to why she ran. “That was Tracy’s voice. She always used to sing,” she said. “She’s been following me around – I saw her at the creek the other day for just a second, and then she disappeared. I swear that was her voice!”

Tracy was in our junior high school class with us, but she died in hiking accident the summer before our senior year.

*Names have been changed to protect stoners and the introverted.



Doors Opening And Closing By pokemon_trainer

Doors Opening And Closing By pokemon_trainer


Doors Opening And Closing

Two weeks ago I was at my Great Auntie’s house, and she was telling me about the risky things she used to do. She told me that she used to use a Ouija board regularly in the house before her husband died. She, her husband and my grandma would all participate and they would get some frightening responses. She asked me if I wanted to use one with her that night and I refused (but have since used one several times as a result of intrigue).

I went upstairs and into the bathroom to brush my teeth. On my way out, I had to pass my great auntie’s son’s room. I knew that he was out working his night shift and that his boyfriend was also out, so that room should have been empty. The door was a quarter open like it had been all day, and without warning the door slammed shut with force. The door knob didn’t turn, it literally just slammed shut the moment I came parallel to it and glanced in the room. I tried to think of explanations like perhaps a draft made it slam, but all the windows were shut and plus it was way too forceful for a draft to do that.

I quickly ran to my great auntie’s bedroom where I was sleeping that night. I shut the door behind me, making sure it was properly shut. That door is problematic because it jams when you close it so that it’s very difficult to open it again. I got in bed, turned the lamp off and around 5 minutes later the door creaked open a few inches. It was as if someone had pushed it open with minimal effort and because I know how difficult that door is to open, I knew that something wasn’t right. I got up and jammed it shut again before getting back in bed.

I was a very freaked out at this point, but then I heard three taps from the top left corner of the room above the wardrobe. It wasn’t like it could have been the neighbours, it was three methodical knocks coming from the top left corner of the ceiling with no explanation.

Before I managed to get to sleep, I repeatedly felt something pulling my hair and poking my back and shoulders. I was honestly terrified, and to cut a long story short, throughout the night the door opened 3 more times by itself – each time more forcefully – and there were another 3 knocks coming from above the wardrobe. I was awoken several times by feelings of dread, something touching my head and back, and the sensation that something was pulling the covers off me.

I’d like to know what you think about this, because it’s resulted in me not wanting to fall asleep, and therefore I’ve been suffering from sleep deprivation. The hair pulling and noises is happening repeatedly every night, not just that one night. Do you have any advice on how to stop these forces and entities from doing this to me? Thank you.

A Bullet And A Hand Print By pokemon_trainer

A Bullet And A Hand Print By pokemon_trainer


A Bullet And A Hand Print

At the start of 2017, I was experiencing odd things I couldn’t explain. I would see what I was sure was a silhouetted figure in the corner of my eye, and turn to look but it would be gone. This happened several times a day whenever I was alone, no matter where I was, and it continues to happen nowadays. At this point I was unsure if I was imagining it, hallucinating or even suffering symptoms of a mental illness, but I know what I’ve seen and the frequency of the sightings confirms to me that this is real; I am either being followed by this entity, or it has attached itself to me.

A Bullet And A Hand Print 1  A Bullet And A Hand Print 2

One night around this time period, I had just got into bed and had been lying in the dark for only 5 minutes when I heard a metallic “ping” followed by a thud. I turned on the lamp to see what had happened and saw a small bullet casing in the center of the room on my carpet. I collect bullet casings and artillery shells, and I keep them on shelves against my wall, so the bullet was 3 feet away from where it had been displayed for years. The metallic sound I had heard was forceful, like the bullet had been thrown or hit across the room – there was no way it could have fallen.

That morning, I woke up and opened my blinds and was shocked to see a hand print with very elongated fingers in the center of the pane of glass. This could not have been the hand print of myself or anyone in my family, because first of all the fingers were abnormally long for any normal human hand, and the windows had been scrubbed and wiped clean the day before due to black mold. No one could have touched it during the night, and so with the bullet incident too, it cannot be a coincidence and leads me to believe that the black shadow figure I see (or equally another entity entirely) did these things.

They may not seem like experiences worth mentioning, but they were the 2 experiences that convinced me that what I was experiencing was not a figment of my imagination or a hallucination, but supernatural/paranormal activity. Since this I have experienced much worse, and I expect that my experiences will continue to get worse.

Alicia retold by S.E. Schlosser

Alicia retold by S.E. Schlosser


A Montana Ghost Story from Kalispell

retold by S.E. Schlosser

It was the sound of laughter and children’s voices that caught my attention.  Curious, I materialized in my old bedroom and went out into the hallway to peer over the railing by the grand staircase.  The voices had come from the Great Hall, where the house tours gathered.  Yes, there were two children scampering about, to the distraction of their parents.  An older boy and a tousled haired little toddler who reminded me of my own daughter at that age.
“No, no Alicia.  Don’t touch,” her mother agonized at the little girl flung herself onto a rocker by the fireplace.
Alicia.  No wonder I had felt compelled to return.  There was an Alicia in this house again.  How appropriate.  There had been an Alicia in every generation of our family from the 1600s to the present.  We’d called my little Alicia “Timmie”, I reminisced.
The tour began, and I followed them eagerly, floating down the stairs and hovering in the grandmother’s hallway.  Little Alicia was swung up into her father’s arms as the group moved into the library next door.  Looking over his shoulder, the tousle-haired youngster saw me.  She lifted her hand to me.  “Hi!”  she piped.
“Hi back,” I returned solemnly.  Her father glanced vaguely around, but did not see who his child was addressing.  I grinned conspiratorially at the little toddler and winked.  She tried to wink back, blinking her blue eyes several times in rapid succession, her face crinkling with the effort.  I chuckled softly and followed the group into the dining room.
I swished passed Alicia’s mother and went through the butler’s pantry into the kitchen.  Behind me, Alicia’s mother shivered and asked: “Is there a draft in here?”   I looked at the picture of my little Timmie on the back of the stove.  Yes, this little Alicia resembled her.  I perched myself on a table in the corner of the room and listened as the tour guide discussed Father’s obsession with southern biscuits and showed everyone the huge bin of coffee.  Alicia waved a hand at me from her father’s shoulder.  “Lady,” she said very clearly to her mother, pointing at me.  Her mother looked straight at me, seeing nothing but the table.  Alicia’s brother turned my way and squinted very hard, as if he might be able to make out my outline if he stared hard enough.  I smiled at him.
I floated up and up through the ceiling then and settled myself in the little toy room on the upper landing, waiting for Alicia to come upstairs.  I heard her little voice insisting that her father put her “down”.  Then the sound of little feet chugging mightily as she climbed the steps.  With a smile, the woman looking into the toy room moved aside so Alicia and her brother could take a look.  I couldn’t resist.  “Peek-a-boo!” I called, appearing suddenly around the doorway.  Alicia laughed in delight.  “Peek-boo!” she giggled, hiding her eyes behind her hands.  Obediently, her big brother did the same.  He obviously loved this tiny moppet.
“Come on Peek-a-Boo,” Alicia’s father said indulgently, picking her up again and taking her with him up to the second floor hallway.  I went to stand by the grand staircase again, watching the tourists move in and out of the guest rooms.  Alicia waved to me as they entered my room, then around to my parents bedroom and out past the bath to the game room.  Father had loved playing billiards with his guests, I mused with a smile, touching one of the balls with the tip of my finger.  Beside me, the tour guide was telling the visitors about our buffalo herd.  Father had been very worried about the bison.  So many of them were being killed.  So he bought a herd and they roamed the roads and byways around Kalispell freely all their lives.    After the head male died of old age, Father had his head stuffed by my uncle, and his head still hung in the game room.
I floated up to the third floor and sat in one of the wicker chairs as the guide took the guests around to the sewing room, father’s private hideaway, the laundry room, our game room.  Alicia ran all around, laughing and stomping her little feet in her cunning sneakers.  She flung herself into my lap and we stared happily at one another, giggling together, until her mother came running.        “No, no Alicia.  Mustn’t touch.”
The tour was nearly over.  The group gathered in the back hallway – the Grandmothers hallway – for one last bit of history.  The guide showed them the ‘secret’ hiding places in the wall and showed them a note I’d written to my grandmother many years ago.  Then they were saying goodbye, and Alicia waved her little hand to me as her parents exited through the door of the gift shop.
“Goodbye Alicia,” I called as her brother walked right through me.  That felt strange to me, but worse for him I think.  He turned pale and shivered.  Then made a bolt for the door.
“Bye-bye,” Alicia called back to me as her brother pushed his father aside and fled out the screen door and down the steps to the drive.
“That place is creepy,” he told his mother as they walked together into the garden.  ‘I think it’s haunted!”
Haunted, I thought, amused.  By happy memories, certainly.  And perhaps occasionally by something else!  I leaned out the window and waved once more to little Alicia, though the toddler didn’t see me.  Then I vanished.




The Crash That Should Have Killed Me By FFBlackWidow

The Crash That Should Have Killed Me By FFBlackWidow

The Crash That Should Have Killed Me

So to start out with I had lost my great grandmother when I was 5 and have been able to feel her with me ever since. My little sister (who can see and speak to spirits) says that my grammy is still with me and my grandfather to this day. In 2011 when I was almost a junior at Highland high I lost a really good friend of mine who was like a little brother to me.

On January of 2015 my ex boyfriend and I had a huge fight in front of my 13 (now 15) year old little sister that almost turned physical. I had to call the West Valley Police Department to have him removed from my apartment. After that every thing just started to fall apart. My computer crashed on me, I had lost my internet. And eventually lost my dream job that I hadn’t even had for a year.

How that happen I was driving through an intersection on highland drive and 3300 s. When another car hit the side of my Wasatch Transportation Mercedes sprinter in the rear end on the passenger side. The sprinter ended up flipping onto the divers side, slid about 300-400 feet down hill from the light, hit curb and stopped. Needless to say both vehicles were totaled. The lady in the other car told police I had ran a red light and I was ticked… The fire fighters who cut the windshield to get me out of my vehicle said that if I hadn’t been wearing my seatbelt I would have tossed around in the van like a kernel in a popcorn machine. I lost my dream job at Wasatch transportation due to the accident.

When I got home my little sister said that my friend who passed away when I was high school and my grammy were with me during my accident… How would she know that? She was in school during it… I still believe to this day that its not the seatbelt that saved me… It was Austin and my grammy who saved my life…

One Last Visit From Dad By DestinyGirl

One Last Visit From Dad By DestinyGirl

One Last Visit From Dad

I have posted before (although it’s been a few years) about my grandfather and my mom visiting me in my dreams. Those occurrences were both frustrating and comforting, but they were not “startling.” Over the course of time, I had come to understand that I would sometimes have those types of dreams and always knew my family would never do anything to hurt or scare me.

Since my last story, I lost my dad. He passed away in November 2013. In the years since, I’ve had some dreams about him as well that I feel sure are more than simple “dreams.” He was a very logical and stoic man in life, and I feel his essence hasn’t change since his death. In my dreams about my father, his messages are very basic and straightforward – he is checking on me to make sure I am OK and sometimes expressing his displeasure about a decision I have made (that hasn’t changed!).

However, the reason I am writing today is to talk about the day he died. He had been in a rehab facility to recover from some complications of his diabetes and was on the mend. I had traveled to see him for his birthday over the weekend and had left to come back home on Sunday. He was on the mend, in good spirits, and I told him I would see him over the holidays. Unfortunately, that never happened because he passed away the following Wednesday – 3 days later. My brother called me at work to tell me had had a heart attack and died nearly instantly. I was in shock and disbelief – and still not over my mom’s passing not even 18 months earlier.

I left work immediately and went home to pack. I live in NC, and my dad lived in VA. That night I thought I would never be able to sleep. Instead, my mental exhaustion allowed me to fall asleep fairly easily. I woke up a few times during the night, and each time I saw my dad at the foot of the bed. There was no misty cloud or translucent figure. My dad was there, clear as anything in front of me. I thought maybe I was dreaming, but one time I sat up in bed and still saw him. He was not speaking or moving. He was just…there. I was not scared by any means – it was my dad, after all. But I was startled. I wanted to say something, do something. And yet I couldn’t do anything but stare silently at the figure looking back at me. Then like that – he was gone. It took me a while to get back to sleep after that, but I was comforted, saddened, and hopeful all at the same time.

Because he left so suddenly, I think he wanted to check on me and say a quick (yet stoic) goodbye before he moved on to whatever comes next. I haven’t seen him like that since that night.