Posted on 10/31/2009 1:50:02 PM PDT by acad1228
What's your best/worst/scariest Halloween Story?
The last thing I remember was jumping out some bushes to scare some trick-or-treaters. One of them had a big stick and I didn’t. Never saw it coming.
I had this dream that this stark-raving socialist US-hater was elected president ...
ELAINE: Oh, no, no! That's where it gets interesting! Don't you see? The - the train is bearing down on you, you - you dive into a side tunnel - and you run into a whole band of underground tunnel dwellers!
PETERMAN: It just seems so cliched, and obvious. It's not interesting writing.
ELAINE: Yeah.. yeah. I know. Um.. how about if, instead of.. diving from the train, you.. uh, you, I don't know, you slip and, and fall in some mud, and.. ruin your pants?
PETERMAN: (Intrigued) The very pants I was returning. That's perfect irony! Elaine, that is interesting writing!
Scared is: When my fifteen year old daughter went trick or treating (actually taking some kids in the neighborhood) in a skimpy french maid’s uniform. Now that is scary for a father.....
Anyone care to share?
Many years ago when my husband and I were just starting out, we lived in an inner-city neighborhood for a couple of years. On Halloween my husband got out his replica Colt revolver and dressed up like a cowboy with a bandana over his face. He sat in a rocking chair in the middle of our living room, and rigged up a string to open the front door. The first bunch of trick-or-treaters rang the bell and he opened the door with the string, pointing the gun in their faces. The kids screamed.....and then one of their dads came running and waving a real gun. Needless to say, that costume was retired immediately!
I have an embarrassing Halloween story. A man asked me if I didn’t think I was a little old to be trick-or-treating.
Was this last year?
I am 61 and every Halloween has been scary since I turned 50.
Each Halloween I have to be reminded that I am one year closer to the grave... it’s my birthday. LOL
That's okay. I only started this so I could share my story. And Yes it really happened.:
Many years ago, we lived at the end of a long road. It was actually the last house on the left, although that has nothing to do with the story. Previous tenants told us of odd things happening but we didn't believe them. Our disbelief was short-lived.
It began with my four-year-old daughter screaming at something she had seen in the living room. She said it was a black cloud and that it had crossed the room and disappeared into a corner. We dismissed it until my wife's sister visited a few days later. She said the cloud reappeared from the same corner and enveloped her two little girls. Later that same day, my wife saw the cloud come from the corner and wrap itself around her. She said it was suffocating, hot and stank of burning meat. The cloud seemed to only manifest itself around women and girls. Unfortunately for my sons, males were not spared the haunting.
The front door of the old house squeaked loudly and no amount of WD40, graphite, or silicone gel would quiet it. Now, to get the layout of the house, one has to understand that it was built into the side of a hill. The front door faced the West and one would enter there onto the second floor, which is where the living area, dining room, kitchen and bathrooms all were. The bedrooms and laundry room were on the first floor, which could be accessed by the East facing back door.
One night the boys, aged eight and six, heard the front door open so they went to investigate. In the open front door they could see an odd green colored mist. When they went to the door to see where the glow was originating, it disappeared.
Up to this point, I had seen nothing so I was still somewhat skeptical of all these stories. That changed on the last night of the haunting.
We were asleep downstairs, and I was dreaming. I dreamt that I walked into our bedroom, but there was no bedroom furniture there. It was furnished as a living room and on the sofa sat the most beautiful redheaded woman I had ever seen. Now my wife, beautiful in her own right, is a brunette. But in this dream, I knew the redhead to be my wife.
She was crying. She turned and looked at me through blackened, tear-filled and fear filled eyes. I should have had pity in my heart for this woman, but all I felt was rage. She cowered into an arm of the sofa and I started toward her to continue the beating I knew she deserved. It was when I heard a voice that I realized that the dream had been silent up to that point. In my dream I knew that this was because the wife was deaf. The voice I had heard was that of my six-year-old. I turned and looked to the doorway to see my real-life son standing there in clothes I had never seen before. He was wearing black pants and a long-sleeved red pullover shirt. He was soaking wet from head to toe and his skin appeared ashen and lifeless. Again, I felt no love for my family, only a burning rage.
The boy looked up to me and said, "Dad?" He too, had a look of abject fear in his eyes, but he continued, "Dad? Help me!" I turned toward him and raised my clenched fist and struck the child square in the face.
Suddenly I awoke sitting up in bed, my wife sitting up as well, screaming at me, "What the Hell is that?" I then realized that there was a fight going on in the living room above my head. Two men were yelling at each other, throwing furniture around and braking glass. I jumped from my bed and ran upstairs. As my foot fell onto the carpeted hallway of the second story, all was silent.
No one was there. The windows were intact, the furniture upright. But the door stood open shrouded in an iridescent green glow. Drawn, I approached the door and looked out onto the darkened street. There was nothing. All was quiet. I returned to my wife and my room to not sleep. We sat in silence awaiting the dawn.
And dawn did come. As it happened, it was October 31st. I stood on my front porch drinking my coffee, trying to rationalize my dream. And then I heard it. A chill locked into my spine as I heard my six-year-old son say, "Dad?". Scared, I turned and looked down the hill. My son said, "Dad? Help me!" I approached as the boy was using a stick to try to dig something out of the ground. It was a strip of black corduroy. I went to help him, but pulled him away when I saw the flash of white bone. I grabbed my son and ran into the house.
The police dug up the body of the little boy. He was six when he died. He was wearing black corduroy pants and a long sleeved red pullover shirt.
My brother is now a detective on our local police department. Although the have a lengthy file on the boy's father, they remain unable to locate him or his beautiful, deaf, redheaded wife.
Well, I hope you have a happy birthday!
61!!!!! you just a kid. Let’s hope obammmma doesn’t get his socialized medicine passed or both of us will be on the pill! Now that is going to be a truly scary story
No it was about 25 years ago. I was only 44 but how did he know? ......I was wearing a mask!
Hi Fred! :)
BOO!
scared ya, didn't I? lol
Back in high school me and a couple of others went to the local McDonald’s, dug thru the trash and got all the discarded Big Mac’s we could find. Couldn’t afford eggs.(They put the ones with an expired “shelf life” in a separate bag for counting, an inventory thing). If you take a Big Mac and knead it, it turns to goo. Hit someone in the windshield with one and it looks like someone threw up. Great fun.
It all started the first Wednesday of the month back in November 2008....
My Mom is 87 today.
Years ago, she received a cute birthday card from a cousin.
The cover had a picture of an owl saying “Hoo, Hoo, Who’s birthday is it?”
The message inside said, “Why it’s yours, of course, Happy Birthday.”
That is a scary story. How much longer did you live in that house and did you have any more scary experiences?
In 1975 I lived in a poor part of west Phoenix, I was 12 and 6ft tall, I knew it was my last year trick or treating and I had no money. I made a costume out of Hefty trash bags and put black shoe polish on my face and hands. As my brother and I were walking down the street cars would honk and yell at us, we weren’t sure what they were saying, then I heard the N word and was wondering who they were yelling at?
At the next house there was a haunted garage, the owner asked what a f’in n@ggar was doing in his yard and didn’t I know better, BOY?
We made a hasty retreat, with a group of half drunk white trash following us for a few blocks cursing and taunting us.
My brother went around a corner and before I knew it he took off like a gazelle!
We ran all the way home and I don’t know how long they followed us! We were scared to death!
Apparently, I looked very much like a black man it that costume.
Who knew?
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