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Nov
11
I was in Hawaii, snorkeling. The water was clear and warm and every time I dipped my face in the water I could barely believe where I was, what I was doing: peering, in intervals, into an entirely different world, one that teemed with color and life and darting movements. I felt like I was in some sort of dream where I was flying. I floated gently over complicated coral structures and when the seabed dropped away in a startling slope — curving downward into a dark impenetrable blue, where barely-seen white rocks spelled out US NAVY — I was dizzy, and held my arms out like a falling skydiver.
I let myself follow the current over a rocky outcropping, watching a sea turtle swoop birdlike just ahead of me. The waves broke and swirled over my head and the sudden influx of white bubbling foam made me lift my head and peer back at the shore, which was an unexpectedly long distance away. I didn’t know how I’d gotten out so far. In an instant the water stopped being a friendly, magical embrace, and I was frightened.
The noise came from nowhere and everywhere at once: it was a long, spiraling scream that dipped and rose. I’d heard it in a million war movies, a million documentaries; the sound that always signals approaching danger. Death. It traveled through the water and it rushed through the air, it was in my ears, in the waves, it felt like a physical thing that was going to rise up and press me under the ocean’s surface.
My body was panicked. I was cold, and terrified. My brain couldn’t make sense of it: a shark? Did someone see a shark? Was it (I flashed confusedly on the Navy rocks) a submarine?
I started swimming, and it was exactly like a nightmare. I moved my arms and legs as fast as I could but I was going nowhere, my progress was being pulled sideways by the now-angry, now-hungry waters. I raised my head to stare wildly around me, I plunged my face back in the water to peer underneath. My snorkel dipped below a wave and I sucked in warm wet salt, coughing and gagging as I swam.
Never before or since have I been that scared. The noise, it kept going, it was so loud.
Then in a rush I was near shore and my feet could scrape the shell-studded sand, and I was staggering out of the water gasping, my hair plastered across the goggles.
Families sat on towels, children playing happily with plastic buckets. Girls broiled their already-tanned skin; everything smelled of coconut oil. No one glanced at me. The air was silent, the noise was gone.
Later, I learned that it was an air raid siren. Just a test of the emergency system, in case of tsunami.
I felt stupid as hell.
So, what’s the scariest non-scary thing that’s ever happened to YOU?
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Stuff I Like:
Eureka Enviro Floor Steamer.
Why did I not buy this YEARS ago? WHY? OH MY GOD MY LIFE IS FOREVER CHANGED.
Neutrogena Healthy Skin Clear Skin Cream.
Maaaajor difference in my skin since I started using this. I alternate with Pond's so my face doesn't get too dried out.
Magic Bullet.
I use this almost every single day to make a smoothie. Really a surprisingly awesome little kitchen tool.
Neutrogena Revitalizing Lip Balm.
Amazing lip balm that gives natural color and somehow makes your lips look more full.
Voluspa Candle.
Discovered via Jennie. These candles smell wonderful (at least the Goji/Orange scent does), and I love the pretty tin.
NARS Flamenco Lipstick.
Whoorl was right, this is the perfect red lipstick.
The scene is my living room; warm and friendly during the day, it becomes a scary cavern of darkness once the sun goes down. I shut off the lights and walk to my bedroom door, feeling the panic rise inside of me with every step. By the time I get to the staircase (waiting for the sound of a monster barreling down the stairs to snatch me up before I can even scream), I’m flat out running, my heart in my throat, desperately holding back a wail of fear.
I open my bedroom door and walk into the warm light spilling forth from my two bedside lamps. My dogs look up at me as I hurriedly shut the door, locking the darkness and all the mysteries it holds on the other side. My breathing calms. I laugh at myself.
Climbing up into the Broken Top caldera in the Central Oregon Cascades, I suddenly realized how steep it was and I’m really afraid of heights. I looked down and it was at more of an angle than I am comfortable with. My boyfriend was ahead of me and I barely got a strangled cry out as I hugged a large rock and the panic attack set in. He started to come down to me but was kicking rocks and had to go further out, come down and then come over to me. Because of where we were, it made more sense to go up and it was terrifying. So, up we went, with him holding my waist and we climbed into a glacier, up and then to the spine of the SW side of the mountain and then back down. Really, I am not telling you that I was on some crazy precipice. Most people would have been fine but you can’t talk reason to a panic attack, no matter how warranted or unwarranted it is. I’ll never do that again.
at 12 years old, with two friends – exploring old army bunkers in San Francisco…dark bunkers, and we have no flashlight. We talk about all the homeless people and druggies who probably hang out there as we see the graffiti on the walls and smell what we think is probably urine. Slowly we walk down the dark cave, none of us ballsy enough to admit that we’re scared shitless…and yet we all have chills. Suddenly we see the burning end of a cigarette and we all scream bloody murder and haul ass out of the bunker yelling at the top of our lungs while people outside are wondering what the hell is going on. We flop onto a nearby hill to catch our breath, feeling safe under the blue sky and the sunlight…then we turn and see…a couple in their sixties, one walking with a cane, and one smoking a cigarette, calmly walking down the path away from the bunker.
Whatta bunch of pansies! hehe
Back in high school, my friend was at my house and called home. No one answered. It was pretty late and her parents should have been home. I rode out with her to their house in the country and the house was dark. We figured they must have just come home, but all spy like, we checked the hoods for heat and they were cold.
She went in while I circled the house. She came flying back out because their dog didn’t greet her at the door. Their dog was a great dane. Nothing got past him.
We did a frantic hunt for weapons and went back in the house. She crept up the stairs, opened up her parent’s bedroom, and there they and dog were soundly sleeping. They had a window air conditioner so they shut the door and the dog with them.
We thought they’d been slaughtered and we were almost sure we’d be walking into a blood bath. Instead she found her dad in his tighty whities saying “what the hell are you doing with that knife?!?!?!”
Bet it was one of his scariest moments too!
My roomate has somehow gotten it into her mind that there is “a man” in our basement. In order to see down there you have to walk into the darkness to find the light switch. She won’t go down there unless I’m already down there and everytime she needs something, I have to go get it. Once, she needed something from the deep freezer and I couldn’t go because of an injury. She causiously creeped down the stairs to the basement…when she got half-way down, I yelled, “Tell ‘the man’ I said hi!” She darted back up the steps and called me, “an ass!” Heh, I’d do it again too.
When I was in college studying in London, several of us went to celebrate New Year’s Eve in Trafalger Square, which is their equivalent of Times Square. The large area was barricaded so traffic could still move, but it was a gorgeous night and everyone was happy and we all heard Big Ben chime in the new year … then everyone wanted to leave all at once.
The waist-high barricades meant there were only a handful of exits, and the crush was immediate and terrifying. I’m 5′3″ so my nose was at most people’s shoulder level and I couldn’t. I was wearing borrowed too-big shoes that kept wanting to slip off, and there was broken glass *everywhere.* Our group was instantly split up. I basically just wrapped both arms around the arm of the guy I was with and let him get me out. Five people died; one heart attack and four people trampled and/or crushed against the barriers.
We ended up walking home (miles!) because I refused to go into the tube station, and I understand it was another nightmare, with the crowd pushing the people in front nearly onto the tracks. Ugh! It left me with a permanent fear of crowds or, really, being surrounded by people without an easy exit.
I was blow drying my hair and I thought I heard someone in the house. But when I’m blow drying my hair I ALWAYS think someone is in the house, so I decided to ignore it for once and keep’a drying. Next thing you know, out of the corner of my eye, I see someone standing at the top of the steps….it was my mom. I cried for about 15 minutes because it had scared me so badly. My Biggest Fear is someone breaking into my house…
I felt so dumb.
I had just bought my first house and it was my first night sleeping in it. The only thing in my bedroom was me and my bed. I woke up to rustling. Papers being moved – and not by me. I had been sleeping on my side with my back to the door. I laid like that for what seemed like forever. Not wanting to have whoever was in there with me know I was awake, to be right there face to face. The rustling was irratic and it sounded like it was in the room. I waited and waited. It would get softer then louder and more rushed.
I finally steeled myself, rolled over and clicked on the light. Nothing was there. I waited. Still nothing. I turned off the light and it started again. Now I was really flipping. I turned on the light again.
Annddd…
the tissue paper from the shopping bag I had left on the floor was being blown around by the fan.
Yeah.
Also scary: entering US immigration and realizing you’ve forgotten a VERY important piece of paper. Getting sized-up by the guard, having your paperwork seized and being sent to the little green room off the main hall, with no explaination of what you need to do, who you need to talk to, or how long it will take. Que floods of tears: now. And that was pre-9/11.
Yeah.
I grew up in Houston. It’s a subtropical climate and roaches are everywhere, no matter how clean your house is, no matter how diligent you are about eliminating them. I once stepped out of the shower, dried myself off with a towel, and looked down to see a big fat cockroach stuck on his back to my wet stomach, all eight legs franticlly scrabbling in the empty air, trying to esacpe. Apparently he had been resting in the towel before I disturbed him by using it to dry myself.
We lived in the country and when I was 17, I was up in my room packing for a trip to the lake. I had been running downstairs to grab things and back up again. No one else was in the house and my dad was working outside. Then I heard talking downstairs and I just assumed my dad had come back in and was chatting with someone else. I remember thinking it was odd because I never heard my dad say anything, but it was a 2-sided conversation. Later my dad came in and asked if I had a friend over. I told him no and he said there was a man sitting in his vehicle in our driveway. He went to talk to the guy and it turns out he was CRAZY! He was wearing army fatigues and had a hatchet strapped to his calf. My dad could see a sawed-off shotgun on the passenger seat, and didn’t know what else he had in the back. This man told my dad he had been down by the river “shootin’ at the devil” and we had heard shots earlier in the day. I give props to my dad for staying so calm – he came back in the house and told me to lock the door and call 911, then he went back out and acted like there was nothing wrong at all. Shortly before the police arrived the guy took off and they caught him and arrested him in the middle of the highway. I only had to give a police statement because I didn’t actually see the guy, but my dad had to testify at his trial about what happened. He was put (back) into a mental hospital.
I was so glad I had stayed upstairs – who knows what would have happened if I had run down for something. The guy had been in our house, having a 2-way conversation with himself!
And, oddly enough, he left half a case of Pepsi in our fridge…
My boyfriend and I were hiking in Glacier and saw a mama grizzly and her two baby cubs about 100 yards away. We watched them leave and continue hiking. We got to the base of the trail and he went off to take a piss. I was sitting and looking out at Iceberg Lake and closed my eyes to soak it all in. I heard a rustling noise and figured he was back but when I opened my eyes I was staring straight at the mama grizzly and her cubs ten yards away. Seriously. I screamed and clapped my hands and cried and shook and finally they wandered off just as my boyfriend came back. Then I broke into a full blown panic attack. I cried the whole 8 miles back. At this point families started coming toward us (we were the first ones out there that morning) and asked all excited if we saw bears and I just cried and said yes. For weeks after, I would open my eyes and see the bears. I really thought I was going to die. A few months later, we found out that they closed the trail off due to bear problems. I have never been so scared in my life and, even though it was three and a half years ago, can still see the mama bear’s eyes as she stared me down.
When I was about 10 or 11, my family was at the Jersey shore for vacation one summer and my mom was swimming in the ocean while I read a book on the beach. All of a sudden I looked up and saw a group of fins in the distance, directly behind where my mom was swimming. I was frozen for a minute, trying to figure out what to do… and then I started screaming. I ran into the water yelling and flailing, trying to get my mom’s attention and she came running back to see what was wrong. I pointed hysterically at the group of maneating sharks in the distance… and just then one of them leaped out of the water and did a twist.
Dolphins.
Everyone on the beach was delighted by their little show, except for me. I had seen Jaws that year, and to this day I don’t swim in ocean water unless it’s clear enough that I can see to the bottom.
A number of years ago, after college, I spent a year in Italy. Not being able to be with my family, I went up north at Christmas time, near Trento, to spend the holidays with a family friend, one who had been instrumental in convincing my parents to allow me to take a year’s vacation. He and his family took me all over the Alto Adige region sightseeing. One trip was up to the top of some insanely high Alp in a gondola.
Halfway up, the gondola had ‘mechanical problems’ with the cable, and we were left dangling there, buffeted by the wind, for almost one hour, which was plenty of time to contemplate the thing busting loose and crashing into the mountains very, very far below us. So that was fun.
Fortunately, the family friend was a priest, so I guess that bought us some good karma or something, and finally we got moving again. Whew.
When I first moved out of an apartment and into my first home, I lived alone. One November night, my fire alarm went off and I thought the house was on fire. Scared to death, I immediately grabbed my little dog and ran outside into the cul-de-sac where my neighbors were standing wondering what the loud alarm was about. That is when I realized that I was completely naked, holding a chihuahua. That is when I learned that the first time each year that the heater turns on, there is dust or something on the wires that can cause the fire alarm to go off. I also learned to put a robe on the chair by my bed each night before I go to bed so that if we ever have any nighttime shenanigans again, at least I will not be naked.
I lived in Hong Kong in a house in the country. My roommate was away, this was the first week in the new place. The county is dark, I know no one, don’t yet speak the language and by most locals standards, I’m rich.
The bedrooms were upstairs. I was sick and had a pretty high fever. I woke up during the night and heard people talking and music playing downstairs. I lay there for what seemed hours debating what to do. Maybe it was coming from the neighbors house? I finally creep into the hallway and hear it was my CD playing. Who breaks in and plays your CDs? Maybe they think no one is home. I’m sweating, shaking and barely able to breathe.
I creep back in the bedroom and lock the door. I debate calling 911. I finally decide better off silly than dead so I call. They were there in seconds. Nothing. But my CD player was playing.
Sometime later I realise what happened. HK has no set TV schedule or season. American shows they buy like Law and Order come on odd times like midnight. I taped them. Somehow in the move the system turned on the CD player instead of taping the TV at midnight.
I too was on a snorkelling trip. The water and the skies were crystal clear. We swam into an island cave, one with an oasis in the middle. I was on my honeymoon and we’d met up with my brother on our favourite island. Joining us for the day were my brother’s best friend, his best friend’s dad, brother-in-law and nephew.
We left the cave island and headed to our next destination, about an hour away. All of a sudden the boat stopped. The driver and his mates pointed into the water – there were over 50 dolphins circling the boat. The jumped and spun in the air, splashing us! It was magical and fantastic. We snapped pictures of the “BEST DAY EVER!” and toasted with cold Changs.
The next island is my favourite snorkeling spot in the world. But on this day, the water was cloudy, not clear. The tides were rough, not peaceful. In one moment you’d be up to your ankles in the water, the next, it was up to your neck.
We tried again on the way back inland. The water was too rough. “Strangest tides I’ve ever seen” said the friend’s brother-in-law, a scuba instructor.
We headed back in the glorious sunshine, still reveling in a near perfect day.
As we approached the shore of our island, we noticed things in the water. Strange things, like a cooler. A lawn chair. Nearly a whole palm tree. What the hell? A baby bottle. Oh god.
There is no one on the miles of beach. No one. Not a sole. What happened here? What is happening here?
The boat was silent.
We got to our beach and our bungalow was flattened. The white beach was black – wet, covered in debris. The place was deserted, except for one man who owned the beach bar next door.
My brother and I ran to him “What happened Rocky? What happened? Where IS everyone?”
“Gone”, he said. “All gone. Earthquakes, all over the world. Everything. Gone. Everything. Everywhere”.
My heart stopped. I looked at my brother and we both started to cry, silent, terrified tears.
I hope to never be that scared again, but I count my blessings that I didn’t see worse that day and pray (in my own way) for those who didn’t make it through that day.
It turns out Rocky was wrong. It wasn’t everywhere and everything, but in his world, it was. It was December 26, 2004 on a small island in Southern Thailand.
(sole = soul. I hate my own typos.)
Oh man, these stories are awesome. Carrie: NAKED HOLDING A CHIHUAHUA is my new favorite phrase ever.
Lara: chills. Seriously. My god.
I was 10 and the Munich Olympics hostage siege was all over television — fuzzy images of the hostage takers on the Olympic village balcony with their machine guns. I was in my bedroom, which was above the kitchen, and I was supposed to be sleeping while my parents hosted a party. My bedroom also had a door that led to a balcony which sat atop our garage. I could hear random thumping somewhere near my bedroom. I began to panic, thinking (don’t ask why, I was a skittish kid) that the hostage takers had come to my small midwest town to kill us. Or, maybe it was the hostage takers’ friends. I lay there freaking out, slowly crept to the top of the stairs and realized it was the coffee percolator in the kitchen making the thumping sound.
Linda, I have been trying to write about that for nearly four years and I always get blocked. After reading your post today it just poured out of me.
Thank you for the opportunity and inspiration.
I was in my teens and a big fan of Stephen King novels. (Should I stop there?) I was at home alone, reading, when off to the side I heard the oddest noise: Shhhhk-thunk. Not wanting to let the serial killer (because it’s ALWAYS a serial killer) know I’d heard him, I ignored it. The sound grew closer, never speeding up, slowing down, or becoming any easier to identify.
Shhhhk-thunk.
Shhhhk-thunk.
Shhhhk-thunk.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. Convinced I was about to look over my shoulder and directly into the face of my impending death (for the serial killer who had shhhhk-thunked his way into my parents’ home), I look behind me.
There, on the floor, my brother’s box turtle was calmly making his way from the living room to a dark corner in the den. Shhhhk: The sound of a turtle’s tiny legs pulling him forward. Thunk: The turtle’s shell banging briefly on the floor as it prepared to take another step.
Do you suppose medical insurance forms include a selection for “death by well-meaning box turtle”? :)
I was going to type a story about me being practically blind minus contacts and standing in my skivs peeing a little because I was so scared that someone was standing behind my bedroom door and that’s why it wouldn’t close all way only for it to be because of a doorstop–but man–then I read Lara’s story.
Heavens.
Jesus Linda, you are an incredible writer! I felt like I was there.
THIS STORY, for one! Whew! You really…I mean, that really…whew!
Refresh and read, refresh and read….that’s what I’ve been doing since I finished my first comment.
I think you inspire a lot of people to write, because each one of your readers’ comments are even enjoyable to read. :)
I’m sure there are more but the only one that comes to mind was finally getting off the plane in Hethrow after a very long and delayed flight. My backpack had been moved in the overhead by someone while I was sleeping and it was clear at the other end of the bin. Once inside standing in line the drug dog was going absolutley bonkers over my bag and although I knew I had nothing in there I was all paniky. They pulled me to the side of the line and started to go through my bag…..
a banana I had forgotten to eat before landing.
I was 10 – we were diving in The FL Keys, and my little brother & I would snorkel above the adults if we weren’t actually down with them. So My Dad and two Uncles were diving, and I decided to snorkel above. I put on the BC, my mask, snorkel, and fins…and for some reason, decided to just jump off the side of the boat, not roll backwards like you usually do. I hit the water, and as I surfaced at the top, I started hearing this strange, gurgling sound…..and then felt something tightening around my chest.
So I just KNOW I’m being attacked by a shark!!!
After I start screaming and flailing hysterically in the water, my Dad’s cousin (who was the adult staying on the boat with us) jumped in & hauled me out, and we realized what had happened……
When I jumped in, I had apparently accidentally triggered the BC to inflate!!!!!!
This past weekend, while shopping with my 2.5 year old, was probably the scariest non-scary thing that has happened to me in a while. He had been as patient as a boy that age can be, and as I was checking out, he decided it was the PERFECT opportunity to run into the purse area of the store we were in. The next thing I know, he was gone. I semi-frantically raced past all of the aisles, and called out his name. Normally her responds…but I was met with silence. My heart sank…and my adrenaline was almost suffocating.
Just then, an woman slowly walked up to me, and asked if I was looking for a little boy about yay-high. I said, yes have you seen him? She calmly walked me over to the purse table, where he had wedged himself underneath. He had found the PERFECT hiding place, which also gifted him with a good inch of dust.
Waking up on my own in the middle of the night and believing that a man was peering round the doorway, his long arm hanging down the side of the door, waiting to move, waiting to pounce. Then realising that it was my dressing gown, hanging weirdly on the hook on the door.
I once worked as a camp counselor at a girls’ camp in Colorado. I had the night off, so I went over to the boys’ camp to see some friends of mine working as counselors there. I left the boys’ camp after dark, and the shortest route back to my cabin was about two miles on a trail through the woods. I’d done my share of camping in those woods, so I knew about the coyotes and bears and other animals that roamed there at night. Having little other choice, I decided to just make a run for it. So I went tearing through the woods as fast as I could, heart pounding, hoping like hell that nothing would give chase. I was relieved when I finally saw the lights of my cabin and came storming up onto the porch at full speed … and right in front of me was a black bear, going through a backpack that someone had left on the porch by the front door. I was almost on top of him before I even saw him. Apparently I scared him as badly as he scared me because he turned tail and ran. I ran inside and slammed the door hard, then melted into a puddle of shaking and tears.
I was 12 at our Six Flags theme park. It is about 9 at night and pitch black outside and my family and I have just waited in a loud and rambunctious line for two hours to ride the brand new Batman roller coaster.
The ride starts off, the adrenaline is pumping, and just as we reach the peak of the first drop off, the ride COMPLETELY STOPS.
The Batman ride has no bottom to it – your butt is on a seat, but your feet are dangling. Within minutes everyone on the ride starts panicking and talking to each other and some people are crying. We all quickly fall apart as we overlook the entier theme park with our legs dangling.
A worker actually climbs the stairs on the side of the coaster, all the way to the top, to tell us that they are “working on the ride and hope to have us down as soon as possible”. However, since there is no bottom to the ride, they can’t just evacuate us.
After he leaves, all of the riders start discussing what they think is broken on the ride, and my 12 year old mind starts hearing scary words like “hydraulics” and “brake lines”.
This is about when I began chanting “I’m going to die…I’m going to die…” over and over again. At this point, I don’t even want them to fix the ride for fear that they won’t fix it correctly and I’ll die while the ride is moving. I start praying for firemen and their ladder trucks and all I want is to put my STUPID FEET ON SOLID GROUND!
About 30 minutes later, from start to finish (although I swear it felt like DAYS), the ride starts up again. I don’t remember one millisecond of enjoyment of that ride…just closing my eyes as tight as I could and begging God that if he’d just let me live to go to the eight grade – and see again that cute boy who sat next to me in World History – I would always be good and honest and help others and never talk back to my mother again.
Finally, the ride is through and we all jump off and starting hugging each other and tearing up with thankfulness that we are back on solid ground. One of the riders turns to thank the theme park worker for fixing the ride so that we could finish safely, and the worker says…
“Oh, actually, we just stopped the ride so that the police officers could get up here and arrest two of the riders for defacing property while they were in line.”
All of the workers, and the officers, started laughing hysterically.
And two of the teenagers that we were so bonded with after our “near-death” experience were hauled off to the police station.
So embarrassing!
My parents were on vacation and left my brother and me at home. I was 15 and my brother was 17 or 18. He had to work 3rd shift at the diner. I was reading a book in bed, home alone. The book got scary – I stayed up all night reading – too scared to sleep.
Everytime I turned off the lights, the sounds of an empty house freaked me out. My brother come home at 6:30 am, saw my light, came to my room and asked me why I was up. I told him, he laughed and went to his basement bedroom, and I fell asleep.
These stories are amazing, thanks for the major time-suck Linda ;)
I am having a hard time settling on a story to tell, I seem to have several terrifying experiences which sort of sucks ass.
Here is my earliest. I was around 3-4 years old. My grandmother was visiting and had brought this gigantic suitcase that I could easily fit in and close creating a nice haven. Flash to my mother throwing a drunken dinner party. The adults are laughing and talking in the dining room, I am keeping myself busy in the living room with the suitcase and at least 10 of my stuffed animals. I zip myself in and am unable to unzip it. It’s very dark and pungent with the smell of my grandmother, Norell and cigarettes. I holler over and over for help. No one hears me. I start to scream and punch the inside of the suitcase. No one hears me. I lay still and listen, I hear the adults laughing and begin to think they are laughing at me. I am crying hysterically at this point. What feels like hours, pass. At some point I just lay there quietly crying. Finally I hear and feel the zipper being tugged at, and then the sounds of adult panic. Finally the zipper un-snags and the top flies open, the space filling with my grandmothers terrified face. I am scooped up and safe in her arms. I recall her trying to calm me down with a glass of Tang, then tucking me into bed with the promise of throwing that stupid old suitcase away. Then from the comfort of my bed through the closed door of my bedroom, the horrible scolding my grandmother gave my mother for being drunk and neglectful.
oh, all these comments are great to read!
Echoing a theme here, I live alone in a single family house. The back door is under my 2nd fl bedroom window and there is a motion sensor flood light by the back door, aimed at the deck.
One early summer night, I had gone to sleep, and my dog, a docile lab mix, was asleep in his bed on the floor too. At about 2am I was startled awake, sitting bolt upright in my bed, by the dog’s alarming, frightened howling. He sprang from his bed and ran towards the back window, and just then, the motion light activated and flooded my room and the back yard.
The dog’s nervous barking was unrelenting and his fur was standing straight up on the back of his neck – and,nearly paralyzed by fear, I slowly and deliberately picked up my cell phone and dialed the “9″ and the first “1″ with my finger poised over the “1″ key to hit it again. I moved sloooooowly across the room to the window and leaned against the wall so I could peek down at the back door without being seen, all the while my cell phone quaking in my hand. I expected to see someone jimmying the lock, or worse, the back door ajar, meaning HE WAS ALREADY IN THE HOUSE. The dog snarled and howled, too afraid to go near the window himself. I leaned forward just enough to see out, and my eyes caught the glassy glow of two eyes staring back.
It was a skunk. on my deck. who was trying to get a drink of water out of my useless dog’s bowl.
Growing up, we lived way out in the country, down a winding dirt road. Since both my parents worked, my sister and I would ride the bus home from school, then spend the next few hours at home by ourselves until our parents got off work. One evening, I think I was 12, my sister 9, we heard my dad’s truck pull up in the drive, so we decided we were going to play a little prank. We flipped off every single light in the house, the tv, etc, and ran into their bedroom and hid behind the bed. The door from our carport into the kitchen was very squeaky and loud, so we clearly heard dad come into the house. And then…nothing. He stood in absolute silence in the kitchen for nearly 5 minutes until my sister and I both freaked the hell out and started screaming at the top of our lungs. Obviously, he knew exactly what we were trying to pull and decided to turn it around on us. I have never in my life been more thankful to hear my dad’s laughter coming from the kitchen.
One more: same house out in the country, my sister and I around the same ages as above. We got home from church one night and dad asked if we had fed and watered our rabbits for the day. As usual, we hadn’t, so we set off for the rabbit cages. The cages were actually very close to the house, but were fenced off in such a manner that you had to walk away from the house for a bit to get to the gate, then back towards the house to the cages. So it’s dark, my sister and I are fumbling around at the cage with the watering bottles and what not, when we hear it…the distinct howl of a coyote. Both our eyes get bigger, but neither of us say anything. Kinda like, if we don’t acknowledge it, it didn’t happen. Then we hear it again, closer. Me, in frantic whispers, “DID YOU HEAR THAT”. Sister, equally scared shitless, “YES WHAT DO WE DO?!” Suddenly out of the darkness something comes tearing towards us, howling and yipping and making a ruckus. To this day I have no idea how my sister and I made it back into the house so quickly. Of course when mom heard us screaming, she ran to the door, and swears she saw both of us scramble over the hood of her old station wagon to get to the door. The ferocious, howling beast we heard? My older brother, now doubled over in laughter in the backyard. When he heard dad send us outside to feed the rabbits (in the pitch dark), he knew it was an opportunity too good to pass up. Needless to say, he got in heaps of trouble, but it’s still one of my mom’s favorite stories from our childhood.
once, in elementary school, i woke up and heard a strange howling noise nearby. i was instantly awake, thinking that it sounded like our family’s cat. i lay there, covered in my quilt, wondering what to do. i remembered that we had a broken window in the basement, and my dad had covered it heavy plastic sheeting. i became completely convinced that a wild animal had gotten in through the window. what if my cat was injured? what if there was a wild animal in the house? should i scream and try and wake up my parents? i sat up in bed trying to decide what to do. in the half light of the room, i noticed a black shape on my floor. THE ANIMAL! it was in MY ROOM!
i stood up slowly, crept to the end of my bed, and threw my quilt over the animal on my floor. in a flash of bravery i vaulted off my bed, lept over the quilt-covered-lump on the floor, flipped on my light, and yanked the quilt up off the floor….
off my BACKPACK.
i remember laughing weakly and crawling sheepishly back into bed, heart still pounding.
Last year on vacation in California we went to Moaning Cavern.
My son and I chose to rappell 165 feet into the cave while my husband and family members walked down and watched us.
I listened to the instructions, had my harness and helmet and safety gloves on and lowered myself over the rail to start down. I let out rope and turned the corner and backed into this teeny tiny crevasse just like they said I would and then came out into the cavern INTO NOTHINGNESS. I HAD TO RAPPELL DOWN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING CAVERN THAT’S BIG ENOUGH TO FIT THE STATUE OF LIBERTY UPSIDE DOWN (that’s right, I’m yelling).
I don’t always envision things well and well, I just thought I’d be going down the SIDE of the cavern. Besides, I wanted to know his Mom wasn’t afraid of anything!
As I’m letting the rope out (a little faster than intended so I could get the hell down), my husband calls out “it’s awful quiet up there Nancy” because he knew since I wasn’t hooting and hollering I must be scared shitless.
I have a paragliding story from Mexico from the year before — same story, different sport and location!
My son was 5 years old and he and I were walking through the mall towards a certain store intending to finish our Christmas shopping.
He had been going through a non-hand holding stage and we were testing out whether he was able to walk along beside me without holding my hand. I was stressed because it was so close to Christmas and there were a ton of people at the mall.
The store was just ahead and I told him “Here we are – the Christmas ornament store!” and realize that he is gone.
Totally and complete gone.
I frantically scanned all people and kiosks in the immediate area for him, not seeing him. I could feel the adrenaline flood my system, making my mouth taste like metal and raising all the hair on my arms and head.
I start hollering for him, my fear making my voice all high and shrill “James! James! James!” My throat is tight and aching from the strain of not to screaming his name.
I run into the mall area, back where we came from. About 2 stores back, he comes around the corner of a kiosk holding a young woman’s hand. He points to me and she smiles.
I grabbed him around the waist, dumping all of my packages on the floor and crying – he is hugging me hard, his face hot and wet in my neck. He is crying too, and my fear made my words harsh. “Don’t ever do that again! Don’t run away from Mama!”
I barely thank the woman as we leave the mall. She was selling Christian t-shirts and later I felt so horrible for not thanking her more for finding my son.
The very next time we went somewhere, I made him wear one of those toddler leash things that that goes around their wrist with velcro. (I had gotten one as a gift and never used it until then.) I think it was to Target or the grocery store – it was only for a quick 5 minute shopping trip, and he was mortified and kept on telling me that he was NOT. A. DOG.
He never left my side ever again.
Back in the stoner days of the mid-90’s, my sister and I were at a gas station on the way to a friend’s house. I was pumping gas and since this was before the days of paying at the pump with credit/debit cards, I went inside to pay. When I came back out, my sister was not in the car.
I freaked.
I started walking around the place, looking for her. I was stoned, sure, but I KNEW she’d been in the car when I’d gone into the store!
She came out to find me peering nervously into the tinted window of this creepy-looking van, as I was sure she was in the process of being kidnapped. She walked up behind me and said, “What are you doing?” and I nearly lost it. I asked her where she had gone and she said, “To the bathroom.” This gas station’s bathroom was on the side of the store, so you didn’t have to enter the store to go in.
She still laughs at me.
And it’s been a very long time since I’ve smoked any pot.
Blind as a bat without my glasses, I hopped in the shower and on the wall was a black blob inching it’s way to the shower floor. I screamed, thinking it was some kind of huge shower leach. I moved the shower head to spray water at it and it just started moving down the wall even faster! I screamed again and lept out of the shower and got my towel and captured the creature, throwing my towel to the ground and while still naked and dripping, stomped all over the towel to ensure that by the time I opened it up to take a look at the black monster, it would be quite dead.
Finally I put my glasses on and opened up my towel to find a big wad of hair. Apparently, my husband had picked all the soapy hair out of the shower drain, and stuck it to the shower wall. Why he did that instead of threw it away is still a mystery.
The main one I remember, is from when I was 15. I was staying at my friend’s house in Melbourne, Australia (I’m from Auckland, NZ). I had one of their bedrooms, and they were sharing one, as they were sisters. One morning, like a Sunday, their cat was sleeping on my bed. It was about 9am and I had slept in. And then I heard a huge thumping noise running down the hall and apparently throwing itself at stuff. I had no idea what it was, but all I could assume was that it was a crazy who had hacked up my friends and was storming through the house, searching for more victims. This was the only logical conclusion I could come to, given the fact that nobody else was making any noise, or seeming concerned about the noise.
I stared at the cat, who didn’t look particularly frightened. Later, I found out it was just their dog running up and down the hall, excited to be up. Duh.
Another time was a spider…I assume you have daddy long legs in the States? I’m not scared of them, but one fell from the ceiling onto my FACE once. I cried.
I’ve also had many bad experiences with cockroaches, including finding one on my big toe, stepping on them, etc…
The worst one was this. I was in the bathroom, and there is no delicate way to put this, I was putting in a tampon. I looked down for a second, and there was a large cockroach, on the SKIRT PART OF MY DRESS. I flailed in fear, screaming and laughing because there really was no good way to deal with this. I think in the end it fell off but I ripped my clothes off anyway.
Man the last two sentences of my last post sound sexier than they are
I am shivering and laughing and TOTALLY loving these comments. I only have one to add:
I, too, had just moved into my very own apartment. It was one of those “go in the main door and up the stairs to your apartment” kind of deals that was dark and worn out and built right square in the middle of a terribly vacant lot with bad lighting. The super didn’t like me having lights on when I was out so the apartment was always pitch pitch dark when I came home at night. Suffice it to say I always hated coming home at night.
Well the day had been a long one, I was exhausted. It was my first real job in the city and I was bleary-eyed with city life, busrides, demanding bosses and irrational customers. As always, because I’m a paranoid nut-job, I unlocked my door and looked both ways before walking in – regardless of the pitch dark or the stupid 70’s carpet with the mottled tans and taupes to trick my eyes into seeing things that weren’t there.
I looked to my right, and to my left, and that’s when my blood froze! There on my left I saw someone about my size standing in the middle of the main room in the pitch dark… just standing there.
Just… still… standing… there…
Moments later – I reached the 8-billion miles (two feet) in front of me to the light switch, the better to greet my murderer, only to reveal the unmended pair of tan pants I had casually tossed onto the back of the sofa that morning (I wanted to remember to fix ‘em when I got home but forgot that I had put them there.)
My blood ran cold for hours and I slept with the lights on and a radio on all night for about three days in a row that week. Stupid tan pants on a dark-colored sofa.
My story is waay long, and if you would care to read the WHOLE thing, I posted the link with my name. The short version? I turned my back, and my son Jason was gone. Gone around the corner of the building to play basketball it turned out. No big deal, then inside to the bathroom. But, I was a basket case by the time he appeared. To this day, the looking at the first line causes a catch in my throat. I would like to say too though, that no moment like that and the ones above is ever wasted or silly fear. They are all valid after and during the events.
Just been reading the rest of the (awesome) comments, and I remembered one more!
When I was 16 I was chatting online to some kids in Australia who I had met online. They went to send me a photo of themselves…I opened it, and the whole screen was filled with a horrible photo that I assume came from somewhere like rotten.com of a rotten face. I almost killed them. I don’t think my blood has run cold quite like that since. They thought it was pretty funny. We’re still online friends though, strangely, and talk on the phone from time to time!
Oh and my scariest experience lately…about a month ago I was sitting right where I am now. It was about 4am, and I was up because I hadn’t been able to sleep. I had been up the past two nights at that time, also. I should also mention that I still live at home. Suddenly there came a HUGE banging noise from upstairs, about 5 massive bangs. Our floors creak, so I would have assumed it was someone running through the house upstairs if it wasn’t my Mum’s room. We freaked the hell out, and searched all the (inside) things that could have made such a noise, but to no avail. Then I recalled hearing an extremely quiet car come down the end of our street (we live in a dead end) about 15 minutes earlier, which I had noticed simply because of HOW quiet it was.
Just while I was discussing this, I heard the same car return. I genuinely thought it was a coincidence, but Mum watched the car anyway. It came down the wrong end of our street, stopped so it was looking at our house, and then I flashed the lights just in case. It left. I wanted to call the police (although I still thought it was a coincidence and that a meteor had struck our house or something) but Mum didn’t.
Next morning, someone had thrown some eggs and a rock at our house. I know that sounds like a kid thing to do, but it really wasn’t like that. It was very calculated, that car, and very quiet. We assume they were planning to break in, and wanted to check, thinking no one was home ’cause the light had been on all night for 3 nights in a row.
So we became obssessed…cars KEEP coming back. Every night. Doing the same thing, without the throwing. Just driving down the wrong end of the street, leaving, for about a week. We called the cops the first couple of times, but they always got there 2 minutes too late, so we stopped bothering. Now, a guy gets out of the car and walks up our neighbours driveway. At first we were so suspicious, but now we think that he may be delivering a newspaper. It would make sense that he is driving down the wrong way if that were the case, ’cause the letterboxes would be closer to his door. Which still doesn’t explain the rock throwing. Are they connected? Was it a different group of people, and just coincidence that they drive their cars down the street the same way at around the same time? Also I should mention that my car (and our neighbours car) had been broken into DOWN OUR DRIVEWAYS 3 days earlier.
Our neighbour found one egg next to his van last week, but I’m not gonna call the cops again until I actually see someone THROW SOMETHING…hoping to catch them someday so I can find out their story :)
Sorry that was so long. Just wanted to add that I’m glad I hadn’t been home alone ’cause it sounded SO much like someone had just broken in upstairs, my first instinct would have been to leave the house immediately. With the car outside. FAIL
I was 14 and spending the summer at my elderly grandparents house which was haunted by a little girl – my mom and several of my aunts and uncles all had stories of seeing her while they were growing up there. Whether these stories were true or just made up to scare us kids I don’t know, but I believed them.
About a week or so into the summer I woke one morning and felt a weight on my stomach. Keeping my eyes closed I very slowly moved my left hand under the sheets towards my stomach to feel what it was. It was a hand – a cold clammy hand!
Simultaneously I opened my eyes, sat straight up and grabbed the thing and flung it as far away from me as I could.
Which wasn’t very far as it was attached to me. I had slept weird and my right arm had fallen asleep and was numb while my right hand resting on my stomach.
when i was 8 mos pregnant, and we lived in this shitty little apartment. we were in bed, and i was just drifting off and i thought i heard a noise. sounded like a window opening. but in shitty little apartments, sound carries, so i figured i was just the neighbors. then i heard a chair fall in the kitchen. i convinced myself it was because our kitchen chairs were so crappy, it finally came free of its duct tape and fell to the floor. THEN i heard the kitchen cupboards open, and the water running. i couldn’t convince myself it was “just noises” anymore. then i heard our TV go on in the VERY NEXT ROOM OMG!!!!! i kept waiting for the footsteps to come down the hall and someone come in and kill us in our bed! i shook my boyfriend frantically, “HSSSTT!!!! there’s…someone…IN…THE….HOUSE!!!” to which he answers, “…*mumble, mumble*..you go check, i’m too scared…” and goes BACK TO SLEEP!!!! i finally got out of bed, waddled my 8 months of pregnant self into the living room to find our friend watching tv on the couch drinking a glass of water. “OH! he says, you ARE home. i saw the lights out, so i figured i’d come in and wait for you to get home.” he had come in thru the kitchen window. to this day, if i’d had a baseball bat, i would have beaten him to death with it…shortly before going into the bedroom and beating my boyfriend to death also. i’m surprised i didn’t just go into labor right there.
When I was about eleven years old, my aunt and uncle took my brother, cousins and I to the local zoo. They had a new exhibit with Komodo Dragons that year. Prior to going, I had seen a documentary on television about them and they scared the hell out of me. Still, I was curious to see one. Anyway, my cousin and I saw a sign pointing in the direction of the new exhibit and we ran ahead excitedly to see the dragons. Right near the entrance to the exhibit was a little wooded clearing, and as I ran up to it, I thought I saw the shrubs shaking, but figured it had to be someone standing in there. Well, the second I got to the clearing, I froze in complete terror. I had come face to face with a Komodo Dragon as tall as myself and it looked mad and hungry. It was a statue, of course, but it looked so real and I was so frightened, that my eyes began playing tricks on me and I swore I saw its tongue flicking in and out of its mouth, as well as its tail moving. The zoo had rigged the bushes to shake, as if the statue were doing it, and a hidden speaker played recordings of komodo dragon sounds, such as growls. I gasped and stood as still as if I were cemented to the ground. My chest hurt and felt like it would explode, because I was holding my breath. All I could think was, “How did it get out of its cage?” After a few seconds, my cousin caught up to me and asked, “What’s wrong? Why’d you stop?” I didn’t move or answer. I just stared into the creature’s hungry eyes. She followed my gaze, saw the statue and screamed. She took off running back toward my aunt and uncle and brother. I thought the monster would tear after her to eat her, but it didn’t move, so I figured I would try my luck and escape, too. I ran so fast, my heels practically smacked my ass. I screamed all the way down the ramp, waving my arms in the air, shouting, “It’s escaped! RUN! It got out of its cage!!!” People everywhere were turning their heads, frightened. My brother hid behind my aunt and my cousin was also screaming and on the verge of tears. Boy, did we feel dumb when we realized it was only a statue. My aunt laughed her head off and posed with it for a picture, while my cousin and I stood as far away from it as possible.
Your story reminded me of mine! It was the summer of 2001 and I was snorkeling in the waters off of Anegada in the BVI. I was just toodling along, enjoying myself, when I noticed movement in my peripheral vision. This was the summer that there were many shark attacks and many more sightings off the coast of Florida (granted, I was nowhere near there, but that’s what flashed through my mind). In a moment of panic, I lifted my head out of the water to see if anyone was nearby, and found that I was definitely alone, and much farther out from shore than I had intended to be. I ducked my head into the water again to look to see where the shape was, sure that it was a shark about to come and have me for lunch.
It was a sea turtle.
So I watched him for a few more seconds until he ambled out of sight, then I swam back to shore to tell people what I saw.
A few moments of abject terror, then giddiness to have seen such a lovely sight.
I was about 9 years old and I was at the Carmanah rain forest on the West Coast of Vancouver Island. I was on holiday with my family and a couple of other families and we were all heading back to the parking lot. I said I had to go to the bathroom so my parents said they would wait in the car for me.
When I got to the bathroom, an outhouse, I locked the door, did by business, went to unlock the door and realized… I couldn’t get out! The door wouldn’t budge!
I started to panic. I was TERRIFIED of out houses at that age. I had recently seen an episode of the X-Files where this alien lived in outhouses and ate the people who used them. I was convinced that the alien was hiding in the bottom of the toilet just waiting to get me.
I started to bang on the door. I was screaming, sobbing and I was sure my parents had left without me. About this time I noticed that there was a wasp nest hanging in the corner of the outhouse and there were a few bee’s flying around.
While banging on the door, I head someone on the other side of the door asking me if they could help me. I sobbingly told him that the door was stuck and my parents had left me at the park and there was a monster in the toilet and that the bee’s were going to get me. He explained that the latch was just stuck. He pushed the door in from the outside, and I pulled open the latch.
I shot out of the bathroom like there was a fire under my bum, quickly glanced at the elderly gentleman who had saved me and dashed off to reprimand my parents for almost letting me be eating by the toilet monster.
To this day, I am surprised I can comfortable use an outhouse, though I can’t help but think about the alien in the toilet… every time I go.
I am always freaking myself out over nothing. A more recent episode happened when I came home for lunch one day. The whole house was quiet except for faint voices coming from the back of the house. I just knew burglars were getting ready to come kill me. I listened quietly and then finally decided it was just the tv. So burglars weren’t going to kill me, but they were laying in the back bedroom enjoying my television. Finally I worked up the nerve to walk back there and I found no burglars or serial killers, just a turned on tv. I have since discovered that my tv turns on by itself after a power outage.
not my story (i’m drawing a non-scary scary blank) but a friend of mine:
with no one else home, she decided on a windy day to put her 1 month old first baby in the swing for Just a Minute while she ran out to the car for the stroller, figuring everything would be fine for that quick instant. she comes back in and BABY IS GONE. completely, absolutely, nowhere in sight. just as she starts to really freak out, her husband calls out from upstairs. turned out that he had gotten home *just* after she left, saw the baby in the swing and took him out to go look for her upstairs. cue her re-entrance to missing baby.
I don’t remember enjoying a comment thread as much as this one. Lana, I read yours three times and it still makes me shudder.
I had to really think about this one. The story that keeps coming to mind was a mini road trip I took to my then boyfriend’s small town in Texas while in college. I had a Honda Civic hatchback and there were two other girls in the car, if I remember correctly.
We were going down this two lane Texas “highway” and we came behind this car full of guys that were going too slow for my taste. But I never, EVER pass on those roads unless absolutely necessary and sort of resigned myself to going 55 mph or whatever. Then they slowed down even further, clearly trying to mess with the girls behind them.
Emboldened and encouraged by my passengers, I decided to pass them, which meant passing in a lane of oncoming traffic. I am very much a defensive driver and such type of passing ordinarily makes me nuts. I took a big swill of Diet Coke and went for it.
Except these assholes sped way the fuck up. I was pushing 95 in my little Honda Civic and they matched me. I slowed and they slowed. I couldn’t get in front or back behind them because they matched me, high speed for high speed, slow speed for slow speed. I was terrified that a car would come barreling at me and then….
Yep. Of course. The big semi, in his rightful lane, coming directly at me. Again, two lane road, and these guys were playing some fucked up game of chicken with me. My panic turned to absolute calm, and in the weirdest, most destructive way. I resigned myself to getting into a head on collision and I was utterly calm about it.
Not so much my front seat passenger, who sensed my resignation and she herself panicked. In the very nick of time, she grabbed the wheel and steered us to the grassy median, where I brought the car to a stop.
I have no idea what came over me or why I just sort of accepted my fate as a car crash victim, as that is almost the opposite of my usual instincts. I do remember getting out of the car and pacing around it for a few minutes, then apologizing to the girls for my moment of catatonia.
I haven’t passed a car in the oncoming traffic lane since then – probably 20 years.
Travelling by shallow boat through a Cuban swamp teeming with crocodiles. This journey, though I chose it out of curiosity like a dumbass fool, was straight out of a Far Side cartoon. I’d never seen crocodiles slither from banks towards me before and I hope I never have the pleasure again.
The only creepier sight was a farm of 30,000 crocodiles, all standing stock still as we stood and looked at them. You could have heard a pin drop. Again, very Far Side. Gary Larson would have loved it.
Why aren’t you publishing a book?
This blog is the most fun I’ve had all day! Thanks for all the good stories.
I used to work at an auction house that had a warehouse in the basement. The warehouse part was closed off during the auctions because it was all storage and they didn’t want customers down there, but one night they sold two extra office chairs and sent me down to put them on the conveyor belt and send them upward. The only trick was the lights–you had to the middle of the warehouse to get to the light switches housed in a smaller storage room off the back entrance, and being underground there was no natural light. I felt my way across the room and flicked the lights on when I heard a forceful “Don’t Move.”
My first thoughts are that my cellphone and keys are in my purse under my desk upstairs and that I’m standing near a table of packaged sheet sets which are pretty much useless in terms of self-defense. Shaking, I put my hand on the table in front of me and the voice said, “I said don’t move!”
In some combination of courage and stupidity I decide that my best bet is to kill the lights and make a run for it–chances are I know this place better than he does and large warehouses are full of great places to hide should he turn the lights on before I can reach the stairs. I flick the switches and he says, “Drop your weapon,” as jet towards the stairway. I rushed to my boss who gets a baseball bat and a mag light and goes down to face the man in the storage room.
I was nearly mugged by a motion-activated police bear. I’ll take “Things you never live down at work for 1000,” Alex.
I have to tell you one about my sister. When we were in high school she got up before everyone in the house so she could shower first since she took the longest to get ready. My parents and I were all asleep. I just remember waking up to a blood curdling scream. The power had gone out while she was showering and it was dark. She just knew that someone had broken into the house to kill her while she was in the shower. She had recently watched Psycho so I’m sure that added to the fright.
I already shared a story, but I have to say I LOVE THESE STORIES!!!
While sailing offshore several days from land in any direction, I woke in the middle of the night and glanced into the cockpit to reassure myself that everything was going well with my husband during his watch. Usually I would find him checking our position on the chart or singing along with Steely Dan on the ipod. (No, we are not in our 60s. Yes, he is a total music nerd.)
Not there. I looked into his berth, where he would sometimes crawl and try to sneak a nap. Berth was empty.
I got up out of bed and climbed into the cockpit, heart beating, and looked forward to the bow. No sign of him.
Now I was contemplating the worst — that he had fallen overboard at sea and I slept blissfully through it. Everyone always asks us if sailing offshore was scary, if there were storms, if we were lonely … the only thing that literally gave me nightmares was the thought of him falling overboard because my chances of maneuvering the boat alone, gently coming up alongside him, and then getting his 180-lb. body on board again were slim. Trying to do it at night? Pretty much no chance.
So, heart in throat, blood pounding in my ears, I just screamed, “Warren!!” in a total panic, already halfway to hysterical tears. He stood up from the crouch he was in near the mast, in the dark indistinguishable from a spare sail bag, and was all like, “What?”
I love these stories too. Kari, whoah SHIT! I hope you reported them!
kristalynne just made me think of another one, I’ve totally blocked it out b/c it scared me so much. The difference of a few seconds could have meant everything…
I went camping/rafting up in nantahala for a friends 30th a couple of years ago. Needless to say there was MUCH drinking and shinanigans. I woke up in the middle of the night and the feeling I had was not good. My tummy was churning and had yet to decide whether it was going to send everything up, down or both. There was a portalet at our campsite, but -seriously- this was NOT a portalet situation. I grabbed my toothbrush and flashlight and hustled to the main bathroom, which was probably 200 yards away, around a bend and past a really loud waterfall. I got there and well… yeah. A minute or so later the main bathroom door screeched open. I froze. I listened. I looked under the door, but didn’t see feet. You know when you KNOW there is someone else in the room. I KNEW. The only weapon I had was my toothbrush I held it tight. The door screeched again. I finished the task at hand b/c I didn’t really have a say in that. Brushed my teeth and got the hell out. I was on high alert. I didn’t see anyone, so I started back to the campsite. I was just by the bend and the waterfall – in the shadows where it I couldn’t be seen or heard – and headlights flciked on about five yards behind me. I hadn’t even heard the car. I had a split second to decide which way to run – back to the center of the campsite where there were lights but not so many people or straight ahead through the dark woods back to my friends.
Before I could run, a man got out of the car. Abject terror.
Then relief.
It was a police officer.
He explained that there had been a report of a man exposing himself at a number of sites and attacking a female site worker who had been clsoing up a building. She got away from him and he had headed in the direction of the waterfall, just a short while before.
I’m convinced he saw me go into the restroom and followed me in. And I don’t want to think about what could have happened if I hadn’t have been in the midst of such foulness.
Don’t walk alone in the dark ladies!
I was about 12 years old and it was summertime. I was home alone, (or so I thought), lazed about for a bit, then took a shower. I got dressed in my room, turned off my light, then left the room. I realized I forgot something and went back to my room to retrieve it. Just as I stepped over the threshold of my bedroom, one of my closet doors opened (the sliding accordian kind with the slats) and a man came literally tumbling out and fell onto the floor. I took a few steps backward out of my room, shocked and screaming, totally frozen in fear and unable to even run away. I continued to scream even when I realized it was my brother, then my screams turned into uncontrollable sobbing as he tried to calm me down.
The jerk decided to hide in my closet to give me a good ‘BOO!’ scare while I was in the shower, and while he was in there? YEAH, HE FELL ASLEEP.
I have another one….
It was ‘95 and I had just turned sixteen and gotten my driver’s license, as did all of my friends. It was our first light snow and I was terrified to drive my car, so I begged my girlfriend to drive us both to and from work.
My girlfriend owned an old Plymouth Duster without working heat or radio. Didn’t bother us much, we just kept blankets in the back seat and the passenger held the old boombox with the awesome double tape deck. haha
On the way home, we are driving down a side street and my friend starts looking at the pretty christmas decorations on all of the houses. Suddenly, the street widened so cars could park on the side of the road. I remember looking ahead and we were aiming directly for the parked cars on the side of the road, but I trusted that my friend was eventually going to swerve to the left where the street was open. Of course, she never did because she was so entranced with one houses beautiful decorations.
No seat belt, plus holding the stupid boombox, left my head slamming directly into the windshield and I blacked out. When I woke up, the engine was basically in our lap and my girlfriend was rocking back and forth saying “I killed her…I killed her” over and over again. I couldn’t get my bearings and figure out what was going on. I tried to open the door to get out of the car, but it wouldn’t open. I realized I had blook pouring out of my nose and ear. Cue MAJOR PANIC ATTACK.
Firemen and police get there and come to my window where I am hyperventilating and screaming “GET THE JAWS OF LIFE….I CAN’T GET OUT OF THE CAR! HURRY! I CAN’T BREATH, I’M GOING TO DIE!”
One fireman looks down and says “Lady, try unlocking the door.” Ummmmm….yeah, forget about the lock.
Then, because I was an expert on all episodes of Rescue 911 (best.show.ever) I am absolutely positive that I am qualified to diagnose myself. When I finally open the door they start asking me questions and I very gravely inform them “I hit my head on the windshield and now my nose and ears are bleeding. You don’t even have to tell me, I know that means brain damage.”
Fireman looks and me and says “Lady, you have no more brain damage right now then you did before this accident. But clearly you might have already had issues.”
Yeah…I was only bleeding because I had scraped my ear and nose on the heating vents.
Completely wasted adrenaline.
(and the irony – the house with the pretty decorations was hosting a holiday party and my girlfriend had singlehandedly caused a chain reaction crashing FIVE of their vehicles that were parked on the side of the road.)
After a fresh snowfall about four years ago, while my husband was out of town skiing with some friends, I decided to shovel our sidewalk. It was late, but I didn’t realize how late because the streetlights were reflecting off the snow banks, making it seem earlier than it was. It was quiet and peaceful outside, the air was cool and crisp, and it felt good to be exerting some energy. So, there I am, lost in my thoughts, shoveling away, when a car pulls up across the street and a guy gets out. His friend stays in the passenger seat. Women’s intuition kicks in and I start feeling nervous. Something doesn’t seem right. He crosses the street and walks toward me. I keep shoveling, wondering if I could use the shovel as a weapon if I had to, wishing I had paid better attention in my self-defense class back in college.
He tells me that his friend’s car broke down and they need a few bucks for gas money.
“For five bucks I can finish shoveling,” he says.
I’m almost done shoveling and tell him thanks, but I’m almost done (and I was).
“We need gas money,” he says again. “I can finish shoveling for you.”
I try to remain calm as I suggest that he ask the neighbor instead. He shakes his head no. I realize he’s not going anywhere and tell him “Let me just go inside the house and see what I have.”
I try not to break into an all-out sprint, my heart racing, and once I’m inside I lock the door behind me. I figure he’ll get the hint and go away.
I am wrong.
A few minutes later, he starts banging on the front door. I’m home alone and scared to death. I sit on the stairwell, frozen with fear. What do I do? What do I do? He’s going to break in and rob me. He’s going to rape me. He’s going to murder me. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.
I do what any self-respecting 29-year-old would do and call my dad. Even though he’s a good 30 minutes away.
“There’s a guy outside banging on the door and I’m home alone and I was just outside shoveling and he wanted gas money and I don’t want to call 911 if it’s not a real emergency and I’m home alone and—”
My dad cut me off, “Call 911.”
“I don’t want to bother them,” I answered. “What if he’s harmless?”
“What if he’s not?” he asked.
Good point.
I told my dad I’d call 911 and call him back. I hung up the landline, took my cell phone to the stairwell, and called the dispatch operator. The dispatcher told me I was the second person from my neighborhood to call with that complaint (so I wasn’t over-reacting!) and wanted to stay on the line with me until an officer arrived. In the meantime, my dad was freaking out and trying to call our landline. And the whole time the guy was outside banging on the door.
An officer arrived, talked to the guys, then sent them on their way. (I watched all of this happen from inside the house. I wasn’t about to go outside again.) I called my dad back and explained that an police officer was there now (I just about gave him a heart attack. I’m sure his imagination was going into over-drive as well.) I went outside just as the @ssholes were driving off. The driver noticed me, WAVED and smiled.
The officer told me that he knew both guys well and they were wanted for crimes in California, but since California doesn’t extradite, we were stuck with them in Minnesota.
“They’re fairly harmless,” the officer tried to reassure me.
All I heard was “wanted for crimes.” I didn’t think to ask what the crimes were.
The officer waited outside my house while I packed an overnight bag (I sure as hell wasn’t going to stay at the house by myself) and drove up to my parents’ house.
That whole winter I was paranoid that they’d return for me, and four years later, I still don’t feel entirely safe in my neighborhood.
Totally had to share this one after reading all of the above….the other comments are hilarious and some super scary. Can relate to many about dark objects in night, spooky noises when home alone.
Anyways, we hadn’t lived in our new house for very long. I awoke with a start in the middle of the night, certain I had been awakened by a LOUD noise. Hyperventilating, I crept to the doorjamb of the bedroom, yes, in my birthday suit with a very large maglite flashlight in hand. Husband and dog snore uselessly on bed behind me. I turn the flashlight on, and there, by the front door…..it’s humonguous, bigger than a dog, lying on the doormat inside….I saw eyes, and then fur….I didn’t see any limbs. All the scenarios ran thru my mind-was it a mutant rat? A coyote? How had it gotten in? The basement? the chimmney? if it moved, I was ready to slam the bedroom door and hunt for a bigger weapon…..as my eyes adjusted to the dark and too bright flashlight beam, I finally figured out my husband’s darn DEER HEAD had fallen off the wall and was lying sideways in front of the door. Talk about feeling like an idiot. And the dumb thing put a dent in the wall that is still there to this day!
I was waiting at a stop sign at a busy intersection in my car trying to cross the street. All of sudden I heard I loud THUNK. I looked and across the hood of my car was a man and his bike. I thought, “DEAR GOD! Did I just hit him? I cannot believe I hit someone with my car! What was I thinking? I am clearly going to spend some time in jail for this! There goes my future! Wait. My foot has been on the brake the entire time. Hmm…” I got out of the car and helped the man off my car. I thought I was dead meat for sure and could imagine the police showing up at any moment. It must have been my lucky day. He was completely embarrassed because he was not paying attention and ran into my car going very fast on his bike. WHEW!!! Luckily he was fine and only his pride was hurt. What a relief for me.
Ah I remember these from the ClubMom days, and just like I did then, I smiled and chuckled and laughed out loud. And that last one? It made me cry then, and it made me cry today, too.
You are the best.
A couple of weeks ago I went snowboarding at a well known skifield in New Zealand that just so happens to be on an active volcano. I was waiting in line for the lift and all of a sudden sirens start going off to evacuate and move to high ground because the bloody volcano is going to erupt. Holy shit, well there was like 100 people trying to high tail it out of the lift queue (which was in a valley, so it seemed we were all going to get washed away in the river of molten lava that was supposedly heading our way) and everyone was falling over each other, but anyway we all got to high ground and waited there for like 20 minutes before we guessed (since there was no eruption/ river of lava) that it was an unannounced evacuation drill. When we got back to the lift queue we were asked by a friendly ski field staffer to rate our evacuation drill experience. Ha.
I’ve never been fond of elevators. When I studied abroad in college, though, it seemed Fate had decided to let me know why.
I was in a country with a disfunctional service sector — during the semester I lived there, the postal workers went on strike for nearly 3 weeks; the garbage collectors for nearly 2; bus drivers too many times to count; — and that’s all I remember. None of the students on the program spoke the language; we didn’t have phones (no cell phones then) in our apartments & our professors lived many blocks away.
I was with some friends, on my way to a party hosted by some other students. It was Sunday afternoon. We entered the elevator just as another group of students arrived, and we all crammed into the small, old-fashioned elevator (the kind with the gates up pull across before the door closes). We were so close to each other, my face was pressed into my friend’s back, & no one could move. The elevator began to climb, slowly, to the party on the top floor. Suddenly, the elevator stoped dead. In between floors. A wave of sheer, utter, and heart-stopping panic immediately washed over me, so much so that I felt my legs weaken and I thought I might pass out.
Images of being stuck like that for DAYS, while someone who can’t speak the language & has no phone tries to find someone who could find an elevator repair man in a city that couldn’t even get the mail delivered. I imagined suffocating. Peeing on myself & suffering utter humiliation — see I really had to go to the bathroom. Then I imagined that we had strained the ancient mechanisms of the elevator, and it had stopped just before it was about to plummet wildly to the concrete floor below. I began to hyperventilate.
A few people began to call for help, and our friends at the party came & yelled to us: we had overloaded the elevator; it happened all the time; and if we just let it go down to the floor below, we could get out. No problem.
We did this, and when the door opened, I shot out of there like a bat out of hell. I was drenched with sweat & prickling from adrenaline, but I was neither stuck in the elevator nor splatted on the bottom of the shaft. I felt a little ridiculous for the major panic attack, but I also was so, so very relieved.
To this day, I avoid elevators as much as possible.
Driving home from the airport in Portland, and being stuck in commuter traffic on the big huge high bridge in portland, that comes into the city. It was rush hour, raining, and getting dark. There was a traffic jam and we stopped right in the middle of the bridge.
The wind was blowing, and I swore to god I felt the brige move. Later I am told that isn’t possible, but I know I did.
For those brief few moment before traffic began to move, I was sorely tempted to shut the car off,grab my bag, and hoof it off the bridge, as I knew most assuredly again for those fleeting minutes that felt like an eternity that we were going down into the cold dark watery depths of the Columbia River.
When I was living in Austin, my friends had this idea that we would go to Mardi Gras, except that we would go to the bayou instead of N.O. The trip was drunken and fun until we ended up in this very small town. They had a Mardi Gras parade and while we waited for it to start we were getting a lot of looks and a couple of rude comments from the locals. I chalked it up to not a lot of outsiders making it this far into the bayou. So the parade starts and at first it looks normal, beads being thrown from floats, costumes etc.. After about the first two floats pass, all of the sudden came the rest of the floats and they all had Klan members on them dressed up in the hoods and robes, except instead of being being white robes, they were Mardi Gras colors. Now my friends and I are considered white, but my husband and I are a little more mixed and we definitely look it, hence the stares. As my panic attack began, I had a visions of nooses, shallow graves, FBI searches, the whole thing. But nothing really happened. We gawked, then we left. Now it’s just a strange story to tell at parties that mostly people don’t believe.
another story… when I was in Montreal a couple of years ago my friends and I were walking to a bar at night when I felt somebody jab something in my back and mumble something at me in French. Being a bit of a dumbass and obviously not understanding wtf this guy was saying to me I immediately turned around to see what was up. Well he was trying to mug me, WITH A BANANA. Needless to say I cracked up laughing and told him to piss off.
I’ve had A LOT of moments like that, because I’m a scaredy-cat. Sirens, in particular, always strike terror in my heart! But I guess one of the most recent “non-scary scary moments” was on the FOurth of July when Jimmy was shooting off bottle rockets in our backyard. I was all peaceful and happy, and then for some reason I felt like the bottle rocket was going to land on me! I was standing right next to Little Bear, and in an impressively heroic move, I scooped her up and dove out of the way, tripping over a lawn chair in the process. I thought I just saved Little Bear’s life, but when I looked up everyone was staring at me and Little BEar was laughing!