I thought I would share a small collection of paranormal experiences I’ve had over the years, namely two specific incidents (both of which were somewhat ongoing for a time).
I’ve always had a bit of what I call “a spooky meter”, I don’t really have any better word for it then that. There have been times I will walk into a room and get a very unsettling feeling and generally I seem to visually perceive it differently. Things will generally appear darker and dimmer than they ought to as if light is “swallowed”. As a bit of an example of my spooky radar going off even in an exterior environment; I’m from Australia and a couple years back travelled to Cairns for work and met up with some people who worked for the same organisation in a branch in far north Queensland. One of these whom I spent the most time with happened to be Aboriginal and in our time off she took me to a few touristy places, one of these went by a rock pool and I instantly got a horrible feeling, despite the fact that it was a sunny day the sunlight appeared dull, dim and grey (kind of like that scene from LOTR when Frodo and Sam are traversing the mountains at the start of the two towers). I remember instinctively I turned to her and said:
“This is a bad place.”
Her eyes lit up and she immediately began telling me that this was an area that had a lot of drownings and that there is an old Aboriginal legend about a make and female from two separate tribes who fell in love (which was for reasons I’m not qualified to speak on: taboo). I’m probably going to butcher the story so I do apologise but in short they were both punished and killed by that rock pool and its said that her angry soirit remains there and holds anyone that comes there under the water. Theres actually a super scary story about one case in which the local news took a photo of the spot after a man drowned there and published it in the newspaper, in the photo the rocks form the shape of the mans face whoch is super creepy, I tried to hunt down the photo but i cant for the life of me find out so you will have to just take my word for it or do your own research. As far as the drownings go there is actually a scientific reason for this that I’m not familiar with that you can search up if you like, however Aboriginals have a rich storytelling history (I’m conscious not to misrepresent a rich and fascinating culture that doesn’t get enough attention and love in Australia, this is just what I’ve been taught), I think there’s actually some truth in a lot of these and I know people on here like wendigo stories, some indigenous tribes have a version of the Bendigo although I’m not familiar with it.
Sorry for the long ass foreplay, time for the story:
In my childhood home (which was built by my parents, so not a case of “someone died here and haunts it”, a fact my unbelieving father reguarly tells me even to this day when my siblings and I repeat this story), we had a spare room which always gave me the creeps toward the back of the house at the end of a long hallway. I should also mention we liked on a farm fairly far from town and on it I’ve had a number of creepy experiences but none like the ones I’m going to mention.
I should also say my father has lived in the house since his mid twenties along with a few housemates, one of which used to claim that the house was haunted. The only story my non-believing father told me that he couldn’t explain was that the stereosysten which was unplugged began blasting music in the early hours of the morning.
Firstly when I was extremely young (too young perhaps to recall this - but it has been a core memory for me always), I was awoken in my room by something I thought to be my father. I don’t remember seeing him or what he looked like, only that I was lifted from my cot and put on the floor. He had large feet and our hallway had a wooden floor, I remember crawling after him and following the imprints from swear his barefoot made on the floor until we got to the kitchen.
“Let’s have icecream”, he said to me.
He lifted me to the freezer which was way, way too high for me to reach and I grabbed the ice cream and began to eat it.
It was dark at the time and when the sun began to rise my dad came back downstairs.
I remember him asking me what I was doing and taking the ice cream off me. I told him I was eating the ice cream and that he had taken me to get it. He had absolutely no idea what I was talking about and said he absolutely did not wake me up in the middle of the night to get me some ice cream. When I’ve brought it up with him now as a young adult he says he remembers it and claims I must have climbed it.
There is absolutely no way I could have climbed it.
When I was perhaps 4 or 5, I recall playing with my brother and two sisters at the end of the hallway opposite the room. We saw a black hooded figure that was blurry and smokey if you like (depiction attached at the end of the story), it ran past us at a ridiculous speed and went into the spare room slamming the door behind it.
We all screamed and carried on and then I guess forgot about it and put it down to being young and overly imaginative. Despite of this however we NEVER entered that room if we didn’t have to and would always close the door and/or turn the light on in there, only to find the door open and the light off whenever we went back (Could’ve have been our parents).
That all changed when I was 12.
My brother (who was two years older than me) and I had shared a room for our whole childhood. When my brother transitioned to high school my parents thought it best we have our own rooms as he was staying up later and I’m sure puberty also played a role.
I was moved into the spare room which as I’d gotten older sort of gotten over my fear of, it was a simple room fairly small and square. My bed was situated in the bottom left hand corner of the room, a desk ran along the wall beside it toward the door in which I mostly used for building lego. The far left corner had a big ass wooden wardrobe which I never used, a window sat on the wall facing the door that never seemed to let enough light in despite it’s size and the entire right hand side of the room was just a giant cupboard with sliding doors. My walls were also covered in posters which is important to note.
I spent anywhere between 2 weeks to a month in hell when I first moved into that room. From the get go my spooky radar went pretty haywire and I didn’t really like being in there.
I will do my best to recount the incidences that I remember, although there aren’t a lot. For reference I spent every night of that initial month in there unable to sleep and battling all manner of strange occurrences, there are probably like 21 nights worth of scary incidences most that I can’t recall and probably deliberately tried to forget.
The first occurrences were fairly tame, I used to have a pedestal fan running most nights that created a pretty heavy white noise. Because of it I can’t really confirm whether what I heard was real or not, but initially I thought I could hear whispering throughout the night. It used to put me super on edge, especially since it was just faint enough that I couldn’t discern if I was crazy or not, so already my sleep started getting pretty bad.
Then things started to get worse.
My floor was carpeted and I would begin to hear that soft sort of crumpling sound you hear when someone’s walking on it. The footsteps were slow and would always come toward me and would come from the wardrobe in the corner of the room. Strangely most things would occur from the wardrobe in the corner. I remember I initially had a lamp in my room which I would turn on as soon as I heard anything. But after way too short of a time the bulb blew and the lamp never worked again no matter how many bulbs we put in it.
I transitioned to using my iPod for a light then with one of those torch apps and this I always kept at my side.
It became necessary for me to sleep facing the door as everytime I did finally get to sleep, if I was facing the wall I would get a horrific nightmare. Sometimes I would fall asleep facing the door, have a nightmare and wake up to find that I had rolled over in the night.
I began to wake up periodically in the night to strange noises, things would move around or fall off shelves - this was actually trackable and began to truly confirm my strong suspicious that something was amiss. I’m not Christian but I am opened minded and despite my lack of belief God plays a part in this story. Strangely I began to wake at 3am which is known as “the witching hour”, I didn’t know this until I consulted the resident “spooky expert” of my school who we will call James for the sake of the story (he was just a kid who had seen WAY too many horror movies). James told me that my room was likely haunted and that I should try and record it through the night.
So I set my ipod up to charge over night and used a voice recorder app to record the sounds during the night. I tried video first however my phone would overheat and die too quickly and probably wouldn’t have had enough storage space for an 8 hour recording anyway (old technology wasn’t as capable as it is now). But strangely the recordings would always stop at random intervals as though someone had pressed stop (I had a pass code so that was inpossible), so those amounted to nothing.
Things got worse again.
One day I felt as though my duvet was moving and I didn’t think much of it because it used to fall down the side of my bed because of its weight sometimes. This time it felt as though it were rising and before I could really clock it a hand touched my back. It wasn’t freezing cold like the movies, nor did it burn me it anything like that, it just felt like a human hand planted itself on my back.
I recoiled naturally and probably spent the rest of the night with the light on. From then on I used to tuck my blanket underneath my body which was a habit I maintained until I was like 18 thanks to that experience.
Another time my blanket felt like it was falling down the bed again, so I grabbed it and went to pull it back, only it didn’t move. Initially I thought it was stuck on something but no matter how hard I pulled it didn’t move.
That’s when the blanket was pulled back.
I remember my heart fucking raced, I essentially played tug of war with a fucking ghost for 30 seconds before it let up and I flew backward with the blanket (having been pulling on it with all my strength and going back and forth prior to it).
After that I remember things got borderline awful and I basically didn’t sleep ever. I spoke to James about it and how things seemed to be getting worse and I was outright terrified now and he speculated that it may be feeding on my fear and growing stronger with each passing night. This notion obviously horrified me and I asked him what I could do.
He actually suggested I pray funnily enough and told me a few things I could say that had worked in some horrors he’d seen.
I don’t remember the order of operations, but what I do know is that one night things were specially bad, whispering, objects moving around and falling, strange noises and footsteps. I couldn’t take it anymore and so I prayed.
I prayed that I be given the strength and courage to face the thing and I prayed that whatever was in my room go fuck off back to wherever it came from. I recall this next part perfectly and will likely never forget it.
I sat up in my bed and yelled.
“In the name of God, I banish you from my room!”.
I remember raising my fists as though I was prepared to fight it with my barehands, I think mt courage was fueled by the belief that God was on my side.
From the corner of my room rushed the same hooded black figure I saw in my child hood, it was like a misty blur. It moved so quickly that it generated a wind that swept across the room as it ran, blowing off all my posters and knocking over the lego on my desk which smashed on the floor. It rushed to the exit of my room and stopped in the doorway, I remember it turned and looked at for only about half a second, but what gives me the chills was at the speed it moved. In it’s time, I dare say it stared a lot longer then that.
I remember I fell asleep after that in pure exhaustion and I slept like a fucking baby.
When I woke up I thought I had imagined or dreamt the whole thing, but when I looked around my room the thing was fucking trashed. So badly that I remember my dad came in and told me it looked like a hurricane had passed through it.
He didn’t believe me when I told him what happened, I think he believed that I believed it, but some people I guess just have never had an experience and therefore refuse to buy into it whenever someone else’s tells a story. That’s fair enough I suppose.
Nothing happened after that, I never forgot about what occurred and it even made me a devout Christian for like 12 months.
The only thing that occurred involving whatever the thing was came when I was about 15. We had what used to be a “toy/play room” that got converted into a gym room with a treadmill and bench + a kids computer room.
I was working out in it one day while my sister was playing on the computer, I remember she looked over my shoulder and screamed. She said she saw a black hooded figure behind me, that it was blurry and hazel like it was made of smoke and that it was watching me and that it ran away when she screamed.
That was the last I’ve ever seen it. It’s funny though because a lot of people apparently have seen the cloaked bastard during sleep paralysis, that’s how I found the photo below though. But I know I was awake when I saw it and if you can’t believe me, then believe my siblings.
I’ve had some other spooky tales, one that shook me a little bit that’s much shorter that’s probably the best example of my “spooky radar” in action that I may lost, anyway here’s the photo of the demon: