Unexplained — Nobody Believes Me

I don't even know if this is worth posting — maybe I'm just losing it. Or something's wrong with my memory and I need to see a doctor. You know when you clearly remember putting something in one spot, but in the morning it's somewhere else? I'm sure we've all been there. And if it only happened once in a while, fine — you just blame it on being forgetful. But this happens to me every single morning. Every night I put my watch on the desk, my notebook on the nightstand, and so on. And in the morning I find one of them in a completely different spot. Now that I'm typing this out, maybe I should just buy a webcam and check the footage... or maybe I really do need that doctor.

my daughter was two and a half. she'd just started putting sentences together. one evening im sitting in the kitchen, shes playing in the other room. I hear her talking to someone. kids talk to themselves, to their toys, whatever. but then I listened more closely — she was clearly responding to someone. pausing. laughing. like a real back-and-forth. I went in — nobody there. shes sitting in the corner by the window, looking toward the armchair. the armchair is empty. I ask, who were you talking to? she says, grandpa. I say, which grandpa? both her grandfathers are alive, she knows them by name. she just shrugged and goes, the one sitting over there. points at the armchair. I say, theres nobody there. she looked at me like I was stupid and went back to playing. I would have forgotten about it. kids say all kinds of things. but then it kept happening. several times a week. always the same spot, always that armchair. one time I asked, what does he look like, your grandpa? she goes, old. wearing stripes. and then she pointed to her wrist and said, he has something drawn here. I nearly fell over. my grandfather died eight years before she was born. I barely remember him — I was about six. but I clearly remember he had a tattoo on his wrist. an anchor or something, I didnt really understand it as a kid. and he wore striped shirts — I remember that well, he had a few of them. there are no photos of him in our house. my husband and I moved to another city, all the family photos are back at my parents house. there is no way she could have seen any of this. I called my mom. told her what my daughter had said. she went quiet and said, yeah. dad had an anchor on his wrist. gave it to himself when he was young. then it just stopped. at some point she quit talking to the armchair. I asked, wheres your grandpa? she said, he left. and that was it. never again. shes seven now. doesnt remember any of it. says she doesnt remember any grandpa by the armchair.

i dont even know where to start because every time i try to tell this out loud i hear how it sounds myself anyway. three years ago i was traveling to a funeral for a distant relative. bus becausse i cant drive, five hours, i slept the whole way. woke up at some stop — fifteen-minute rest stop, everyone got off to stretch. i got off too, grabbed coffee from a little stand, sat down on a bench. there was a woman sitting next to me. elderly, ordinary looking. we started talking, just to pass the time. she asked where i was headed, i said to a funeral. she said she was sorry for my loss. then she asked, do you think about it much? about death? i said well, lately yeah, stressful job, anxiety. she went quiet for a moment and said "you know,everything is going to be okay for you. you in particular. i can just see it." i didnt think much of it. people say all kinds of things. the bus started moving. i went back to my seat. after a while i looked around — the woman hadnt come back. she wasnt on the bus. i figured she must have gotten off at that stop. okay, fine. arrived, funeral, the usual. two days later heading back. and heres the thing. im waiting for the bus, talking to a distant aunt i hadnt seen in years. i tell her about the stop, the woman. i describe her — gray coat, hair pulled back, thin wire glasses. my aunt gives me this strange look and goes, wait. takes out her phone. scrolls through photos. shows me. it was her. the same woman. my aunt says thats my neighbors mother. she passed away. in april. i was going to the funeral in october. i still think about it — maybe it was just someone who looked similar? maybe i remembered wrong? but i have a very strong visual memory, its actually something people notice about me. and the coat. and the glasses. and the way she was sitting. and thats not even the strangest part. the strangest part is that things geniunely did get better for me after that. and i dont know what to do with that.

I have a son. He's still little. We started noticing strange things back when he was just a baby. During the period when he cried a lot from colic, a glass baby food jar would crack — and it happened more than once. Once a vase cracked too. But at the time we were just puzzled, wondering how his crying could possibly cause something like that. Then it got worse. When he got a bit older, my wife and I had a serious argument one day — we weren't screaming at each other, but we were definitely raising our voices. Our son wasn't crying, but he was just standing there staring at us, and then we heard a crack. A fracture had appeared on the window. We were in shock. At that point you can't just chalk it up to a weird coincidence or loud crying anymore. He doesn't go to kindergarten. He went for about a week, and then something bad happened. He came home and said he never wanted to go back — that the kids were mean, that two boys kept pushing him around and calling him names. And wouldn't you know it: that very same day, a window in his classroom shattered. The teacher said someone must have thrown a rock from outside. Let's just say there's reason to believe the glass wasn't broken from the outside. Have we taken him to any specialists? No. I don't want my child hauled off for some kind of experiments. But I don't know what to do either. I can't keep him locked away at home his whole life just so nobody notices. I'm posting this in case anyone has already dealt with something like this. If you have, hit "Been there." At least I'll know we're not the only ones — and that everyone else is just keeping quiet about it too.

In Indonesia, stories about spirits or “things” that live in forests and villages are very common. We grow up hearing them. But honestly, I always treated them as just part of the culture—old stories, nothing more. Until last year. I live in a small village not far from Yogyakarta. I have a motorbike, and sometimes at night I visit a friend in a neighboring village. It’s about a 25-minute ride, through rice fields and a stretch of old forest. The road is narrow, the asphalt is uneven in places, but I’ve taken it hundreds of times. That night felt normal. It was around 9:30 PM—already dark, but not completely, because the moon was almost full. I was heading home from my friend’s place when, about halfway through the route—right where the forest begins—I noticed something strange: it was too quiet. It’s hard to explain. Usually at night you still hear things— insects, crickets, sometimes dogs in the distance. But this time it was like… someone had turned all the sound off. At first, I didn’t think much of it. But a couple of minutes later, I saw someone standing in the middle of the road. That was already unusual. No one really walks there at night. I slowed down and got closer. It was a man, dressed normally—a shirt and pants. He was standing with his back to me, completely still. I stopped about five meters away and called out, “Hey, are you okay?” No response. Nothing at all. I thought maybe he was drunk or not feeling well. I turned off the engine and started walking toward him. That’s when things got strange. Every step I took forward, it felt like the distance between us didn’t change. I stepped again—same thing. It was like he stayed exactly where he was, even though I was clearly moving closer. I stopped. At that moment, he began to turn his head… very slowly. Not his body—just his head. And the way it moved… it wasn’t right. Too slow, and at an angle I can’t really describe. I didn’t wait for him to fully turn around. Suddenly I had a strong feeling that I needed to leave. Not even fear exactly—more like instinct. I quickly turned back, started my motorbike, and sped off. After about 20 or 30 meters, I heard footsteps behind me. At first soft, then faster. I looked in the mirror—and I saw him. He was walking behind me. Not running. Just walking… but getting closer. I accelerated as much as I could. The road doesn’t allow high speed, but I pushed it anyway. I checked the mirror again—he was closer now. And that’s when I noticed something that still scares me: his legs weren’t moving the way they should. It was like… he was gliding. I don’t know how long it lasted—maybe 20 seconds, maybe a minute. Then suddenly, the sound stopped. I looked back again—no one there. I didn’t stop until I was out of the forest. Only when I got closer to the village did I finally stop and realize my hands were shaking. I went home and didn’t tell anyone. I thought maybe I was just tired, or imagining things. But a few days later, I noticed something else. On the back of my motorbike, there were marks—like dirty handprints. Not mine—I know where I usually hold. These were higher… and the fingers looked longer. I later asked my friend, carefully, if he had ever seen anyone on that road at night. He said he tries not to go that way after dark. I asked why. He just said, “Just don’t go there at night.” Since then, I never take that road at night anymore. During the day, everything feels normal. But every time I pass that part of the forest, I get this strange feeling… like someone is watching me from behind. I know this sounds made up. I’m not trying to convince anyone. I just wanted to share it, because even now, I still can’t explain what I saw that night.