8. Eleanor Sinclair
I grew up in a small town. One of those quiet country places where the tallest building is four stories high, and the grand opening of a Starbucks makes the front page of the local paper. It’s right next to a reservoir and dam that’s faithfully supplied the town for a little over a century now, with both water and myth.
Construction started on the lake in 1904, overseen by Thomas Sinclair. He brought his family on site one day. It was meant to be a short visit, but as they stood on the partially finished dam, the brick gave way. The youngest of Sinclair’s children, Eleanor, fell in. Construction was halted, and they searched the lake for weeks for any sign- clothes, remains, but nothing showed up.
Sinclair and his family left after years of searching and mourning, and the dam would wait nearly a decade before it was finished.
The real drama isn’t a thing we have to worry about here. Other than David Myers getting addicted to narcotics a few years back, our lives are fairly quaint. So the urban legends that grow from our humble pasts become the lifeblood for us.
We occasionally get ghost hunters that bring their hodgepodge equipment, trying to contact poor Eleanor. Her ghost has been said to be seen on dozens of occasions, even my grandpa told me and my brothers’ stories about her. Stuff like if you stand on the dam and scream “Eleanor Sinclair, I release you from your torment!” and jump into the reservoir, she’s said to appear, bloody and mangled beneath the murky waters. Sometimes, you wait until Halloween. Sometimes, the magic hour is 11:34 pm, and in others, it’s 3 am on Sunday mornings.
Everyone’s tried one method at least once, myself included. “Just scream it. Like your pa said.” Wilson nudged me as we stood on the dam for what was probably the hundredth time in our lives.
“That ain’t gonna work, I tried before.” I nudged back. “It’s all bullshit.” Michael scoffed and walked away.
We nodded and followed, but the brick under my foot crumbled and I plummeted into the lake…
The drop was maybe ten feet, so other than the initial shock, I was fine. But as I was submerged underwater, I felt a level of unease I never felt before. I didn’t want to make sense of it so I swam for the edge, my friends already waiting for me with giant grins on their stupid faces. They pulled me out, telling me how dumb I looked. I let them have it, even indulging them with the unease I felt underwater.
What I didn’t tell them was the flash of golden blonde hair I saw as it flowed in the waves. Nor did I tell them I felt a tug on my shoe as I swam for them. And I definitely didn’t tell them the faint whisper of “please don’t leave me here” as they pulled me from the water.
Posted by u/johnnyohdear
9. This new house
We bought an old house, my boyfriend and I. He’s in charge of the “new” construction – converting the kitchen into the master bedroom for instance, while I’m on wallpaper removal duty. The previous owner papered EVERY wall and CEILING! Removing it is brutal but oddly satisfying. The best feeling is getting a long peel, similar to your skin when you’re peeling from a sunburn. I don’t know about you but I kinda make a game of peeling, on the hunt for the longest piece before it rips.
Under a corner section of paper in every room are a person’s name and a date. Curiosity got the best of me one night when I Googled one of the names and discovered the person was actually a missing person, the missing date matching the date under the wallpaper!
The next day, I made a list of all the names and dates. Sure enough, each name was for a missing person with dates to match. We notified the police who naturally sent out the crime scene team.
I overheard one tech say “yup, it’s human.” Human? What’s human? “Ma’am, where is the material you removed from the walls already? This isn’t wallpaper you were removing.”
Posted by BatoutofHell821