Serious Paranormal encounters, UFO sightings, ghosts, NDE'! Share them here! 😜

[D.O.A.]

This is my little community now! The only forum I am apart of. It's not just videos either it's like a whole community of people I can become friends with

 

[Tuomas Woorhees]

one time during hunting season, I had something happen. It’s difficult to talk about, even to this day. But everyone here is upstanding and supportive, so I’ll try to tell my story:

This happened in NW Arkansas.

It was early morning in November, and cold. I’d gotten up before sunrise and drove out to our familiar hunting grounds. We’ve been coming to these woods for years, and knew them well. Deer modern rifle season had just started, and the deer were in the last few days of their rut. I had a good feeling about this morning.

I had loaded my tree climbing stand, but decided against it this morning. The wind was blowing a little bit, and in the stand I’d freeze my ass off from wind chill. No thanks. Instead I chose out a spot within a fallen tree root ball, the depression it made. It was good cover from the wind and I settled in to wait for daybreak. We still had about an hour before sunrise.

Sitting in the absolute dark in the forest changes your sensory perceptions. We heavily rely on our eyesight to confirm and validate what the other senses pick up. But not this morning. This morning I was alone, and could not see.

Normally this isn’t a big deal; I’ve hunted many years solo. You learn the sounds the forest makes. The smells you get acquainted with. But on this morning something was different.

I couldn’t put a finger on it, what felt ‘off’. The trees sounded the way they should, gently rustling in the breeze. The crisp autumn air smelled fresh and carried with it the smell of fallen leaves and mud and years of decaying wood.

Apart from everything being normal, something did not feel right. It’s that feeling you get when someone is staring at you from across a room, and you meet their gaze. It felt like something was looking at me in the darkness. Something I could not see nor hear nor smell. Yet.

NE Arkansas is relatively safe in the forest in autumn. Snakes have bedded down, spiders are hidden away from the cold. There’s bobcats and the occasional mountain lion, and very rarely a black bear is spotted.

I’d once heard that Native American hunters would not look directly at their prey. That the animal can feel your gaze. So they would teach their young to avert their eyes and look through the side of their vision. There is some veracity to this. Our eyes reflect light in ways we cannot see, but animals can. Staring right at them is like shining a flashlight in their direction.

This feeling was not attributed to any of notion of a wild animal looking at me. There was something else, I was sure of it. I scanned the darkness, peering through the inky blackness to try and spot anything amiss, or anything at all. Nothing.

I had my hunting rifle across my lap, a Remington 7mm-08. It’s a great deer round, and shoots flat. It puts medium size game down with ease.

Suddenly I felt I was outgunned by whatever was staring at me. I was convinced my rifle wouldn’t be enough to handle whatever it was in the darkness.

I also had my Sig .40 in a shoulder holster under my camouflage weather coat. I’ve always carried a pistol with me during hunting, in case we ever run afoul of the two legged variety. I unholstered it and kept it gripped against my chest. This provided more relief; now I felt ready to handle something at close range if need be. Like a mountain lion jumping down from a tree.

I wish this had been a mountain lion.

As I sat frozen in place, pistol in a death grip against my chest and scanning the darkness, I started to get whiffs of something. A somewhat familiar smell, and it took me a moment to realize what it was.

It smelled hot, like a steaming liquid of something familiar. Then it hit me - that is the smell of a gutshot deer. The year before my brother in law shot a doe through her gutsack, and the smell of hot blood mixing with offal and fresh intestines and stomach acids is very peculiar. You don’t forget it. I didn’t forget it this time, either.

Funny thing about sitting in the dark - the light is fluidly changing, but your eyes see things like shutters. If you focus for too long and then blink and rest, you will see it has grown lighter. I remembered this, so I tried to call my silently screaming nerves under control, and deliberately blinked heavy for a few seconds. To my relief, it was getting light. But this only began to illuminate the horror i was about to witness in front of me.

There in the fading dark, with perfect camouflaged coat was a doe on her side. Her back was to me, and she looked dead. Deer don’t sleep with their heads on the ground. Then I saw her move, just a slight twitch of her suspended forearm. And then I saw why.

Buried head deep into her gut abdomen was a creature unlike I’d ever seen before. It looked like a starving woman in body, with gaunt ribs clearly outlined under her nude skin.

She was hairless on her body, and her skin was a pale orange, almost exactly the color of the changing leaves. If she were standing montionless, I don’t know that I would be able to see her. She was that well blended in with the woods.

So now I’m wondering ‘what in the absolute hell is going on here?’ I am disbelieving what my eyes are showing me. She lifted her head from the doe, and that is when I saw her eyes. They were like holes of obsidian, but I could tell she was looking straight at me with those onyx stone eyes. Her face was smeared with blood, and her jaw was elongated and hinged far back. It made her mouth look huge and in a permanent grin. Her teeth were like daggers of carnage, all sharp and none for grinding food. These were the teeth of a carnivore and made for killing.

She had hair above her face, a wild black mane full of sticks and twigs and leaves. I hadn’t seen them until she’d raised her head, but atop her skull was a fully formed elk rack, over three ft long each side. It swooped up and back away from her face, and looked particularly well equipped to gore someone open with.

All of this assessment happened in seconds. The breakfast I had of toast and coffee felt like it was sitting at my Adam’s apple, and I couldn’t swallow it down. My pistol and rifle were forgotten - I was frozen with fear. I am not sure, but I don’t think I even breathed.

After what felt like an eternity of us locking our gaze upon each other, she suddenly stood up on her feet, hunched over her kill. With one hand she grabbed the deer by the neck, and then she sprinted backwards into the woods like nothing I’d ever seen before. Just as she bounded on top of a fallen tree she stopped and turned full around and looked at me again. Then she hopped down the other side and was gone.
———
I never did figure out what happened that morning. When I came to my senses I hightailed it out of there and it felt like it took forever to get to my truck. But I made it safely. I drove back into town and told my brother in law exactly this story. Of course he laughed at me; people always laugh when I tell this story. We drove out to the spot and I showed him the pile of deer blood, but never found any tracks or trail beyond that.

I have a sketch of my own rendition of what I saw that morning. I’ll have to find it and update the post if anyone is interested.

Yes please. Show the sketch.

 

[Astralnaut]

one time during hunting season, I had something happen. It’s difficult to talk about, even to this day. But everyone here is upstanding and supportive, so I’ll try to tell my story:

This happened in NW Arkansas.

It was early morning in November, and cold. I’d gotten up before sunrise and drove out to our familiar hunting grounds. We’ve been coming to these woods for years, and knew them well. Deer modern rifle season had just started, and the deer were in the last few days of their rut. I had a good feeling about this morning.

I had loaded my tree climbing stand, but decided against it this morning. The wind was blowing a little bit, and in the stand I’d freeze my ass off from wind chill. No thanks. Instead I chose out a spot within a fallen tree root ball, the depression it made. It was good cover from the wind and I settled in to wait for daybreak. We still had about an hour before sunrise.

Sitting in the absolute dark in the forest changes your sensory perceptions. We heavily rely on our eyesight to confirm and validate what the other senses pick up. But not this morning. This morning I was alone, and could not see.

Normally this isn’t a big deal; I’ve hunted many years solo. You learn the sounds the forest makes. The smells you get acquainted with. But on this morning something was different.

I couldn’t put a finger on it, what felt ‘off’. The trees sounded the way they should, gently rustling in the breeze. The crisp autumn air smelled fresh and carried with it the smell of fallen leaves and mud and years of decaying wood.

Apart from everything being normal, something did not feel right. It’s that feeling you get when someone is staring at you from across a room, and you meet their gaze. It felt like something was looking at me in the darkness. Something I could not see nor hear nor smell. Yet.

NE Arkansas is relatively safe in the forest in autumn. Snakes have bedded down, spiders are hidden away from the cold. There’s bobcats and the occasional mountain lion, and very rarely a black bear is spotted.

I’d once heard that Native American hunters would not look directly at their prey. That the animal can feel your gaze. So they would teach their young to avert their eyes and look through the side of their vision. There is some veracity to this. Our eyes reflect light in ways we cannot see, but animals can. Staring right at them is like shining a flashlight in their direction.

This feeling was not attributed to any of notion of a wild animal looking at me. There was something else, I was sure of it. I scanned the darkness, peering through the inky blackness to try and spot anything amiss, or anything at all. Nothing.

I had my hunting rifle across my lap, a Remington 7mm-08. It’s a great deer round, and shoots flat. It puts medium size game down with ease.

Suddenly I felt I was outgunned by whatever was staring at me. I was convinced my rifle wouldn’t be enough to handle whatever it was in the darkness.

I also had my Sig .40 in a shoulder holster under my camouflage weather coat. I’ve always carried a pistol with me during hunting, in case we ever run afoul of the two legged variety. I unholstered it and kept it gripped against my chest. This provided more relief; now I felt ready to handle something at close range if need be. Like a mountain lion jumping down from a tree.

I wish this had been a mountain lion.

As I sat frozen in place, pistol in a death grip against my chest and scanning the darkness, I started to get whiffs of something. A somewhat familiar smell, and it took me a moment to realize what it was.

It smelled hot, like a steaming liquid of something familiar. Then it hit me - that is the smell of a gutshot deer. The year before my brother in law shot a doe through her gutsack, and the smell of hot blood mixing with offal and fresh intestines and stomach acids is very peculiar. You don’t forget it. I didn’t forget it this time, either.

Funny thing about sitting in the dark - the light is fluidly changing, but your eyes see things like shutters. If you focus for too long and then blink and rest, you will see it has grown lighter. I remembered this, so I tried to call my silently screaming nerves under control, and deliberately blinked heavy for a few seconds. To my relief, it was getting light. But this only began to illuminate the horror i was about to witness in front of me.

There in the fading dark, with perfect camouflaged coat was a doe on her side. Her back was to me, and she looked dead. Deer don’t sleep with their heads on the ground. Then I saw her move, just a slight twitch of her suspended forearm. And then I saw why.

Buried head deep into her gut abdomen was a creature unlike I’d ever seen before. It looked like a starving woman in body, with gaunt ribs clearly outlined under her nude skin.

She was hairless on her body, and her skin was a pale orange, almost exactly the color of the changing leaves. If she were standing montionless, I don’t know that I would be able to see her. She was that well blended in with the woods.

So now I’m wondering ‘what in the absolute hell is going on here?’ I am disbelieving what my eyes are showing me. She lifted her head from the doe, and that is when I saw her eyes. They were like holes of obsidian, but I could tell she was looking straight at me with those onyx stone eyes. Her face was smeared with blood, and her jaw was elongated and hinged far back. It made her mouth look huge and in a permanent grin. Her teeth were like daggers of carnage, all sharp and none for grinding food. These were the teeth of a carnivore and made for killing.

She had hair above her face, a wild black mane full of sticks and twigs and leaves. I hadn’t seen them until she’d raised her head, but atop her skull was a fully formed elk rack, over three ft long each side. It swooped up and back away from her face, and looked particularly well equipped to gore someone open with.

All of this assessment happened in seconds. The breakfast I had of toast and coffee felt like it was sitting at my Adam’s apple, and I couldn’t swallow it down. My pistol and rifle were forgotten - I was frozen with fear. I am not sure, but I don’t think I even breathed.

After what felt like an eternity of us locking our gaze upon each other, she suddenly stood up on her feet, hunched over her kill. With one hand she grabbed the deer by the neck, and then she sprinted backwards into the woods like nothing I’d ever seen before. Just as she bounded on top of a fallen tree she stopped and turned full around and looked at me again. Then she hopped down the other side and was gone.
———
I never did figure out what happened that morning. When I came to my senses I hightailed it out of there and it felt like it took forever to get to my truck. But I made it safely. I drove back into town and told my brother in law exactly this story. Of course he laughed at me; people always laugh when I tell this story. We drove out to the spot and I showed him the pile of deer blood, but never found any tracks or trail beyond that.

I have a sketch of my own rendition of what I saw that morning. I’ll have to find it and update the post if anyone is interested.

Wow! That read like a book. Very talented and articulate writer! Definently going to look out for your name on threads! Thanks for that. Oh my god the way you described it I could really picture on my mind.

 

[Super Kirbo]

one time during hunting season, I had something happen. It’s difficult to talk about, even to this day. But everyone here is upstanding and supportive, so I’ll try to tell my story:

This happened in NW Arkansas.

It was early morning in November, and cold. I’d gotten up before sunrise and drove out to our familiar hunting grounds. We’ve been coming to these woods for years, and knew them well. Deer modern rifle season had just started, and the deer were in the last few days of their rut. I had a good feeling about this morning.

I had loaded my tree climbing stand, but decided against it this morning. The wind was blowing a little bit, and in the stand I’d freeze my ass off from wind chill. No thanks. Instead I chose out a spot within a fallen tree root ball, the depression it made. It was good cover from the wind and I settled in to wait for daybreak. We still had about an hour before sunrise.

Sitting in the absolute dark in the forest changes your sensory perceptions. We heavily rely on our eyesight to confirm and validate what the other senses pick up. But not this morning. This morning I was alone, and could not see.

Normally this isn’t a big deal; I’ve hunted many years solo. You learn the sounds the forest makes. The smells you get acquainted with. But on this morning something was different.

I couldn’t put a finger on it, what felt ‘off’. The trees sounded the way they should, gently rustling in the breeze. The crisp autumn air smelled fresh and carried with it the smell of fallen leaves and mud and years of decaying wood.

Apart from everything being normal, something did not feel right. It’s that feeling you get when someone is staring at you from across a room, and you meet their gaze. It felt like something was looking at me in the darkness. Something I could not see nor hear nor smell. Yet.

NE Arkansas is relatively safe in the forest in autumn. Snakes have bedded down, spiders are hidden away from the cold. There’s bobcats and the occasional mountain lion, and very rarely a black bear is spotted.

I’d once heard that Native American hunters would not look directly at their prey. That the animal can feel your gaze. So they would teach their young to avert their eyes and look through the side of their vision. There is some veracity to this. Our eyes reflect light in ways we cannot see, but animals can. Staring right at them is like shining a flashlight in their direction.

This feeling was not attributed to any of notion of a wild animal looking at me. There was something else, I was sure of it. I scanned the darkness, peering through the inky blackness to try and spot anything amiss, or anything at all. Nothing.

I had my hunting rifle across my lap, a Remington 7mm-08. It’s a great deer round, and shoots flat. It puts medium size game down with ease.

Suddenly I felt I was outgunned by whatever was staring at me. I was convinced my rifle wouldn’t be enough to handle whatever it was in the darkness.

I also had my Sig .40 in a shoulder holster under my camouflage weather coat. I’ve always carried a pistol with me during hunting, in case we ever run afoul of the two legged variety. I unholstered it and kept it gripped against my chest. This provided more relief; now I felt ready to handle something at close range if need be. Like a mountain lion jumping down from a tree.

I wish this had been a mountain lion.

As I sat frozen in place, pistol in a death grip against my chest and scanning the darkness, I started to get whiffs of something. A somewhat familiar smell, and it took me a moment to realize what it was.

It smelled hot, like a steaming liquid of something familiar. Then it hit me - that is the smell of a gutshot deer. The year before my brother in law shot a doe through her gutsack, and the smell of hot blood mixing with offal and fresh intestines and stomach acids is very peculiar. You don’t forget it. I didn’t forget it this time, either.

Funny thing about sitting in the dark - the light is fluidly changing, but your eyes see things like shutters. If you focus for too long and then blink and rest, you will see it has grown lighter. I remembered this, so I tried to call my silently screaming nerves under control, and deliberately blinked heavy for a few seconds. To my relief, it was getting light. But this only began to illuminate the horror i was about to witness in front of me.

There in the fading dark, with perfect camouflaged coat was a doe on her side. Her back was to me, and she looked dead. Deer don’t sleep with their heads on the ground. Then I saw her move, just a slight twitch of her suspended forearm. And then I saw why.

Buried head deep into her gut abdomen was a creature unlike I’d ever seen before. It looked like a starving woman in body, with gaunt ribs clearly outlined under her nude skin.

She was hairless on her body, and her skin was a pale orange, almost exactly the color of the changing leaves. If she were standing montionless, I don’t know that I would be able to see her. She was that well blended in with the woods.

So now I’m wondering ‘what in the absolute hell is going on here?’ I am disbelieving what my eyes are showing me. She lifted her head from the doe, and that is when I saw her eyes. They were like holes of obsidian, but I could tell she was looking straight at me with those onyx stone eyes. Her face was smeared with blood, and her jaw was elongated and hinged far back. It made her mouth look huge and in a permanent grin. Her teeth were like daggers of carnage, all sharp and none for grinding food. These were the teeth of a carnivore and made for killing.

She had hair above her face, a wild black mane full of sticks and twigs and leaves. I hadn’t seen them until she’d raised her head, but atop her skull was a fully formed elk rack, over three ft long each side. It swooped up and back away from her face, and looked particularly well equipped to gore someone open with.

All of this assessment happened in seconds. The breakfast I had of toast and coffee felt like it was sitting at my Adam’s apple, and I couldn’t swallow it down. My pistol and rifle were forgotten - I was frozen with fear. I am not sure, but I don’t think I even breathed.

After what felt like an eternity of us locking our gaze upon each other, she suddenly stood up on her feet, hunched over her kill. With one hand she grabbed the deer by the neck, and then she sprinted backwards into the woods like nothing I’d ever seen before. Just as she bounded on top of a fallen tree she stopped and turned full around and looked at me again. Then she hopped down the other side and was gone.
———
I never did figure out what happened that morning. When I came to my senses I hightailed it out of there and it felt like it took forever to get to my truck. But I made it safely. I drove back into town and told my brother in law exactly this story. Of course he laughed at me; people always laugh when I tell this story. We drove out to the spot and I showed him the pile of deer blood, but never found any tracks or trail beyond that.

I have a sketch of my own rendition of what I saw that morning. I’ll have to find it and update the post if anyone is interested.

Sounds like the skinwalker cryptid urban legend

You may enjoy this little b movie

 

[Fact21]

I once slept at my priests spooky old house i think it was haunted as i woke up with a sore arse



Only footage i can find that resembles what happend to meView attachment 828888

It’s not scary if you keep going back though.

 

[⛧MOTIONLESS⸸MURDERDOLL⛧]

I seen a yowie

 

[Super Kirbo]

It’s not scary if you keep going back though.

well stop giving me a lift then !!!

 

[PurrGirl]

This is pretty mild compared to the deer-eating antler woman, but:

When I was a kid, I had a cousin I was very close to. One day, I was just lying on the living room floor reading, when the phone rang. I instantly knew who was on the other end of the line and why he was calling. It was my uncle, letting us know that my cousin had been in a bad car accident.

I have no explanation for how I knew that. It's never happened to me before or since, but that one time was enough to make me think there truly is some sort of extra-sensory perception available, at least to some people, some of the time. I intuit that the fact that I was very close to my cousin at the time contributed to it. But specifically what the mechanism was, what conduit opened up, I don't know.

 

[mjb0206]

We aren’t alone, but you are. Fking weirdo.

No shit. I want what he’s smoking. I can’t find any UFO weed where I’m from 😏

one time during hunting season, I had something happen. It’s difficult to talk about, even to this day. But everyone here is upstanding and supportive, so I’ll try to tell my story:

This happened in NW Arkansas.

It was early morning in November, and cold. I’d gotten up before sunrise and drove out to our familiar hunting grounds. We’ve been coming to these woods for years, and knew them well. Deer modern rifle season had just started, and the deer were in the last few days of their rut. I had a good feeling about this morning.

I had loaded my tree climbing stand, but decided against it this morning. The wind was blowing a little bit, and in the stand I’d freeze my ass off from wind chill. No thanks. Instead I chose out a spot within a fallen tree root ball, the depression it made. It was good cover from the wind and I settled in to wait for daybreak. We still had about an hour before sunrise.

Sitting in the absolute dark in the forest changes your sensory perceptions. We heavily rely on our eyesight to confirm and validate what the other senses pick up. But not this morning. This morning I was alone, and could not see.

Normally this isn’t a big deal; I’ve hunted many years solo. You learn the sounds the forest makes. The smells you get acquainted with. But on this morning something was different.

I couldn’t put a finger on it, what felt ‘off’. The trees sounded the way they should, gently rustling in the breeze. The crisp autumn air smelled fresh and carried with it the smell of fallen leaves and mud and years of decaying wood.

Apart from everything being normal, something did not feel right. It’s that feeling you get when someone is staring at you from across a room, and you meet their gaze. It felt like something was looking at me in the darkness. Something I could not see nor hear nor smell. Yet.

NE Arkansas is relatively safe in the forest in autumn. Snakes have bedded down, spiders are hidden away from the cold. There’s bobcats and the occasional mountain lion, and very rarely a black bear is spotted.

I’d once heard that Native American hunters would not look directly at their prey. That the animal can feel your gaze. So they would teach their young to avert their eyes and look through the side of their vision. There is some veracity to this. Our eyes reflect light in ways we cannot see, but animals can. Staring right at them is like shining a flashlight in their direction.

This feeling was not attributed to any of notion of a wild animal looking at me. There was something else, I was sure of it. I scanned the darkness, peering through the inky blackness to try and spot anything amiss, or anything at all. Nothing.

I had my hunting rifle across my lap, a Remington 7mm-08. It’s a great deer round, and shoots flat. It puts medium size game down with ease.

Suddenly I felt I was outgunned by whatever was staring at me. I was convinced my rifle wouldn’t be enough to handle whatever it was in the darkness.

I also had my Sig .40 in a shoulder holster under my camouflage weather coat. I’ve always carried a pistol with me during hunting, in case we ever run afoul of the two legged variety. I unholstered it and kept it gripped against my chest. This provided more relief; now I felt ready to handle something at close range if need be. Like a mountain lion jumping down from a tree.

I wish this had been a mountain lion.

As I sat frozen in place, pistol in a death grip against my chest and scanning the darkness, I started to get whiffs of something. A somewhat familiar smell, and it took me a moment to realize what it was.

It smelled hot, like a steaming liquid of something familiar. Then it hit me - that is the smell of a gutshot deer. The year before my brother in law shot a doe through her gutsack, and the smell of hot blood mixing with offal and fresh intestines and stomach acids is very peculiar. You don’t forget it. I didn’t forget it this time, either.

Funny thing about sitting in the dark - the light is fluidly changing, but your eyes see things like shutters. If you focus for too long and then blink and rest, you will see it has grown lighter. I remembered this, so I tried to call my silently screaming nerves under control, and deliberately blinked heavy for a few seconds. To my relief, it was getting light. But this only began to illuminate the horror i was about to witness in front of me.

There in the fading dark, with perfect camouflaged coat was a doe on her side. Her back was to me, and she looked dead. Deer don’t sleep with their heads on the ground. Then I saw her move, just a slight twitch of her suspended forearm. And then I saw why.

Buried head deep into her gut abdomen was a creature unlike I’d ever seen before. It looked like a starving woman in body, with gaunt ribs clearly outlined under her nude skin.

She was hairless on her body, and her skin was a pale orange, almost exactly the color of the changing leaves. If she were standing montionless, I don’t know that I would be able to see her. She was that well blended in with the woods.

So now I’m wondering ‘what in the absolute hell is going on here?’ I am disbelieving what my eyes are showing me. She lifted her head from the doe, and that is when I saw her eyes. They were like holes of obsidian, but I could tell she was looking straight at me with those onyx stone eyes. Her face was smeared with blood, and her jaw was elongated and hinged far back. It made her mouth look huge and in a permanent grin. Her teeth were like daggers of carnage, all sharp and none for grinding food. These were the teeth of a carnivore and made for killing.

She had hair above her face, a wild black mane full of sticks and twigs and leaves. I hadn’t seen them until she’d raised her head, but atop her skull was a fully formed elk rack, over three ft long each side. It swooped up and back away from her face, and looked particularly well equipped to gore someone open with.

All of this assessment happened in seconds. The breakfast I had of toast and coffee felt like it was sitting at my Adam’s apple, and I couldn’t swallow it down. My pistol and rifle were forgotten - I was frozen with fear. I am not sure, but I don’t think I even breathed.

After what felt like an eternity of us locking our gaze upon each other, she suddenly stood up on her feet, hunched over her kill. With one hand she grabbed the deer by the neck, and then she sprinted backwards into the woods like nothing I’d ever seen before. Just as she bounded on top of a fallen tree she stopped and turned full around and looked at me again. Then she hopped down the other side and was gone.
———
I never did figure out what happened that morning. When I came to my senses I hightailed it out of there and it felt like it took forever to get to my truck. But I made it safely. I drove back into town and told my brother in law exactly this story. Of course he laughed at me; people always laugh when I tell this story. We drove out to the spot and I showed him the pile of deer blood, but never found any tracks or trail beyond that.

I have a sketch of my own rendition of what I saw that morning. I’ll have to find it and update the post if anyone is interested.

I’m sorry. As soon as you said NW Arkansas, all I could picture was a “Deliverance “ scenario. I have a child’s attention span, so that’s as far as I got in your story. 😏

 

[Fäthër Cörpsë]

No shit. I want what he’s smoking. I can’t find any UFO weed where I’m from 😏


I’m sorry. As soon as you said NW Arkansas, all I could picture was a “Deliverance “ scenario. I have a child’s attention span, so that’s as far as I got in your story. 😏

That’s fine, it’s part of establishing the environment. Interesting how different ppl relate to aspects.

 

[Amalgamation]

one time during hunting season

Mine isn't a visual encounter but an audio one.

One night as I lay in bed, the television off rather than the usual background noise, I lay there quite comfortably, nearly asleep. After some time, I haven't fallen asleep, but I hear something odd: my mother is calling for her cat at three in the morning.

I'd been quite accustomed to this in some form, but she wasn't supposed to be awake for another two hours. I haven't heard her stir throughout the house, but I'm quite confident I'm still hearing her outside, calling for that fucking cat, but why is she still calling for it? Once or twice, and she stops. The cat either comes, or doesn't, and that's it.

She's called for the cat over a dozen times within a couple minutes. It's at this point I start realizing that she is indeed asleep, and whatever the fuck I'm hearing is not her, but sounds exactly like her.

This carries on for the course of 20-30 minutes, and as it goes on the voice is moving away from the house, breaking down, becoming harder to hear, changing, and by the end of it I only hear coyotes.

---

I've also seen a UFO, and an orb nearly a foot in diameter, but I've discussed those in similar threads.

 

[Wasted talent 78]

Share your supernatural experiences I would love to hear them!

I got shot 4 times when i was 18 yrs old .had a major surgery taken to icu wasnt looking good for me then a few years ago my grandma is telling me a story of when i was in the hospital she said when i was on the icu the doctors didnt know if i was gonna make it . So she said she contacted her brother who is a WICKEN some kind of witch . He gave her instructions on what to do to me ..she did it and left home them she said she started feeling weak and laid down couldn't get up for 3 days .i obviously made a turn around recovery. Here i am today thanks to who ????

 

[Fäthër Cörpsë]

I got shot 4 times when i was 18 yrs old .had a major surgery taken to icu wasnt looking good for me then a few years ago my grandma is telling me a story of when i was in the hospital she said when i was on the icu the doctors didnt know if i was gonna make it . So she said she contacted her brother who is a WICKEN some kind of witch . He gave her instructions on what to do to me ..she did it and left home them she said she started feeling weak and laid down couldn't get up for 3 days .i obviously made a turn around recovery. Here i am today thanks to who ????

Since this happened in 1996, I’d say you can thank your doctors and nurses for keeping you alive. Medicine has been pretty decent the past 30+ yrs.

 

[BloodyRedHead]

I'll try to make this short as possible.I don't know how paranormal this is but I've had some strange things happen in my life.Growing up I had a lot of moments of Deja Vu,it would usually only happen a minute or two before but it was enough for my family to think I was odd.I'd get vivid pictures in my mind of places, people and conversations right before I'd see them.That lasted from when I was 5 till about 15.I use to find cash everywhere, especially in public and people would walk right past it and not notice it but I always found it,that lasted till I was about 24 after that I started entering contests as a hobby and I don't know if I'm just weirdly lucky but I roughly won about 50 contests, everything from cash,vacations,tickets to sporting events,concerts, festivals and prizes to the point that I'm 47 and I've never paid for any concert or recreational thing I've gone to and I average about 6-8 concerts a year.Now I'm interested in just about all things horror and paranormal but the only firsthand thing that has happened to me that I'd definitely class as paranormal was I lived in a haunted house for about 4 years.I picked up on something being different about the place the day me and my ex-husband moved in .He was not a believer when we moved in but he was by the time we lived there a year.Something was always happening but it was never threatening.I'll try to just hit the highlights.For the first 2 months i was there everyday at 5 pm you would hear the front door open and close ,not if you were looking at it but as soon as you'd turn your back you'd hear it,it was always locked and i was always home alone when it happened.I heard my named called very clearly when i was alone,it didn't sound male or female it was just a voice.My 3 dogs were always looking in the kitchen and spare bedroom and growling,the entire time we lived there none of out pets would go in the spare bedroom,it stayed freezing in that room even in the dead of summer and just felt very heavy,to the point that it constantly felt like someone was staring at you from those rooms to where we had to keep those doors closed.Things like keys,eye glasses and some stuff went missing and would end up in places that didn't make any sense.I got up one night to get a drink,I walked into the kitchen ( I didn't turn on the lights because my fridge light was very bright so no need for overhead lights)open the fridge and as I was holding the door open get a drink I could see something in my peripheral vision,I could clearly see a ball of what looked like dark smoke but thicker and about the size of a basketball floating by the ceiling,kind of swirling.The minute I turned my head to look at it fully it just dissipated.We wood go to the bathroom which was by the kitchen and you'd get the feeling that you shouldn't look in the kitchen.We were in bed and had just turned the light off and you could hear a woman crying at the foot of the bed.Our bedroom had a walkthrough door to the next bedroom and one night we were sitting in bed and the doorknob to that room started turning like something was trying to get into our room.All our animals slept with us and we slept with the doors closed but you could see shadows at the top and bottom of the door coming from the other room like someone was walking by the door and shadows on the ceiling.Im a night owl so I would stay up hours after my husband had gone to bed,so one night I'm in the living room watching TV with the dogs,my husband goes to bed and turns the lights off,a few minutes later I hear him say hi baby,( I kinda ignored it cause he talks in his sleep)about 3 minutes go by and he starts freaking out,I run in the room and he's sitting straight up in bed,pale and asking me if I was just in there,I say no and he says he thought I had come in the room,that's when he said hi baby,he said he felt "me" come behind him and start tucking the blanket under him and when it got to his feet he turned to look at "me" and no one was there.I looked and he was tucked in all the way to his feet.Now this house was next door to the house I grew up in and we didn't know who owned it but we did notice that over the years people would move in but never stay long,I mention this because of the next thing.That house caught fire while I was at work and wasn't liveable,when I went to see the damage my bedroom was burnt down like all of the fire was focused there.The rest of the house was smoke damaged except the cold room,which was next to my bedroom and had zero damage.I found out later that the couple who built the house lived there until they died and the wife had died of cancer and had suffered for years in the cold room.

 

[Gothmilk666]

one time during hunting season, I had something happen. It’s difficult to talk about, even to this day. But everyone here is upstanding and supportive, so I’ll try to tell my story:

This happened in NW Arkansas.

It was early morning in November, and cold. I’d gotten up before sunrise and drove out to our familiar hunting grounds. We’ve been coming to these woods for years, and knew them well. Deer modern rifle season had just started, and the deer were in the last few days of their rut. I had a good feeling about this morning.

I had loaded my tree climbing stand, but decided against it this morning. The wind was blowing a little bit, and in the stand I’d freeze my ass off from wind chill. No thanks. Instead I chose out a spot within a fallen tree root ball, the depression it made. It was good cover from the wind and I settled in to wait for daybreak. We still had about an hour before sunrise.

Sitting in the absolute dark in the forest changes your sensory perceptions. We heavily rely on our eyesight to confirm and validate what the other senses pick up. But not this morning. This morning I was alone, and could not see.

Normally this isn’t a big deal; I’ve hunted many years solo. You learn the sounds the forest makes. The smells you get acquainted with. But on this morning something was different.

I couldn’t put a finger on it, what felt ‘off’. The trees sounded the way they should, gently rustling in the breeze. The crisp autumn air smelled fresh and carried with it the smell of fallen leaves and mud and years of decaying wood.

Apart from everything being normal, something did not feel right. It’s that feeling you get when someone is staring at you from across a room, and you meet their gaze. It felt like something was looking at me in the darkness. Something I could not see nor hear nor smell. Yet.

NE Arkansas is relatively safe in the forest in autumn. Snakes have bedded down, spiders are hidden away from the cold. There’s bobcats and the occasional mountain lion, and very rarely a black bear is spotted.

I’d once heard that Native American hunters would not look directly at their prey. That the animal can feel your gaze. So they would teach their young to avert their eyes and look through the side of their vision. There is some veracity to this. Our eyes reflect light in ways we cannot see, but animals can. Staring right at them is like shining a flashlight in their direction.

This feeling was not attributed to any of notion of a wild animal looking at me. There was something else, I was sure of it. I scanned the darkness, peering through the inky blackness to try and spot anything amiss, or anything at all. Nothing.

I had my hunting rifle across my lap, a Remington 7mm-08. It’s a great deer round, and shoots flat. It puts medium size game down with ease.

Suddenly I felt I was outgunned by whatever was staring at me. I was convinced my rifle wouldn’t be enough to handle whatever it was in the darkness.

I also had my Sig .40 in a shoulder holster under my camouflage weather coat. I’ve always carried a pistol with me during hunting, in case we ever run afoul of the two legged variety. I unholstered it and kept it gripped against my chest. This provided more relief; now I felt ready to handle something at close range if need be. Like a mountain lion jumping down from a tree.

I wish this had been a mountain lion.

As I sat frozen in place, pistol in a death grip against my chest and scanning the darkness, I started to get whiffs of something. A somewhat familiar smell, and it took me a moment to realize what it was.

It smelled hot, like a steaming liquid of something familiar. Then it hit me - that is the smell of a gutshot deer. The year before my brother in law shot a doe through her gutsack, and the smell of hot blood mixing with offal and fresh intestines and stomach acids is very peculiar. You don’t forget it. I didn’t forget it this time, either.

Funny thing about sitting in the dark - the light is fluidly changing, but your eyes see things like shutters. If you focus for too long and then blink and rest, you will see it has grown lighter. I remembered this, so I tried to call my silently screaming nerves under control, and deliberately blinked heavy for a few seconds. To my relief, it was getting light. But this only began to illuminate the horror i was about to witness in front of me.

There in the fading dark, with perfect camouflaged coat was a doe on her side. Her back was to me, and she looked dead. Deer don’t sleep with their heads on the ground. Then I saw her move, just a slight twitch of her suspended forearm. And then I saw why.

Buried head deep into her gut abdomen was a creature unlike I’d ever seen before. It looked like a starving woman in body, with gaunt ribs clearly outlined under her nude skin.

She was hairless on her body, and her skin was a pale orange, almost exactly the color of the changing leaves. If she were standing montionless, I don’t know that I would be able to see her. She was that well blended in with the woods.

So now I’m wondering ‘what in the absolute hell is going on here?’ I am disbelieving what my eyes are showing me. She lifted her head from the doe, and that is when I saw her eyes. They were like holes of obsidian, but I could tell she was looking straight at me with those onyx stone eyes. Her face was smeared with blood, and her jaw was elongated and hinged far back. It made her mouth look huge and in a permanent grin. Her teeth were like daggers of carnage, all sharp and none for grinding food. These were the teeth of a carnivore and made for killing.

She had hair above her face, a wild black mane full of sticks and twigs and leaves. I hadn’t seen them until she’d raised her head, but atop her skull was a fully formed elk rack, over three ft long each side. It swooped up and back away from her face, and looked particularly well equipped to gore someone open with.

All of this assessment happened in seconds. The breakfast I had of toast and coffee felt like it was sitting at my Adam’s apple, and I couldn’t swallow it down. My pistol and rifle were forgotten - I was frozen with fear. I am not sure, but I don’t think I even breathed.

After what felt like an eternity of us locking our gaze upon each other, she suddenly stood up on her feet, hunched over her kill. With one hand she grabbed the deer by the neck, and then she sprinted backwards into the woods like nothing I’d ever seen before. Just as she bounded on top of a fallen tree she stopped and turned full around and looked at me again. Then she hopped down the other side and was gone.
———
I never did figure out what happened that morning. When I came to my senses I hightailed it out of there and it felt like it took forever to get to my truck. But I made it safely. I drove back into town and told my brother in law exactly this story. Of course he laughed at me; people always laugh when I tell this story. We drove out to the spot and I showed him the pile of deer blood, but never found any tracks or trail beyond that.

I have a sketch of my own rendition of what I saw that morning. I’ll have to find it and update the post if anyone is interested.

fucking shat myself reading this..gore is wtv but that description haunted me

 

[Tuomas Woorhees]

fucking shat myself reading this..gore is wtv but that description haunted me

I would like too and experient any paranormal. But never saw anything so far.

 

[Ur dad]

They are called jinn , and they are like us good and bad
They are made of from smokeless fire

Yeah you can call me stupid or anything
I would like you to search Jinn of desert