One Hundred Candles

It is after midnight, and I need to sleep.



But I can't. There may as well be a hundred candles blazing, and a thousand shadows flocking outside the flickering circle of amber light.

This thread is for the October insomniacs, those who have their alarm set to 3:33 A.M. all through the oncoming Fall. Here's the game: we tell a ghost story, and we blow out a candle when we reach the end.

It doesn't have to be your story, as long as it's true. And there doesn't have to be a candle, but there always is.

I'll go first. This isn't my story.

"My friend 'Ben' lived in a slumping old Victorian when he was a kid. One dismal night, dripping down rain through a moonlit shroud, he was in bed asleep. Something woke him up.

It wasn't a noise.

He jolted suddenly awake in the black and the silence with his heart pounding for no reason.

In a state between panic and fugue, he slipped from between the sheets and opened his door as stealthily as he could. A sickly blue phosphorence streamed through the crack. Not daring to breathe, he peered down the hall and saw:

Two naked humans crawling down down the corridor. They were elderly and jerky in their movements. An old man, an old woman, creeping side by side, the source of that hideous light. Their joints bent unnaturaly as they inched across the ragged old runner. The woman craned her head around to stare at Ben, the neck bent like a serpent's, fuzzy pits for eyes, her expression blank and slack-jawed.

Ben screamed then, which brought his mother running from her bed just in time to see the phantoms drag themselves through the bathroom door."

Your turn.

Several people were involved in this story, including my self and my whole family for a couple of days. I had to have the whole thing explained to me years later because I was really just about too young (I was 6 or 7) to really understand everything that was going on and some of it wasn't really discussed anyhow.

My father's aunt and her husband had purchased an older home in Orange County. As I learned later on, something was really wrong in the house. My dad's aunt explained to me later when I was a young adult that even on the best of days she was regularly visited by some presence that would sit at the foot of her bed. My grandmother, years late, also described how things had slid off of counters and out of cupboards while the family was at the table eating. My aunt had two daughters that happened to be the same age as my younger sister and I.

So, backtrack, now, I am 6 or so and we are going out, my family and I, to my aunt's to pick up their 2 year old Irish setter. My aunt and her family had just moved to a condominium and I was old enough to understand that they did not have the space and that 'Rex' would be happy in our big back yard.

Of course, later I found out that my aunt and her family had moved because they had become convinced that the house they had been living in was 'bad' and they needed to get out of it. Later I learned more about why we had to take Rex as well.

But for the time being I had just been excited that we were getting a dog; 'I' was getting a dog. So when we arrived and I heard the dog barking I ran past everyone and straight upstairs to where I heard him to retrieve my new pet.

When I got to the dog all I could see as I looked in to the bedroom where he was, was the back and rump of the dog sticking out of a closet. And he was barking and snarling like he was going to fight with something. I remember distinctly catching on somehow to some of the dogs fear and my smiles were turning upside down just as my dad and family arrived and my mom toted me out of the room and downstairs and out on to the back porch.

So we took the dog home. I just remember that the event seemed to end on a happy note and we took the dog with us. Overnight the situation got bad. Rex emptied the trash cans on one side of the house, and dragged the trash in a looping arc to the other side. And then jumped the fence. My dad found him somehow in the morning. Later at the end of that day my mom complained that, if left outside, the dog whined incessantly and if brought inside, would bark at the closet in the master bedroom.

Next night, same deal, emptied the trash in an arc across the backyard. Later, because she would not bring him in, she saw him actually snapping birds off of a fairly low wash line. She did not see him when he went over the fence again. This process continued for 4 days until finally Rex was not found again.

So, I find out years later, that Rex had been purchased when my aunt and her family got the place in Orange County. They had left shortly thereafter and when they got the condo, Rex had started in on the closet barking and also urinating in the closet. After we took Rex, they moved again.

Gee, I thought that would be spookier somehow; but for what it is worth: true family polter/ghost story.



X.

reply to post by Xoanon


Your dog was biting at fairies, not birds. I'll explain later.

What are you two telling ghost stories. Well coincidentally the little story of the two older people reminded me of something that happened one night. Now I admit I was a bit under the influence, ie was a bit drunk coming from a friends house, actually not even drunk more like buzzed and way tired.

Anyways after a little get together with some dudes I knew, around 10:am I started heading home. Now at first nothing was wrong just driving down the street and messing with the radio changing stations back and forth seeing what I can pick up on the radio. So I was just driving home taking the back streets, because I did not really want to head into any populated areas to avoid lots of traffic, people, and possible cops, because not only was I a bit buzzed, but I was pretty tired to. But there really were not that many cars out on the road.

Then I looked in the rear view mirror and saw two older people what looked to be a couple right behind me in one of them older cars, an Oldsmobile or something. Usually at night you can't see people driving in there cars behind you. But they must of had there lights on inside the car or something, because for whatever the reason they seemed pretty clear to me when everybody else on the road was a dark mesh in there cars. And that is one of the facts that I did not really notice then.

Anyways at first I didn't pay any attention just drove and was minding my own business, but every time I looked behind me, there they were. And they had no expression on there faces what so ever, it was almost like they were statues or dolls placed in the car, and they did not even seem to blink, and in fact they resembled a little bit that one famous drawing with the farmer couple holding a pitchfork. And even then I still drove on, and paid them little attention, but after what must of been some 15 minutes with them still right on my tail, I started to get freaked out.

And not because they were on my tail, even with the twists and turns I took to get back home, but because there expressions never changed, and every time I saw them in the rear view mirror they were always staring straight ahead, and there bodies were straight like they were frozen in place, never once did I see them turn there heads or look around. So then I was like WTF, and decided to pick up speed and see if I can lose them. Which I did, and I even lost them for a while, and again I just started driving and listening to music minding my own business.

But then after a few minutes and when they were almost out of my mind, I looked in the rear view again...And bam! you guessed it, there they were again. Eventually my sleepy mind was coming to all sorts of crazy conclusions anything from ghosts, to seeing things, to just some crazy happenings this time of the night, to I am even asleep and dreaming it. Then I started to get freaked out more, because it was just a bizarre thing to be happening, I was even thinking of pulling over to see what would happen and if they would pull over as well. But after thinking a little on that decided not to, just because I had a felling something may have happened.

Again I started driving a little faster, and not going the route I knew, I took some turns, and kind of just speed up to ditch them, but again they still were either following me, or by some crazy coincidence wherever they were going was on the route I was going, even thought I changed my route a little. Which again just made me more freaked out. And in the end I was like F it, I'm going home, and if they follow oh well I will see and deal with it there rather then in the middle of nowhere. So I just got back on the main road, and took the highway, and it seemed they did the same thing to I even started switching lanes at over 60PMH to get some distance, but they would eventually end up behind me again with the same dead stare.

I would like to say there is more to this story but there isn't. Somewhere along the way and when I was close to getting home, they seemed to have taken a turn and were nowhere to be seen after that. And by the time I got home I was to tired to care what they hell that was all about, in fact I was probably half asleep anyways, so I just headed to my room and crashed.

The only thing I had on my mind was that for some reasons they kind of reminded me of my grandparents who were dead long ago, and the fact is that they did not even look anything like them to begin with. In the end I just chocked it up to some weird ass freaky coincidences that my half asleep mind created and possible having a little to much to drink earlier that night, and left it at that.

Here to my mind they looked kind of like this, or they started to look kind of like this each time I got a glimpse of them. Which only added to the whole freaky vibe of it, and to the fact that my mind could of just been half asleep processing things.

Those were both very eerie. The potency of these true stories is always in the details: that poor dog, those frozen expressions. Well done.



This is one of mine, and my very favorite.

Several years ago I lived in a crackerbox studio high up on a hill by the OHSU megacomplex.



The hospital is immense, a warren of labs and bleak little rooms and glaringly bright theatres- a mishmash of architecture and furnishings spanning over a century of almost continuous construction. Buildings are connected by skyways and backlanes and underground passages. Thousands of people have passed there (my father, for one), and bad tales from the infamous primate research lab occasionally see print. My companion in this story, we'll call him Lyle, and I used to wander the hospital, riding the elevators and roaming the halls. He had a couple of relatives who had also passed there, and the place sucked us in like a hungry drain during the small hours of the night. We'd try and get lost (easily accomplished in that Winchester House version of a hospital), and compare childhood wounds in hushed voices.

One night early in October, around three A.M., we left my apartment to take a walk up the hill toward the Marquam Woods. He was a hilarious redheaded prick of a boy, and we were having a hard time keeping the volume of our laughter down as we walked past a dismal series of 1970's era ranch houses and duplexes. The road narrowed, well-kept blacktop giving way to cracked asphalt, the sidewalk ending abruptly at a crumbling curb. The houses, lit by sodium lamps, changed also, growing shabbier and more dilapidated, the lawns choked with weeds and slumped rust heaps on blocks, moss and rot overtaking the siding, unshuttered black windows like missing teeth, like empty eye sockets.

Eventually, the houses tapered off- just a handful of isolated and deserted-looking homes in the process of being reabsorbed back into the woods.



Lyle and I had quieted down a whole lot by then, the both of us having become sensible of the mood of the place. We walked in the center of the road, the woods claustrophobically close, soaked in pitch and infested with strange rustlings. The sodium lamps emitted an oscillating buzz, forming an archipelago of light: orange pools in the heavy deep sea blackness of the moonless night. We walked hunched in our coats, our conversation lapsing into uneasy comments about the the cold and the sounds in the undergrowth.

"Do you hear that?" I asked.

"Yes."

"What do you think it is?"

"If we're lucky, it's just an indigent sex offender, and I can trade you to him instead of having to give him my money."

"Yeah, but dude- it does sound like a human, doesn't it?"

He didn't answer for a little, both of us straining our ears for the rustling, the snap of a twig. The sounds had followed us now for a good quarter of a mile.

"It could be. But it's probably just a stray."



Shortly after, the sounds began to come from both sides of the road, sometimes in front of us, sometimes behind. And then the lamp ahead of us winked out, the next island in the chain vanishing into the black.

"Uh..." I said, stopping dead in my tracks.

He tugged at my sleeve. "Come on. Don't be such a *expletive deleted*."

We walked forward for a few yards, and then- the next lamp blinked out.

"Okay," I said with a fit of nervous giggling, "I think we're not wanted here."

"That's exactly why we should keep walking," he said, turning to face me with a wide, manic smile.

Behind his shoulder I saw a dense wall of fog rushing silently at us down the hill. Within seconds we were swaddled in freezing mist so thick that I could no longer make out his features.

"*Expletive deleted* this *expletive deleted*", I muttered and ran as quickly as I could in the opposite direction. Pausing to look back after I realized I was alone in my flight, I saw the blurred silhouette of my friend under the last lamp, lighting a cigarette and making a point of walking slowly away from the darkness. I saw, too, the lamps that had lost power in such a sinister fashion lighting back up in his wake.

reply to post by Eidolon23


You're a very good writer! Good one!

I will share a 'candle story.' This isn't my experience, but I know the person to whom it happened. She is my daughter.

She and her husband live in a house that seems fairly inactive most of the time. It was built in the 1920's, and is cozy and easy to be in. But there is one thing that kept happening that was odd, to say the least. Several times, when there is no explanation for it, they smell the scent of a struck match in the living room. It comes out of nowhere, but seems to be located in one part of the room. It is very strong, and everyone present can smell it. But the odd thing is, as quickly as it seems to fill the room, it just goes with no lingering trace.

I've smelled it. No windows were open, no furnace or AC on, and no one smoking anywhere nearby.

We have suspected something paranormal because we can't find any reasonable explanation for it, despite trying. This kind of sets the scene for the next thing, which was terrifying.

My daughter and her husband decided to remodel the kitchen and refinish the hardwood floors in the living and dining room, which pretty much tore up the downstairs during the construction. Chaos reigned upstairs, too, because they boxed stuff up to get it out of the way of the construction and stacked boxes in the spare room, making it seem disorganized, too.

During this same time, my daughter had moved from her bedroom to the spare room bed one night because her husband was snoring particularly loudly. She was sleeping soundly in there and awakened suddenly. She told me she sat bolt upright in bed, instantly awake and instantly fearful. She didn't know why she woke up in a panic, but felt extreme danger.

She looked at the bottom of the bed, and saw what it was that was terrifying her. There, in the moonlight, were four shadow people. They were standing very close to the foot of the bed, circling it. There were no faces, but there was a kind of still observational aspect of them, like they were just watching her. This was frightening enough, but there was something else that was much worse.

Standing next to them was a small being. It was around four feet tall, and stocky. It seemed to be wearing either a hood or have hair that was long and draped onto its shoulders. It's face was lit by the moonlight and it was seething with hatred and anger, staring directly at my daughter. She said it felt like it wanted to hurt her and would if it could. She had never felt such directed hatred.

She was terrified, as you might imagine. She screamed to her husband, "There are people in the room!!" (over and over) Even as she was screaming, they didn't move. The hideous one just looked more and more evil and angry.

Her husband woke and came stumbling into the room. He tripped over something in the dark on his way in, and almost fell down. It wasn't until he stumbled into the room that they all vanished! She distinctly saw them and her husband stumbling in at the same time, so she knows she was awake and not dreaming. He didn't see them (he was stumbling!), but her recollection of seeing both them and her husband at the same time is clear.

She has never had anything like this happen, although she has been pretty sensitive to other perhaps paranormal things in the past.

They cleared the room of the boxes and she doesn't sleep there any more. Since this, nothing more has happened, but it has certainly put her on red alert now. She is still fearful when alone upstairs at night.

Thank you, justslowlybackaway, that was a very good one. The matchstick odor was the chiller detail for me.

The next few installments were donated yesterday by my good friend J during the course of a gloomy afternoon of hardcore porch sitting. At some point, although his voice remained steady throughout, I noticed that his cigarette was dancing and jumping between his fingers- his hands had begun to shake. I'll try my best to do his story justice, and I advise the reader to fill in a strong Long Island accent for the narrative voice.

Requiem for Richard Reap

Part 1: The Bills

My last year at school, I moved into a house in Fishtown with my girlfriend and a couple of buddies. The neighborhood is run by the Irish mafia, so it's, you know, got plenty of protection. My girlfriend, who is Filipina, used to get stopped and grilled all the time by these Irish trolls- short, neckless, all bro'd out- had 'em on every block.



Anyway, this house was a sweet deal. My girl and I had the whole top floor, which was a bedroom and adjoining bathroom. Rent was nothin'. The house was old, but had just been remodeled- except for the basement, which is where I set up my studio. The basement still had most of the original Civil War era stonework. There was a big section on one of the walls that was bowed out and looked like it had been patched up with cinderblocks and then heavily spackled, painted this vomit green and peeling all to #.

We'd only been there for a couple of days when the bills started coming. Sewage, power, water- pretty much all the utilities, and all of 'em addressed to some guy named Richard Reap. They're all past due, so I think, "# it" and I open them. The guy owes thousands, and they're all threatening to cut us off in a couple of days. When I call the city and ask WTF, they tell me somebody's gotta pay, or else their hands are tied.

So, I just stuffed 'em all in an manila envelope and handed 'em off to my landlord- "This is your problem, man." The kid was about 24, and had just recently inherited his real estate business. He looked ready to crap his pants. He said he didn't know anything about the last tenant, apologised for the inconvenience, and promised to take care of the bills right away.

I hadn't been living there for even a week when the dreams started.



In the dream, I was in my bedroom- but it wasn't the same. The walls weren't white, they had this yellowing wallpaper with a cheesy little floral pattern. The carpet was disgusting and shaggy. I was sitting in a chair, and I couldn't move. I was facing the window, so I could watch as the sun sped across the sky, and the moon tumbled through its phases, time passing too fast while I sat paralyzed in that chair.

It didn't matter if it was night or day outside, the light inside the room never changed: this watery jaundiced light, which seemed to, I don't know, pollute the room. But the worst thing about the dream was the FEELING I had there in the chair. Just this mountain of loneliness crushing me down. The heaviest feeling you can imagine.

So, anyway, one day the neighbor and I are out on the stoop smoking and shooting the breeze. I ask him if he knows this Richard Reap guy.

"Yeah, he was a friend. What do you know about him?"

"Well," I go, "I know the guy don't pay his bills."

So then, the dude tells me about Richard Reap, and I have to try and look like I'm not freaking out while he does. Turns out the guy OD'd in my room. It was a couple of months before they found the body. His wife and kids had left him a while back, so there was no one to notice that he'd cashed his chips.

Part 2: The Chair

The dreams got really bad. I started losing sleep. I'd wake up at the same time every night too miserable to stay in bed, or even in that room.



See, I'd started to bloat in the chair. I could feel it happening in the quick lapse way of the dream, the swelling and the sudden deflation, my head falling forward and something showering onto my chest. And the loneliness- I can't #ing describe...

Around that time I started noticing the light in my room was funny. Not all the time- but sometimes- the light looked like the light in my dream. Dim and yellow somehow, and just in that room. I'd go from there to the living room, think "Yep, nice sunny day." Go back to my room and the light was still... different. Cold as hell up there, too. Space heater didn't help.



I started to feel like I was losing my mind a little. It wasn't just the lost sleep- that feeling that I had in the chair- I started feeling that way when I was awake, too. And- I don't know how to tell this- it didn't feel like mine. Like, I was a shell for this terrible feeling that wasn't even mine.

Part 3: A Sound Like Raindrops

Despite the problems the room was giving me, I was super productive while I lived there. I kicked out sculpture like a beast, spending a lot of the time when I couldn't sleep down in the basement studio I'd set up.



Now, some of this stuff, like the dreams and the feeling only happened to me, but other stuff- everybody in the house experienced it. Like the smell. It would be really strong for a few minutes and then vanish completely. Dude, and it was sooooooo foul. Just this rotten stink that made your eyes water.

So, I'm in the basement one night, sculpting and exhausted. That puts you into kind of a liminal state, you know what I mean. And out of nowhere I think of maggots. Like, just a flash. Well, that's when the smell hits. I'm still reeling from it when I hear a sound like raindrops.

*plip*

*plip plip*

I look out the window, thinking maybe there's a leak; it's raining outside, and there's a leak or something. But it ain't raining, and I still hear it. That's when I spot something coming out of this tiny little hole in that one section of patched wall.

*plip*

It's a #ing maggot. And they're just starting to really spill out of the hole.

And I'm, like:



I grab some caulk, and I seal it up like bam. There are dozens squirming on the floor at this point. So, I get some acetate solvent, and I soak the # out of the disgusting little bastards. And then I go wake my roommate up and drag him downstairs. He freaks out, and we decide to see if we could tell where they were coming from. We look out the kitchen window, which was located on the same face of the house as the the one spitting maggots down in the basement.

And yeah, there is a pile of them down there. Like, thousands. Just a filthy pile the size of a racoon or large cat. I take a five gallon pasta pot, and boil some water. And then I pour it out the window, watching them wash away toward the curb.

I stopped going down there at night.

Part 4: Missing Time

So, we'd signed a three-month lease in October. By mid-November, we decided it was a good plan to look for a new situation. My girl was tired of living with three dudes, and wanted our own place. You can bet, I didn't put up a fight on that one. We'd gotten most of our stuff moved out by December 30th, which was my last night at the old house. My friends were already gone, and my girl was asleep back at our new pad.

So, I was alone.

The 2nd floor was totally empty, and I was just packing up the last of the 1st floor. Now, there was a vent in the ceiling that fed down directly from the upstairs bathroom. It was around eleven when I heard a... this howling sound coming from that vent. Like wind, sort of.



Put my hand up under it, but there wasn't a draft. I'm thinking that it's gotta be windy out, so I check. I look out my door, but there's no wind. Nothing. It's balls cold and completely still. I do not want to, but I feel like I have to go upstairs and see what's making that noise.

I get halfway up the steps and then I black out.



When I come to, I'm sitting on the steps outside, no coat, and freezing my nuts off. I check my phone. It's that time , which meant a full four hour stretch where I could not remember a #ing thing. I just got right in my car and GTFO'd. Came back with my GF the next day for the rest of the stuff.



To this day, I still can't remember anything about that chunk of missing time. I'm glad. I hope to Christ I never do.

The next story is from a friend of a friend, or more precisely, a D&D buddy of a D&D buddy.

In his youth, "Brian" worked in the kitchens of a very fancy and prestigious hotel on the NE coast. One evening, the front of house being short staffed, he was requisitioned to run food up to the guests. There was a certain hallway on the 4th floor that had a disquieting tendency to go dim and chilly the further one ventured down it. The effect was reputed to be lessened somewhat by walking close to the wall, being most pronounced in the center of the passage.

It was such a strong and universally felt effect that there was an unwritten policy of avoiding booking guests into the adjoining rooms unless absolutely necessary.



The hotel being busy on this occasion, Brian was sent up for his first taste of the hallway. He was a sceptic, silent but smug whenever the subject was discussed amongst his cohorts. Confident that nothing would happen, he pushed the cart down the hall.

But almost immediately, it got dark and close and very, very cold. The squeak of the wheels was muffled, and movement became difficult, as though he were wading against some sort of resistance. He emerged at the other end of the corridor, shivering and gasping like a diver, only to realize that he'd neglected to deliver his order and had to go back...

reply to post by Eidolon23

That's really not all that scary E23.

Were is the part were he gets attacked by a little hooded goblin ghost thingy and has his feet bitten off in the hotel, and to this day whenever he plays D&D he constantly tells everybody his story. Only the goblin ghost thingy in his story is now 10 feet tall, breaths fire, and farts lightning, and to prove that its all true he shows everybody his peg leg.

I had heard that people still play D&D, but I did not really believe it. I do not know if I should be scared that you play that, or not. But just to be on the cautious side, I think I shall be a little scared of that fact.

Wish I had another story, but alas nothing comes to mind. Srry.

reply to post by Eidolon23


That one was truly awful. I can really put myself in the poor guy's shoes. The part that I like the most is that the effect had become so commonplace that over time folks discovered that the best place to walk was on the sides of the hall. It's details like that, that give stories of these types an edge of veracity. Those types of details just come up so naturally and can't really be made up, in my opinion.

Did you know that sometimes 'little green men' are just little green men? I have heard stories from two different cultures that have little green men in them that are just just plain ol' little green men, in the sense that they are not reported to be here from elsewhere or to have arrived in some kind of spaceship. They are just a natural feature, it seems, of certain twilit corners of particular cultural folkloric landscapes...

A teacher of mine was once warned out of nowhere by his teacher about something very strange. M. described his teacher as an older 'Christian' Chinese lady that was mostly quiet, reticent to speak of anything 'spiritual' in relation to the chi kung she taught, and rather reserved. M. and his wife were training with her because she had some stuff they wanted to learn that she had brought back from China many years previous. So they are working out one day and she is watching them and comes close to them and out of no where tells them both, "If you start to see the little green men? Ignore them, you just ignore them, OK?" M. said he could not help but let a laugh escape and he blurted out, "What, like martians?" M. says she did not even crack a smile and that she said that she did not understand, and why would they be from Mars. He told me that they assured her that they would ignore them if they saw them.

Another short anecdote...

So a workmate tells this story one day while we are talking about 'strange stuff'. He tells a story that his grandmother had told and he said would still occasionally tell (at the time. this was several years back). She said that one night she had fallen asleep while watching the TV. It must have been in the 70's because the story includes the detail she added that the TV had turned to 'snow' because the programs had ended. I don't know exactly, but for all I know this story occurred somewhere in Latin America. Anyway, so she told my friend that she woke up in a start due to some noise. She said that when she awoke, she found the room dark and the aforementioned 'snow' on the TV. She said she looked to where she thought the noise was coming from and was startled in to frozen silence. She saw a group of tiny green men, and they were all helping to lower one another down, across the face of the snowy TV screen and down to the carpet. She said that she stayed still because she did not want them to know she was awake and she just watched them until they got themselves down off the TV and then I guess they split, I don't know. But the detail that she added that has stuck with me for all of these years is that she said she could see them squinting their eyes every time they turned to face the glare of the TV screen.

Those details kill me.

X.

reply to post by Xoanon

Never understood why people are scared of little green men, if I saw some of them climbing out of my TV one night. At first I would be shocked, then I would be a little worried, but then I would be like "ah whatever" and go back to sleep. And my last thoughts as I fall asleep would probably be that if I find little green poop on my carpet when morning comes, then the next time I see them, I am either going to throttle them, or probably kick one to see how far they can fly.

Which is probably why they stay away from me, they must be a little psychic and can probably read minds, that or because they know human types are really lazy and get crazy when they have to clean sh*t up, especially if its not there sh*t. The only exception being if its there sh*t or would be if it was a pets, after all the cats and dog have sh*ted everywhere and I cleaned it up, after a bit of swearing and some serious eyeballing, but other then that I cleaned it. The only solution to this problem would then become that I would have to have a little green man for a pet following me around, only that way would it become acceptable to have little green poop on the carpet in the morning.

Come to think of it ya little green men are everywhere, even Fred Flintstone had one following him around, he talked a lot of smack though, even if he granted wishes. I think he called himself The Great Gazoo, I however would of called him The Semi Alright Gazoo. Have you wonder if little green men poop, and if so is there poop really green, or some other color.

Went out for a smoke about 11pm. Walking down a relatively short dirt road about 1/4 mile in total length. I'm on the right side and, about halfway down, I see someone clearly coming towards me on the left side maybe 50 yards away. Being in a pretty rural area, I'm wondering who they could be and keep my eye on them. 15 yards before we would have passed they melted away. Open fields on each side of us. I don't have many recurring dreams, but this event visits me from time to time.

That was weird and confuses me. Certainly not definitive, though, in what I experienced. I can think of one or two explanations that MIGHT explain it. However, there was this one time I had intimate relations with an accomplished and practicing "witch" and experienced anomalies I cannot find explanations for. Now THAT was mind-blowing. Kind o' hard to explain that one--here--in mixed company however ha.

reply to post by Eidolon23

Good grief is that true? What your friend Ben saw? There would'nt be enough Immodium on the planet..
Reminds me of a scene from the movie The Unborn(very entertaining) where the old guy in the old-age home does that,and chases the old lady,the grandmother of the haunted girl,on the steps,all twisted and pretzelled like that-Ee-eeheeew-gnarly!!!!!

Couldn't sleep again today. Suspended above the silent stream, blind and deaf, smothered and still.

I felt a tugging sensation right above my sealed eyes, and muted light flooded my vision. I saw my room in fuzzy monochrome, objects edged with shifting rays, a fish eye blur on the rounded periphery. Something was crouched beside my bed. It was a humanoid with elongated limbs, hinged unnaturally and ridged in the center; with the slick, blubbery skin of a grey whale. Its head tapered to a point. It did not have a face.

I felt a surge of playfulness and gave a swipe. It cocked its head like a bird, leapt toward and then through me.

I jolted awake, my entire body racked with rapturous tingling.

I told my friend about the incident earlier tonight. "I think I should have been afraid? I wasn't. I wonder what it was. It passed through my grid like it was butter."

"You know what it is. It's yours, and it will wait for you."

I found his answer comforting.