11 More Scary Stories to Make You Wet Your Pants
November 1, 2015 - Hiking Pants
Most of we might write this off as a classical story of nap paralysis, and in a consequence of transparency, we did for many years. However as time has upheld from this occurrence certain sum have come to light that have done me consternation about that explanation, if not unconditionally reject it. To be honest we don’t know what happened, since it happened to my mom and not to me, though we did arise adult to it, to see my mom tears in a arms of my sister in a darkened room in a center of a night. This story is 100 percent true, Christ on a cross, by my blood and his. I’ll tell it as I’ve listened it from my mom and sister, and remember from my possess memory.
When we was 5 my 18 year aged sister discovered my mom and we from a residence with bullet holes in a windows and tighten off feverishness in a passed of a Northern Ohio winter. My sister transient my fathers’ abuse to work a bureau pursuit with her beloved (now husband) and blemish together adequate for a small 2 bedroom apartment. She had her ambience of freedom, though could not suffer it so prolonged as my mom and we froze in a damaged home while my father was off doing whatever it is group who let their mom and child solidify and starve in a home with no electricity do. So she rolled adult one day with a sensitive uncle, a truck, and pronounced “let’s go”. we owe my life go her.
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My mom and we changed in to her small second bedroom in a apartment. I’ve famous people with incomparable closets, and I’m no landed gentry. Years later, over rip stained eyeglasses of booze we after found out what happened to my mom wasn’t a usually thing that happened in that that room, though here it is.
My mom was sleeping on her small pad of blankets on a building when unexpected her eyes non-stop from passed sleep. Her gawk bound to a mark on a roof though could not pierce from there. She was definitely paralyzed, unqualified of even relocating her eyes. The room was representation black, with usually a small flowing grey travel flare light filtering in front a window. we was sleeping right beside her.
She pronounced she felt something laying on tip of her, abrasive her with a weight. She could not spin her eyes to see it, though felt and listened a exhale rattling opposite her neck, feeling it’s conduct and teeth pushed adult opposite a underside of her jaw, milling a breath. The fear she described a singular few times she recounted this for me still moves to her to tears; a complete helplessness and fear to a fiber of her being that hexed her, as this thing pushed her opposite a building with a weight and it’s offensive scrape on her neck. She couldn’t pierce a millimeter, couldn’t even rip her eyes divided from a roof as a thing breathed on her. She says her life flashed before her eyes and she felt a tears flooding her eyes though she couldn’t even cry.
My mom has had a tough life, and it’s done her deeply religeous. The usually thing she could consider to do was to urge to Jesus and desire him to take this thing off of her so she could go on vital to strengthen me. She attempted to pierce her lips to urge though couldn’t, so in her mind screamed Jesus’s name to save her. She pronounced she screamed his name for what felt like hours, though in this she had no judgment of time.
My sister was sleeping in a master bedroom only a few feet over. Here is where it gets even weirder. My sister pronounced she woke adult in a passed of a sound nap to a nagging, toll feeling of stress in her gut. Go check on mom, it told her, though she suspicion she was being crazy. On and on this behind and onward went, like a mental evidence between partial of her observant go behind to nap your being violent with partial of her pleading to get up, totally out of no where, to go and check on a mother, a totally healthy 40 year aged woman.
My sisters discreet side gave in, and as she tells it she got adult a bit indignantly and crept into a blackened corridor to check on mom. As she dull a slight dilemma to a bedroom a hair stood adult on her neck, revelation her flatly thT something was wrong. She peered into a somewhat ajar doorway of a bed room, her remarkable feeling of confinement surmounting.
Mom, she whispered.
She pronounced when she finally clicked on a light, my mothers eyes were rolled so distant behind adult during a roof they were white, and her skin and limbs were grey and unbending and warped as a corpse.
My sister rushed to my mom and began to shake her, meditative a worst. we awoke in my small child bed to my mom sucking in a large exhale and commencement to weep, a life flooding behind in her veins. She pronounced a impulse my sister overwhelmed her she was free. we can still see them crying.
We don’t know for certain what a fuck happened in that room that night. My mom, being extremly superstitious, won’t even contend a word demon, though we know that’s a word she’s indifferent for a thing that hold her opposite a building that night. When we schooled what nap stoppage was that’s what we chalked this whole thing adult to. Simple; a good easy reason for a uncanny night we remember as a kid. At slightest until a story my mom told me of when we out of nowhere started sleepwalking when we changed to this place, and she would find me leaned opposite a 4th story window in a center of a night with my small hands perplexing to remove a window latch. Or when my sisters destiny father got bloody one night and brought adult a time his hermit spent a inebriated night crashing on that same guest bedroom floor, to arise adult to someone laying on tip of him in a night perplexing to get frisky, respirating on him, specifically. There was a brothers quarrel over either it was my sister, though her pretext for a night was sealed down. There wasn’t a singular chairman in that unit aside from them and one really true crony a whole night. Before we remembered a things we saw there when we had my nearby genocide knowledge as a child with a 104 grade fever.
I didn’t know how to take this story from my mom or sister for years. It was a uncanny night we woke adult to as a kindergartner, no some-more no less. But even now my mother, who still lives in that place, won’t go in that room. Over a years she has turn a resourceful hoarder, methodically sealing that room off with covering of rabble on rabble until entrance has turn impossible. we still try to ham open a doorway when we revisit to try and get an thought of how bad a glow jeopardy it is, until we get a doorway open only adequate to feel a dismay come rushing back, before we tighten a doorway with that same informed rush of confinement and disgust.
Fuck that room. Shit’s haunted.