1 Hour of True Chilling Black Screen Horror Stories to Haunt your Sleep

I grew up in a small town, primarily Hispanic. Everyone knew everything; we had something here and there, of course, but other than that, not too much stuff happened. I'm overweight, to put it simply, and not to the standards of beauty, really. I remember reading a meme online once where it was a joke about, "Can't catch me or kidnap me since you can't carry me. Keep eating cake!" I laughed at that. It was like, so true. God, I didn't realize that would come back and bite me. I was 18 to 19, I believe, and it

was nighttime. My weed plug was doing a stash and dash, and being broken and desperate, I went for it. I figured I grew up here; I know all the areas. What made this more tempting was that it was actually not far from my area at all. So I said, "[ __ ] it." I was on a video call with my boyfriend, and I told him I was going to go for it. He stayed on the phone with me as I headed out. Mind you, it's late, and the areas I had to cross through are not

well lit. I left with nothing on me—not even my Taser, alarm, and pepper spray that my dad always made me have. Oh, and to make things worse, I snuck out because I didn't want my dad to know I was hunting for weed. So this was already starting out great. I set off. I had to cross railroad tracks to get through to the area, which was pitch black. Only the main road in the distance was lighting it up, along with some lights from a warehouse nearby, but other than that, it was very hard to see. I

made my way toward the main road and noticed a semi parked on the side of the road. Nothing unusual; semis park there all the time. Ever since I was little, so nothing too weird. I then heard, "Ola, hey!" I looked over and saw a man in a semi-truck. He looked generic, I'm not going to lie—Hispanic with a red long sleeve. He looked like any other man I'd seen around town, but his smile—I don't know, he was just off. I waved, being polite. He gestured for me to come over and started speaking Spanish, but I don't

know Spanish. I know what you're thinking: one, why don't you know Spanish if you grew up in a Hispanic town? And two, why aren't you running? One: my parents never taught me. So I just kept walking. I sheepishly responded, "I don't speak Spanish," in Spanish; I learned that phrase just to say it to people. I waved him off quickly, walking away. My boyfriend asked me, "Who's that?" and I just told him, "It's some random semi-truck driver." I went on with the night. I think I'd been out for 40 minutes at this point, and I realized

I wasn't going to find it. I was sad and started to head home, still on the phone with my boyfriend. I kept talking, and my phone was dying, which is actually what made my boyfriend tell me to go home. So I started walking back. I went down the road and looked down the pitch-black area where the railroad was, and I stopped. I just had a bad feeling. Something told me not to go home just yet. I told my boyfriend I was going to go look at the other end of the street that was toward where

the warehouse was, giving off light, passing empty trailers partially hidden by the shadows. I started walking. I made it into the light, and I heard movement behind me. Then, "Uh, hey." I turned around really quick and saw the same semi-truck driver with the same smile he had on. He came out from behind a trailer he had been hiding behind. He had his right hand tucked into his pocket and was positioning his body so that he was hiding whatever he had. He told me to come here and started getting closer to me. I immediately told my

boyfriend to wake his dad up and come get me. I backed up quickly and was trying so hard to think. He saw me on the phone and immediately had a mad and annoyed look on his face. He stopped and actually started hiding behind the trailer more, so I booked it down the road, telling my boyfriend to come get me or have his dad come get me. I didn't want to call my dad because, even in this moment, for some reason, I was still terrified of getting caught sneaking out. I ran across to the main road

to the little mini-mart across the street and hid behind an ice cream machine. I told my boyfriend I needed to call someone, and I hung up on him. I called my friend, who, thank God, was out with his girlfriend. I told him I was in danger and needed him to come get me. I told him where I was at. While I was waiting for them, I stayed behind the ice cream machine, and I saw the man's semi-truck. I saw him looking around for me and then shake his head in disappointment before driving off. Even in

that moment, I didn't feel safe—not until my friend pulled up. Everything hit me once he got out of the car, and I hugged him, crying. He and his girlfriend calmed me down and took me home. I got a bit of a lecture from my boyfriend, but I'd rather take the lecture than anything else. I was lucky—way too lucky. The false sense of security my weighted looks gave me really shattered after that, and I'm glad for it. It terrifies me to think of how things could have turned out. Could have turned out differently if I didn't

have my boyfriend on the phone with me. So, semi truck driver, let's not meet. I never want to see that smile ever again. Two years ago, right around Halloween, I was babysitting for these two ladies who each had a son. They wanted to go out, so I stayed at one of their houses and watched their boys. It was around 8:00 p.m., and the boys were sitting on the couch playing on their iPads and whatnot when somebody knocked on the door. I asked them if anyone was supposed to come over, and they both said no. I

went over and checked the peephole in the door, and it's some guy in a gray hoodie, deliberately hunched over so I can't see his face. Immediately, I'm like, "Nope," and I don't say anything and start pacing around because I don't want to give him any inclination we're inside. A couple of minutes later, I checked outside through the little window in the curtains, and he's gone. I didn't want to spook the kids anymore, and there weren't any more knocks, so I just kind of let it go, thinking of it as a prank. Fast forward a few

hours later, and their moms get back. They ask me how everything was, and I say the kids were great, but somebody had come to the door. They asked me what time, and I said around 8. One of the mothers starts freaking out and goes through her phone. The other one tells me that right around that time, somebody had been making strange phone calls to them on a blocked number. They had disguised their voice and were saying things like, "I can see you through your window." They didn't think it was serious because it didn't make sense

in the context of where they were, but in retrospect, we're almost positive it was me he was looking at through the window. They escorted me to my car, and I touched base later. Apparently, nothing strange ever happened after that, but I'm just really glad I didn't open that door because I have a feeling in my gut it would have been really bad. So, this happened less than 30 minutes ago, and I immediately thought of this subreddit and wanted to see what you all thought. I'm a single female living alone on the third floor of a

row home in Philadelphia. The house has been modified into three separate apartment units, and I am on the top floor. I rent through a property management group, and a few days ago, they let me know that they'd be sending someone out to repitch my window AC unit, as it's been leaking and water was getting in through the window downstairs. It's an old building—more their problem than mine. Cool, no problem. They send out a guy whom I assume they have contracted but is not necessarily a part of the property management group. He comes in, makes some

light small talk with me about my two cats, and gets to work—nothing out of the ordinary. He finishes in about 15 minutes, lets me know he's done, and leaves my unit. About 2 minutes later, I hear him knock on my door again. I usher him to come in, and he proceeds to ask me if I have an extra key for the main door downstairs. I tell him that my neighbors, who I'm close friends with, have my only extra copy and that I only have one in my possession. He then proceeds to ask about nearby Home

Depots and the like, questioning as to the closest place he can get a key copied. I ask him straight up if he's implying that I give him my key so that he can go make a copy, and he says yes—that the property management group asked him to ask me about it while he was there because they lost theirs. I politely told him that was not going to happen and suggested that he take it up with them if that's the case. I then called my property management company to confirm this information with them or to report

the incident, just in case. They never answer the phones, so I ended up leaving a voicemail and planned to follow up with an email as well. Small detail to add: I could have sworn I heard him messing with one of the doors downstairs after he left my unit the second time. The key to the main building is obviously different than the keys to get into each of our individual units, so having a key to the main door is only the first step. But being that I and the unit below me are single females living alone,

I didn't like this one bit. This is weird, right? Or am I bugging? A quick update: My property management group answered the second time I called. My guess is that I was speaking to one of the leasing agents. She was pretty useless and sounded unbothered when I told her the story. She basically said she would follow up with the contractor but that she didn't really know anything about the service order because this was not a property she personally managed. I plan to give the other tenants a heads-up. In his defense, he did not give me

any weird vibes prior to and even in his request. He sounded innocuous enough. However, and I don't know which door he was messing with—the downstairs or the main—but he was messing with one. I thought about popping out to ask him what he was doing, but instead, I opted to call my neighbor friend and loudly explained to her the situation that had just occurred, making sure to emphasize that I thought it was a bit weird and that I was calling the property management company to address the issue. Fact check: The Walston in this place are thin.

If I could hear him, he could definitely still hear me. This story dates back to spring 2016. At the time, I was in my late 20s; I was young and fit, with very long blonde hair— a total hippie chick who had quit her job to travel the U.S. with my ex. At the time, pre-pandemic, before the van life/tiny home movement really took off, we left our home in the Midwest in January of that year after holiday celebrations, saying goodbye to friends and family. By sometime in April or early May, we made it to Southern Texas

and decided to check out Padre Island National Seashore. For those of you unfamiliar with Padre Island, it's a seashore that you can drive right onto with your vehicle. My now ex and I were in a 26-foot Class C 1976 Chevy motorhome. We drove onto the island at nighttime, and waking up the next morning was the most insane and phenomenal experience. The ocean was a mere 15 feet away! I mean, the visual was so breathtaking I will never forget it. We arrived on a Thursday or Friday, and the beach was beyond packed. Another thing, for people

unfamiliar with Padre: It is where many Texas high schoolers and college kids mainly flock for their spring break. Spring break was just the week prior to when we got there, or maybe it was still going on; I don't know. Either way, it was busy, and we had an awesome weekend partying away. During this weekend, we noticed that workers for the park would often drive down the beach. They are very protective of their sea turtle population there and would slowly drive by in marked vehicles a few times a day. By Monday morning, we awoke to find

the entire island emptied out. When I tell you we were literally the only ones—when you looked left or right, we were the only ones for what seemed like miles. It was a gorgeous morning, so I walked the dog quickly and then came inside to sit at our pop-up dining room table to do some journaling. My ex was asleep on the very back couch. We were backed in with the windshield facing the ocean, so of course, I took a seat looking towards the beautiful view. Maybe 15 minutes after I sat down to journal, a gray, beat-up

pickup truck drove by kind of quickly, heading towards the direction of the park entrance. That was the first activity I’d seen on the island that morning, and I thought nothing of it. However, maybe 5 to 10 minutes later, the same truck came driving past our RV, this time much slower. The man driving the pickup was going so slow, in fact, that we made eye contact for several seconds as he went back by. He also seemed to drive closer to our vehicle in order to better see inside. Alarm bells should have been ringing at this point,

but I just kind of shrugged it off. I was very much in my free spirit phase and was not easily put off. This is where it really gets creepy. Obviously, this guy needed to turn back around since he was driving away from the park entrance again, but I was honestly minding my own business. I kind of immediately put him out of my mind, but yes, several minutes later—maybe another 10—the man came back. But this time he pulled directly up to our RV with his truck, essentially nose-to-nose at a 45° angle, maybe to appear as if

he were giving a jump—not that far-fetched for a '70s vehicle on the salty beach. He was blocking us in. It was at this point my heart dropped, and I began to get scared. I screamed my ex's name, and he came immediately. He jumped up from the couch. I know he could hear the panic in my voice. I'll never forget how quickly he got up and how he had his arm spread across while he ducked down to see through the windshield. He was 6'5", very bearded, and I'm 100% sure the only reason the man in the

gray beat-up truck sped off like a bat out of hell. It took several minutes for my heart rate to return to normal. My ex and I just looked at each other; that was the most unusual encounter on our trip. Surprisingly, we stayed another week after that in the same spot. The idea never entered my head that the man could bring reinforcements and come back for me or us. I was so very foolishly fearless and naive back then. Anyway, it wasn't until later that day that another fact dawned on me: when my ex and I had

arrived over the weekend, we only pulled out one camping chair. That one camping chair was in plain sight next to our RV outside. Prior to this spot, we had never done that; we always got both chairs out, but we ended up using driftwood to sit on when we had our bonfires. And so that was the nail in the coffin for me. The scary man in the gray truck absolutely thought I was a young girl all alone, and I still wonder to this day, almost 10 years later, what all he had in mind for me that

morning. So, I’ve told this story to just a few friends, but I either get laughs because they don’t believe me, or they’re just as creeped out as I was when the incident happened. So, one night on Thanksgiving, when I was about 10 years old, my cousin Chris, my brother ARF, and our old friend David decided to play a good game of hide-and-seek in the neighborhood. We were all the same age, and... start calling for my parents when I heard the scratching again. It was persistent, almost like whatever it was, was trying to get my attention.

I held my breath and listened closely. As I strained to hear through my racing heart, I could have sworn I heard a soft whisper beneath the bed. My imagination ran wild, and I was convinced there was something lurking there, waiting for the right moment to catch me off guard. In a moment of sheer adrenaline, I decided to throw off the covers and peek under the bed. I needed to know what was causing the sound. My heart raced as I leaned down, holding my breath. The space was dark, and I couldn't see anything clearly. I squinted,

trying to adjust to the lack of light when suddenly, I noticed a pair of bright eyes staring back at me from the shadows. They seemed unnaturally large. I stumbled back, terrified, and let out a small gasp. Gathering my courage, I finally screamed for my parents. They came rushing into my room, turning on the lights and asking what was wrong. I was shaking and could barely get the words out, but I managed to tell them about the scratching sound and the eyes. My dad checked under the bed and found... nothing. He reassured me that it was

probably just my imagination running wild, and it was likely a harmless animal outside. But to this day, I can't shake the feeling that I wasn't imagining things. Something felt off that night, and the fear I experienced has stuck with me. I often wonder what really was under my bed and if I had the courage to look a moment longer, would I have discovered something truly frightening? Call out for my parents. When my dad crawled out from under my bed and stood up in the dark looking at me, he said, "You forgot to say your prayers."

Then he walked out of my room. I was understandably shocked. I did not leave my bed afterwards and must have fallen asleep at some point. My dad would normally tell me to say my prayers before bed, so this seemed like something he would say, but I have no idea what would possess him to hide under my bed. My dad denies ever doing this; I brought it up numerous times over the years, but he has never admitted to doing it. I never really considered until recently that he definitely doesn't have nails long enough to make that

deep scratching sound I heard. But do you guys think maybe I fell asleep and had a vivid dream? I also considered it could be something paranormal. To answer a few questions I see frequently: No, I can't remember if I asked my parents about the incident the next morning, but since then, I have asked repeatedly over the last 20ish years, and my dad has never owned up to it. I believe at this point that my dad couldn't have done it because, number one, my dad likes scary stuff and would absolutely take credit for a prank that

scared me so bad. Number two, my parents had been gone from my room for probably about 10 minutes before I heard the scratching. It's possible my dad could have stayed behind, but he couldn't easily fit under my bed without me noticing. And number three, he's not really a drinker, so I doubt he was passed out on the floor. I'd like to believe it was sleep paralysis like many of you theorized; however, that would be my one and only time experiencing sleep paralysis. There's definitely a chance it could have been something more sinister, and it's something

I hope to never encounter again. This happened a few hours ago, and I'm not scared anymore, just angry my pizza got stolen! In my town, there's a story that a guy has moved into the deep woods close to our town. I never believed it, as I go for night drives occasionally and I've never seen him or anything resembling a man that lives in the woods. Anyway, tonight I decided to go for a drive and drove past a pizza place. Being hungry, I decided to get a pizza before I went home. In my head, I had

a plan to eat pizza and play some Minecraft, as I'm in my two-week Minecraft phase at the moment. I paid for my pizza and started walking to my car with the pizza in one hand and my phone in the other, messaging my friend to see if he wanted to play some Minecraft when I got back. I looked up from my phone to cross the road to the car park, and I saw something under my car. It looked like a shadow or something dark. I put my phone in my pocket and pulled out my keys. I

unlocked the car to scare off anything close to the car. I was thinking it might have been a cat or a dog just hanging around my car, but when I unlocked the car, nothing happened; no cat running away and nobody running away. The shadow looked like it was cast from the driver's side, so I was going to have to look at whatever it was, whether I wanted to or not. I got in, put my keys away, and pulled out my phone again. I turned its flashlight on to see better in the dark. As I turned

toward the driver's side of my car, I saw him: a dirty naked guy with big eyes staring right at me. He was crouched down, trying to hide from me. Now, I don't usually get scared of anything, but this guy scared me. He looked like he rolled around in mud and it dried out on his skin. His eyes looked creepy—bloodshot and kind of bulging out of his head—and he was naked. I got startled and jumped backwards out of instinct, dropping my pizza in the process. It fell out of its box and onto the floor. I started

moving back slowly and shouted at him to get away from my car. He looked up at me, then at the pizza, then back at me. He tilted his head to one side and then jumped towards the pizza like a dog, grabbed it, and started running away down the road. I assumed he ran all the way to the woods. I wouldn't know where he went, as I didn't feel like following him. I locked my car and ran back to the pizza place and stayed there for a bit. The workers obviously didn't believe me when I told

them what happened, but I know what I saw. Once the fear subsided, after a while, I realized that this guy just stole my pizza! Angry as I was, looking forward to it, I decided to get another one and run to my car. This time I got in, put the pizza on the passenger seat, and went home. Once I got home, I locked all my doors and windows. I even locked my bedroom door, as I still felt a bit scared. I think I'll be playing Minecraft until the sun comes up. So, creepy, dirty naked guy that

lives in the woods close to my town, I never want to see you again, 'cause I may have to fight you for stealing my pizza! Meet Jane. I don't know much about Jane except that she's from a small town, and she moved here with her friends and boyfriend for university. When I first met Jane at the pub, I thought she hated me. My guts! She always gave me nasty looks when my friends tried to approach her; friends she'd be rude to. Me? Jane is pretty—like, very, very pretty—like every guy in town has a thing for

her. But Jane's boyfriend is insane, to say the least. They are regulars at the pub, and I've seen them break up around three to four times. The waiter working at the pub, a guy in my friend group, says he noticed them break up a dozen more, but they always come back together. A couple of months back, I just finished with the gym and had just showered when my mom called and asked about this pub and how the food there was. I told her the food's to die for, and she said she and my stepdad were

on their way there. I told them I would meet them too because I was dying for some hot wings and a burger. We sat down, and my dad and I just started drinking beer after beer, and in no time, I'd downed half a liter of beer. I was getting a bit tipsy, but I kept pushing through. Then my dear friend Tina called and asked if I was down for a drink. I told her to come to the pub, as I was already there. She's going to meet my folks, and they planned on leaving soon, so

she and I could continue. That's how it happened: my parents left, and Tina and I continued drinking on our own. The pub was closing, so Tina decided to go to the bathroom, and I walked with her inside to see if I could get another pint. We stumbled upon Jane. Jane started talking to Tina, and I realized they knew each other. We all sat down to comfort her as she was a crying mess. Her boyfriend and she were done for good, and she revealed that he used to really abuse her—mentally and physically. I felt bad for

her, so when she rested on my shoulder, I just let her. The next night, I got a DM from her, and she's apologizing about the trauma dumping. I told her it's no biggie, as we all need to vent sometimes, albeit I do that to my therapist, not strangers. But whatever; the therapist is a stranger I pay, I guess. We continued chatting, and she constantly went between "I can't text you" and then texting me again, "Don't text me" and "text me first" when I didn't. Keep in mind this was like two days since that interaction. One

drunken night, she texted me to meet her. It was around 2 a.m., and I had my little cousin over that whole night; we watched movies, and he had just fallen asleep. I declined her offer. Also, I felt it's a bit weird for me to hang out with her completely sober while she can barely see; I don't know, it was just weird to me. The next day, she sobered up, and I agreed to meet her for a hangout. We hung out for a while, and she was fun to be with. I did like her and worried

about her and her ex. Soon enough, her leech of an ex left town, as he was never really interested in university—just being close to her. On one of our dates, she revealed to me that she realized she had feelings for me, and that's when she broke up with her ex, resulting in him physically attacking her. One day, we had a date at her place—a little study date. After we finished studying, we relaxed on the couch and ended up making out. We didn't go all the way, but we did a bit. That night, I went home,

and we continued talking about it—even going as far as exchanging photos; my first and only time sending a nude. Then we hooked up. Now, I'm a person who likes alone time, so sometimes I just want to chill at my house and not really be with anyone, but she did not like this idea. She started spamming me with calls, saying how she could come over and we would chill, that she would be silent and I'd still be alone. In my opinion, this kind of defeats the idea of being alone, being as I'm not actually alone. She

threatened me that if I didn't pick up the phone, she would never talk to me again. This is where I snapped and told her that her lukewarm-at-best manipulation tactics would not work on me and to not contact me again. She flipped out and came to my part of town, hanging out and waiting for me to come out. I told her I'd begged her millions of times not to come to my house, but she simply said, "Nah, I'll pass," and came anyway. I felt so disrespected because all of a sudden I hold no value in life

when she texted me, "Come out, I'm here." I texted her, "Nah, I'll pass," and stayed home. Now she's following me everywhere I go. It's been months, and I'm dating the girl of my dreams, but that has not stopped her from being in my shadow. She learned my routine—when I go to the gym, when I'm at practice, and whatever else—and she never fails to show up or drive past where I'm at. My stepbrother reviewed the security footage from our house, and we counted her car driving past my house at least 14 times in a day. I

still get texts from her on the daily, even though she's blocked. She gets wasted and spams me with messages on WhatsApp that she then deletes. My girlfriend is absolutely livid with this chick, as she would not leave me the hell alone. I don't fear for my safety, but this situation is becoming unbearable. Life, but I have warned my friends that if I die, it would not be an accident or a suicide. She's in my shadow; I constantly have to check my six to see if she's behind me. As much as I hoped I wouldn't have

to update ever again, deep down, I knew that it wasn't true. For the past three months, until the 25th of September, my girlfriend and I, together with my younger brother, went to Germany for one of our relatives' weddings. Here, my girlfriend met my dad and my older brother, who lives in the States. Overall, in these three months, I had no worries about Jane, as well as no contact with her. Well, the 25th rolls around, and the three of us land back in South Africa. My stepdad picked us up, and we went back to my house

for lunch. Then I drove my girlfriend back to her house. I was rather exhausted from the flight, so she and I took a nap at her place. We got up at around 7:00, and she started getting ready for the night out. At 9:00, we sat in this one pub with three of my friends, and my best friend snapped a picture of me, posting it on his story with the caption, "The boys back in town," together with the bald eagle and burger emojis. Well, not even two minutes later, Jane walks into the pub. We brushed it

off as a coincidence, as she does not follow him on Instagram, but we later realized that one of her friends does. We ignored her as we continued drinking. I don't know if she was staring toward us or not, as I specifically instructed everyone not to look in her direction. Overall, it was a fun night out. Fast forward to the 27th: my friends and I packed my truck, as we planned to spend two days at Dragon's Peak, roughly two hours from town. I asked my girlfriend if she was willing to come, but she said she had

plans with her girls, so she stayed in town. While my girlfriend went into town and into the pub we usually chill at, she sat behind the bar, as one of her girls works there, and they wanted to include everyone in the hangout. The girl working behind the bar jokingly asked her, "You finally left your man and came crawling back to us?" to which my girlfriend replied with, "I hated him so much anyway, girl [ __ ] him." This is a paraphrasing of their conversation, as they were joking and drinking. They kept joking about us breaking

up and my girlfriend needing her friends again, but they didn't realize that Sam, one of Jane's friends, was there listening to them. Around the same time, Jane texts me from one of her burners, and I know it's around the same time because I texted my girlfriend right away, and that's when she spotted Sam connecting the dots. Jane asked me to meet up, at least for 15 minutes, now that I don't have a girlfriend anymore. I asked her what she was talking about, and Jane sent me a text saying, "Aubrey is embarrassing you at the pub

right now, telling everyone how much she hates you, how you're the worst person to have ever been born, and how you should go to hell." I thanked Jane for the heads-up and told her that I would no longer be replying to her texts. She starts maniacally texting me even more, begging me to meet for at least 15 minutes and that she will get over me, that she will stop thinking about me, but she needs to see me in person in order for her to fully move on. I told her I wasn't in town, and she

texted me something that made me want to get on a plane and move back to the States. She texted, "Where the [ __ ] are you? I watched you having rugby practice this morning!" This is where I just put my phone down and did not respond. She went back to her usual texting, sending me a ton of messages and deleting them before I could see them. She even started calling me. I blocked her, and to no one's shock, an unknown number starts calling me. I block her again, and I started getting phone calls from numbers

with no caller ID. I knew it was her, and that was a way to bypass being blocked. I turned off my phone and texted Aubrey what happened from my friend's phone, telling her to contact me there if something happened. On the 29th, I went back into town and changed my phone number. Now, on the 1st of October 2024, I still haven't had any contact with Jane. My phone has been quiet, but I did see her car parked at the gym parking lot, so I didn't go to my usual gym today. Instead, I paid for one

day of working out at another gym. My plan is to fully change my gym and to start avoiding the pub just so she can move on. My family and friends say it's not fair for me to miss out on hanging out with my friends at a place where we've been hanging out for three years now, but I really see no other way out. I didn't think I'd be updating so soon. Oh boy, where do I even start with this one? I guess the best thing I should start with is that I brought this whole situation

up with my therapist. I ended up with a psychiatrist and later a therapist in August of 2022 and February 2023 for completely unrelated issues. The first thing he asked me was, "How does it make you feel?" I told him that the whole situation made me extremely uncomfortable, and... It brought back memories from when I was acting all crazy about someone, albeit I never went as far as Jane did. We talked about a lot of parallels between what I've done in the past and what she's doing to me now, and we realized that Jane and I

might be similar. Of course, my therapist did not try to diagnose her on anything, but it's worth mentioning I'm diagnosed with borderline personality disorder after my parents' sudden divorce when I was 12, and a very messed-up relationship I was dragged and forced into with my teacher when I was 13. It has been sorted out, and I'm not trying to bore you with backstory stuff, but I thought that it was worth mentioning. Plus, I was told journaling is good, so I guess this is my version of it for starters, and this isn't even the juicy part

of the story. Two days ago, after my younger brother, who's 17, and I finished our gym session, we went to the pub as it was still in the middle of the day, and we didn't think anything of it. We ordered our drinks and food, and we started talking. At first, it was the basic older-younger brother banter. Then we started gossiping about our half-families, and finally, our talk went to Jane. My brother revealed to me that she'd been sending him follow requests on Instagram for the past week or so, but he had been ignoring her altogether.

We continued talking about her until, you guessed it, she just appeared at the pub with one of her friends. She sat at a table rather close to ours, so my brother and I decided to switch to our mom's native language, the beautiful and poetic Spanish. He and I continued rambling about her; I didn't even bat an eye at her, but every time I looked to my right, I could see her staring at us through the reflection of the nearby window. At one point, a guy from my class approached me, and we started talking. My brother

excused himself to the bathroom. The bathroom, at this part, is one main area with the sinks and two separate places for men and women to do their business. I didn't notice her, but she followed my brother to the bathroom. He went into the men's washroom, and when he came back, she was just standing near the sink, staring at him with her crazy eyes, as he put it. He washed his hands, and she tried to make small talk with him. My brother, Lord bless his heart, being the literal copy of our mom as a sassy Cuban

woman, just eyed Jane from head to toe and said to her, “You're not getting that American passport through me, darling,” and left her standing there. Although this might be funny, I did scold him not to do that again, but he said he's not listening to me, so there's that. Now the juicy part: This afternoon, I got a DM from a girl that I know from the pub. I opened her message, and it was her asking me if I'd seen Jane's Instagram story. I told her that I had no way of doing that as she was

blocked everywhere, to which the girl apologized for being the one to show me this, and she sent me a screenshot of Jane's story. At first, I didn't see anything weird in it; it was just a mirror pic of her in her bedroom. So I asked the girl to explain to me what I'm looking at, and she just said to me, and I quote, “Look above her bed.” That's when I had a panic attack. I began to shake and hyperventilate, and my stepdad noticed and helped me calm down with my stepbrother. They kept asking me what

was wrong, and I kept repeating, “She's [ __ ] crazy” over and over again. I remember, through my tunnel vision, my stepbrother picking up my phone and just saying, “What the actual [ __ ]?” Then my dad looked at it. She had painted a huge canvas portrait of me, and some of you might say that I'm overreacting, that maybe I'm in the wrong, or maybe I'm the crazy one, but I know what I look like, and the guy in the portrait looks just like me—black curly hair, high cheekbones, sharp jawline, same mustache and goatee combo.

The part that convinced everyone it’s me, as if it didn't look like a literal picture of me, are the eyes. See, guys, I have heterochromia. My grandpa had it, and his grandpa had it. For some reason, every two generations on my mom's side of the family, the second born always has heterochromatic eyes. My right eye is blue, and my left eye is green, and as you can make it up by yourself, that's exactly the eye color combo that the guy in the portrait had. This is where I felt the most conflicted: what now? What do

I do now? My doubts about her initial story regarding her abusive ex are very, very high. I'm thinking about contacting him, getting his side of the story. I need to know what's going on because as clear as it seems, this is still so confusing to me. It makes me panic every time I think about it. This started off—I look physically female. This happened about a month ago while I was working in London. I'd gone out on a date with a guy and decided to wear these heels I had to test and see how good they

would be for walking around the city. To no one's surprise, they were not comfortable at all, so by the time I got back to the station closest to where I was staying, my feet hurt like hell. So I was walking around kind of... Slowly, since there were blisters for days, as I'm leaving the station, I'm on the phone with my mom when this guy walks up to me and asks if I'd been drinking. I hadn't been, but I suppose it looked like I could have been, since my steps were a bit unsteady due to the

uncomfortable shoes. So, a generic-looking frat bro wannabe asks me if I'm okay. I tell him I'm sober and that my shoes are just uncomfortable. Now I think that's that and head toward the stairs that go down into my neighborhood, but as I'm walking, Captain [__] decides to try to talk to me once more. I tell him I'm on the phone and to go away, that I don't need help. Does he listen? Of course not! Now, something to know about me: I'm pushing 6 ft tall, and with the heels on, I was definitely over 6 ft,

so I am by no means a small person. When I reach the base of the stairs, the idiot has, of course, walked down ahead of me. What does he do when I reach the base of the stairs? He shows me a video of a woman doing something inappropriate to a man, and he tries to hint that I should do that for him. But here is where this absolute dumbass made a mistake. I've dealt with far worse than some jackass on the street and do have extensive combat experience, so my immediate response to this was to

ask him if he had a death wish while giving him my best death stare—and I have a very good one. I then told him [__] off now and pointed toward the stairs to tell him to go back to the station. The guy was absolutely dumbfounded, but did indeed [__] right off back to the train station, so at least he had the good sense to leave me alone after that. Keep in mind this all happened while I was on the phone with my mom. It's absolutely astounding to me the audacity of absolute [__] like this, but

needless to say, the jackass will probably think twice about harassing random women near the train station now. It doesn't happen often, but I do take joy when I get to show these creeps a lesson: not to think so casually about harassing women. Stay safe, ladies, and remember: don't be polite to these creeps. Be loud, make a scene, act like an absolute crazy person. These assholes are looking for people who will be meek and quiet. Be bold and know you have just as much right to space as everyone else. Thanks for coming to my TED talk!

As the Halloween season approaches, be the eldritch horrors and spooky specters you were meant to be. Now, I feel absolutely sick. My fiancé and I have been house hunting for about a month now in Massachusetts. We've been living here for almost 10 years now, but aside from going to work, we spend most of our time inside playing video games. No cable; we use streaming for TV. Not a lot of local friends—just us and our cats. We've been using Realtors and Zillow to look anywhere within a 20-minute commute of work. One of the houses that we

saw seemed promising: decent square footage, not very old, okay-sized yard, and quite a bit below market average compared to most of the houses in the area. It was fairly dated on the interior and right on a busy main road, which is what we attributed the low price to, but it was cute and had a lot of potential. We scheduled our viewing yesterday with our agent for after work today, as well as for a couple more houses, and we were excited to check them out. Fast forward to the tour: it's 6:00 p.m., dark outside, and we're

in this house. It's pretty big and definitely cute, but it had an off smell to it that I attributed to cats, and we jokingly [__] mentioned that it had the vibe of a haunted house. Well, then [__] gets real. We go to the basement, and the first thing I notice is a lot of residue adhesive all over the walls and ceiling with something stuck to it. I, being the dumb [__] I am, poke at it and inspect further and recognize it to be soundproof foam. My first thought was, “Huh, why need soundproof foam in the

basement? Maybe they played an instrument or did YouTube or something.” Well, when I mentioned this, the realtor says, "Oh God, let's leave. I know why this house is still on the market." He ushers us upstairs and outside and starts apologizing profusely. It turns out it was a [__] serial killer's house, and that room was his torture room. He held women in that basement and tied them up with jumper cables and tortured and killed them. Needless to say, we were both mortified. We kned right the [__] out and on to the next house, but I've not

been able to shake it from my mind. I touched the [__] foam in the torture room. When we got home, I took a lava-hot shower, burned some sage, and cried. It's now 3:00 a.m., and I've been too traumatized to sleep. I just needed to get this out in writing because I cannot deal with it in any way. Okay, so my friends and I decided to go camping and have some drinks. We were pretty far off in the woods, and there were no houses or other campsites near us. There was no sign of any other people

in the area. We eventually fell asleep for the night. Everybody else was asleep in their tents, and myself and one of my friends fell asleep in hammocks we had up near the dirt. Road at one point in the night, probably around 2:00 to 3:00 a.m., we both woke up cold because we only had thin blankets. We started talking and trying to wake up a bit when, out of nowhere, we heard this weird, human-sounding whistle. It didn't scare me at first because I knew there were a lot of animals that could make that kind of noise,

especially where we live—Central Missouri. But it was strange because it was a two-toned whistle; think like Negan in *The Walking Dead*. We heard it every few seconds, and it seemed to get closer each time until, eventually, it sounded like it was maybe 20 feet away. At that point, I was really scared, and my friend and I jumped up to start a fire. We heard it once after that, maybe about 2 to 5 minutes later, on the opposite side of the woods. I did a lot of research the next day trying to find out if there

were any animals that could make that sound, but I couldn't find any that whistled the way that whatever was in the woods did. I'm just wondering if anybody on here knows what kind of animal it might be, or if somebody has any kind of supernatural explanation. I found plenty about why you shouldn't whistle in the woods at night, but nothing about hearing whistles. Hey guys, I hope you enjoyed that. If you have a scary story you'd like me to read on the channel, please send me an email or post it to my subreddit. You can

find details of this in the video description. It's the stories that make this, and this is the best way to ensure variety in the stories I share. Thank you all for listening, and a special thanks to my channel members and patrons, who now have special access to ad-free videos and other behind-the-scenes content.