I used to work tables in a restaurant.
One day, this guy I’ve never interacted with before comes to me and hands me a framed picture, smiling nervously.
I look at it, and it’s a picture of me, at the staff table. I was done eating, and staring at nothing, probably thinking about… Something deep and clever. (yeah, unlikely though)
I look at the guy, he explains timidly that he found me so pretty that he took my picture, and framed it so I would see how pretty I was and hold onto it forever.
Sweet gesture, but kinda creepy.
Five seconds later, the manager walks by, hears the story, bursts out laughing and decides this is perfect, just perfect, and hangs up the frame in the back. On the wall, next to the work schedules, in a place where EVERYONE that works here looks at practically everyday. He thought it was hilarious. Everybody had a laugh, then we…. kinda forgot about it. The picture became a part of the wall.
It’s been 8 years since I’ve worked there. The staff changed, the managers changed, over the years everybody I knew changed jobs and everything. But my best-work-friend still remains. You know, the ONE person that could probably do another job better for her, but stays in this place by pure force of habit? The one person that will always be there and still work there, 20 years after you’ve moved on?
She decided to keep the picture. She told the new managers that the “girl on the wall” was a waitress that worked here and died in an accident and that the whole staff decided to frame her picture and honour her or whatever to keep her memory alive because she loved this place so much… you get the kinda stuff.
…. Yep. 8 years later, when I occasionally visit the restaurant to say hello to my friend, I have a quick glance above the schedules. The picture’s still there.
Just after high school I was dating this girl. We were both at my mom’s house at the time, during summer break. She had lost her glasses that morning and couldn’t find them anywhere. She went to take a shower in one of the upstairs bathrooms and I went outside to wash my car. I’m just about finished when she comes outside wearing her glasses and I ask her where she finally found them. She looks at me a little weird and tells me that I gave them to her. I’m confused because I’ve been outside the entire time. She then tells me I opened the bathroom door and set them on the counter while she was showering and then left.
Now, we were the only ones home at the time so this disturbs me a little bit. I swear up and down that it wasn’t me so she starts to freak out. I grab a baseball bat from the garage and we go into the house thinking someone is in there that shouldn’t be. We creep around the house looking in all the good hiding spots, until finally making it upstairs to my brothers bedrooms. I start move from my brothers bedroom into his bathroom where the door opens inward. Between the crack of the door I see someone hiding between the door and the wall.
Right then, I finally sorta understood why people in the movies freeze when something is about to fall on them or hurt them, because I was terrified. It lasted maybe a second, but it felt like minutes, and then I bashed the shit out of this door with the person hiding behind it, but they didn’t cry out.
Then I realized it was my brothers bathrobe hanging on the back of the door. My girlfriend swore the entire time I knew her that someone put those glasses on the bathroom counter but I never found anyone in the house.
I used to regularly dream that a ghostly blue figure of an old man walked from the kitchen to the dining room to the living room, then up the stairs, past my bedroom at the top, along a short hall, and across the room at the end of the hall, disappearing directly into the wall instead of using the door and going to the last room. Every time he hit that wall I’d wake up. It was always exactly the same ghostly motions in the dream. The figure would follow a certain path right through the furniture, one arm slightly forward, face glazed over, and he glided instead of stepping. It went through a wall at the base of the stairs that had once had a doorway, until my parents broke out the wall and restored the doorway. Sometimes in my dream I would follow, sometimes other family members would follow instead of me, but always, I was filled with terror, and always when the ghost got to that final wall and disappeared I would wake up.
I probably had this dream weekly for over ten years, starting from when I moved into that bedroom. I never had the dream outside that house that I can remember. The dream stopped happening when I left for college, but would start again when I went home for breaks. I haven’t slept there for thirteen years now, and I haven’t had that dream since the last night I was in there. It made me think the place was haunted.
This dream has a little more to it, though. While visiting home well after I had moved out, I asked my parents whether they knew anything about the renovations in that part of the house. Some similar houses in the area had back staircases and I was just curious about whether ours ever had one as well. My dad said yes, ours had, and he lifted some of the kitchen ceiling tiles to show me where the stairs had been, under an area that is now a closet.
When I looked up I immediately realized that the top end of the stairs had been at the point in the wall where the ghost in my dream had always disappeared! I didn’t want to talk about that, though, so I just shrugged it off and remarked that someone must have taken it out to make more room in the kitchen and have the upstairs closet.
My dad looked at me rather coldly and told me no, that’s not why the stairs were gone. He had once thought the house was haunted and talked to a next door neighbor who had been there for over sixty years about it. It turns out that after a previous owner’s husband had died, she had the staircase removed because she thought it would stop his spirit from haunting her. She had also filled in the doorway that my parents had reopened.
Then I asked my dad why he would have even asked the neighbor about the house being haunted, because I didn’t know anyone else in the family had ever thought that. Dad told me it was because he had recurring dreams about of an old man walked from the kitchen to the dining room to the living room, then up the stairs, past my bedroom at the top, along a short hall, and across the room at the end of the hall, disappearing directly into the wall…. We were both a bit stunned to find out we had lived for years having this same dream many, many times.
I work a graveyard shift at a caregiving facility taking care of people with advanced dementia. Basically I watch people die for a living, they beg and cry and moan all night long and then they die. We just had a client die yesterday and it left my coworker in tears.
Now for the creepy part.
A client wakes up and tells me someone is outside her window. I figure this must be a hallucination but she keeps insisting so I look for a knife but I was new at the time and didn’t know where they kept them locked up. So I end up with a large pointy salad fork, 3am, outside looking for intruders.
It turns out she wasn’t hallucinating. I didn’t catch anyone, thank god, but my coworkers bike was stolen that night.
I was sleeping in a bed at my friends dads place, it was just her and I there. The bedroom door was open and she was maybe twenty feet away, within eyesight working on a project. Eventually I heard her walk around the bed and whisper in my ear to wake up. When I sat up she was still in the other room but she was staring at me like a deer in the head lights. She insisted immediately that we leave and later she told me she thought she saw my shadow as i was walking around the bedroom until I sat up and saw I had been sleeping the entire time. That place was haunted as fuck but that was the scariest thing that happened to me there. Although once a book flew across the room at us.