First off: Congratulations! :D That's so awesome, and the stories sound quite interesting!
Strange anecdotes. :) Hmm. The better stories that I have to tell are not mine, but my parents'. Actually, I know a heck of a lot of people in Alaska who have had really strange things happen to them, although most of these people are, let's say, of a certain generation. A certain generation that is widely associated with mind-altering substances. The two may be related, is all I'm saying. The strangest thing that happened to me (which I'll get to in a minute) is not even a patch on some of my parents' odder stories.
For example, my mom's first apartment was in the wedge end of one of those flatiron-shaped buildings, so it had only three walls, and two of them came to an acute point. There was nothing useful that could be done with that corner, plus she was an itinerant college student and didn't own much anyway, so the only thing in the corner was a spare tire leaning up against the walls. One day, she was sitting on it, and something pushed her, very hard, in the back. It threw her forward, knocked her sprawling. Unsurprisingly, she moved out of the apartment shortly thereafter -- when the ghosts start taking swings at you, it's time to move on.
After she hooked up with my dad, one winter they rented an old schoolhouse in a little town on the highway. The neighbors all told them the place was "bad" and most people didn't stay there very long. My mother said that it wasn't long before they started noticing a general feeling of malice in the house. It was as if something there hated them. It was worst in one of the rooms, localized in the vicinity of the ceiling. I think I remember something about that room being colder than the other rooms, or maybe just the area near the ceiling, but I'd have to check with her; I wasn't born yet, so I've gotten all of this second-hand. Anyway, one evening they were at home and they looked up and realized someone was on the porch. All they could see was the silhouette and the shadow that it was casting on the porch, but it was someone huge, so big that they couldn't see his head. My dad eventually nerved himself up to go over and open the door. There was no one there, and nothing that could possibly have cast a shadow like the one they'd seen.
Some time after that, my mom went into the "bad" room and told it that it could have that room, and they'd close the door and leave it alone, if it would let them have the rest of the house. She shut the door and they kept their bargain, and she said that the ominous feeling of malice and hate pretty much went away.
The whole area was generally pretty weird. My mom claims to have encountered a place in the woods near the old schoolhouse where time ran slower -- she was walking in the woods and came upon a clearing, and began to cross it. But as she did so, she slowed down, and kept moving slower; she was terrified that she'd be stuck there forever, but eventually managed to reach the opposite side.
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Strange anecdotes. :) Hmm. The better stories that I have to tell are not mine, but my parents'. Actually, I know a heck of a lot of people in Alaska who have had really strange things happen to them, although most of these people are, let's say, of a certain generation. A certain generation that is widely associated with mind-altering substances. The two may be related, is all I'm saying. The strangest thing that happened to me (which I'll get to in a minute) is not even a patch on some of my parents' odder stories.
For example, my mom's first apartment was in the wedge end of one of those flatiron-shaped buildings, so it had only three walls, and two of them came to an acute point. There was nothing useful that could be done with that corner, plus she was an itinerant college student and didn't own much anyway, so the only thing in the corner was a spare tire leaning up against the walls. One day, she was sitting on it, and something pushed her, very hard, in the back. It threw her forward, knocked her sprawling. Unsurprisingly, she moved out of the apartment shortly thereafter -- when the ghosts start taking swings at you, it's time to move on.
After she hooked up with my dad, one winter they rented an old schoolhouse in a little town on the highway. The neighbors all told them the place was "bad" and most people didn't stay there very long. My mother said that it wasn't long before they started noticing a general feeling of malice in the house. It was as if something there hated them. It was worst in one of the rooms, localized in the vicinity of the ceiling. I think I remember something about that room being colder than the other rooms, or maybe just the area near the ceiling, but I'd have to check with her; I wasn't born yet, so I've gotten all of this second-hand. Anyway, one evening they were at home and they looked up and realized someone was on the porch. All they could see was the silhouette and the shadow that it was casting on the porch, but it was someone huge, so big that they couldn't see his head. My dad eventually nerved himself up to go over and open the door. There was no one there, and nothing that could possibly have cast a shadow like the one they'd seen.
Some time after that, my mom went into the "bad" room and told it that it could have that room, and they'd close the door and leave it alone, if it would let them have the rest of the house. She shut the door and they kept their bargain, and she said that the ominous feeling of malice and hate pretty much went away.
The whole area was generally pretty weird. My mom claims to have encountered a place in the woods near the old schoolhouse where time ran slower -- she was walking in the woods and came upon a clearing, and began to cross it. But as she did so, she slowed down, and kept moving slower; she was terrified that she'd be stuck there forever, but eventually managed to reach the opposite side.