As for the creepiest place I’ve ever been in, for a while it was my own room. I’d gotten this model skeleton-thing, and for some reason I’d painted it red. Not a good idea, and the nightlight just made that thing look SCARIER.

I concur–cliffhangers are bomb.

I’ve got some out of the 2p pusher machines. So they stink of 30 year old coins and bad plastic. Their eyes tend to fall off as well. But I love the little guys. Especially the purple one whos face is welled up so he looks as though he was stung by bees.

I’m really enjoying reading everyone’s creepy place stories. I can’t really think of anything that was all that scary to me. Dark places, places with weird things, nothing too special. I was reminded this week of the time we (as a family) went to the Michigan Mystery Spot, and that was the most freaked out I’ve ever been. I was really little and I just kept falling down, so I sat on the ground and cried for a while. That was unsettling, but not creepy.

1: The house I lived in, in Battersea, Ont. Built in the 1800’s sometime, and been in the family since. I lived there between the ages of 7 and 1/2 and 9. It didn’t have a basement. Heeck no. It had a cellar. It had 2 cellars. One for root veggies and such, with an opening to the outside. The other was where the furnace had been installed, and the only way in was though a door in the kitchen, next to the sink, and down a flight of steap stairs (so steap it was almost vertical) I wasn’t allowed in either one, for fear I would fall and kill myself (amen to that. I’m not known for my grace and fleetness of foot, and never have been) But, I did not want, nor to this day would want, to go in that cellar. Every day and night there would be eerie moans (not the wind, it was human in nature, and I could tell that), a putrid smell, and a dark shadow that prowled, yes prowled, at the bottom of the stairs. And let me tell you, its scarey when, in a fit of rebellion against the ‘No-going-in-the-cellar’ rule, you open the door to try and see part of the darkness at the bottom moving. I couldn’t sleep without the light on for weeks (to my older sister’s utter disgust) thinking that the shadow was going to come and eat me.
There was also what my grandmother called ‘the back room’. It was upstairs at the back of the house, just off the landing at the top of the stairs. It was big enough to house a whole family if you cared to put that many people in there. It didn’t use to have an entrance in the upstairs at all, just one that led down a flight of cramped, twisting stairs to a hidden panel door in the kitchen, which we used to shove out winter coats in (something about that house and hidden doors, you see. In the back parlour, there was a hidden door that led to my alcoholic great uncle’s booze and hooch pantry, but I digress) You could hear noises at night coming from that back room. Thumps like the footsteps of a heavy person wandering back and forth, squeeking springs like someone getting in and out of an old bed, and someone whistling. Hearing that at night was scarey. Not even the joys [sarcasm] of a Pepto-Bismol pink bedroom could sweeten me to living there. There was also a railing around the stairs on the second floor that was too short to be for safety. It was okay for a small child, but it barely came up to an adult’s knees. Someone in my family a few generations back toppled over and broke their neck and snuffed it. I’d like to call him, who might be the entity, Bill for lack of better knowledge.
I celebrated the day we moved out and back to the city. And partied even harder when Grandma moved out, too, and sold the house.

2: The old medical building on the grounds of the pstchiatric hospital. This place is old. Older than dirt. Even older. Well, I’m exagerating a bit here, but it IS old enough to be boarded up, have a metal security fence and numerous signs stating Unsafe, Keep Out, Do Not Enter, Tresspassers Will Be Prosecuted…You get the picture. It’s one of those historically protected buildings that probably would have been torn down but for it’s immunity. People are allowed to wander the grounds of the psychiatric hospital, enjoy the gardens, go walking, etc. I do quite often, usually along the waterfront behind the grounds. And to get to the waterfront paths, the most direct path means walking right by this building. One night, I didn’t get to my walk until after twilight. I happened to glance up and just about wet myself. There was a flickering light in one of the rooms, and it went from room to room and back to where it started. I would have run but there’s something about fear that makes your feet freeze to the ground like ice, right? A face appeared at the room, with long, stringy dark hair, and a hand on the window pane (that’s all I could make out) The light went out after that, but it didn’t just go out, it faded out. I turned around and ran, deciding that a walk that night wouldn’t be such a good idea. I haven’t gone back after dark since. There’s no electricity in this building, so it couldn’t have been that. And there’s no way into the building (everything is sealed), so it wasn’t a security guard with a flashlight (as far as I know, the standard issue flashlights I’ve seen the security guards on the property use have a stright beam of light, nothing that would flicker) or a prankster (afterall, the place is sealed tighter than a drum, and why would they pick such a random night to prank, if they weren’t sure that anyone would come by)So that was pretty scary.