FROST

"For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place 

The flood may bear me far, 

I hope to see my Pilot face to face 

When I have crost the bar."

SANTA

SOLSTICE

WATCHING

I was talking to a gal once and she related a 'creepy' story that happened to her. When she was a young teen, she was very ill. She had been to the doctor and was prescribed bed-rest until her fever came down and her flu-like symptoms passed.

While laying on the family couch, her mom and dad would sit in the nearby easy chair and watch TV. At times they would leave the room and get her water, meds, soup, etc.

She kept noticing a painting on the wall, near the couch, of a woman holding a basket of fruit.

It seemed to be 'watching' the people coming in/leaving the room. Now, she was running a fever, and she knew this must be her imagination, and kept it to herself.

As her dad left the room, she could swear the painting followed him with its eyes. Fever or not, she was getting scared. So, she looked to see if she could see her mom or dad returning to the room. She couldn't see anyone nearby.

Until she turned her head back to the picture.

The woman turned her head directly toward her, made eye contact, and tossed down the basket of fruit. From behind the woman's back, she produced a knife and began climbing OUT of the picture frame with a look of blood-hate in her eyes.

At this point, her screams of panic caused her dad to come rushing back. The painting turned toward the sound of the dad's rushing feet, made eye contact with the girl, and climbed back up in to the frame, with one last look that said, "I'll finish this next time..."

She would never let her parents leave her in that room alone again.

I was told, "In the right light, paintings will talk to each other." I thought this was BS until, as a teen, I began trying to crack an eye open in the early morning to see if I could verify the myth. I kept doing this until I began to notice a small movement. And then one would seem to be whispering, barely moving its lips. I was transfixed.

Until I lip-read the words: "I think he is watching us."

Story source.

BUTOH

FOOTSTEPS

When I was in college, I used to ride the bus to my grandmother's house once in awhile and stay the weekend. It was nice for me to get a chance to sit and talk to her, and it also gave me an opportunity to help her out with odd jobs around the house like changing light bulbs, putting screens in the windows, etc.

She lived (and still does) alone with no pets in a two story bungalow-style house. I always slept in the same place-upstairs and in the bedroom all the way at the end of the hallway. Not sure why that was always my spot, since she has two other empty bedrooms, but that's the one I always used. The bedroom is T-shaped, with the head of the bed at the top center of the "T" facing the "leg". The door to the room is positioned in the right side of the top of the "T" if you're laying in bed on your back.

Anyway, I had been up late watching TV, long after my grandma was asleep in her room. I was getting sleepy at around 2AM and decided to call it a night. I climbed the stairs, walked down the hallway, and covered up in bed. I lay awake for longer than I expected to, but was finally just starting to doze when I heard it.

Something starting tapping on the carpeted floor at the opposite end of the room. It literally sounded like someone had crouched down and was rapidly and rhythmically drumming their hand on the floor. I immediately froze, my body tensing up, listening to what my logical mind kept trying to insist was either my imagination, or was coming from somewhere outside the room. It wasn't. The house was quiet, with the exception of that continual tapping coming from several feet past the foot of my bed.

The room was far too dark to see anything, but I was too afraid to try and get out of bed and make it to the light switch. Finally the tapping stopped, and I lay there still not moving, trying to keep my rapid breathing quiet, my heart pounding in my throat. Then it really got bad.

A few seconds after the tapping stopped, I heard the distinct sound of light footsteps approaching the bed. The steps came straight to the foot of the bed, and then diverted and came around the side of the bed and stopped RIGHT BY MY HEAD! At this point, I was terrified at a level I've not experienced before or since. Whatever was standing there by the side of my bed was between me and the door and lightswitch. I remained frozen, unsure of what to do, and unsure if I'd be able to move if I wanted to. There was silence for about 30 seconds, during which I got the impression that something was studying me intently. Then the footsteps started up again, slowly and unhurriedly walking back toward the foot of the bed, around the foot, and up the other side. Again, once they reached the head of the bed, they stopped. Silence again for around 30 seconds, and then the light, methodical footsteps moved back to the far side of the room, and stopped.

I lay there still terrified for a long, long time. Looking back, I wonder why I never got up and turned the light on. Eventually, I somehow managed to drift off into an uneasy sleep, and didn't have any further incidents for the rest of the night.

Still to this day have no clue what that was all about, but I've stayed in that room many times since, and never had any problems.

Story source.

SNAKE OIL