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Horror Stories 2

Page 2

Goat Man


The upper back half of my parents house is haunted. Or possessed. I don’t know, but it’s wrong up there. When you go upstairs and open the door, there’s a large room with a walk-in closet, about 70 square foot. There’s a hallway to the right with a little bathroom, and then a door that leads to the other half of the upstairs, another 70 sf or so and with two little doors to attics on either side of the room. The light switch to the room is outside of the room, meaning to turn on a light from the bed by the window, you have to get up and walk about 30 feet, open a door, reach your arm out and turn on a light. In 1999 when I was 17 and my brother was 15, he lived in the upstairs part of the house (obviously very choice as it’s basically its own house just without a kitchen) and I lived in a bedroom downstairs. One day, he ran downstairs and asked me if I wanted to change rooms. He said his knee injuries hurt to badly to go up and down the stairs all the time and asked if I would like to switch rooms. OF  COURSE  I SAID YES!

Fast forward to a few months later.

It’s a school day and I am in bed. The sun is not up and my alarm has not yet gone off. I wake up, and I don’t know why I woke up as I am a heavy sleeper who needs a lot of hours. I felt something near my bed. I rolled over to see what/who was in there, assuming it was one of my parents or a sibling or something trying to wake me up, and I see a life-sized crucified Jesus on my bedroom floor, living and evil with dark green eyes that glowed. It was obviously NOT Jesus, just some kind of ‘thing’ taking on a shape and existing there, trying to scare me. I stared at it and the eyes locked on mine and the cross rose up to a vertical position, slowly, until the life-sized crucified Jesus was before me, radiating hatred and anger and loathing and disgust. I wanted to turn a light on so so so so bad. To do that, I would have to get up, run around him, make it 30 feet, open a door and turn on a light. I pulled the blanket over my head and waited for the sun to come up and tried to pretend I had a nightmare and none of it was real. I got a lamp and put it next to my bed.

1 year later and I am a senior in high school.

I have put my mattress on the bedroom floor so that I can bang with wild abandon without my parents hearing my bed creek from the family room down below. My boyfriend and I bang it out and then roll opposite directions on the mattress to fall asleep. I don’t know what time it was, but it wasn’t daylight yet, when I woke up. I woke up because I felt something breathing on me. When I opened my eyes, I could see a man’s face, illuminated by the neighbours outdoor lights and a street light, very close to mine. There was a man down on the floor with his face near mine and his eyes were black, solid black, any part that would have white or colour was entirely black and shiny. He had dark, ruddy skin and very hard, craggy features. Like a very square jaw and deep lines in his face. He was not wearing a shirt. He had muscular arms. From the waist down? Dude was a goat. He had freaking goat legs. I screamed and screamed and screeeeeamed, my mouth and eyes open wide, terrified….and no sound came out. As I was screaming, the goat man, face inches away from my own, eyes still locked on mine, opened his mouth to mock my scream, no sound coming out of his mouth either. I closed my eyes and shut them and counted to 60. When I opened my eyes again, he was gone. My boyfriend rolled over in bed and said ‘WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!?!?’ ‘What do you mean? What did you see?’, I said. ‘I kept trying to move and trying to get up and I couldn’t move. It’s like my body was being held down and I couldn’t move!’ I tell him he must have had a nightmare, because I want to believe none of this is real, and we go out and meet some friends.


The next night, as I slept on the floor mattress (too lazy to put it on and off my bed every day. Why bother?) a large hooded figure, maybe 10 feet tall or so? Wearing a head to toe black cloak and with no eyes or face, just darkness, floated through the door from the other room and toward me. It faded before it got to the mattress.

I didn’t tell anybody because I thought I must have had a night terror or lucid dream. I didn’t care that my boyfriend had felt immobile at the same time I saw the goat man. I assumed we had simultaneous nightmares because how could any of this be real?

I had friends come over who would walk into that room, feel cold and get goose bumps on their arms and want to leave. Downstairs in the family room, we could often hear the sound of heavy feet walking around in my bedroom above us.


A few years later, my brother and I are hanging out. I have never told him or anybody else about this stuff. He says he wants to tell me something and he’s sorry and to not be mad. I say ok because he’ s my brother and I generally don’t get mad at him anyway, so who cares? He tells me that when he still lived upstairs, he was in the front room playing FIFA and he heard a woman screaming in the back room. He got up and went to look in that room and see wtf was going on. When he opened the door and turned on the light, the little attic door on the left had streams of blood coming out from around the tops and sides, like the blood was seeping out of the door frame. The screaming was coming from inside of that little attic. That’s when he ran downstairs and asked me to switch rooms. He told me he knew it was probably just a nightmare, but it felt real and he didn’t want to stay up there anymore and he was sorry he lied about the severity of his knee injuries to get out of that room. I said I didn’t care at all. (true.) and told him about what I had experienced up there.

I don’t want to believe any of this is real. It doesn’t make sense to me that it can be. But it’s hard to deny it when I, my brother, my boyfriend and multiple friends have experienced seeing, hearing or feeling different non-human things up there. It felt to me like the Jesus thing and the goat man were the same entity, hard and cold and hateful and rage-filled, and that the tall dark-robed figure was a different entity, but I don’t know what they were. Whenever it comes up now, I say it must have been night terrors or lucid dreams, but I kinda don’t actually believe that. But I want to believe that.





We bought a 50’s bungalow a few years ago; the original owner had passed and we were the first people to live there since. My daughter’s bedroom was on the far side of the house from mine, and was always colder than the rest of the house. We chalked it up to poor insulation in that room. Every night I would hear her talking to someone; just thought it was baby-sleep babbling. She was about 2 at the time. Then she started talking to someone in the daytime too. I asked her about it, she told me it was the “Blue faced mommy”. The “mommy” wanted to play peek-a-boo with her all the time, and wouldn’t leave her alone. She said she would wake her up in the night to play peek-a-boo. It freaked the shit out of me. I talked about it with one of the older ladies in the neighbourhood, who knew the original family. Apparently their oldest daughter had suffocated herself in the house after giving birth to a still-born child. (Not sure how she “suffocated herself”, the neighbour didn’t have a lot of details, it happened in the early 70’s.) I am certain that she was the “blue faced Mommy” my daughter was talking about.

A friend told me she had read the best way to deal with lingering spirits was to politely ask them to leave. So one night, when my girl was woken up I went to her room and politely said “Please ma’am, your family has moved away, we need you to go now.” And after that, nothing. I still get chills thinking about it.





When my friend was about 11 or 12, she went to an all-inclusive resort with her family. This was one of those big places, with several pools, restaurants, kids areas etc. Her dad buys walkie talkies – one for her and her brother, and one for the adults (this was before cell phones were a big thing), so that they can stay in touch if the kids want to do their own thing.


One night, her parents and her brother go down to the restaurant for supper. My friend isn’t feeling well, so she asks to stay in the hotel room and watch a movie. They agree, giving her the walkie talkie for emergencies. She’s up there for an hour or so, checking in periodically with her dad (just to say hi, ask what they’re eating etc).

She starts to feel really sick, and says to her dad “hey, when will you be back to the room?”. Her dad answers back “We’re coming up right now – sweetie, I forget the room number, could you tell me what it is?”.

As soon as she’s about to answer, her dads voice cuts in “Hey Chirp, we’re coming up right now, we brought you some cake, see you in five”.


She knows the second one is her dad, because he always calls her Chirp. She locks the door. When her parents get back, they say they haven’t talked to her all night.







My mother’s family lived on the second floor of a large duplex on Côte-Sainte-Catherine. The front doors to the second-floor apartments were located on the side of the buildings and faced each other from one duplex to the other. They rarely locked the front door and everyone knew their neighbours quite well. One morning, one of my uncles, who must have been about 13 at the time, says he woke up very early. This was summertime and although it was kind of light out, the sun hadn’t risen yet so it was practically in the middle of the night still. He was half awake in his bed, a bit groggy and he realized that what had woken him was the sound of someone creeping along in the corridor. For some reason, it didn’t feel right to him, it didn’t sound like someone from the family was going to the bathroom during the night. It was slower, much weirder. He called out ‘Hey, who’s there?’. He then heard whoever was in the corridor walk back to the top of the stairs, down the stairs, out the front door. Creepy enough? , but it gets much worse.


Within six months of this happening, a teenage girl was found dead in the duplex next door to my family’s home. She had been killed during the night with a hammer by a 15-year-old boy that lived nearby. He was known by all the other kids of the neighbourhood and my mother remembers him as being very quiet and always kind of looking down or away whenever you would look at him. He was kind of an outcast, certainly because of his personality but also a bit perhaps because he went to a posh school, thanks to his father being the janitor there and he got a bit snobbed out by the other kids.

In the duplex where my family lived, on the first floor there was a family with three teenage girls, in my family there were two teenage girls. I guess he knew where to look and I guess he must have been lurking around for a good while before deciding that it was time to take the hammer out. He killed himself in hospital or jail while he was still very young.