[SERIOUS] What was your creepy, unexplainable story as a child that was confirmed by your parents to have happened?

When I was a kid my family lived in a blue house that was oddly shaped. One year the house got completed gutted and nearly destroyed by a flood and they had to knock down a wall between the living room and kitchen. So after the flood, you could see all the way down the hall to my parent’s bedroom door. This house is/was… strange for lack of a better term.

I was a terrible sleeper as a kid and would routinely wake up and just go into the living room and watch cartoons on low volume if I couldn’t go back to sleep. One morning I’m out in the living room sitting across the chair with my feet up on a window. Don’t ask me why, I was a stupid eight or nine year old.

From where the chair was, I could see just over the kitchen counter down that hall to my parents room. A movement caught my eye. I looked up and saw the shadowy outline of a man walking towards me, kind of near to my parents door. Thinking it was my dad I said something like, “hey dad sorry if the tv was too loud” (dad is a notoriously light sleeper and would wake up from anything).

Except there was no response. Within seconds my foot ends up going through the window (again not sure if this is related or I was a dumb kid – likely the latter) and I scream, and my parents actually wake up to figure out what’s going on at 430 in the morning. At this point I’m preoccupied, but realize much later that I DEFINITELY saw the outline of a man, but there was no way it was my dad because A. he came bounding out of their bedroom after my scream and B. I realized the shoulders of that outline were MUCH higher than what my dad’s would’ve been.

Fast forward to a few years ago, we’ve moved far away from the blue house, and my mom and I are hanging out and catching up. For some reason the blue house comes up and I tell mom that the place still gave me creeps and weird stuff happened there when I was a kid.

Moms response? Oh! You must’ve saw the shadow man too.

In Mom’s seaside hometown, there was an offshore decommissioned lighthouse.

Even though utilities to it had long been shut off and the lighthouse was locked, it would randomly light up – clearly visible in all directions.

No one could explain it. It happened so infrequently and at odd hours of the night that by the time officials examined the structure, there were no signs of activity.

To this day, as I’ve mentioned here once before, the lighthouse remains mysterious and a bit creepy.

The shoelace.

I woke up one morning and the shoelace from one of my sneakers had completely vanished.

Just on one shoe. The lace on the other shoe was still there. I do not ever remove the laces of my shoes. The shoes were right beside me by my bed all night. I have always, always been a ridiculously light sleeper. The slightest sound wakes me up – nothing woke me that night. Moreover, the door was closed to my room, the floorboards creaked whenever anyone stepped on them, and the room was small. I 100% would have noticed someone coming in.

Nothing else was disturbed in the entire house. Nothing had been moved or taken, no signs of forced entry. My mum noticed nothing all night. She also has no sense of humour. There was nobody in the house aside from me and her, and nobody but us had the keys. We didn’t have mice, and there were no traces of the missing lace anyway.

There is absolutely NO way that shoelace could have gone missing.

My mum remembers it well, but as soon as I mention it she immediately doesn’t want to talk about it because it freaks her out.

Either somebody broke into the house and did NOTHING except take a single shoelace, or the house was haunted and a ghost took it.

When I was 9 or 10 my dad took me to visit with an older hunting buddy friend of his. My parents were divorced and my dad lived in another part of the country, so while I had known this guy since I was a toddler I didn’t share the same common interests as either of them. The older friend was a gun dealer and had lots of catalogs (this was before the internet was in wide use) to order bullets, magazines, guns, etc and they often spent hours going through listings to determine what they wanted to order. We got there fairly early and my dad said that after an hour or two we’d all go to Hardees for breakfast before going to shoot clay birds.

Now I’m a youngin, I don’t care much about guns or hunting for sport and am just incredibly bored so I start wandering around the house, reading my video game magazines that I brought with me and very quickly that hour or two has passed and they’re still down there. I ask if they’re going to leave any time soon and the friend suggests I check the refrigerator in the kitchen and see if there’s anything I want to eat.

I look through the fridge and find nothing… however on the kitchen table I see an apple and decide that will be appetizing enough to hold me over. As I pick up the apple and prepare to take a bite, at that point his wife steps in and tells me “don’t eat that. everything in the bowl is wax!” I tell her thank you for warning me and continue to wander around the house burning time until we can get going. Maybe another 30 minutes later I go back to the basement where they’re going through catalogs and ask when we are going to Hardee’s. My dads friend asks if I’m still hungry after going through their fridge. I tell him that I was going to eat an apple but his wife told me it was wax before I made the mistake. Both of them give me a blank stare and after about 20 seconds of shock my dad explains that his wife recently passed away. I then go back through the house to try to find her to show that they were just joking with me but sure enough she was nowhere to be found. Roughly 30 years later before he passed away my dad still insisted that I must have imagined it. But I didn’t, she told me not to eat the wax fruit.

So I don’t actually remember this but my mom told me about it. My grandfather died when I was a year old. Prior to his death, he loved to play with me and would make me laugh in this very specific way. The night he died, my mom heard me making noise. So she goes in assuming I’m crying but I’m not. I’m staring at the ceiling, laughing hysterically just like my grandfather used to make me laugh. She’s still convinced he came to say goodbye to me.