On All The Scary Things (Halloween)

Is the mind the same as the body? What is consciousness? Can machines have it?

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On All The Scary Things (Halloween)

Post by EchoesOfTheHorizon » Wed Nov 01, 2017 3:48 am

A few times in my life I've felt things were around, without any real proof.

I live in Northern West Virginia, old steel area, also in earlier eras coal and clay mining, and prior to that where a lot of nasty fighting took place in the French and Indian War (Seven Years War was started three days walk from where I live), Lord Dunmore's War, Recolutionary War. The American idea of zombies started here with The Night Of The Living Dead, it parallels the kind of warfare and spiritualism from that era (why West Virginia has the highest rate of Zombie enthusiasts). I originally lived out in California, gold mining country.

In reference to the feelings and phenomena triggered not by serenity or god like awareness, but by deep and unimaginable fear, earliest I can recall was when I was a toddler in California. My mother brought be to a old man's house (I presume a Uncle, don't know for sure) somewhere in the Yuba City, Sacramento City corridor. I know I was a toddler due to my height, I kept falling, and I crawled under a chair to eat cat food out of a red dish. People were not impressed with my cat food eating abilities. I remember some sort of card game being played. The old man had bifocals, thin, squared glasses. They played in a kitchen with a table in the center, I recalled it in later years as being absolutely identified to the kitchen from the TV show Mama's family, but reviewing the memory now I see it wasn't quite set up that way. I know the entrance to the basement was the same as on that show, but the rest of the kitchen seems reversed.

A bedroom was next to it, and everyone decided for my mother it as time to put me to bed. They took me from the left of the table into the room. It had a entertainment center on the wall to the left, on the other side was where everyone was playing cards. Had no TV, just pictures. Bed in center of the room. I was laid down, always had the blankets below my elbows. I remember turning right, looking at the pictures. Door was closed, could see a light from under it, to my right. A closet was to my left on the wall. Plenty of room on all three sides on the bed. Don't recall a window.

As time went by, could hear giggling and laughing. Would look over to my right at the pictures. Old people, most certainly dead today. Nothing happening. Then I saw a green neon hand at the base of my bed, upright, moving along the length of my bed. It was slimy. It went before the door, blocking the light. It came around the bed, towards me, I could see a whole upper arm, no elbow, no slime trail, it moved at the same pace. I became deeply afraid, and when it turned around, got under the covers. I've never done that before. I remember thinking the covers are a shield, like a stone cave, and have to make a cave enterence for just my eyes and mouth, to watch this thing. I was scared to have any limb sticking out over the edge of my bed.

This went on for a long time, that damn thing liked to pace, back and forth, over and over. Never left a damn trail of slime, just kept walking. I would watch the hall light blink out on and off every time it did so.

Eventually I determined if I stayed within the confines of my bed, when it passed with the back of the hand to me, I could leap to the doorknob, open it and run outside. I did so, and nobody believed me (bastards) and brought me back to the room. I was showed nothing was inside the room. I was told no tarantulas was in the closet, which made me frustrated, cause I never claimed any existed inside.... she kept insisting I said it, but she was making it up (my mother was in fact making it up, early stages of a degenerative mental illness derived from being sexually abused as a child,she became a prolific liar and a psychopath, making stuff up by time I was a teenager).

I'm in bed, damn arm starts up again. Goes all night.

Later on during this stay, I was told by a aunt Melissa (no clue who that is, but she was 1706 then) I would nap with her. She smoked even though she shouldn't. She had a boot made of blaster, was a penny bank. She lived in the basement. She had a Felix The Cat clock on the wall. Wall was concrete bricks. I recall laundry machines down there. Machines would operate, but I knew what they were, didn't bother me.

As we laid in bed, I watched the cat tail on the clock move back and forth. Light from upstairs under the door gave some light. White light. I saw in a spot where the blocks met s large eye, and it started looking around. It would look at me, and everything. Damn thing scared the shit out of me. I told them this after she wakes up. Showed me the spot, wasn't there. Mom napped with me later down there, damn eye returned.

The house was on a street, and at the end of the street was a classic old fashion candy store, like in the movies from old times. Kids would play. Nothing unusual about the neighborhood.

My mother married a airforce guy, moved to Beale Airforce Base. We watched a lot of war movies, a lot of Top Gun, movies fighting in the jungle. Neighbor's dad built a clubhouse, I helped convert it into a fortress. We had to drag a railroad log meant for planting a base's green space to it, and erected it diagonal to the door, and put sheets over it. We ripped some of the roof plants out, and built a ladder up to the the roof from the inside, and made the top like a castle with places to hide. We lived on a bonanza street then, used to be another street, but my mother had a knee problem, so had to move to a one story house, instead of the relative mansion we lived in. I didn't like it, but Bonanza street was a circle street, all the streets ended in circles. Each street had kids who had toy guns, and everyone would fight i the fields between the streets. Lots of long dead grass, rattle snakes. Far in the distance was a small lake, can't even recall what we called it.

In order to win the war, I realized fake bullets were worthless. Mother wouldn't let me have one as I was too militant, so I got tired of borrowing others. I got sandwich bands, filled with gravel and taped up, and lined them along the roof of the fort. Kids from another street assaulted it, and had amazing noisy guns, but was quickly repelled with rocks to the face. We started fanning out to what I now presume is the southwest (based on setting of the sun in my memory) and knocked out a few streets worth of kids. Complete rout. We went back towards our area, and wanted to clear out he pond. Pond cleared, I wanted to go off on my own into some marshy swamp area, back closer to our area. It had very high reeds, and a metal fence barely visible above the mud. I was crawling through the space between the reeds, along the little paths. I remember seeing bootprints, and the were smaller than me (still no damn rational explanation for that, two foot tall cowboy or something, weird thinking about it now). I was sinking in the mud, making squishy noises. I saw a crushed beer can at the end of the trail. It was a small clearing in the middle of the reeds, 6-8 feet wide. I looked up, saw a bunch of black widows, with the red spot at the bottom. I knew they killed, and I fell back in the mud, looking up. They all were hanging, and a few started lowering down on their thread. I couldn't move, was very scared. Eventually (memory missing of this sudden spurt of activity, how it started) I'm slithering through the mud, bag of rocks in hand, for twenty minutes, and got out eventually. I remember hitting a kid in the head with my bag for laughing at me for being wet and covered in mud.

Next memory I can recall was when I was in my teens, in West Virginia. I learned a lot of the history of the area. Was always bored, a loner. Had trouble fitting in, due to speech problem (crazy mom forgot to teach me how to speak). I found a old abandoned coal miners house. Knew it was due to the stuff in the house. Had a wall missing off the front of the house, but structural integrity for everything perfect, was shocked to see it was missing. Pictures still in place, tv from the 50s intact, couch fine, clothes in closet. Regret not going more. I was fond of cave exploring, exploring abandoned mines.

I returned a few years later. House gone. Basement intact. Went inside at night during a thunderstorm to escape rain. Walked around it, amazed whole house gone by put roof of basement mostly there. Noticed a coal room was still there. I had a windowless one as a bedroom, so was a familiar concept to me, was debating on going inside. My back was turned to it at one point, and I froze. I was absolutely certain someone was inside it, and if I moved, I died. I felt intense rage and anger from it, starring me in the back of the neck. I could see a old pick axe on the far wall, but it was too far. Didn't know if I could reach it beforehand this thing got me. Was it a man, a animal? I didn't know. Lightening was hitting for a good long while. I heard the door creak slightly, adrenaline pumped through me. Every hair was up. I eventually felt it was less intense, and got out as tough looking and unconcerned looking as one could with the piss about to spurt out. I recall pissing looking in the direction of the house. Later on, place fell apart completely, think it is all gone now. Think it was a coal or clay miner, property was right next to a clay mine.

When I was in Iraq, my first night on guard on our base (deployed injured, bad knee) we had dogs running loose, and hundreds of Iraqis working within our base at the power plant. We had a giant saddam era bunker, lots of electricity, you could drive a tank down it's main entrance, how large it was. Nobody knew what was done there, told off limits. I make a habit of not listening to such restrictions, and decided after we made a stand on top of the bunker swinging gold clubs we found at the dogs running lose, I would go down and explore, everyone else stay up top and do radio checks. We had been at the base for a few weeks up to this point, so knew what laid above. I went down the lond driveway, about two stories, and it stopped at a red gate. The gate was busted, and could look down, a four or five story drop, concrete floor, covered in oil. The gate was to the right, to the left was a door. I went through the door, and was instantly on a cat walk. Steam machines below me. I walked around it, faking looking tactical as I walked (there is no way to walk tactical on a exposed ceiling catwalk). I saw a ladder, went down one story, and on the wall near it a door, with a exit sign. That door ducking confused me, as no exit existed that far down. Also confused me it was in English. I went down, and entered. Was a stairwell, and a short hall, with a second stairwell. Steps went up four stories. I walked into the area beyond the second stairwell. Old Soviet computers, Russian writing. A few green army cots, and food plates on the floor, and blankets. The Russian computers had lights blinking, and a big red switch. My base provided all the power for Iraq, and it wasn't working very well. I wondered if ai pull it, of the power would go off for everyone, and the war would end. Probably take them a long time to figure it out. Decided not to pull it. I walked back to the second stairwell. It went up four stories, but didn't walk down that low, so had to go to the building up top that was locked from all sides. I started going up, and heard people below. I got concerned. Did they follow me down? I blew into my Icomm, by little short range radio, it should of picked up if they were just below, but nothing. Wasn't them below. I kept creeping up, got to a dead end, door at the top. The door was locked.... I know because it took me five minutes to turn the damn knob, trying without a sound. I tried wiggling it, kept hearing breathing at the bottom, and Arabic. Was very worried. I stayed at the top for awhile, then walked down, with my rifle at the very ready. Long pauses, no sound. They definitely knew I was up there, they knew I knew they were down there. Some damn sickening silence.

I got to the bottom, and kept my gun at the ready, and heard them behind the wall, called them out. They came out smiling, introduced themselves. Offered me some sort of rice and nasty tea, showed me the ID. Was security guards for the ministry of electricity. Authorized to carry AK-47s, but said they never have since the occupation. We made friends, and I left. I visited only rarely.

Also had a case when we had to retain a new scout unit due to a fake political trial, our scouts sent to jail. I recall walking around, and just feeling someone starring from me in the junkyard in the middle of the night. Desert Vipers were in that damn scrap yard, and one nearly bit me when trying to weatherize a destroyed marine guard tower we had in it (wasn't supposed to be returned to duty, was junk, warped, floor missing in places). When I went in, stayed to the path, avoided quick motions. Was certain something was staring at me, and the group of guys with me said nothing was out there..... so I kept staring into this dark spot between rusted metal, and it spoke to me, in English, asking if I could see any of the trainees running laps around the parameter of the base's wall, they couldn't find them. I told them the points they most likely were hanging out in. Another guy said he knew they were in that spot all along.

After a while, I just started relying on this instinct, and found loads of Iraqis all over the base hiding. Some just lived in odd spots. Others just didn't want to work, a few couldn't technically work as their area was broken, off line. Most just didn't want to work. One time I felt someone was creeping up on me, so I pretending I wasn't there, and made my mind stop thinking. I felt really numb, pressed up against a chemical or oil silo. Our Sargent Major walked right by me without knowing I was right next to him. I did similar things earlier at a airforce base in Victorsville, to hide in places I couldn't hide. Only worked then sometimes, usually the dumbest tricks would work, like holding up drywall infront of you as guys cleared rooms, not realizing you were in the room too (shoot them in the back with the simulation rounds, idiots) but if you tried too hard, it was impossible to hide, so learned to just think less. People seem to know you are around more when you think. I dunno why. No way to test it scientifically, just know it is the damn case. I didn't like how numb my body felt though in Iraq when I did this. Turned out he was looking for the guards, convinced we were screwing around, heard it on his radio. I didn't make friends with him when I reassured him I was doing my job. He was convinced of it, little did he know that area was my screwing around spot.

We also had a kitchen building from the Saddam era, called the Crack House, provided kitchen services for a mansion on the corner of the base where our Alpha Company was stationed, a stone throw away from the Euphrates River. I've been inside many nights. One night, I started feeling weird. Felt something was in the next room, which was very bad, cause nobody knew I "fixed" the electricity to a room of the crack house, and refurbished it with random stuff I found. Everyone avoided that place, and left my place alone. Was cold as hell outside. I went into the next room, a kitchen. Was dark, flashy lights outside, storm. Wind outside. Went into the next room. Hairs up. People better not be trying to take my white tiger carpet. Froze in the center of the room, and every door ahead and behind me slammed shut. I wasn't happy. Realized it was likely air pressure. Went back to my secret hideout, watched movie on computer. I brought up the question to guys the next day if you encountered a Iraqi Ghost, like a dead soldier, would you be scared, or indifferent....

Also remember being on guard in the detention one night, and a local police colonel was brought in, he was setting his own men up for being attacked on patrol by "insurgents" from another country. I kept feeling a lot of creeped out evil coming from him. The guy I was on guard with was a narcoleptic, had a massive knife attached to his backpack. Always, hated him couldn't leave him alone as the cages we kept them in were a joke, afraid they would sneak out and kill him if I went out to pee.

I spent the night staring at him, he stared back at me. Some guys cry, others glare, others sleep like a bitch when in detention. This guy looked quite ready to pounce and kill, and I felt the same anger and danger from him as I did from that basement. Was a very long night staring down the devil. I don't believe he went to a good place, and if he lived, joined ISIS for certain. I hope he died. He betrayed his own men in the worst way.

I also recall, don't know my age exactly, was a teen, early, a building burned down where a local band played. I always went into burnt out buildings. They had porn, strap ons, picks of girls kissing on the walls. Was a street light in a room next to some drums. Floor collapsed in places. I went down into the basement. Was empty, rectangular. I got a very weird feeling, unnerving, trapped, suffocating behind me as I walked, and turned around, and notice the wall was weird. Had to return, grab a light, was the bottom few bricks eroded away, and slithered in. A room pained red, peeling. No windows, no entrances. Everything painted in red.

After the war, went into security after two years, couldn't find work out east. Went west to San Francisco, near where I was born. Figured most guys like me avoided it like the plague, should should be easy to find work, and I was right. I tended to rely less on my eyes and more on these gut instincts to spot people doing something wrong, and would hover near them. Was very, very good.

Most places do nothing to me. Places you damn well expect something, nothing. Places you don't expect something, sometimes still nothing, or unexpected finds. I have a Pennsylvania Dutch background, basic German concepts, catholic concepts floating around. I was exceptionally well read as a teenager, was a atheist as a teenager, completely accepted Darwin.... had I not intellectually and emotionally matured, would of probably of turned out like Hobbes Choice. I never bought into the ghost stories of my mother, figured she was always lying, and disregarded the stories. Most of these stories hit the female side of the family anyways. More often than not I could generally sense mischief, the hostile calculating kind. Not always, some people could steal. Some guys in the army quite good at screwing you over pretending to be nice. But is generally seem to sense when something is wrong.

This is some of the mix of stuff that happened. Some easily explained, not supernatural or telepathic at all, like doors closing during a storm. Others not so much, or we are just used to insisting on explanations that poorly stick, but fulfills the faith in atheism the modern thinker insist upon. I expect the memories of my earlist days to be imagination, but that was the most intense real imagining I ever did if that is the case. Seriously, sometimes to this day I remember my foot is off the edge of the bed, and pull them back on the bed. Well into puberty, I continued with the blanket over my head. You can call me a chickenshit, as a aspect of me is, but I also camped alone in Alaska around bears and moose, hiked across states back packing, and lived the cynic lifestyle twice abandoning all my possessions, and living in the rough, in some crazy places. I'm typically am not intimidated to the point of pushing forewarned, and in the places you wouldn't dare go, I would push into for that very reason.... because I knew others would be scared.... so I would Rest In Peace there.

In the end, my life is mostly uneventful. Don't see ghosts everywhere, don't feel tingling, am brutally logical and analytical. But sometimes I feel these things. I recall the God Helmet experiment, how Richard Dawkins failed it because he was a lush, drunk off his ass. I don't think I ever associated these emotions with God. No heavenly spirit. Was something terribly bad. Deadly hostile. Not saying a demon, but usually a person or crazy animal.

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Re: On All The Scary Things (Halloween)

Post by GreatandWiseTrixie » Wed Nov 01, 2017 5:51 am

I don't think people take Halloween seriously, it is not scary and just kiddie. I believe Halloween should be scary again. When I see these pathetic rubber masks I just think "cringe" lame fake and pathetic. Just so kiddie and lame. People are getting hip to the fakeness of it. What's so scary about it if it's all fake? People are wising up. I think America needs to legalize all crime on Halloween like the Purge movie.

"Make Halloween Scary Again"
- Me.

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