[Music] It was my first year of university. I had just finished unpacking all of my stuff into my room, and my family had just left. Later on that same day, my roommate finally arrived, and right from the get-go, I knew this kid was the most socially inept person I'd ever met.
I introduced myself as Dan, sticking out my arm for a handshake. He paused, looked down at my arm as if he didn't understand at first, then laughed and went, "Oh," and gave me an almost dead fish handshake. I had to ask him for his name since he didn't even tell me when we shook hands.
He was Dale. I tried to make small talk, but he just answered my questions with "yes" or "no," occasionally awkwardly laughing or smiling. Within minutes, we were both just sitting on our beds on our laptops, not talking to each other.
I was upset and planned on requesting to be placed with a different roommate; anyone would be better than Dale, I thought. Dale was just a really awkward kid, but I soon learned he was much more than just that. I met some of the other kids on my floor, and they seemed cool, so that was good.
I came back to my dorm after looking around campus the first night to find Dale still in the same position he was in when I left. I said, "What's up, Dale? " and he didn't answer, not to my surprise.
It was 9:30. I didn't have anything to do, so I turned out the lamp on my side of the room and went to bed. I didn't actually fall asleep anytime soon, though.
Dale was on his laptop until 3:00 in the morning. When he finally closed his laptop, I fell asleep pretty quickly, but I woke up within the hour. The blinds to our room had been opened, and the moonlight now creeping into the room made everything visible, including Dale sitting on the side of his bed looking at me.
I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and said, "Dale, what the hell are you doing? " He whispered back, "Sorry," and laid down. The next morning, I woke up to find Dale had already gotten up.
I felt like it was the first time he left the room. It was a Saturday, the first Saturday of the year, meaning orientation and all the campus festivities. During the orientation, as my group was walking by the school gardens, I heard a couple of students ahead of me saying, "What is that kid doing in there?
" I saw who they were talking about; it was Dale, literally sitting in the dirt behind a patch of bushes, rubbing the bark of a tree with his hand. The orientation leader didn't notice; otherwise, I'm sure she would have said something. I just walked by, not saying anything.
Eventually, I told the two kids I overheard that he was my roommate as a way to start a conversation and maybe make some friends. They apologized for me. None of us really knew if it was appropriate to laugh or not, but we did.
I made friends with those two kids and we made plans to get together that night. I also learned when I got back to my dorm that the school found another roommate for me. Things seemed to be turning around quickly for the better.
I left the room that night to go meet up with the two kids I met, and when I got back, Dale was sitting on the desk chair facing the door. I said, "Oh hey, what's up? " He said, "Nothing," very matter-of-factly.
I sat down on my bed, opened my laptop, and realized I forgot to lock it. I also realized that all of my emails had been opened—emails I was pretty sure I didn't even read—and a bunch of folders of mine had been opened. Dale must have snooped through my laptop.
When I asked him if he did, he responded, "No," very loudly, half a second after I even finished my question. I could read him like a book. This creepy kid was literally going through my computer when I was out.
I knew he did it, but I didn't pursue it. I was ready to go to bed, so as I went into my bed to look for my pajamas, I felt like my clothing had all been moved around as well. I knew I'd be out of there forever by tomorrow, so I didn't say anything.
I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of a zipper. I sat up and saw Dale on the ground, going through my bag. I turned the lamp on, this time confronting him about it.
He played dumb, saying, "I think you have my toothbrush by mistake. " It was the closest thing to wits that he'd shown up until that point. Still, I knew he was lying, and I knew something was wrong with him, so I couldn't get physical with him.
The next day, I met my new roommate in the same building, and everything went well. Sunday night, after having a decent conversation with my roommate, who is no social butterfly but was miles better than Dale, we both turned off our lights and went to bed. For the third night in a row, I woke up at some odd hour of the night to a strange noise.
It was a weird clicking noise. It wasn't consistent, but I'd hear it at least twice every 30 seconds. I got up, hoping to find something innocent, like a heavy bag putting pressure on a weak floorboard or even a mouse.
But as I scoped out the room, I realized the sound was actually coming from the other side of the door. The nightlight in the common area was always on, so when I looked through the. .
. Peephole. I was able to see the scalp of the person standing on the other side of our door.
They were looking down, so I couldn't see their face. But now that I was paying attention, I realized the tiny clicking noises were actually coming from the doorknob. I was sure the person was trying to unlock the door.
I dialed the number for the campus police department, and they showed up in under five minutes to the common room. Only then did I feel it was safe to open the door. I found the officers to have Dale in cuffs.
I had a feeling it was him. I told them everything—that he was my former roommate who was going through my stuff, so I switched dorms, only to find him trying to break into my new dorm. They took him away.
I don't know what happened to him after that, but I never saw him again. He either got suspended for the semester or expelled. I got through the rest of my years at university like anybody else; however, the nightmarish experience I had with Dale still pops up in my head every now and then.
I went to Binghamton University for two years. I quickly made a big group of friends there, and we'd go out every weekend. One weekend, on a Friday night in October, when my group didn't have any big plans together, my two close friends and I decided to hang out in the school Nature Preserve by the lake.
There was this little clearing on the far side of the lake that was convenient for fires since it was so far from the view of the school or campus security. Kids would sometimes, but not often, come here to smoke pot, drink, and do basically all the other drugs. It was a relatively unknown spot on campus by most, and we liked that about it.
Tonight, we just brought a bunch of beers, lit a fire, and hung out, having what we referred to at the time as a "bro chat. " As the night progressed, time seemed to pass quicker as the alcohol began to take effect. Eventually, it got to the point where we were all laughing so hard that one of my two friends was on the floor rolling in the leaves.
That was when my other friend stopped laughing and went, "Shh! " We all perked up and listened, hearing the crunching of leaves and branches in the distance. We threw our bottles in the lake since we were all under twenty-one, and it wasn't unheard of for campus police to come through the woods on weekends to catch kids doing drugs.
We tucked the rest of the beers into a backpack. I was moderately drunk, so my paranoia was higher than usual. That was probably the case for all of us.
The fire exposed us to anyone passing through the woods, but the thing is, this spot was so unknown and far from campus that it was rare to find anybody else that deep into the woods. It sounded like just one person in the distance. The sound of a tree branch snapping not too far away freaked all of us out.
None of us were really the confrontational ones from our group, so we were lacking that one person who would have the confidence to stand up and yell out to whoever was out there. Instead, we all just sat in silence shushing each other. We heard what seemed to be somebody or something circling us, or at least walking around in a C-shape around our little campsite.
It literally started to feel like we were in the movie *The Blair Witch Project*, because these sounds in the near distance—like cracking tree branches and leaves crunching on the ground—kept echoing over to our campsite. We laughed about it at first, but I personally soon became terrified of who or what it could be. Out of the blue, a huge thud made all three of us jump.
At first, I didn't understand. Even though I saw what caused the sound, it took me a few seconds to digest the fact that a branch had been thrown into the center of our little fireside. One of my two friends took off running, while my other friend and I sat behind, looking at each other—half laughing, half concerned.
I felt like we didn’t know yet if this was some kind of joke or not. Then my friend let out a scream of pain as he was struck in the face by another tree branch. I grabbed the backpack, helped my friend up off the floor, and we hauled ass back in the direction of our dorm.
When we made it to the road separating the nature preserve from our dorm, we stopped to catch our breath. But whoever was out there proved to be following us when we heard footsteps coming closer to the road. We continued to run back to the dorm, and when we got back to our floor, we found our other friend in his room already.
We looked out of his room window down to the woods; there was someone pacing back and forth by the woods, and every time a car passed, they would walk back into the woods. Eventually, whoever it was went back into the woods for good, never to be seen again by us. We continued our drinking session in the dorm room, and within ten minutes, we were all laughing about it.
It wasn't until the next morning that we all realized how terrifying that experience actually was. We never really went back into the woods past dark after that. This takes place during the first week of school my freshman year at the University of Iowa.
I was just starting to get comfortable with my roommate; he was dedicated to the idea of rushing. dorm room to the common area to see if anyone was there, but it was empty. I even checked the other rooms on the floor, but everyone was either in their rooms studying or out for the night.
The following night, the knocking returned again. This time, I was prepared and left the door open while I studied. I figured if it was just someone messing with me, they would get bored and leave.
However, the knocking grew more insistent, as if someone was trying to gain my attention. I looked up with a frown and called out, “If you’re there, just come in! ” Silence followed, and just when I thought I had imagined it, I heard the tapping again, lighter this time, almost like a whisper.
My heart raced. I approached the door slowly, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of whoever was playing games at my expense. I opened the door slightly, peering out into the corridor, but no one was there.
The subsequent nights were eerily similar, each time escalating in intensity. The knocking turned into banging, and one night, I could’ve sworn I heard my name being whispered. “Why is this happening?
” I thought. The atmosphere felt thick with tension, and it was undeniably unsettling. Eventually, I confided in a friend about my bizarre experience.
She suggested I should try talking to whoever—or whatever—was doing it. “Maybe it’s just someone looking for company,” she said. So I took her advice.
The next time I heard the knocking, I mustered my nerves and called out, “If someone’s there, please show yourself! I’m not afraid. ” There was an immediate stillness.
Then, to my shock, I heard a soft voice respond, “Help me. ” That chilled me to the bone. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and replied, “What do you need help with?
” For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then I heard it again, softer this time, “I need to be heard. ” My heart raced as I processed this strange interaction.
Who was this spirit? Why did they need to be heard? I asked, “What do you want me to hear?
” The knocking returned, louder and more frantic. It felt like my heart was pounding in sync with the noises. I sensed this was far beyond some simple prank.
Whatever this was had real energy. For weeks, I endured this haunting experience. I eventually got used to the frantic knocking and the whispers, even started to leave out a glass of water at night, hoping to ease whatever turmoil this spirit was in.
I’d often find that glass knocked over each morning, but I took it as a sign that there was indeed something in that space asking for attention. Eventually, I spoke to my RA about it. To my surprise, she revealed that there had been stories of a ghost that wandered the halls of my dorm.
It was said to have been a student who never graduated, stuck in limbo, forever seeking companionship and understanding. Feeling relieved to know that I wasn’t going crazy, I decided that I would help this presence however I could. I started leaving notes in my room, simply expressing acknowledgment of its presence.
Surprisingly, the knocking began to subside. The spirit seemed comforted by my words. It became a strange ritual of sorts.
I started to feel a connection to this entity, as if it were a lonely soul longing for connection. Ultimately, the knocking ceased, and the atmosphere in my dorm room transformed into one of calm and serenity. For the remainder of the semester, the spirit remained quiet, giving me the space I needed to focus on my studies.
I’d never have anticipated that my college experience would encompass something so bizarre yet meaningful. I often think back to those nights of knocking and whispering—my unexpected encounter with something otherworldly that transformed my understanding of connection, even beyond the grave. Door to the corner to look down the main hallway of the floor.
Nobody. The next morning, I asked some of the other kids in the dorm if they had been messing with me. Everyone said no.
The next night, I woke up after having been asleep for three hours. Someone was knocking on my door again, this time louder than ever. I had trouble deciding whether to open the door or not.
This time, with a bout of courage, I hopped up and opened the door. Nobody was there, as I was expecting, but this time I full-on sprinted down the tiny corridor isolating my room, and when I turned the corner, I saw the back of somebody disappearing behind the far corner on the opposite side of the hallway. I ran as fast as I could down the hallway, and as I turned to the next hallway where I had seen the person a few seconds earlier, I saw a door at the end of the hallway shutting.
It wasn't a dorm room; it was a bathroom. I felt like I was ready to confront whoever this joker was, so I pushed open the bathroom door with force. The light was off.
I turned it on, expecting to see somebody hiding in there, but I didn't see anyone. My first instinct was to check the two bathroom stalls, which were both shut. I got on my hands and knees and looked under the two stalls.
Two heavy black boots could be seen from underneath one of the stall doors. I took a deep breath and pushed the stall open. I was confused; there were the boots sitting on the floor, but no person to wear them.
And then I heard a creepy giggling noise—not a feminine or childlike one; it was a kind of laughing that I could only imagine to be that of a really old, crazy man. For some reason, my confidence was gone, and I was scared shitless. Therefore, I ran back to my room and shut the door.
I hopped back in my bed and started texting every friend I had. Of course, everybody was asleep, though. The knocking happened one more time that night; I ignored it.
It went on for about 30 seconds before whoever that person was finally gave up. I spoke to everybody on my floor the next day; nobody else heard any knocking, and everybody swore they weren't pranking me. Everybody seemed sincere.
I don't know why this person chose to harass me or who this person was. Judging by the boots and the laughing I heard, this was an older man, though, and that disturbs me.
