Seth Wallace; “I was around four years old, and at some point, this demonic entity began appearing late at night in my room as I was trying to sleep. It was horrifying, and the psychological aspect of it was utter torture. Because this happened every night without fail, every time I went to sleep I did so knowing at some point this evil creature would appear, but I never knew exactly when—just that it inevitably would. I tried to tell my parents, and my mother thought I was just ‘dreaming’, but it’s pretty obvious to me that this was no such thing. And yes, I know full well what sleep paralysis is, and this was not even close. I also have never hallucinated before, and with the rigid consistency of the appearances of this, it would be absurd and rather illogical to assume there was some ‘natural’ explanation such as that.

Anyway, it looked like a gaunt, tall grizzly bear of sorts with deep-set, red-ringed black eyes. Its limbs were too long for its proportions, and it always stood right in front of an orange Jesus nightlight I had—as if to mock God. Every night, it would sort of materialize in front of the wall, around three or four feet in front of that light which was plugged in on an adjacent side of the room. My dad, believing me, told me it wasn’t allowed to physically hurt me and that God would protect me. I suppose wanting to somehow make me feel better, he tried to offer the suggestion of taunting it, reminding it that it couldn’t hurt me. So, of course, being a four year old, I listened. Now, I always strive for 100% transparency and honesty, so I always admit that this is where my memory gets slightly fuzzy. I said something to it, and if I recall correctly, it responded back in an actual, audible voice with something along the lines of hating me and a vow that it would succeed in killing me one day. (I’m getting chills just thinking about it.) Speaking to my dad today, he remembers me saying as a child that it growled at me and said it hated me, so either way, it responded audibly in some manner, and obviously in a purely malevolent way. Eventually, it just…stopped showing up. I’m not sure why, but it just quit. It never could approach me, touch me, or seemingly say anything until I directly addressed it, but I can guarantee you that it loathed me with every fiber of its being. If God had allowed it to, it would have killed me—of this I am sure. It was not a matter of it wanting to or not, because that’s all it wanted to do.”

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Penny Ladnier; One night when I was alone at a house I lived in with my boyfriend (who was away for a few days) a friend of his stopped over to visit. He was upset about something (can’t remember what) and asked me to smoke a joint with him and talk. I really didn’t feel like smoking with him because I wanted to get to bed soon. I had to get up for work in the morning. But I obliged. We smoked, and he stayed for awhile and talked, and then he left.

I went into the bedroom to get undressed and ready for bed, and suddenly I realized I could hear voices. It was like muffled voices in another room, where you can hear the rise and fall of people talking, but can’t actually make out anything they’re saying. I strained my ears, trying to figure out what it was or where it was coming from. There was no TV or radio on. I was alone in the house. No one else was there. It wasn’t an apartment, where I could potentially blame it on thin walls between me and the people in the apartment next door.

I was really terrified. I tried to reason with myself and tell myself that I was only hearing this because I was stoned. But realistically, I knew I’d been stoned hundreds of times and had never had an experience like this. I got in bed and tried to just block it out so I could sleep. But I continued to hear the voices. It sounded like a party, or a gathering of a lot of people in another room, just far enough away that I couldn’t make out any of the words they were saying.

I didn’t know what was happening to me, and I was so scared that I was wide awake, and couldn’t relax enough to sleep. I just lay there, afraid to move a muscle, or make any kind of sound whatsoever. I barely allowed myself to breathe. I felt like there was some kind of presence in the house that I didn’t understand, and I felt really vulnerable and really terrified. I didn’t want to call any attention to myself. The only thing I wanted was to get the hell out of there.

But to leave the house, I’d have to get dressed and then grab my purse and my car keys, and I was too terrified to move. Besides, where would I go? It was late (maybe around midnight by this point). I thought of going over to my boyfriend’s parents’ house, but I knew they’d be in bed. What was I going to do? Wake them up in the middle of the night and tell them I’m too afraid to be alone? Then I thought of a 24 hr. restaurant about a 15 minute drive away. I could go there and just have something to eat and just sit and read a book or something until it got light out. But again, I was too afraid to move to get dressed, and too afraid to go out into the dark dining room to grab my purse and keys. So I just lay where I was, trying not to hear the voices that I kept hearing. Finally I was so exhausted I just fell asleep.

When I woke up in the morning, it was light and sunny. I didn’t hear the voices anymore, but there still seemed to be something - some kind of weird presence in the house - and I just wanted to get out of there as fast as I possibly could. And I did.

I never had another experience like that again. In retrospect, the voices didn’t seem to be malevolent or evil or anything. But I was terrified because I was hearing something that wasn’t supposed to be there, and that I had no logical explanation for.

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I think this was from George Wing; My friend’s father used to joke about the Goddess of Parking, who he called “Asphalta.” I thought it was funny and took up the joke myself, occasionally praying out loud to her, asking for a parking space.

Years later, I was taking a date to a play that had been written by a friend of mine. This was in Seattle’s Belltown neighborhood. We were running a bit late, and I was dismayed to find that there was NO parking anywhere, not even in the pay lots. We we going to mis the play!

I pulled into a very full pay lot to try and figure out what to do. I told my companion about Asphalta, and then I said out loud: “Please, Asphalta, grant us a parking space!”

A moment later, a woman came out of a dark alley at the back of the lot. She looked Native, and wore colorful robes. She came over to my car and said, “Hey, you can park right there.” She pointed to an area I hadn’t noticed, a small space that was not part of the pay lot, did not block the alley, and didn’t seem belong to the adjoining apartment building. “Its’ fine,” she insisted, “You can park there.”

And then she walked back into the dark alley.

We parked there, made it to the play, and the car was still there, unticketed, when we came back.

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Also from George Wing; This was last summer in Hawaii. My family and I decided to hike to a view spot along the Waimea Valley rim. We didn’t want to do the touristy view spot you can drive to, so we bypassed that. So with poor directions, we drove our rental car down a long muddy road to a trailhead, and started hiking.

It was muddy and nasty, and because my son is a slower hiker, my wife went ahead with our daughter. I stayed with him (9 at the time).

At a certain point, in a bamboo grove, we enountered a young couple hiking the other way. I asked how far it was to the view point, and they said, “No we are hiking to a view point. We just parked, and started our hike.” We all looked at each other, confused, then each continued our ways.

After another ten minutes I found myself in the touristy view spot I had hoped to avoid. The trail I chose led straight to it. Disappointed, I wandered around until I found the rest of my family, and we hatched a plan: I would go back, alone, on the muddy trail to collect the car, and bring it around by road.

So I set off at a fast pace. Before too long, I reached that bamboo grove, and I was startled to find myself overtaking that same couple, in the same spot on the trail where I had first encountered them. They were hiking in the same direction as before, but it was as if they had been on a treadmill for the last half hour, and hadn't made any progress.

They looked at me, confused, and asked what happened to my son. I looked at them, confused, and asked them if they had stopped for a while. “No, we haven’t stopped,” they said. “We’ve been hiking steadily.”

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Moon talam; I still remember it was in the evening when I was frightened with his reaction over a video he saw on YouTube. I didn’t know what is was and he wouldn’t want to tell me. All I can remember was his face turning white and his voice was trembling. My brother and I are not the typical siblings who shares a lot of stories together, we fight often so that night, I thought of listening to his scared voice.

“I saw a video of…” he failed to continue

“of what?” I said. I’ve waited for him to go on and I got irritated of waiting.

He told me to search for certain phrases like “kids with black eyes on roof”. I think it was something like that. After many tries, I found the video he was watching few days ago.

The video started with a man hearing scratches from his roof thinking it was a bird or some cats but whenever he goes outside, he finds nothing. On the next day, he got his camera, and found a creature which can’t be a cat, but child like, big black eyes that stared at him for few seconds then disappeared. I tried finding it on YouTube but I no longer saw that footage.

My brother reiterated that story to me again that evening that when he was five or six, he and my dad went to gather some woods nearby our house. My dad was chopping wood when my brother said “Dad, there is a kid over there” . My dad saw nothing but a big, grey stone. “There is nothing over there” he said. But my brother insisted there is and he started crying which made my dad scared and ran off as quickly as he can while carrying my brother.

To be honest, my brother told me he can’t look at the footage again and I’ve never seen him so afraid before. He was just purely creeped out remembering what he saw as a young boy.

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Among the family members, my dad had the most experience with paranormal. I don’t know why. Other entities seem to follow him or maybe just a coincidence?

When I was young, he shared his stories to us and I love listening to them. With all the stories he shared, I find this the most frightening.

There used to be a big mango tree near our house. (i live in the Philippines btw). I was never really worried about that tree despite neighbors telling us that they’ve seen ghosts from that tree every night. I love hearing those stories though. It kept me entertained growing up.

Anyway, going back to my dad’s story, I wasn’t born yet when this happened. Whenever the mango tree bears fruit, my father wouldn’t hesitate climbing it. My mother loves mangoes. So one fine afternoon, he decided to get some for my mom. He noticed someone sitting from one of the branches. A very beautiful lady dressed in white, holding a baby. As my father said , she didn’t look scary. He told her “get off there! Why are you there? You could fall down” but instead….

My father fell from branch he was on to…

It caused him a broken leg and he wasn’t able to walk for months.

Why would a lady with a baby be on top of the branches? That’s dangerous. Surely she wasn’t human but something else.

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