50 People On ‘The Creepy Story I Could Never Fully Explain’



In 1998 I was in an old hotel in Florence with a friend. Our beds were at the top of a small staircase.

It was the middle of the night when I woke up to the sound of the stairs creaking and opened my eyes. I saw my friend in his bed and a silhouette of a person on the stairs. I saw the figure slowly creeping up the stairs and thought to myself : a burglar! I am going to scare this asshole!

I readied my watch underneath the covers and when he got to the top of the stairs I hit him with the watch light. But in the light it was clear there was no one there.

I turned the light off and sure enough that burglar was climbing the stairs again. I again readied my watch and this time I was sure I was too fast for him to escape but in the cold blue light there was no one there.

This game went on for a while, me forcing him down the stairs and him creeping back up in the dark.

Eventually I decided I was going to throw a book at him in the dark, but when I did, it went right through him. He finally got to the top of the stairs and started going back down.

Convinced now that this burglar must simply be an optical illusion, i went to sleep.

The next morning however my friend asked me, “dude, why were you going up and down the stairs all night?”



When I went to sleep, (I have no health problems) I had a dream that I was being kidnapped and the kidnapper stabbed my leg. I woke up in agony, with a little bit of blood trickling down my leg. I still don’t know what happened.



Similar thing happened to my friends family. His dad and a few of his buddies has gone on a skidoo trip. My friends family were all eating dinner together and my friends grand-mother (the mother of his dad) suddenly said “Something is wrong with [friends dad].” Turns out he fell off a cliff on his skidoo and broke his back.



When I was younger I would lay in bed awake for a while after it was my bed time. Sometimes I would think, other times I would sneak reading or something.

This time I was thinking about my dad and I started crying. Sobbing really. “They’re going to get him, they’re going to hurt my daddy.” My little hysterical fit ended when I fell asleep and I didn’t think of it until years later until after he was murdered.

Sometimes I wonder if I should have warned him or if it would have helped at all.


About the author

Chrissy Stockton

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