I got into a car accident in high school with some friends hit some black ice and crashed into a tree in front of a house, for like the next three months I told everyone I knew that a ghost was haunting me. He was an old man in a plaid shirt and overalls , he didn’t mess with me just watched me sat at the end of my bed stuff like that. He became just something I got used to and somehow I knew he was cool but my girlfriend kinda freaked out about it and one night when I was super baked she asked me why I thought he was with me , I just said “ he keeps me safe , he used to live in that house we crashed in front of “. So a few days went by and she decided we were going to that house , we pulled up and knocked on the door and a little old lady answered, my girlfriend told her everything while the lady just listened and then turned and grabbed a picture off the wall handing it to us , it was him in his plaid shirt and overalls just grinning. I said fuck this and went to the car , my girlfriend talked to the woman for a bit and then came and got in the car. She told me that the man was the ladies husband and he hung himself from the tree we crashed into after his daughter was raped and murdered in college , he wrote his wife a note about how he couldn’t protect his daughter and then killed himself. The wife said if he was with me it’s because he wanted to protect me and I shouldn’t worry about it. He spent the next few months following me around and then one day was just gone.
About a year ago, something woke me up in the middle of the night. For a few seconds, I was squinting around my room, still trying to adjust to the light level. Eventually, I noticed a blurred figure next to my bed. I tried to concentrate on what it was but it was too dark to make out distinct features, and my eyes were taking forever to adjust. I thought it was my mom, for some reason, and I asked, “Mom”? No response. Asked that same question three times but with more urgency each successive time. Eventually, I sat up on my elbow and tried to reach my hand out to touch the figure, still assuming it was a sibling or one of my parents. The second my hand made contact with the location of that foggy outline, it disappeared. My heart skipped a beat, and I immediately laid back down and closed my eyes. Just wanted to pretend like nothing happened.
I call this one “The Phantom Shitter.”
I went to UT Chattanooga. Parts of our campus were somewhat old, and given the military history surrounding the Civil War, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was some kind of presence.
It was around 2009 and I was studying on the 3rd floor of the library. I’d been there for quite a while, and, naturally, had to go to the bathroom. Now, floors 1 and 3 were popular spots, so traffic in the restrooms was heavy, which meant that the they were either disgusting or didn’t have toilet paper, which I was going to need.
I made my decision to hit the bathroom on the second floor that was buried in the back-middle of the floor, hidden between the rows. This bathroom was seldom in use when I went to it, so it was an obvious choice. Being an older building, the doors were heavy, so you basically announced yourself when opening and shutting.
I went inside, the door thumping heavily behind me, and I took my place in the stall. It’s dead quiet and I’m alone. I’m mostly done with my business when I hear a footsteps quickly approaching, the stall next to mine basically being ripped off the hinges, followed by one of the loudest public displays of shitting that I’ve EVER heard. After that, silence. No flushing, foot steps, vocalizations, water running – silence. I’m confused at this point and a bit surprised because I never heard the bathroom door open. Like I said, the door was impossible to silence either opening or shutting. I finished my business and inspected the stall next to mine (curiosity had me now). Nothing. No person, no evidence.
Till this day, I envy the spirit that pranks people with it’s phantom shits.
During all my childhood I lived with my parents and my grandmother in a really big house. No one lived there before us and the house was pretty cool but always very cold and dark. Anyway, things started getting weird when I was about 7 or 8, I’m an only child and I used to play alone with my dolls in my bedroom. Several times while playing there I would get this feeling that someone or something had “joined” me and was watching me, I could feel like a really bad presence, and even my toys fell a couple times for absolutely no reason. But what really scared me was something that happened when I got home from school one day. I went to the kitchen while my dad stayed outside talking to a neighbor. I was turning on the kitchen’s TV and when I looked back to the kitchens door (you could see the hallway and all the be
drooms door from the kitchen) I saw a man all in black clothes walking from my parent’s bedroom to a little room (like a closet) under the stairs to the second floor. I got paralysed, it was really fast and I didnt see his face. When my dad came to the kitchen like 10min later, I asked him if he was in the bedroom (I knew it wasnt him but I wanted to be sure) and when he said “No”, I felt my legs shaking. I told him what happened and he didn’t say anything, just tried to calm me down. During those 9 years I lived there, I felt bad presences and felt watched all the time. Several times I woke up during the night and saw black figures in the bedroom, also during daylight. Some rooms would be freezing in a hot summer day and also my cousins claimed to have seen things they can’t explain while spending the night there. Now, we live in another house. My dad told me when we moved that he saw horrible things there too (including that man wearing black clothes) and every week he woke up during the night feeling “something” holding him. Also, he said that he got the chills every time he opened that closet under the stairs. My mom is not sure if she really saw something but says that she could feel watched too. My grandma lives in that house until nowadays and she said she has never experienced nothing like that and gets mad when we talk about it, I don’t know why.