Herman was spending the night with some friends who lived in the country. He went to bed late and did not sleep well. Off in the distance he thought he heard the sound of a horse drawn carriage. He got up, went to the window, and looked out. There, in the full moon, he saw the carriage he had heard right outside of the house. The carriage looked like it was carrying a coffin. The driver of the carriage looked up at the window where Herman stood. The driver's face was ghostly pale and very thin. "All aboard", the driver said to Herman. Herman stepped back from the window and laid back down on the bed. He eventually fell back into a fitful sleep.
The next morning, he told his friends about the carriage and driver and they all decided that he just must have had a very bad dream. Later that day, Herman went back home to his apartment in the city. Just as he started to board the elevator , he looked at the elevator operator. He saw the same pale, thin face that had belonged to the carriage driver. The elevator operator looked at Herman and said "All aboard". Herman stepped back from the elevator and stood as if in a trance until a few moments later he was startled by a loud crash. The elevator cable had broken and the elevator had plummeted down, killing everyone on board. Later investigation discovered that the elevator operator had been a temporary employee and hired only for that one day.
Marsha Bennett told me this story herself. She had been north to visit friends in the state of Washington. Now she was driving back to her home in California. The last lap of the day's journey was over the Cascade range that stretches from Washington to California. It was late in the evening and snow had started to fall before she finally reached the little Oregon town where she planned to spend the night.
Tired and ready for a hot meal and a good night's sleep, she stopped at the first place she came upon. It was an old hotel on the main street. The lobby had a musty odor. The seedy clerk behind the desk signed her in . Her room was on the 3rd floor - Room 310. She helped an elderly bellhop with her luggage.
As soon as the door to the room was opened, a blast of hot air struck Marsha full in the face. Along with the hot air came something else, something she could not define but that filled her with dread. It was heavy and depressing, she explained, "with the strong scent of evil". She felt as if she were about to faint.
All she said was, "It's awfully hot."
The bellhop tinkered with the radiator knobs. Then he opened the window and left. The room began to cool off, but the feeling of despair and dread grew even stronger. It centered on the open square of black window space. The terror seemed to speak in her mind.
"Go to the window", it said. "Throw yourself out, out, out!"
Terrified, Marsha flung herself on the bed farthest from the window.
"I kept saying no, no, no to that voice," she told me, "but the voice kept insisting."
"You can't fight me, you puny thing," it said. "Sooner or later you'll jump. I'll make you jump, jump, jump!"
At last Marsha could stand it no longer. She jumped up, calling herself a coward.
"Coward or not," she explained, "I was sure that if I stayed the night, I'd be dead by morning."
Marsha was prepared to sacrifice the money she'd already paid just to leave, but when she went downstairs with her baggage to check out, the clerk never asked what was wrong or if she wanted to try another room. He returned the full cash amount to her.
Marsha drove down the street to a modern motel. As she entered the lobby, she felt the dark depression slip from her shoulders. She became almost giddy with relief. She had planned to be on her way early next morning. Instead she decided to stay over a day and look into the history of the old hotel to see if she could discover the reason for her terrifying experience there.
She visited the local library to make a few inquiries. An elderly librarian sat behind the desk.
"I'm just wondering," Marsha said tentatively, "Did anything shocking ever happen in the old hotel?"
The librarian looked at her strangely. "How did you come upon that bit of history?" she asked. "It took the hotel a long time to squash the story."
The librarian went on to tell what happened. One evening, back in 1948, a couple checked into the hotel as Mr. & Mrs. Oscar Smith. The next morning, hotel employees found the young woman's body lying on the sidewalk outside the hotel beneath room 310. The man who had registered as her husband had disappeared.
"At first they assumed suicide," the librarian concluded. "But then they pried open her fist and found she was clutching a handful of dark curly hair, not her own. So they made a search for the murderer. But he was never found..."
"By the way," the librarian suddenly added, "isn't that a coincidence! It all happened on November 5th, 40 years ago yesterday."
Long ago, a young man met and fell in love with a beautiful young woman. She was always dressed exquisitely and she always wore a black ribbon around her neck.
Soon the man and the woman were married and moved into a little cottage by the sea. They started out very happily, but soon the young man became more and more curious as to why his wife wore a ribbon around her neck all the time. One day he decided to ask her. The only answer he received was that he would be sorry if she took it off, so she would not take it off.
The young man was not happy with his wife's answer. Time passed and eventually all he could think about was that black ribbon. One day, he awoke before his wife, went into her sewing box and got a pair of scissors, and cut off the ribbon that was around her neck. His wife woke up with a start. Her head fell off and rolled onto the floor while the woman screamed "I told you you'd be sorry!".
Some boys and girls were at a party one night. There was a graveyard down the street, and they were talking about how scary it was.
"Don't ever stand on a grave after dark", one of the boys said. "The person inside will grab you. He'll pull you under."
"That's not true," one of the girls said. "It's just a superstition."
"I'll give you a dollar if you stand on a grave," said the boy.
"A grave doesn't scare me," said the girl. "I'll do it right now."
The boy handed her his knife. "Stick this knife in one of the graves," he said. "Then we'll know you were there." The graveyard was filled with shadows and was as quiet as death. "There is nothing to be scared of," the girl told herself, but she was scared anyway.
She picked out a grave and stood on it. Then quickly she bent over and plunged the knife into the soil and started to leave. But she couldn't get away. Something was holding her back! She tried a second time to leave, but she couldn't move. She was filled with terror. "Something has got me!" she screamed, and she fell to the ground. When she didn't come back, the others went to look for her. They found her body sprawled across the grave. Without realizing it, she had plunged the knife through her skirt and had pinned it to the ground. It was only the knife that had held her. She had died of fright.
Once their were two girls who shared a college dorm together. Their names were Meg and Venida. The girls were out partying one night. Meg noticed she forgot her purse and went back quickly to the dorm. With out turning on the lights she walked in and grabbed the purse. Then she returned to the party. Later on in the night, Venida got tired. She left to the dorm to go to sleep.
The next morning, Meg went back to the dorm. The police officers were outside.
" Officer, what's the problem?" She asked.
" There has been a murderer."
" Oh my god. Please let me see."
"No. It's a bit to sloppy." Said the officer.
"Please." Finally, the officer let Venida upstairs. When she walked in the room she saw her roommate covered with a clean white sheet. On the mirror in big, red letters words said: " AREN'T YOU GLAD YOU DIDN'T TURN ON THE LIGHT?"
"Creak", a sound, faint, distant, but still heard.
"Crack", something snapping, or being trampled on.
The man sits in his room, reading. The room is silent except for the quiet fire burning.
"Creak"..Just the the house settling, nothing more.
"Crack", Perhaps some small animals outdoors.
"Whoosh", Was that the wind?
The man stands up and peeks out the window. A clear night is all he sees, the full moon brilliant in the sky. Laughing at his nervousness, he returns to his book.
"Creak", the man now silently chuckles at the sound.
"Crack", how could he have been scared of some sounds.
"Whoosh", must be breezy out tonight.
"Thump"...did that come from within the house?
The man stares into the fire, trying to calm his jangled nerves.
"Creak"...
"Crack"...
"Whoosh"...will the sounds never cease?
"Thump"..."Thump"..."Thump"...
Closer, he thinks, the sounds are getting closer. He shuts the book and closes his eyes, and thinks of something besides his wild imagination.
"Creak"
"Thump"
"Crack"
"Thump"
"Whoosh"
"Thump"..."Thump"..."Thump"...a pause? The man moves quietly, slowly, towards the door with a nervous gait. "Thump"...a step back..."Thump"...yes, it's getting closer. "Thump"...he stares at the door, trying to somehow see through it..."Thump"...he reaches slowly for the doorknob, hand shaking, no longer able to take not knowing..."Creak", a loose floorboard, near the door outside..."Thump", he slowly opens the door...
"A scream"
...silence...
Yesterday I had a short shift at work (in a call center for those who did not know) and about half way through the shift we started having problems with the software that routes the calls to us.
So this call pops up, nothing through the official systems and I answer it. There is nothing there though so I repeat the greeting and then this heavy male breathing starts on the line and I replied with ‘Hello?’ and after like another 15 seconds this really quiet, distant little girls voice says “Can you call me back please?”. I repeat myself again and the heavy breathing is still continuing and in response the little girls voice repeats “Can you call me back please?”. I try to talk to her one more time to get a response that was not the heavy breathing and then the call dropped out.
I have worked in that job for 4 and a half years. I was there when my friend had to have the police called to the center because a customer was threatening to come down to the building and kill everyone with his shotgun….
And this is still without a doubt the most terrifying call I have ever gotten…
I’ve been lying in bed for hours. It’s 5:30 am now and there’s noting I can do. My parents are staring at me but I can’t bear to look at them. I’m trying not to scream.
Their eyes are staring straight at me and their mouths are hanging open. I feel paralyzed by fear. I can’t let it know that I’m not asleep and there’s nobody left to save me. I’ve been trying to think of a way to escape, because if I stay here, I’m going to die.
It’s waiting for me to wake up and see what it has done.
A few hours ago, I was awoken by loud screams coming from down the hallway. I got up and went to see what was going on. After taking a peek outside my bedroom door, I noticed blood on the carpet. Terrified, I jumped back into bed and hid under the covers. I tried desperately to go back to sleep, and tried to convince myself that it was just some horrible nightmare.
Then, I heard my bedroom door creak open and I peeked out from under my blankets to see what was going on. I could see something dragging two large bundles into the room.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t human. I could tell that much. It was thin and hairless. It didn’t have any eyes. It was stooped and crooked and crept noiselessly into the room. My eyes adjusted to the darkness and I could make out what it was dragging. It was the bodies of my dead parents.
It propped my father against the edge of the bed, and turned his head to face me. Then it sat my mother down in the chair and positioned her facing towards me as well. Finally, it started rubbing it’s hands along the walls, drawing something in blood.
It stepped back and I could see it had scrawled a message on the wall. A few hours ago, it was too dark to read.
The thing has been standing in the corner for hours, waiting to strike. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness and now I can read the message on the wall. I don’t want to look at. It’s too terrifying to think about. But I need to see it before I die.
I peek at the message on the wall.
It reads: “I know you’re awake.”
You know that ringing sound that you will perceive when you are in a very quiet area? Some people say this is an auditory-illusion brought about the ear’s inability to detect frequencies below the threshold of the human senses. This is completely wrong. That ringing covers up something else altogether. If you are quick, patient, and maybe a little lucky, you will be able to hear past the ringing. What you will hear are voices whispering to each other. They will silence themselves quickly but with practice, you will become more adept at catching and interpreting what they are saying. You will hear things of the past, the present, and the future. However, you must be careful. Because there is no such thing as a voice without a body.
And when you start noticing them, they will start noticing you.
Kenneth Parks, a 23-year-old Toronto man with a wife and infant daughter, was suffering from severe insomnia caused by joblessness and gambling debts. Early in the morning of May 23, 1987 he awoke, got in his car and drove 23 kilometers to his in-laws' home. He stabbed to death his mother-in-law, whom he loved and who had once referred to him as "a gentle giant." Parks also assaulted his father in law, who survived the attack. He then drove to the police and said "I think I have killed some people... my hands," only then realizing he had severely cut his own hands. Under police arrest he was taken to the hospital where he underwent repair of several flex tendons of both hands.
Because he could not remember anything about the murder and assault, had no motive for the crime whatsoever, and did have a history of sleepwalking, his team of defense experts (psychiatrists, a psychologist, a neurologist and a sleep specialist) concluded Ken Parks was 'asleep' when he committed the crime, and therefore unaware of his actions.
In Jan 2009, Timothy Brueggeman, a 51-year-old electrician from Wisconsin, sleepwalked out of his home in Hayward wearing only his underwear and a fleece shirt. His body was found the next morning about 190 yards from his rural home.
With temperatures around -16°F, Brueggeman died of hypothermia.
Investigators found a bottle of Ambien in his bedroom. Ambien is the most-prescribed sleeping pill in the country and has been linked to hundreds of cases of sleepwalking. Sanofi-Aventis, which produces the drug, insists Ambien is safe when taken as directed and not mixed with alcohol or other drugs. But a friend of the victim, Ed Lesniak, admitted that his friend, who was plagued with insomnia, sometimes drank when taking the sleep aid.
This wasn't Brueggeman's first dangerous sleepwalking incident. Last summer, he drove his pickup truck into the side of his own garage. Brueggeman's mother had advised him to stop taking Ambien after the incident.
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