Post by Rictras Shard on May 28, 2015 18:53:08 GMT -4
Here is a tale from my past. Names have been changed to protect the guilty.
When my maternal grandparents were still alive, they owned a house in a rural area. At that time, there were less than ten homes on the long road they lived on, some of which were unoccupied.
The road had one streetlight, and woods occupied most of the area on both sides. At night, it was fairly much completely silent, except for the occasional howling of a neighbour's collie.
As for the house itself, it was quite the spooky place. There were old paintings of long-dead people staring down on you. Only the kitchen had an actual door, all the other rooms had open doorways. The drapes on the main floor windows didn't close all the way, so you always had a good view of the darkness at night. There were several bookshelves, and many of the books were of old ghost stories and witchcraft. The room I stayed in when I was there had a small door to a crawlspace that ran the width of the house.
I liked visiting my grandparents, but when I was alone in that room in the darkness, I was always scared. It was completely dark, and very quiet. There was always a feeling that something wasn't right. At times, I could swear I was hearing voices calling my name. At one point in my teens, I confessed my dread to my mother, hoping she would be able to reassure me. Instead, she admitted she was scared of the place too, and told me stories about some of the weird things she and her siblings had experienced there. (And yet she continued sending me there. Thanks mom!)
It has been about twenty years since I last spent the night there, but I still have the occasional nightmare about it.
Now that the setting has been established, let me tell you about the last time I was there after dark, likely the most terrifying experience of my life.
I was around twenty. My grandparents were no longer healthy enough to live there on their own. My grandfather was at a manor, and my grandmother lived with us. My friends and I were into a roleplaying game called Beyond the Supernatural. We were trying to think of the scariest place we could have a game, and I'm sure you can see where that is going.
The night of the game, we packed up some lunches, candles (no power at the house by that point), and the other things we needed, and set off for the half-hour drive.
We spent about three hours there, most of it uneventful, albeit a little creepy. The four of us went out the front door, with me being the last one out. I wanted to show the house my defiance, so I stayed in for a few seconds longer.
Just as I walked out the door, Rick, the friend who was closest, about ten feet away, turned around, looked in my direction, and screamed. Literally screamed.
My heart took off for parts unknown. I was less than two feet from the door, and I knew the house was too dark for him to see into it. Whatever he was seeing, it had to be at least partway out the door. I knew I was about to die, but some detached curiosity made me want to know what was about to kill me.
As I turned around, everything seemed to be going in slow motion, and it seemed to take about a year. Finally, I was facing the door, and was able to see...
Nothing.
It turns out, Rick thought he was the last one out of the house. When he looked back, he saw a dark shape (me) emerging from the house. After we all finished having our cardiacs, we wasted no time leaving.
That turned out to be a good thing, because the closest neighbours had called the RCMP, and they were already racing to the house. They passed us on the road, and we joked that they were after us, not knowing they actually were.
When my maternal grandparents were still alive, they owned a house in a rural area. At that time, there were less than ten homes on the long road they lived on, some of which were unoccupied.
The road had one streetlight, and woods occupied most of the area on both sides. At night, it was fairly much completely silent, except for the occasional howling of a neighbour's collie.
As for the house itself, it was quite the spooky place. There were old paintings of long-dead people staring down on you. Only the kitchen had an actual door, all the other rooms had open doorways. The drapes on the main floor windows didn't close all the way, so you always had a good view of the darkness at night. There were several bookshelves, and many of the books were of old ghost stories and witchcraft. The room I stayed in when I was there had a small door to a crawlspace that ran the width of the house.
I liked visiting my grandparents, but when I was alone in that room in the darkness, I was always scared. It was completely dark, and very quiet. There was always a feeling that something wasn't right. At times, I could swear I was hearing voices calling my name. At one point in my teens, I confessed my dread to my mother, hoping she would be able to reassure me. Instead, she admitted she was scared of the place too, and told me stories about some of the weird things she and her siblings had experienced there. (And yet she continued sending me there. Thanks mom!)
It has been about twenty years since I last spent the night there, but I still have the occasional nightmare about it.
Now that the setting has been established, let me tell you about the last time I was there after dark, likely the most terrifying experience of my life.
I was around twenty. My grandparents were no longer healthy enough to live there on their own. My grandfather was at a manor, and my grandmother lived with us. My friends and I were into a roleplaying game called Beyond the Supernatural. We were trying to think of the scariest place we could have a game, and I'm sure you can see where that is going.
The night of the game, we packed up some lunches, candles (no power at the house by that point), and the other things we needed, and set off for the half-hour drive.
We spent about three hours there, most of it uneventful, albeit a little creepy. The four of us went out the front door, with me being the last one out. I wanted to show the house my defiance, so I stayed in for a few seconds longer.
Just as I walked out the door, Rick, the friend who was closest, about ten feet away, turned around, looked in my direction, and screamed. Literally screamed.
My heart took off for parts unknown. I was less than two feet from the door, and I knew the house was too dark for him to see into it. Whatever he was seeing, it had to be at least partway out the door. I knew I was about to die, but some detached curiosity made me want to know what was about to kill me.
As I turned around, everything seemed to be going in slow motion, and it seemed to take about a year. Finally, I was facing the door, and was able to see...
Nothing.
It turns out, Rick thought he was the last one out of the house. When he looked back, he saw a dark shape (me) emerging from the house. After we all finished having our cardiacs, we wasted no time leaving.
That turned out to be a good thing, because the closest neighbours had called the RCMP, and they were already racing to the house. They passed us on the road, and we joked that they were after us, not knowing they actually were.