Passing along this story about my buddy, I’ll call him Jim, who served in the Army and was in the middle east in early 2000s. He came back with some pretty fierce PTSD, used to think he was hearing calls for help over the car radio and such. Eventually he got some professional help and it seemed like it was all sorted.

So when I was about 8, our family moved into our first house. It felt like it took *forever* to find a house, and after months of looking, I’d announced I wasn’t going with my parents to look at homes anymore. They keep looking, my mom comes home one night super late from one trip out, gets super sick, seems really…

I once worked at a huge candy company based in the Georgia where we specialized in southern treats: pralines, taffy, chocolate turtles etc. We also carried cakes and other baked goods that were really popular during Thanksgiving and Christmas time.

My junior year of college, I was going through a pretty sever depressive episode. I’d just returned from study abroad, and I had pretty awful issues come up while I was out that still shake me (more issues with the living than the dead).

Sept 2015: my mother and I met in New Orleans for a long weekend to celebrate her birthday. I lived, at the time, a nearby college town deep in Cajun country. I took the train in. It was beautiful, cutting through lush, spooky swampland.

Ok, here’s another one.

Picture it: Farmtown, America, mid-2000s. I was in my pre-teen years, moody and thoroughly ruining my parents’ house-hunting experience with my attitude. My dad had me accompany him and a realtor to view a 1930s home. It was hideous.

I started babysitting at age 13 in the early 1990s. I freaked myself out so many times, just being young and into reading horror fiction, and staying at houses on the outskirts of the small town where there were fewer streetlights. So I have many overactive imagination stories, but this is one I still wonder about

I have been a long time reader and love these posts every year. I read all day and on my way home decided to finally come out of the shadows and share one of my stories.

Not a ghost story, and I’m probably too late to the party and perma-greyed, but some of the dog-related ones above reminded me of something that happened a few months ago. I like to watch scary movies (and read scary threads online), but they really affect me, and my fear usually peaks as I’m trying to get in bed and…

This will probably get buried, but this thread is the BEST and I’ve always wanted to contribute! I grew up in a very spooky old town with roots that go back to early Colonial days, so I have lots of creepy stories from my childhood and young adulthood. Here’s one that I call “Baby Dolls.”

When my older brother (let’s call him Rafael) and I were in college, my mom and dad moved out of our childhood home and into a much nicer house in a city about 30 miles away. Both my brother and I ended up going to school locally, so I would come visit some weekends but my brother moved back home after he got sick…

I grew up in a small suburb in northeastern PA, on a quiet block with wide sidewalks, deep driveways, and maybe only one streetlight at night. My family is large—I’m the youngest of six—and all the kids’ rooms were on the second floor of our house. My room was directly above the stairs; if you stepped out of it, you’d…

I don’t have a scary story but I would like to take this time to talk about the ghost in my house.

Ok I created a Kinja profile to write this one. About 10 years ago my now-husband and I were renting a postwar duplex in Ottawa. The basement was finished, but was very bizarre. It had a very 70's decor, with fake wood paneling, a basement bar, and an interior bathroom with fully tiled walls and ceiling. I found that…

I love that you do this every year! Been thinking of sharing this for a while. If you read it, you’ll see why I’ve been hesitant.

I have a freakishly good long term memory, and can recall details of very early childhood that I would rather forget - for instance, I swear that I can remember being breastfed (which stopped when I was around 2 years old). My dad didn’t believe me when I told him this, but I was able to recount the nightly routine…

My mom isn’t someone who believes in the supernatural, but every once in a while she has extremely vivid and specific dreams that are unnervingly close to reality. The one that scared her the most happened in the mid-90s, when I was 6 and my brother Keith was 3.

The summer after graduating college, I worked as a waitress for this crazy fancy hotel/club in my city. This is a place where members would drop $4,000 on dinner and even more on wine, and there were always secret service walking around when politicians were in town. They also weren’t allowed to tip because it would…

I FINALLY HAVE SOMETHING TO ADD!!