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Paranormal Activities

leftcoastdeac said:
Was there an update to this story? I briefly looked at the reddit paranormal section and didn't see this one posted.
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This will be my last update before I go off the grid. Last night I burned my phone; after this post, I will destroy my computer. I can’t leave any connections to my identity, they can’t be trusted. The eyes are everywhere.
After leaving the library, I drove to Max Bar. It was the last place I had heard from Ally, my Ally, and it was my only lead except for those weird messages. If I had to, I would go on my computer later to see if they had replied to my questions, but I was in no way eager. Hopefully the bartender could help.
I arrived at the bar around 11:40. Even though they didn’t open for another twenty minutes, I walked up to the door and peered in. I could see a man, presumably the bartender, prepping the bar area in the back. I rapped my knuckles against the glass until his head shot up in surprise. He looked annoyed.
“We’re closed!” His voice was muffled by the glass. “Come back in fifteen minutes!”
“Please,” I yelled back, “it’s an emergency!”
I watched as he sighed before slowly making his way to the front of the building to unlock the door. He opened it with a grunt and sized me up. “This better be good.”
“Were you bartending last Wednesday night?” I asked. “Something happened to my friend and I’m hoping you can help.”
“No, sorry,” he said “I work the afternoon shift.” He paused, eyebrow raised. “What happened to your friend?”
I sighed. Shit. “Ah, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Do you know how I can get ahold of whoever was tending bar that night? It’s really urgent.”
He stepped back. “Wait, don’t tell me. She started acting really weird, writing funny, that kinda thing?”
I gasped. “Fuck, yes! Yes, that’s exactly what happened! How did you know?”
The man glanced left and right, like he was surveying the area. He stepped back, opening the door to the bar wider, and beckoned me inside. As I stepped inside the bar, he closed the door and locked it. He sat down at a booth in the back corner of the room, and motioned for me to join him. I sat across from him, legs shaking against the cracked, worn leather of the seat.
Once I was seated, he put him hand on the table, palm up. “Hundred bucks,” he said.
For a moment I stared, not sure what he was asking. When it finally hit me, I was offended even through my fear. “Are you serious? You’re bribing me?”
“Whoa, whoa”, he said, holding his hands up in a gesture of surprise, “I never said any such thing! I’m just a businessman, that’s all. I got the information, you need the information, I need the money. That’s it. Simple business transaction.”
He grinned. Asshole. I pulled out my wallet and threw some crumpled bills on the table. “I have a little over sixty bucks, is that enough?”
He narrowed his eyes, then shrugged. “Eh, fuck it, why not. You seem like a nice girl.”
Shoving the cash in his pocket, he leaned in towards me. “Okay, so I’m not supposed to know any of this, so keep your mouth shut, all right?” His voice was soft and conspiratorial.
“Remember the construction they were doing a couple blocks from here? Few months ago they just tore the shit outta the roads from Sycamore to, uh, Maple, I think. Real pain in the ass.”
I nodded. I did remember that, vaguely.
“Did you read about the sinkhole that opened up?”
I frowned. “Hmm, I think I remember something about that.”
“It was all anyone around here could talk about for a while. Apparently they were ripping up the road and then – bam! – the road just caves in. Took out some pricey fuckin’ equipment, too.” The seat creaked as he shifted his weight. “Well, I didn’t think much of it ‘til this one afternoon. Place was pretty empty ‘cept for these two construction workers. Just got off work, I guess. Anyway, they couldn’t stop yapping about that sinkhole.”
Running his hands through his thinning hair, he continued. “Look, I’m not nosy or nothin’, and I didn’t pay ‘em much mind, but they just kept going on and on. Eventually I started listening, can’t really help it. I hear a lot of crazy shit at this job, but nothin’ like this before. “
He sighed, then took a deep breath. “They said it wasn’t some normal hole in the ground. The papers were calling it a sinkhole, but the way these guys were talking, that wasn’t it at all.”
I raised an eyebrow. “If it wasn’t a sinkhole, what was it?”
“A burial vault.”
My heart skipped a beat. “B-burial vault?” I stuttered. “Did they find bodies?”
“Oh, sure,” he said casually, “at least a dozen, maybe more. Who knows how long that thing has been down there. But you know,” he added, smirking, “that’s not even the craziest part.”
He paused for dramatic effect. “There were all these fucked up writing all over the walls, symbols and drawing and crazy stuff like that. The construction guys, the way they were talking it was like the goddamn historical find of the century. They were calling in all kind of experts to look at it. Only problem was the stink.”
“The stink,” I mumbled.
“Yeah. Guys kept having to come back up, thought they were gonna puke. Said it stunk like putrid meat. Between that and the cobwebs, they were having a hell of a time getting those bodies out.”
“The cobwebs,” I said, “were they black?”
“Hell if I know. All these guys were saying was that the hole was just covered with ‘em. Didn’t even see the symbols at first through all that growth. No spiders, though. Ain’t that some Discovery Channel bullshit?”
“Well, anyway,” he continued, “it was probably the most interesting thing I’d heard tending bar since I started. I got it in my head a couple days later that maybe I should check it out. Figured I could walk there after my shift. Only thing was, once I got there, the place was all cordoned off. Barbed wire fence, caution tape, the whole nine yards.”
He sighed. “So a couple days go by, I’m here at the bar when one of those construction guys comes in. I recognize him as one of the guys from the other day that was blabbing about that vault. This time he’s looking scared, though, all sweaty and nervous. Asks me if I’ve seen his friend, the one he was havin’ drinks with. Says he’s disappeared. Not showing up to work, not answering his phone except to send these fucked up messages. Apparently the last time he saw him alive was when they were here.”
The bartender shook his head. “I figured the dude was hung over, stoned, having a midlife crisis or something. Couldn’t help him, either, ‘cause I didn’t see shit. His friend left. Didn’t see him again after that.”
My heart was pounding in my chest. “You think something happened to him because of the vault?”
He laughed. “What, like an Indian curse? I don’t believe that shit.”
The bartender got to his feet, then, making his way behind the bar. He took out a glass and poured himself a beer. Looking at me, he raised the glass. “Want one?”
I declined, even though my hands were trembling. “So if it wasn’t the vault, what was it?”
“I don’t know,” he said. He set his beer on the table and slid into the booth. “But I do know you’re not the only one asking that question.”
Lifting the beer to his mouth, he took a long drink before he spoke. “I’m opening the bar the day after that worker came in about his friend. This man comes in right as we open, forties, dressed real sharp and business-like. First thing he does is start talking. It’s not friendly, though, more like an interrogation. He’s asking me all kinds of questions about the sinkhole, what I know about it, if I’ve seen anyone in the bar acting funny lately. Rubs me all kinds of the wrong way, to be honest.”
He pulled in close, lowering his voice. “Right before he leaves, he takes out his wallet to give me a couple bucks for my time. I looked down when he was doing it, too, and I saw something. Don’t think he wanted me to see it, ‘cause he looked at me funny and put it away real quick after that. But I fuckin’ saw. He had a badge in there. CDC badge.”
“CDC?” My blood ran cold.
“Sure thing,” he said, “scared the shit out of me, too. Figured I’d steer clear of the construction after that. Not that it took long. Few days after the CDC came down here, they had that hole all filled in and covered. Just like that! You ever heard of a crew finishing a road that fast? Not a word about the burial vault in the papers, neither.”
“Anyway,” he continued, “I don’t believe in curses, but I do believe in bioweapons. Maybe they unearthed a cache of those when they went digging in the road, or smallpox or somethin’, who knows. What I do know is ever since they dug that thing up, people have been disappearing.”
“So it’s not just Ally and the construction worker,” I said, “there have been others.”
“Yeah,” he replied, “at least… four times, I think, other than you two. Every couple weeks seems like someone comes in complaining about a missing friend or relative. Guess what they all have in common?” He poked a stubby finger into the table. “This place.”
“Aren’t you scared to work here,” I asked, “knowing everything you know? Aren’t you afraid?”
“Nah,” he said, casually. “I just know to stay the fuck away from that place. Got a mortgage to pay off, anyway.”
“That’s it?” I asked.
“What,” he said with a chuckle, “you want more? Hey, maybe Big Foot’s behind it all, I don’t know. All I know is this place can suck you in and spit you out a completely different person. Something around here can, anyway.”
I stood up, thanking the bartender for his time. I was walking to the door when he stopped me.
“Hey, you’ve got a call.” He was holding a cordless phone in his hand. “Someone named Sam?”
I took the phone. “Sam, hey, good timing. Did you talk to Ally’s mom?”
*Tccht – Tccht – Tccht – Tccht -- Tccht*
A dry crackling sound filled the receiver. It stopped abruptly, and I was greeted by Sam’s terrified voice:
“Jess, please help! Ally – I’m at -- apartment. Something’s wrong! Going – kill me!”
She screamed, then, loud and long and anguished. Heart racing, I shoved the phone back at the bartender. “Call the police,” I said, voice shaking. “2349 North Windsor Apartment 10C. Someone’s being murdered.”
He looked at me with confusion. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, I’m fucking serious!” I snapped. “2349 North Windsor 10C, you got that?”
“Yeah, yeah, 2349 North Windsor, got it,” he stammered. He began to dial.
I wasn’t even scared as I drove there. I should’ve been, knowing what I knew, but the adrenaline had taken over. My arms tensed, fingers gripping the wheel until they were white. I pulled into the parking lot and popped the car’s trunk, hands fumbling until they came to rest on the cool handle of the tire iron. It wasn’t a gun, but it would have to do.
I ran over to the apartment, legs pumping. When I reached the door, I stopped. It was quiet, no sound of sirens in the distance. I paused. I should wait for the police, I knew it, but my friend was in there. She could die if I waited. Fuck.
I slid my key in, opening the door with a creak. Stifling a gasp, I stepped inward.
The living room was dark, the air musty and cloistering. It had only been a day, but already the corners of the walls were covered in that same creeping black cobweb that I had seen in Ally’s room. A brackish, foul liquid oozed from the growth, thick rivulets of pungent sap running down the plaster to puddle on the floor below. The carpet was moist with it, and as I stepped into the room I felt it bubble up beneath my feet. I gagged, clasping a shaking hand over my mouth.
The symbols were here now, too, haphazard slashes and whorls forming bizarre patterns on the walls and counters. From somewhere deeper in the house, there was a low, clicking sound; beyond that, the apartment was filled with a pointed silence.
I could hear my heart thrumming in my ears, and I tightened my grip on the crowbar.
“Jessica…”
Sam! Her voice was weak and thready, but unmistakable.
“Jessica, help… I can’t feel my legs…”
The sound was coming from Ally’s room.
Heart racing, I tiptoed quietly through the living area, shoes squishing through the sodden carpet. From the corner of my eye I thought I could see the sticky, black growth on the walls creeping down toward me, wispy fingers reaching out for my body like sinewy strands of tar. When I turned to look, however, it was motionless.
“Jessica, please…”
I was at the doorway, now, and I could hear Sam’s voice just inside. Heart pounding and crowbar raised, I pushed the door inward.
I gagged. The room was shrouded in the rotten black growth. Walls, floors, and counters were dripping in the wispy tendrils; the symbols that had covered the walls yesterday had been overtaken with the festering muck. I couldn’t see Sam, but then, I couldn’t see much of anything.
“Sam, where are you?” I whispered.
“In here, please, quickly!”
Her voice was coming from the closet.
I crept over to the small door, fingers hesitating over the handle momentarily before I yanked it open with a grunt.
I shrieked as I saw her. It was Sam. Or, rather, what was left of her. Her face was a putrid mass of stringy pulp, mouth outstretched in a frozen scream of horror. Her once beautiful eyes lay sunken and shriveled in their sockets. Just below the neck she was blanketed with the same black growth that now covered the room. Only her hands were visible, then, frozen in rigor mortis, still pulling at the fetid mesh that enveloped her.
I screamed in terror again, feeling bile rising to my throat. It was then that I heard it:
*Tccht – Tccht – Tccht – Tccht -- Tccht*
With growing horror I realized that the sound was coming from above me.
Slowly, my blood ice, I turned my eyes upward.
Ally looked down at me from the ceiling, head twisting, mouth set in a wide grin filled with pointed, yellowed teeth. Her arms were impossibly long and waxy white as she clung to the wall, her clothing torn and stained with dried, matted blood.
“Jessica, help…”
Sam’s plaintful voice echoed from the creature’s mouth.
She laughed, then, a gurgling sound from deep in her throat. Slowly, deliberately, she began to descend towards me. Her fingers outstretched and bloody, she grasped at the air only inches in front of me. I screamed and turned to run, but she grabbed the collar of my shirt. I swung at her with the crowbar, connected. There was a muffled crack as the weapon connected with Ally’s chest. Her smile widened.
I swung again, this time aiming for the window. Light flooded the room as the bag ripped away from the glass. The Ally creature wailed, pulling its hands up to its face, and loosened its grip long enough for me to pull away. I sprinted out as quickly as I could. I didn’t look back.
I drove all night until I was collapsed with exhaustion. I don’t know what happened in there, I don’t know if I ever will. I do know that there are probably more of them, possibly dozens by now. Who knows how many were infected when that vault was opened?
Stay safe, everyone. Stay in the light. And stay the fuck away from sinkholes.
 
I don't know....I didn't think it was real before, but that ending is pretty convincing. Maybe it's legit.
 
paranormalers, does this sound real or not?

my friend was telling me about an "experience" she had the other night. She was asleep in her bed and woke up to a bright light at the foot of her bed. She wanted to scream but couldn't move. She shut her eyes, and eventually calmed down enough to start screaming "NO!". She screamed NO twice, and the light went away. She was so freaked out she called a neighbor and had to go sleep on his couch.

WTF.
 
dashionista said:
paranormalers, does this sound real or not?

my friend was telling me about an "experience" she had the other night. She was asleep in her bed and woke up to a bright light at the foot of her bed. She wanted to scream but couldn't move. She shut her eyes, and eventually calmed down enough to start screaming "NO!". She screamed NO twice, and the light went away. She was so freaked out she called a neighbor and had to go sleep on his couch.

WTF.
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Night terrors. Very common. Your body is still mostly asleep, thus the paralysis and hallucinations. It has happened to me a couple of times.
 
I've had quite a few dreams where I go paralyzed or mute in a certain situation. Either I cant run away, cant move my arms to fight back, or cant yell for help. Pretty creepy but pretty cool at the same time once its over.
 
i hate the ones where you wake up with a start and feel like you just 'landed' really hard on the bed.
 
I've had quite a few incidents over the years where I wake up, still half asleep, and think I see something right next to me or scurrying across my bed. I have thrown punches at the nothingness and even jumped up off or on my bed. After about 5 seconds, I realize that it's just a hallucination and go back to sleep.
 
EatLeadCommie said:
I've had quite a few incidents over the years where I wake up, still half asleep, and think I see something right next to me or scurrying across my bed. I have thrown punches at the nothingness and even jumped up off or on my bed. After about 5 seconds, I realize that it's just a hallucination and go back to sleep.
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Night terrors are awful. Had a few and they're usually during stressful times. Either I'll dream I see something at the bedroom door or think someone is in the house. Have woken up really believing someone is there. Other times I won't remember reacting and the wife will say, "You remember waking up last night?" Ugh.
 
dashionista said:
paranormalers, does this sound real or not?

my friend was telling me about an "experience" she had the other night. She was asleep in her bed and woke up to a bright light at the foot of her bed. She wanted to scream but couldn't move. She shut her eyes, and eventually calmed down enough to start screaming "NO!". She screamed NO twice, and the light went away. She was so freaked out she called a neighbor and had to go sleep on his couch.

WTF.
Click to expand...

In folklore, it's called a hag attack. Science calls it sleep paralysis, but the scientific description fails to capture the subjective terror. While you are asleep, your brain tells your body not to move (otherwise you'd never stay asleep because you'd act out your dreams). Somehow the signals get crossed, and you sort of half wake up, but your brain is still telling your body not to move. So then your mind projects all sorts of evil forces (a/k/a the hag) holding your body down. You try to scream, but you aren't even able to breathe. So then, right as the hag is about to kill you, the fear is enough to snap you out of it. It's happened to me about 10 times in the past 5 years. I see a different sort of apparition holding me down each time, but one thing is common: Every time I wake up screaming at the top of my lungs. My wife loves it.

http://paranormal.about.com/od/humanenigmas/a/Old-Hag-Syndrome.htm

It's only happened to me while sleeping on my back. If it happens to your friend again, she might want to try sleeping on her side.
 
Junebug said:
In folklore, it's called a hag attack. Science calls it sleep paralysis, but the scientific description fails to capture the subjective terror. While you are asleep, your brain tells your body not to move (otherwise you'd never stay asleep because you'd act out your dreams). Somehow the signals get crossed, and you sort of half wake up, but your brain is still telling your body not to move. So then your mind projects all sorts of evil forces (a/k/a the hag) holding your body down. You try to scream, but you aren't even able to breathe. So then, right as the hag is about to kill you, the fear is enough to snap you out of it. It's happened to me about 10 times in the past 5 years. I see a different sort of apparition holding me down each time, but one thing is common: Every time I wake up screaming at the top of my lungs. My wife loves it.

http://paranormal.about.com/od/humanenigmas/a/Old-Hag-Syndrome.htm

It's only happened to me while sleeping on my back. If it happens to your friend again, she might want to try sleeping on her side.
Click to expand...

It's pretty metal that you know this.
 
This has happened with a co-worker of mine. He eventually woke up in such a frenzy he broke his hand punching out his bed room window to get to his dream attackers. His wife woke up just in time to snap him out of it as he was going for a gun.
 
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