Practice English Speaking&Listening with: True Scary Stories: Vol. 4

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My sister Stephanie loves photography. She's always taking pictures everywhere and she's

really got a good eye. I said "We should go up to those natural hunting blinds outside

of town and take some pictures." She agreed and I was stoked because we could hike a little

bit and spend some time together. That saturday we met up and got on the road. The hunting

blinds were about 30 minutes out of town, and we talked the whole ride. When we arrived,

we got out and started hiking. We were about halfway up when Stephanie saw something she

liked and took her camera out. "Shit" she said "I don't have my SD card." She had left

it at home. "Oh well" I said, the pictures weren't really the point of this anyways.

We explored the area for a bit, maybe 30 minutes, before heading back to the car. On our way

back, she said "Hey, wanna go to an abandoned house?" Not having anything else planned for

the rest of the evening, I said "Sure, where is it?" It was about halfway back home. I

turned on the the desolate dirt road and could see the house in the distance. We got there

and got out. The house was old. Most of the windows had plywood over them. Next to the

house was another house that had burned down. We walked around, guessing where the bathrooms

and rooms used to be, based on the layout and size of each one. I turned my attention

back to the main house, "So are we gonna go in or what?" She accepted the challenge and

said with a grin, "Yeah, I'm waiting on you." We walked up to the doorway and looked inside,

the door had been ripped off. It was still pretty light outside, but due to the blocked

windows, it was pretty dark in the house. I walked inside and she followed. People had

fucked this place up. There was broken glass and trash all over. There was even some old

furniture left, and it was destroyed as well. There was graffiti and holes punched and kicked

all over the walls. We cautiously went through the house, and while I was acting all 'not

scared' in front of my sister, I was a little nervous. Scenes from scary movies were running

through my head, and I was trying to tell myself to stop being ridiculous - thinking

stuff like that. Right at that moment, I heard a faint sound - like chains clinking. "Shhh!"

I whispered. We stopped our crunching feet and stared at each other. After a few seconds,

it happened again. It was coming from one of the closed doors in the hall. Our eyes

widened and Stephanie quietly said "Let's go see what it is." "Are you crazy?" I said,

"Why?" She smiled. "C'mon, are you scared?" She was daring me, and I wasn't about to chicken

out. We crept towards the door trying to be as quiet as we could but we were still making

noise, there's no way we couldn't. I grabbed the doorknob and turned it all the way before

flinging the door open. We stood there in shock, seeing what was in the room. A skinny

man wearing dirty pants was hanging from the ceiling by hooks in his back. Like Criss Angel

shit. He was staring at us. His pulled skin made it look like there were tents on his

back. He started to swing himself from side to side, and started laughing. Laughing like

someone from an insane asylum would laugh. We finally snapped out of it and got the hell

out of there, fumbling through the trash and debris. We got to the car and jumped in. He

was still laughing. We sped off and I didn't calm down until I got home. We still talk

to each other about it. I'm sure we will for the rest of our lives.

A little backstory: When I was younger (around 12) my family and I used to live in this nice

suburb that was only a few years old. Our house was up on a hill that turned in forest

a way back. At the edge of that forest was a rundown two-story house with no one living

in it. Full on smashed windows, torn up, hole in the roof, completely unlivable. It turned

into one of those "haunted" myths that kids in the neighborhood liked to make things exciting.

Most kids were told by their parents not to mess around with it since it was unsafe and

falling apart, but kids will be kids. On to the story, one day some of my friends

and I were bored and walking around the neighborhood, but couldn't find anything to do. I was (and

continue to be) a fan of exploring rundown buildings and areas, plus I am kind of a horror/ghost

nut, so I suggested we go look around the house. My two other friends, let's call them

Don and John, couldn't think of anything else to do so we ended up going to check out the

house. Now, the inside of the house is wrecked, pieces

of the ceiling are gone, furniture is still just sitting around, and it really seems like

the house was just straight up abandoned, which obviously fed our imaginations wildly.

There was even an old rusty knife in the kitchen sink, straight out of a movie shit there.

We end up looking around the first floor. Standing at the door, there is a set of stairs

right in front of you to the second floor, a kitchen to the right that turns into a dining

room towards the back corner. On the left was a small hallway, with a bathroom under

where the stairs would be. Continue on and there is a living/sitting room that turns

into another sitting room next to the front door. Not a big house at all, but like I said,

with a good bit of furniture still around, it fed the creep factor. We explored the first

floor for a few minutes before meeting up by the door again, where I then suggested

we go upstairs. Don and John didn't want to go up, since the stairs looked to be in bad

shape so I went up on my own while they waited outside. I gingerly made my way up the stairs,

making sure to test them before putting my full weight on them. At the top, there were

two doorways, one to either side. On the left was what looked like a bedroom, so I looked

inside, but it was pretty normal. Besides the wallpaper being messed up and various

planks and wood being strewn about, there was nothing spectacular about the room. There

was a fairly big bed, a small vanity in the corner, and a dresser. With nothing going

on there, I decided to check the other room. It looked to be a bathroom, but when I looked

inside I saw a large hole in the middle of the room with part of the wall gone so you

could see up the street a ways. Now, let me also preface this with, not really

the king of good decisions here. I'm in a abandoned house, that's falling apart, on

the second floor, looking for creepy stuff. The hole is also right above the kitchen,

so we would/should have noticed anyone there. So I realize now that I should have IMMEDIATELY

found this to be sketchy. Right next to the hole, sitting in a chair

facing away from me, is a girl with longish black hair, a white nightgown (it looked like),

not reacting to the noise I'm making as I'm moving around. I (with my glorious decision

making abilities) immediately go, "Oh, hi there. Are you looking around the house too?"

No response. "Hello?" No response again.

"Umm, are you okay?" With this, I started moving towards her with my hand out, like

I'm about to tap her shoulder. Finally, maybe two inches away from tapping her, it hits

me. The weirdness of the whole situation. Then my body immediately goes into fight or

flight mode and a voice is screaming in my head NOT to touch this girl. The fear I felt

was incredibly intense, but I knew I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Slowly I backed out

of the room, without looking away from her back. Once I was out and next to the stairs,

I bounded down the stairs the way I came up and out the door as quick as I could. My friends

asked me what happened, but they didn't believe me when I told them, which was honestly no

surprise. I was still curious about her though, so I walked up the street to where you could

see the hole in the wall but saw nothing. She wasn't there, so I was definitely creeped

out. We ended up just going back home after that because there wasn't much else to do.

The house also ended up being demolished a

year later to make room for new housing.

OK, so on Friday, June 6th of 2008 I took the day off work to go on a solo backpacking

trip up near Mount Adams in Oregon for 2 nights. This is something that I used to do every

few months, because there is nothing that can clear your mind like a few nights alone

out in nature. It started off like all the other trips. I hiked in from one of the trails

that run through the area, head out to an area that I selected that was far enough from

a trail to not see other people, but close enough to make it back easily in the off chance

that something happened. Yes, I know that a lot of people caution hikers and campers

about going alone, but I loved the solitude. I reached my destination mid-day on Friday,

and set up my little camp and foraged around for some prime sticks to whittle on. It was

a solitary paradise until the sun set and it became dark. That's when I knew something

was weird. You know that feeling you get when you are being watched? Well mine

was HIGH alert. All I knew is that something felt wrong, and my heart would not stop pounding.

I don't now how to describe it in any other way than I felt like prey. Like I was being

hunted. I had never felt this before on any of my trips out here, so I was a little bit

freaked but tried to just brush it off as just stress carrying over from work.

Now by this time I had my little fire going, but it was small because I was technically

not allowed to be camping there let alone have a camp fire. I decided that I wanted

to start piling wood on because I NEEDED to make sure I could see and ward off anything

that was getting an idea of visiting me. The only problem was I didn't have enough wood

for a big fire because I was only planning on a small one with twigs and small branches.

This is when I made my mistake. I pulled out my battery powered lantern and set it near

the fire for some more light as I went a few feet around my little camping zone looking

for more sticks. I should have taken it with me. There was almost no moon at all that night,

so anything that was not touched my camp fire and lantern was pitch black. It was as I was

grabbing some small branches on the outer edge of my light that I felt something slam

into the back of my thigh so hard that it spun me about and threw me to the ground.

The pain, oh God, the pain was horrible. Once my adrenaline caught up to the situation it

helped settle it a bit, but it felt like my leg was on fire. I landed on a rock that was

not there a moment before, and I began looking around for who threw it at me, but because

of the way I had fallen, I was in the shade of my tent. Before I could hobble around my

tent to grab my lantern I heard this weird scraping sound on the ground and little cloud

of dust started coming my way. Whoever had thrown the rock at me had evidently kicked

dirt onto my little fire and now it was going out and I only had the light from my lantern

which wasn't super bright to begin with. I started shouting something at this point

but I dont remember what I said., just that it was colorful and with a number of

threats attached. I got to my feet, hobbled to my little lantern and pulled the machete

out of its little sheath on my belt. I stood there shining the light in all directions

around me looking and yelling for the perp(s) to come out, but nobody did. I must have stood

there for a good half hour. I didn't know what else to do and my leg was

really starting to hurt again so I decided I would just go into my tent, and sit there

listening. It was eerily quiet. No woods noises, no animals, nothing. So I just sat there holding

my lantern and waited for what must have been hours. I finally felt like I could let my

guard down, so I turned off my light and let my eyes adjust. (My tent door was partially

unzipped so I could see out.) There was nothing but that too quiet

sound while my eyes were starting to pick up shapes of the last of the embers from my

dead little fire. That's when something grabbed my foot through the door of the tent and drug

me out. It left like a vice just grabbed my ankle and started hauling me through the brush.

I thrashed and screamed and tried to grab anything that was there, but I was too disoriented.

I thought I was dead for sure. Bear attack. Dinner time and I was the meal. But then suddenly

I was free. I turned and started scrambling for my tent as fast as I could. I looked behind

me but I didn't/couldn't see a thing, but whatever drug me had taken me a good 10-12

feet from my tent in just a few seconds. I grabbed my light and machete and went back

to my standing defense, but nothing happened. Not for the rest of the night. I crouched

down and eventually sat there for the last few hours of darkness, but I never let my

guard down. Eventually the woods noises returned to normal, and the sky started getting a little

brighter, so I packed up my stuff and hauled ass out of those woods as fast I could.

I have no idea what or who it was that drug me around like a toy, but I will never be

going back to find out, that's for sure. Also, here is an image of the bruise and an area

that is basically the same as where I was camped that night.

And no, I am not saying that this is bigfoot or that I believe in him. I know there have

been a number of sighting in this area over the years, but I didn't see any footprints

or anything when I was packing my stuff up. But 'something' is out there, that I know!

When I was young I was prone to fevers and nightmares, something that my doctors and

my parents alike put down to a weak constitution and an overactive imagination. Even I grew

older and stronger nightmares continued to plague me, nightmares that no drug could keep

at bay, nightmares that frequently had me lashing out violently as I awoke.

As you can imagine when it came time for me to attend the University I felt I had no choice

but to live alone. The lack of companionship only aided my focus on all things academic,

my grades were strong and my instructors began to take a special interest in my academic

progress. Unfortunately in my second year of studies

I began to experience incidents of sleepwalking and nocturnal violence. On four separate occasions

campus security had to apprehend me. This is how I came to the attention of Dr.

Palatine, the Universitys leading expert on the subject of sleep disorders. Perhaps

it would be more appropriate to say I was placed under her care and supervision. She

was a handsome woman with iron gray hair that was streaked with red, she wore thick glasses

and spoke with an Eastern European accent. Dr. Palatine explained to me that she had

just returned from a long sabbatical where she had been conducting what she called 'the

purest research. Dr. Palatine shared with me her theories about

the nature of REM sleep and the source of dream imagery in the collective unconscious.

She requested I keep a journal and a tape recorder at my bedside but I must admit that

the nature of my waking terrors left me with little clear or consistent information to

impart. This lack of hard data to work from led her

to invite me to live with her. I felt I had no choice but to accept. Dr. Palatine lived

in a crumbling brownstone several miles from the college campus. She made a room for me

in her basement so that my night terrors could be controlled and monitored with the greatest

care. My first night and last night of observation

began that ordeal that consumed my life. Dr. Palatine gave me a mild sedative and had me

lie down on the cot she had prepared for me. She sat beside me in an uncomfortable looking,

rust-colored chair, pen and notepad in hand. Soon I was asleep and soon I found myself

in the most lucid dream I had ever known. In the dream I found myself alone in the basement

staring up at the single bare lightbulb that was the only illumination. Dr. Palatine and

the rust colored chair were gone. A strange feeling of dislocation washed over me as I

stood and walked up the basement stairs. I found the cellar door had been locked from

the outside but I felt no panic at this realization. What better way to curtail my nightly meanderings

than a locked door? I rapped on the door and called for Dr. Palatine, when there was no

answer I began to knock louder and louder. I called her name over and over but there

was no answer. The feeling of dislocation grew stronger and

in my minds eye I saw myself beating at the door in ever-growing panic. I looked so

small, like a forgotten child. Without warning the basement door rattled

on its hinges as though something had been thrown against it. Fingers scrabbled and grabbed

through inch wide gap between the bottom of the doorframe and the floor; they were thin

and covered with thick tufts of red hair. They scratched and scraped.

Even now you might assume that this was all some sophomoric prank but my every sense told

me this was not the case. Whatever was on the other side of that door was bestial and

twisted. The grasping of the fingers became more frantic as though it were searching for

something precious that was just out of reach. It was as though my every childhood nightmare

was coming true. Hadnt the fear of seeing this very personal incubus driven me to night

terrors and fugues? I screamed at it. The claw-like hand retreated,

there was a moment when I thought it was about to retreat but then it began to sing. I cannot

describe that voice, I do not know if that voice can be described. All I can say it that

the sound that reached my ears was a loathsome crooning.

An image arose to my mind, uninvited; that of the creature burbling nonsense, trying

to lull the pink quivering shape at its breast to sleep.

Desperate to escape that sound I backed away only to lose my footing. I tumbled down the

stairs striking my head and plunging my mind into merciful mindless darkness.

How long was it until I awoke again? I cannot say, but I do know that I blinked my eyes

to see the basement door wide open. It took me some time to find the courage to mount

the stairs but when I did I found myself in a barren house.

Of Dr. Palatine there was no trace, not only had she disappeared from her home she had

also vanished from all University records. All my professors insisted there was no Dr.

Palatine, that there had never been a Dr. Palatine.

The more I told my story the more I became a subject of derision and unease. I left the

University in the middle of the semester never to return.

I found gainful employment far away from the University but I had lost the capacity to

dream and with it I had lost all sense of certainty in the world around me. I began

to fear that I no longer dreamed because I was still asleep in Dr. Palatines basement,

that I had never awoken at all.

The Description of True Scary Stories: Vol. 4