creepy stories

anonymous asked:

What have your paranormal experiences been? :o

That is a lot of stories! Haha. How about I start with one? I’ll go with the first one.

I was 7 years old and my parents and I just moved to a new city so we were looking at houses. The realtor took us to the last house for the day. I remember wandering around to explore the house & I wandered off into the master bedroom. The house was still completely furnished, as if the family was still living in it.

I was looking on the dresser with starry eyes because there were all these pretty perfume bottles (I like shiny things 💁🏻‍♀️✨).

I sat at the end of the bed and I was just kind of bouncing on the bed and swinging my feet, you know, just being a kid. I looked over and it’s almost as if time had stood still for a moment. There was a woman lying on the floor, in between the bed and the wall. She was just looking at me. The only way I can explain her is that she was a.. gas like figure.

Ethereal, smoky, translucent? There was nothing gory about it, it was just very otherworldly. Unnatural. Her whole figure was moving in kind of a slow wave like motion. I don’t know if “wave like” is the right word. But it was a gentle, fluid movement of whatever consistency she was. I’m finding it hard for me to describe it, but hopefully that paints some kind of a picture!

Anyway, I ran out of that house SO fast! I was crying, shaking, I was so scared! My mom asked me what was wrong and I told her what I saw. She thought it was really odd so she asked the realtor if he could look into it for us. A few days later the realtor called my mom and told her that the wife had just recently died in the house..

& that’s really all there is to that story. It still gives me the goosebumps just thinking about it. I know there are people that don’t believe in these things, and that’s totally ok. Honestly, I can’t say for certain if I would be a “non-believer” if I’d never experienced things like this, but, I have.. 🤷🏻‍♀️

A Memo To Disney Cast Members.

A Disney Cast Members’ top priority is the comfort and safety of our guests. For this reason, all Disney World employees must follow these rules. Failure to do so will result in disciplinary action.

  • Ask to examine the photos our guests have taken. Be friendly. Check for abnormalities. If any are found, call for security. Guests may be distracted with free merchandise.
  • Every seventh photograph taken on the Dinosaur attraction must be deleted. If questioned, explain that it was a technical error and offer Fast Passes.
  • The rumors of sharks and crocodiles in the Lagoon are false. However, there is no swimming outside of designated swimming pools on Disney property.
  • Dead alligators are common around the Lagoon. Simply evacuate the area, call security, then take note of how much has been eaten.
  • There is only one Mickey out at once. If you find a second Mickey having an autograph session, check for eye holes. All Disney costumes have eye holes.
  • If you don’t find eye holes, allow the session to continue, but disallow photos. Call security immediately after the session concludes.
  • If you spot a second Mickey off to the side, lure him into the tunnels. That’s what the ducks are there for. Leave immediately afterwards, and do not look back.
  • The Disney World security unit does not wear specially marked clothing. If you see someone wearing a shirt that says “Disney Security”, shut down that section of the park immediately.

Following these rules will help ensure a safe and pleasurable trip to the happiest place on Earth. So stay knowledgeable, and stay safe.

@sixpenceee This is a story for you, this literally just happened to me about an hour ago.

I got home from work today and I was singing in the bathroom while I was taking off my makeup. My boyfriend and I record covers of songs and I started to hear music from the living room so I stopped singing to listen. I was hearing a cover we did of Nutshell by Alice in Chains and I thought my voice sounded really good in this particular recording so after a few seconds when my boyfriend walked into the bathroom I asked him which specific audio he played because I liked it.

He looked at me really confused and asked “What do you mean?” I asked him again and he still looked baffled and said slowly “I was playing guitar… I could hear you singing. You sounded really good.” I just stared at him, slowly starting to realize what just transpired.

I thought my boyfriend was playing a recording because I could hear my own voice, or something like it. He thought I was singing from the bathroom for the same exact reason except I wasn’t singing. I don’t know who or what was. I am having a hard time wrapping my head around this, although I am not particularly surprised as weird things seem to gravitate towards me.

My Dad Kidnapped Little Girls

I don’t ever remember my dad being normal. He was always a little strange. The man was secretive and closed off, and all his attempts at acting like a father rose the hairs on the back of my neck. It seemed forced. I don’t think I ever got used to that. There was no need, because he didn’t keep that up for long. By the time I was 5, I didn’t have a dad. What I had after that was a boss. Maybe an owner. Definitely not a dad.

He fully opened up as a person around that time. He brought a little girl into our home. She was small, but she was older than myself, too. Maybe 7 or 8. Her face was red and raw with tears. “Sam, this is your new little sister, Maria.” Before I could react, she spoke up between small sobs. “No, mister. I don’t know you. My name is Claire. Please take me home to my mommy, I promise that I won’t tell.” By the time she finished what she was saying, she was barely forming coherent sentences. That’s when I saw my Dad stop being my dad. With one fluid motion, he swung his arm, hitting her in the face and knocking her back on her ass.

I jumped up, too afraid and confused to do much of anything, but still frightened nonetheless. I was young, but I’d seen enough television to know that normal families didn’t do these things. “Sam, you sit your ass down or I’ll put you in the ground, you hear me?” Thus marked the loss of my father. Later, as I listened to the quiet cries of the girl, now locked in the room next to mine, he sat me down and explained that he wasn’t my father. He told me things a 5 year old should never hear. My life changed forever. I was a mistake.

The little girl was with us for a while. My dad left me at home while he went to the mall, buying all kinds of nice things for Maria. Claire. Whatever. He probably blew $500. The weeks afterward were strange, disgusting, and violent all at the same time. At the best, she would play along with his games and he would be happy. At the worst, I would have to listen to her screams as he did unspeakable things to her in the next room. After, when the screaming would stop, he would come to me and give me the same speech.

“This happens because you aren’t right, you understand? You should have been born a girl. We wouldn’t have to do this. She’s going to die someday because you’re trash.” He would walk to the door and finish with “Remember, Sam. No one out in that world will ever love you. If you try to leave, I’ll find you and I’ll kill you.”

Maria died about three months after my dad took her. This day wasn’t her first attempt at escape, but instead it was her last. Truly, I do not know if my father meant to kill her or not. He became consumed in his rage and I fought back tears as he continued to hit her and hit her, over and over again. Her little light went out as she choked on blood, gurgling sounds coming from her throat. She was buried in our back yard, right next to the playset that my father bought a year before. After that, he became nervous to the point where he packed me up and we started off on the road.

We lived like that for years. Sometimes, we’d live somewhere as long as a year, but that was the extent of it. On a good year, he’d take two or three girls without so much as a second look. People didn’t necessarily suspect him, though. He was a psycho, but the man was smart too. He would falsify documents and references, getting himself jobs as close to children as possible. I remember, one time, he was hired on to be an ice cream truck driver. He snatched up a little girl he called Gloria right in front of her house. He somehow managed to finish his route, too. She only lasted two months.

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Cousin Ian

“When I was 5, I would visit my aunt Rosemary for holiday. I was flown out from North Carolina all the way over to Vermont. So, it’s the day before Christmas. My aunt Rosemary takes me, my little sister, and my cousin Katy to this weird barn show. I wasn’t really interested in it until I was told there would be horses.

As expected, the whole thing was pretty damn boring. The only fun part was when we got on the hay ride, and aunt rosemary would not stop cracking jokes that were probably funny when she was a teenager.

This part is interesting. The hay ride ends, we get out of the horse-drawn cart and head into the little diner. Aunt Rosemary said she was going to order us some grub, while cousin Katy was busy chatting with her friends.

I remember sitting down in front of a checker board table, with a set of black and white chips to the side. I was staring at the board for maybe two minutes, when I heard someone start to talk to me.

I looked up, and didn’t recognise the man. ‘I’m cousin Ian!! Wanna play a game of checkers?’

I mean, of course I said yes. He said he was my cousin and he was away for a long time, not only that, but I REALLY wanted to play checkers.Ten minutes later of me dicking my way through the game, and Ian allowing me to do so, I finally got all of his white checkers off the board. I celebrated my victory, as he ruffled my head, and told me he had to go.

Years later, when I was 12, I brought the story up to my aunt Rosemary, asking if she remember cousin Ian.

‘Of course I remember Ian,’ she started.

‘He died 13 years ago.’”

By: @my-galaxy00

The Girl in the Log

I always hated visiting my grandpa’s old cabin. That might make me seem spoiled or ungrateful. What kid doesn’t enjoy seeing her grandpa? Especially considering he was the only grandparent I had ever known. Both of my mom’s parents were killed in a car accident before I was born, and my dad’s mom walked out on him when he was very young. He still doesn’t know where she is or if she’s even alive. So that only leaves my paternal grandfather. My parents desperately wanted me to have a good relationship with him. My dad insisted that, although Grandpa was stern and quiet, he really did love me. He just didn’t know how to express it. I figured that was probably true, but it didn’t change the fact that trips to his house were filled with idle hours watching television and reading while he worked during the day, followed by awkwardly silent dinners in the evenings. I rarely saw him, and he seldom spoke in any loving way. He just kept a wary eye on me, like he was waiting for me to break something of his or talk out of line.

Still, my parents insisted on sending me to spend a week with him every summer since I was ten- old enough to look after myself for the day. I had visited his isolated cabin in the woods several times before with my parents, but this would be the first time I stayed overnight by myself.

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The End Times

I was the first one to see a falling angel.

I was in my backyard stargazing, when a bright light streaked across the sky and a few moments later Gabriela smashed into my backyard.

She was really tall, I had to use two mattresses for her bed and move out most of the things in my living room to make room for her to sleep. She was very badly injured. Something had taken huge bites out of her chest, her eyes had been ripped out and one of her wings had been torn off. She spent most of her time unconscious and the rest gibbering in an unknown tongue.

She only spoke to me twice, once to tell me her name and the other time was to respond to a question I had asked her. “How did you get injured Gabriela?” I had asked. “War” she replied. She died a few hours after that.

In the following days, more and more angels fell from the sky. These angels however, were already dead, their bodies had been mutilated, sometimes so badly, that if not for their height and wings, we wouldn’t know for sure if they were angels. Surprisingly, while many people panicked, peace as a whole was kept and it only took a few days before the buses and trains were running on time again.

When the rain of corpses from heaven stopped, people were overjoyed. When huge cracks in the earth started to appear, they were less so. When fire and lava began to bubble up through the cracks, people rushed to monasteries, churches, mosques, and temples, anywhere they thought they might find answers. When the earth rumbled, and the cracks opened to spew out a horde of demons, we finally understood.

You see, the demons were all dead. Their bodies had been mutilated, just like the angels were. I thought that heaven and hell were in a war against one another, but they were actually fighting together. Against something else, something worse.

And it had won.

alchery  asked:

Okay, I have a literal ton of ghost stories, but this one has been my number one in complete creep factor, but it’s really long but here it goes...! When I was a freshman in high school, my mom and I went looking for a house in my grandparents neighborhood, which is over 40 years old now. We went to go look at this one house in the middle of winter. I’m originally from Colorado and that’s something you typically don’t do. So it added some creepiness to the house. And we looked at it at night 1/?

           Which added even more creepiness to the creep factor. And the house looked totally fine, except even inside seemed off. Like there was constantly eyes on you kinda off. My mom dismissed it and and said it was because it was winter at night. So I figured she was right and brushed it off with her. So we bought the house and moved in. Even then, it was still creepy as all hell. It still felt like there were eyes on me all the time. I was lucky to have a very small walk in closet in my room 2/?

            Because I felt so uncomfortable even getting dressed in my own room. It was like my safe haven for dressing was my closet. Not to mention it was awful bathing because it was like some guy was just standing The the bathroom just…watching. I hated it. So at some point, sometime between sophomore/junior year, our internet cables weren’t working, but the one in my room was. So my room had turned into my mom’s temporary office until they were fixed. Which led me to sleeping in her room 3/?

           Since we had no guest bed in our guest room at the time. Well, one night, between 3:59 and 4:03 ( because that’s usually when weird shit happens in my house ) I was awake enough to feel my head being pulled to the side. I kept bring my head back to where it was comfortable but it kept moving back. So I went fine, let my head lull to where it was apparently supposed to be and I opened my eyes. Which was my biggest mistake because OMG SCARIEST MOMENT OF MY LIFE! 4/?

           I was looking towards my mom and there was a maN WHO WAS LEANING OVER MY MOM. It was like he was this…white mist like form. You could see his jawline, his mouth, nose, his brow line, shoulders, arms - and that was it! And he was just staring at her! And then he looked at me, looked back at my mom, stood up straight and floated to the door - he didn’t have any legs so no way the dude was real! He stopped at the door, turned back to look at me, or maybe glared? Idk, I was scared shitless 6/?

               And he said “Don’t tell her about this.” Looked away and floated out of the room. Despite what he said, I told her anyway and it freaked her out. After that, more weird shit happened in the house. Finally, my mom and I moved at the end of my junior year. When we were selling some things, one of the neighbors came by and told us about the house’s history. It turned out that a family of 4 use to live there: a husband, his wife and his two little girls. The husband was a PEDOPHILE 7/8

               And he molested his own daughters! The house was raided by police, he went to prison and the Mom and daughters moved so he couldn’t find them. The two daughters shared a room and it was my room they had. Apparently they use to hide from him in their closet. So to learn all of that on the last day, with the things I experienced in the house, was terrifying. It the few years I lived there were the most terrifying years of my life, but those moments haunt me the most. 8/8

holy shit dude that’s horrible, one of the creepiest ghost encounters Ive heard of

“This happened about two years ago to me, but it was pretty unsettling.

I’ll start by saying I used to have a shop in an over 100 year old building that was split up into three different storefronts. I had one shop, my best friend had another, and then the third was rented to another girl.

One day, I’m at the shop when the phone rings. A man is on the other line asking me for something or other and is being really spacey. I am trying to talk to him, but there are long pauses before his answers and he is just being a little odd. Finally, I ask him something and there is a long pause on the other end, long enough to make me ask, ‘Hello?’ because I think he has hung up on me. Instead he replies with, ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I’m just having a hard time focusing on our conversation because there is a spirit standing next to you that is yelling into the phone, trying to get my attention.’

At this point, I’m intrigued and decide to play along, so I say, ‘Oh really, what is he saying?’

The ‘psychic’ goes on to make a few broad comments about me and the space I’m in (all of which he could have easily found if he had looked on our website, so I’m not impressed), and says the man has been in the building since the early 1900s and is “infatuated” with me, has been following me for years, and frequently tags along with me to my house, my friends’ houses, and even places like the grocery store.

Okay, that’s interesting, but then it gets more-so.

He tells me the man is very jealous of the guy that I am dating, and doesn’t like him because we are so close. He then goes on to say that the spirit hurt the guy I am seeing when he was doing renovations on the building (which was 100% accurate, I put that story below*) and that he didn’t like that he was in his personal space changing it.

So, that was weird, but his next comment really bothered me.

The psychic says, ‘And he is very glad you broke up with that army dude. He really hated him.’ Now, this was weird to me because I had dated that guy about three years prior before and had been restationed right after we broke up and had never set foot in the building, nor had I seen him since we broke up. At the time of the phone call, I had only had my shop in the building for about six months, so I couldn’t figure out how this ‘spirit’ would know about him.

The guy told me some other stuff, most of which was pretty basic, and then I finally got him off the phone because he started getting weird, and I just wasn’t interested anymore. The whole conversation lasted about fifteen minutes, and I was thoroughly creeped by his couple of comments and couldn’t figure out how he knew so specifically the last two people I had dated (I should add that I don’t have any personal social media that someone can search for me for, so there wouldn’t have been any couples pictures up of me with either person I dated).

Then, it dawned on me. I had worked for about six months for my friend at her shop in the same building for some extra cash after I moved back to the city, which was about four years prior and in the time that I had dated/broken up with the army guy, which would also explain why the psychic said the spirit had been following me for years.

I no longer have the shop in that building, but still go in there every now and then to see my friend. We both agree that building has some bad vibes, especially at night, and there’s a couple more weird things that happened to me while I had the shop there.

TL;DR: Psychic guy calls my shop and begins to tell me all about the spirit who lives there and is in love with me and hates all the guys I date.

*So, before I opened the shop, the guy I was seeing at the time agreed to help me put ceiling lights up, which involved having to go into the attic. Now, the attic, like in any old building, was nasty, so I bought him one of those industrial dust suits to wear and a mask so he wouldn’t be breathing in asbestos and whatever else was up there. 

He’s up in the attic and I’m on the floor underneath, and we are communicating through this little hole that we are installing the light into, when I hear him yell, and then his voice gets really rushed and agitated, like he is irritated with me that I’m taking to long. So, finally, about ten minutes later, we get the light up and he comes barreling down the steps to the attic and flings the door shut. He looks really freaked out and begins ripping off the dust suit and pulls up his shirt. 

On his left side are three long claw marks/scratches, running the length of his side, one of which was bleeding. We look at the dust suit, no scratches through it, so he didn’t get caught on something, and the scratches were too widely spaced to have been a rodent’s, plus he hasn’t seen anything when he was up there.

According to him, he had felt weird up there to begin with, but the last light we were installing was all the way in the back corner of the attic, and he was lying on his stomach feeding me the chords down the little hole when he felt what felt like a whip go across his side.

TL;DR: Boyfriend gets scratched by unknown entity in attic, which psychic claims was the spirit in the building who is in love with me.”

By: Oliverrr36 (Creepypasta are great, but does anyone have any good true creepy stories?)

I Love Animals

I’m a huge animal lover.

Which is part of what makes living in a third world country so difficult; in the lower echelons, you see them kicked, shunned, and starving on the sides of dusty roads. This isn’t generally an act of cruelty, but an act of wilful ignorance – when you don’t have enough money to feed your own family, your concern with the plight of street strays is necessarily diminished.

If you’re fortunate enough to have money, you see a different kind of abuse – one borne not out of apathy, but greed: overcrowded cages, heaving with endangered or exotic animals with dull eyes; manicured men eager to haggle with you as they would for a car or a handbag, touting the rarity of this one’s markings or that one’s size.

Of course, you can report them. There are laws, and even here, this kind of trade is illegal; call the authorities, though, and the animals will be moved or euthanized and dumped within the hour.  No evidence, no crime. Word spreads fast, and often from the mouths of the police themselves.

Naturally, I don’t support the trade. Most pet owners – animal lovers, people who actually care – don’t. They rescue them off the streets, parasite-ridden, cringing, with sharp ribs and hungry for love; alternatively, if terribly concerned by disease, temperament, or breed, they find a reputable breeder, as I did.

My last pet, Saska, was a Burmese. I loved her dearly, and had cried for hours when she died of kidney failure. She was eighteen and had lived a wonderful life; spoiled, doted on, forever snuck table scraps, with huge, hazel eyes and a high-pitched mewl.  

I was lonely. I missed my girl. Maybe that’s why, when passing the livestock section of the Thursday markets, I didn’t simply avert eye contact; maybe that’s why I hesitated, and maybe that’s why I was immediately captivated by a filthy, rusting cage home to a tightly-packed mass of imports.

Most of them were sick. They all had conjunctivitis; purulent, red-rimmed eyes studied me without focus. They were matted and huddled together for warmth, shrinking back as I approached.

Behind the mask of illness, though, it was evident they were all meant to be of good quality - these were pets for the wealthy (or, at least, those who wanted to appear that way). Most appeared to be Oriental breeds – Burmese, liked my beloved Saska, Siamese, Persian – although there was the ever-popular and fabulously expensive Bengal, and some Western breeds.

I’m a huge animal lover - but I was lonely, and I could save one.

I wrapped her in a towel for the drive home. She was crawling with parasites, too weak to lift her head. I noticed blood streaks on her belly, and made a mental note to book an appointment with a groomer as soon as we arrived home.

She mewled at me, softly. I stroked her forehead.

She mewled again. Louder this time.

“I don’t speak Russian, honey,” I answered.

And she curled up in her chair, and cried.

sinisterstories

Freya’s Spooky Stories Master Post

Original Stories

1. Have you Seen Me? 
2. Carmen
3. The Guilt
4. Heirloom
5. The Legend of Linden Grove
6. A Bug in the Works
7. The Augur
8. Signal Degradation 
9. Everything is For Sale
10. Pavlova’s Swan
11. In the Loop
12. Simon Says
13. The Boarding House
14. Salt
15. Sticky Fingers
16. Power Hour
17. Bread and Butter
18. All That Glitters
19. Limited Time Offer
20. Hide and Seek
21. The Moggie
22. The Haves
23. Manilo
24. Over Exposure
25. Roman Holiday
26. For Love
27. The Ladder
28. Double Take
29. The Vault 
30. A Kept Man
31. Dark Horse
32. Good Sleeping Habits
33. Okefenokee
34. Grown with Love
35. Stomach Bug
36. The Mountain Well

Prompted Stories and Drabbles (Prompts that were given to me and I wrote a snippet)

1. The Anniversary Gift
2. The Family Grove 
3. What is Black Licorice?
4. What is Black Licorice? Part 2

anonymous asked:

Part 1/2 When my mom was in college she lived by herself in an apartment. One night her cousin Charlie showed up at her door at around 8:34 pm (exact time) and asked if he could stay the night and she said yes. She set up her couch with a pillow and a blanket. Charlie said thank you and fell asleep on the couch. Later at around 3:00 am Charlie knocked on her bedroom door and told her "Thanks for letting me stay here but I have to continue on my journey now".

Part 2/2 My mom said to have a good trip and see you another time. He then left without saying anything. Later during the next day her mom called telling her that Charlie passed away the night before at exactly 8:34 pm and they found his body at his house. My mom was shockedand told her that he had stayed the night before. She ran over to the couch where he had slept and the bed still looked like it had been slept in with the blankets messed around. The end! ❤ 

AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Tell Me To Smile

“Aw, come on girl, smile.” He says as, I pass.

“Hey, now smile” this time rolling along behind me just a yard or so away now.

“Why not give us a little smile?”

“You know, you would look so much prettier if you’d just smile” he calls out louder.

I stop walking.

This is not a new situation to me and, millions of women throughout the world. The act of something seemingly so simple as being compelled to smile by others (mostly men) and, living with its various consequences.

It is an everyday occurrence with varying intentions that are, left up to our instincts to interpret properly. In other words, it’s a pain in the ass. It can also be a grim matter of survival.

Intent can of course, range from  the casual and usually innocent, “Aw, it can’t be that bad, smile.”  To the aggressive and, obviously offensive, “What,  you to good to smile at me? Fuck you too bitch!”

See what I mean?

Personally, I try to take care when reacting to the calls and, remarks from those met along my path.  

They always range from my sweet and truly kind bus driver or the postman just passing along the sidewalk to the big  difference of someone following me as I make my way to work.

At this moment the latter seems bound and determined to get my attention.  

“Smile for me little momma” he snarls again.

When that fails to get his desired response from me, he resorts to the usual snarl of; “Damn girl, wouldn’t hurt you to smile. You ain’t all that.”

Slowly, I turn around and, give him exactly what he’s been asking of me this whole time.

All three blocks worth to be exact.

So, now he’s just a few feet from me and, I close the gap between us quicker than he could blink. Suddenly, sitting before me is a grown man straddling a rusty BMX and, sucking on the bent straw of a quick stop cup. His eyes squint when he sees me there and, I see he’s also a bit surprised at how easily the distance between us closed.

Yet, the smirk still remains on his lips as he casts a long look from my toes all the way up to what is now my full bright smile.

Except, he’s not smiling back. Now, I wonder why?

Well, I’ll just smile bigger so that he can see ALL of my teeth. Yes, that will do the trick.

There. Now he can see every single one of them in all their beautiful gleaming rows of sharp silver peaks.

Still, no smile back. Hmm.

Don’t you think that’s rude?

Okay, I’ll just open wider and give him the biggest smile that he’s ever seen.

His mouth is just gaping and starting to tremble a little though but, his eyes are stuck wide open.

“Aw, come on give us a scream.”,  I say in my sweetest voice; “You’ll look so much prettier when you scream…”

sinisterstories

Originally posted by pi-la

Maybe @sixpenceee is interested in some spooky witch Halloween throwback to the time my uncle and his coworkers were on a rural construction site and the huntings were so bad that one guy accidentally stabbed another, they were too scared to go to the bathroom alone and it got to the point they had to call a town council meeting to ask the witches to please stop bothering them..but didn’t help.

the story is that they hired my uncle for a construction out of state, my uncle’s condition to do the job right and on time was was that he would take his own workers because he could trust them so they didn’t hire anyone from the town which bothered the townspeople. Oh, I have yo mention this was a rural town..village if you will, If you see Colombian country towns they are kinda creepy because the houses are old, they’re surrounded by forests and mountains (if they’re not high up on the mountain) and there’s like an old decrepit church every other block. But my uncle and his crew weren’t even sleeping in town they were Far out in the woods at the site.

So anyway it all started with my uncle’s hats (or well that’s how he noticed), you see he always wears hats ..always..always even to my wedding he wore a hat. It started small though, every night in his office/room he would take it off and put it on the nightstand but then it started appearing in different places, other side of the room or on the floor. It happened a few times and he started feeling really uncomfortable so we left his own tent and went to sleep with his workers who all shared a tent, but that’s when shit got real.

Their tools and belongings were always getting taken or moved, if they went to the bathroom at night -an outhouse near the tree line- the treetops would bend in the direction they were moving as if something was following them, normal haunting stuff I would guess. But the worst was at night at least one of them would start shaking and struggling/fighting in their sleep, as if they were being choked; my uncle experienced it at least three times he said it feels like there is something sitting on your chest. It was so bad that it got to the point were the guys started sleeping with knives and shit under their pillows until one night while a guy was having an episode (being attacked) someome tried to wake him up and the poor guy in his panic swing his knife from his pillow and well…the knife went clean through his helpers hand and my uncle was like “nope we can’t have more weapons under the pillows”. They had tried everything our lore tells us, Throw salt, yell “today day of the Virgin Mary” since witches are supposed to be the exact opposite of her and well they get repelled by her idk, candles, inside out clothes and underwear( our lore is old okay idk what that does, but yeah my uncle and the construction workers were all walking around with inside-out boxers) tried to make peace with the townspeople and many other things but nothing helped. The only way my uncle could sleep was on the phone with his wife praying but that didn’t stop it either because it wasn’t “if” they were going to get attacked it was who was going to get it that night. You could say sleep paralysis but I don’t know if that can spread through 30 or 40 men. It got so bad, they had to abandon the camp and travel every day back and forth to sleep in the town but that still didn’t Change much.

My uncle says its because they offended the townspeople by not offering them jobs, and that he has an idea who it was, he said that during the meeting there were three woman staring at him almost to the point of burning holes through him, they all had long hair and were attractive but had something about them that made him uncomfortable. I also asked him if he gets a lot of experiences since he does a lot of rural work for the goverment and he has sent us pictures of odd light disturbances and shadows but he was like “Nah, unlike your mom I don’t go looking for it I don’t watch scary movies or pay attention to them, this was just my fault cause I made someone angry in that town” and it was like “cool cooollll coolldope, makes sense yes”

Originally posted by gameraboy1

I want to clarify that Colombian Witch lore, it’s still very…Spanish inquisition-ish. They supposedly usually attack men in their sleep by choking them and scratching them, they are repelled by the virgin Mary and other religious and other stuff, like odd numbers(or even i can’t remember) inside out clothes and salt, my granpa says that if they ask for sugar give then salt. They can also attack women though like one of pur neighbors she was being followed by one very mean very angry witch that sent them a box with….human …things..inside……. And if you go to Cartagena de Indias a town that still preserves the evidence of colonial life, stone roads and period houses, you will see that every roof has hooks because they believed they witches would get hooked on them and they could punish them in the morning. I know America has a different idea of them nowadays but thats just my traditional ass country.