Wife humping on bed

hello, i'm a 15 year old girl. i'll try to make this short. my biological dad divorced my mom when i was just born with an eviction note.
when i was 6 my mom remarried. he became my stepdad and at first seemed to be a good person. he would play with me, treat me kindly, and insisted that i called him dad, it wasn't comfortable at first then i decided ok i'll just call u dad. soon enough i was reciprocating by making him drawings and hugging him (i was never a words person).
his family are horrible people however. they did not like me (a child at the time.. mind you..) nor my mother. so his family, especially his mom, wanted to sabotage everything for whatever reasoning those kinds of weird people have trying to sabotage people's lives. she would say weird things to my mom and try to make my mom and stepdad not get close to each other. she would have my stepdad's brothers scare me into locking myself in my room. more and more of these stupid fucking antics. she even made my mom QUIT HER JOB.
to make it short, after that things went even more downhill and they started involving me. saying they should take me to live with my dad although my mom literally had custody of me. my mom lost her whole life. mom and stepdad kept arguing and he would hit her. i was always mad at this and in my room would take anger and sadness out on by writing or on my toys by ripping their heads off or throwing them at the wall and breaking them.
soon enough i watched my stepdad turn into an abusive pothead as his family kept twisting and turning things. he was always high and never spent time at home. soon enough barely saw him and when he did come home he was always angry and abusive and causing a mess. i lashed out and became extremely rebellious. stepdad was always letting his anger out on me and abusing me verbally so i started taking that out on others and bullying anyone who pissed me off. i punched a girl's forehead. once started crying and made the whole class a mess kicking the chairs and desks while screaming over and over "why is my life like this?" this was in 4th grade or something. i endlessly tormented a girl i was jealous of. my behavior made it harder for my mom and stepdad as my mom was always getting calls and emails due to my troubled behavior. my stepdad bullied me more and more as i got depressed. i started being mean to him and being contrary to him. i'd lock myself in my room and work out for hours and listen to music to escape my mom and stepdad.
when we were at a restaurant the way my face looked pissed him off so he spat on me. because of this i felt there was something wrong with me and thought about dying to make everyone regret what they did. a lot of times i threatened to run away from home. i developed an addiction to my phone and it was the only thing that soothed me from all the problems around me and with his stupid family that i couldn't understand. one day he had hit my mother with a wire and her thighs were purple. soon he came home and got mad at me and my mom and pushed us both on the bed and he started yelling at us and no matter how much we cried he spat on me. he broke a lamp in my room. i just grew more and more depressed and detached and was always walking around like a zombie. so numb. so much memories are left out blurred and unmentioned because i just can't remember things from how traumatizing those times were.
my mom divorced him in 2020. a lot of times she lashes out at me and says "it's all my fault" just because i didn't try to appease him and didn't act like i was okay with his abuse to "make things go nicely". am i in the fucking wrong?! so you want me to be ok living with this shit? my mom stopped yelling at me over this in early 2023 and we've all been much more free and happier since the divorce. he cried and told my mom sorry 🤣🤣 as if that's gonna do shit
he also admitted he was jealous of me because he had mommy issues and was looking for a mother in my mom, rather than a wife.
anyways i dont care that he had a troubled childhood. I seriously have no remorse or empathy on what happens to him before or after. I genuinely dont give a fuck. I hope he dies.
i do sometimes wonder if i'm in the wrong for reacting against his abuse towards my mom (as i said my reactions against my mom and stepdads fights were severe. it was an extreme behavioral problem where i would do crazy things like beat people or pull up a knife at someone or treat anyone who treats me bad horribly, be very defiant to people, etc), rather than trying to appease him and everyone else so that hopefully things can "get better". nowadays i dont feel bad for it. but i do wonder if i was bad for reacting very extremely against everything. rather than being "okay with it🩷🩷💘💘". tell me if im in the wrong please.

Like all haunted house stories, this took place right after I moved in. Cliché, right? My wife and I saved up enough money from our rental to finally put down on a house of our own. So we moved in and everything seemed right...at first.
It wasn’t until later that I realized there were warning signs. The seller seemed really anxious to close, and we were offered a much cheaper price than we expected for the space we got. While there was a moment of doubt, we brushed it off as some weird circumstance that ended in a great deal for us.
How could we possibly pass that up?
The strange occurrences were small at first. I would be up late watching TV and swore I heard something. I’d pause the show and make out what sounded like dragging noises. After investigating, I wouldn’t find anything. Even stranger was that no matter where I walked in the house, the noise always sounded the same distance away. When I focused on it, I noticed the particular noise was rhythmic.
Tap, tap...sliiiiiiide.
It was like that every single time. My wife never heard it, it was only me. None of us believe in ghosts, mind you. But as I said before it was a small thing, so I brushed it off.
One night, I woke up in a startle. I listened intently but could hear nothing. I decided to grab a late night snack from the kitchen since I was awake anyway.
Halfway down the hall, I heard something. This time, it sounded like dirt being sifted und. I knelt down and swore that the sound was louder. Before I knew it, I had my ear pressed to the hardwood floor, listening intently.
Schht, schht.....sccchhhhhhh...
I jumped up from the floor. It was that same pattern of noises, but this time it sounded like someone in the dirt. Trying to ignore the chills washing over me, I took a step towards the kitchen when…
…something grabbed my ankle.
I fell forward, almost busting my chin on the floor.
“What the...”
Flipping over, I turned to face my assailant, but there was no one behind me. I brushed it off and chalked it up to poor balance from a sleep-hangover. My wife got a good chuckle out of that one.
After that, the house began to feel.....heavier. It was this weight over me that would come and go. This was accompanied by feeling cold no matter how much we turned up the heat, and this was the middle of the summer. Even stranger, the cold seemed to only be in certain spots, particularly on the floor itself. I liked to walk around barefoot no matter what time of year it was, but it was even too cold for me.
Another night, I woke up again. My ears stood at attention, but couldn’t hear any evidence of what woke me up. I got up just like before, except I never made it to the kitchen.
I only made if halfway down our hall before I suddenly felt a horrible pain in my right leg. I had to limp to keep moving, then my other leg was wracked with a wave of pain. It was so bad I found myself face down on the ground, writhing in agony.
Then I heard it again…that awful succession of noises.
Tap, tap....sliiiiiide.
The sliding sound was coming from the hardwood floor this time, not from underneath. And the sound was getting closer and closer until...
I watched in horror as a hand came around the corner in front of me. It was soon joined by another, and they tugged at the floor. My heart hammered in my chest as a person slowly came into view.
It was a woman with long black hair, her disheveled clothing smeared with dirt and hanging off in shreds. Her mouth was crudely stitched shut. She looked up at me with empty, lost eyes and I instantly felt a lifetime of pain and misery. It took my breath away, and I had to focus on my breathing to keep myself from fainting.
Tap, tap....sliiiiiide.
That awful sound repeated as she grabbed the floor and pulled herself towards me. I was in a terrified trance, eyes locked with her as she slowly closed the distance. I could now see that she dragged herself because her legs were horribly mangled. A low moan emanated from her throat, sending ice through my veins.
Her very presence seemed to drain me, and I couldn’t move no matter how hard I tried. She made this awful gurgling sound as she got within arm’s reach. In seconds, her face was right up to mine. I tried to scream, but couldn’t make any sound.
Then...I woke up.
“AAAAHHhhh!” I shouted as I sprang up in bed.
My wife tried to console me, but it did very little. I’d never had a dream that felt so real before. Shaking, I walked out into the hallway where I had collapsed in my dream. I put a hand on the floor, expecting it to be freezing cold as usual.
But it was warm...
“Honey?” I felt the soft hand of my wife touch my shoulder.
“What’s going on? You look white as a sheet.”
“I’m okay...I just...”
On the floor in front me, I noticed the faint trace of fingernail marks.
“Was that there before?” My wife inquired.
“I’m...I’m not sure.”
“Let’s go back to bed. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow.”
I tried to hold back my stubborn expression, but she still saw it.
“C’mon, you need to rest.”
With an exasperated exhale, I went back to bed with the strange occurrence replaying incessantly in my brain.
In the morning, I told my wife about all the strange experiences. To my shock she actually believed me.
“What do you want to do, then?” She asked.
“Well...I have a theory I want to check out.”
“Theory of what?”
“Well, let’s just say that ghosts exist, and there are certain reasons why they haunt certain places. If that is true then...I think there could be a body in our crawlspace.”
“What, are you crazy?”
“I know how it sounds, but what would it hurt to look?”
“You really think there’s something down there?”
“More someone, but I’m not sure to be honest. Hopefully I can get a confirmation either way it goes.”
That afternoon, I found myself standing at the door to our crawlspace. It felt ridiculous, but so many details pointed to it. The sounds and cold spots were all related to the floor. The ghastly woman’s clothes were smeared with dirt. It was obscure, but it was all I had to go on.
I had to pry the door open with a crowbar, but I managed after a minute or two. A wave of unnatural cold air blasted me, so strong that I had to throw on a coat just to stop from shivering so badly.
I clicked on my flashlight, illuminating the eerie underbelly of our home. The dirt sifted under my feet as I crouch-walked around. After hearing it, it only confirmed what I thought I heard from under the floor.
Expecting to see more, I was almost disappointed that the crawlspace was completely bare. Not believing it entirely, I shined my light around more. The back part of the crawlspace led to concrete and it was there that I noticed one section of the wall looked different than the rest.
Hands quivering, I pushed against the section of concrete and felt it shift under the pressure. It continued to wobble around in place the more I pushed. Holding my flashlight between my teeth, I had to use both hands to pry the piece away from the wall. To my astonishment, it pulled away very easily. It was no coincidence that the section of wall fit the hole exactly, like a puzzle piece.
After leaning the piece of concrete against the wall, I found that the concrete was covering a door with a padlock.
There’s no way anything good is behind this...
Minutes later, I returned to the mysterious door with a pair of bolt cutters. I debated whether or not I’d go in. There was no reason I shouldn’t satisfy my curiosity, because if there wasn’t anything then great, but if there was something terrible, I’d simply have to deal with it. Either way, I had to know.
I clipped the metal bar off the lock and it thudded softly to the dirt floor. Taking in a deep breath, I dared to aim my beam down the opening. The crawlspace extended much further into the house, and I had a good guess where it led. I now had to crawl on my hands and knees as a knot of dread formed in my stomach.
“You always tell people not to do this in movies, why are you doing this now??!” I chastised myself.
I knew all too well how stupid this was but the part of my brain that can’t look away from a car wreck pushed me to carry along regardless.
It was difficult to navigate with the flashlight and crawl. A mild claustrophobia settled in that pushed me along with a sense of urgency. The temperature couldn’t have been any more than a meatlocker. My hands shook despite my thick jacket. Eventually, I came to a dead end.
Is this all?
I stopped for a moment and checked around with my light some more, hoping a more thorough search would bear some fruit. Yet, there was nothing.
Sighing in frustration, I decided that perhaps I was losing my mind and was just having really vivid dreams after all. How could I have been so stupid?
I made it halfway across the hidden area when I felt my legs suddenly give out. They weren’t tired or sore before this. It was as if they stopped working of their own volition. I attempted to cry out, but my mouth felt as if some force held it closed.
Just like a stitched mouth...
One of the few things I could move was my neck and I turned to the side to see...
…a tuft of a blanket?
Due to the narrow space, I must have missed it. I slowly reached for it with all the internal alarms in my body going off at once. Ignoring the warning, I pulled the cloth back to reveal a skeletal hand.
In this moment of revulsion, something turned on my motor skills again as I regained control of my legs, crawling out of there as quickly as I could muster. Heaving, I stumbled out of the crawlspace and instantly felt the rise in temperature. I sat on the porch and stayed there as I called the police and explained the situation.
It turns out that one of the previous owners of the home was a major suspect in the disappearance of a young lady fifteen years ago. There wasn’t enough evidence to conduct a home search so they were never able to find the body. And what they found was something I wish I had never known.
From examining the body, they found that her captor had broken both of her legs so she couldn’t escape and sewn her mouth shut to keep her from screaming. It was hard to tell how long she’d been locked down there before she died, but they hypothesized it was a month or two. The cause of death was unclear. This was clearly enough to pursue the former owner.
When they picked him up, the guy tried to play the ignorance card, pretending as if he didn’t know what house they were referring to. This of course made it even more suspicious.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything concrete enough to tie him to her death...until they searched his current home. Blueprints of the home showed that the crawlspace was supposed to end ten feet where the concrete wall was. No contractors were hired to do any work on the home, so someone had personally busted it up and created the door going further in. The last part of it was the padlock on the door.
When the police searched the man’s home, they found a shoebox full of seemingly innocent keepsakes. Among the keepsakes were some heirlooms, pictures of close family members, and a key. As suspected, the key matched the padlock to the crawlspace door. It was apparently enough to make him crack. It wasn’t long before he confessed to the kidnapping and murder, albeit without a hint of remorse. Turns out the bastard kept the key as a sick trophy.
They even questioned him about other possible victims since this was a trait commonly shared by serial killers. He denied it, but the police couldn’t feel any truth from it. If anything they knew that they solved one case, put a guilty man behind bars, and put a family at peace. Justice was served and he was locked away for the rest of his miserable life. Poetic justice, if you ask me. The poor girl’s parents buried her remains on a family plot.
After all this, we had serious doubts about staying in the home. Knowing something this egregious happened in our home was almost unbearable. I can’t tell you how much we cried when we heard the story of what happened to that poor girl. We were on the brink of selling the house for about a week, but one night changed all that.
I woke up from a dream, one so vivid yet it somehow escaped my thoughts like a fistful of sand. There was a strange feeling in my gut as if something was going to happen.
It was neither good nor bad, just....strange.
After drinking a small glass of milk, I meandered down the hall and stopped in my tracks. A woman stood in front of me, half-transparent with a bluish luminescence. I felt as if I knew her, although I didn’t recognize her appearance at all. She smiled, and I instantly knew who she was. Compared to her previous horrific manifestation, the woman was almost unrecognizable.
Never speaking, she motioned to her legs and I saw that they were in perfect condition. In a mild state of shock, I managed to form a smile. She beamed even wider and ran her fingers across her lips, pointing out her lack of stitches. A blanket of warmth wrapped around me, and I couldn’t resist the salty tears that streamed down my face.
Right before she waved goodbye, a voice spoke within my mind.
"It’s over now. Thank you..."
She faded away, and for the first time since we moved into that house, all hints of the oppressive energy dissipated. That was the last time I ever saw her.
It’s been 30 years now, and we’re still in that house to this day...
May she continue to rest in peace...

Hello,
I’m trying to get the smell of dog out of my wife’s favorite throw blanket. I got it out of our storage unit the other day where it had been sitting in a trash bag for three months after we had to move out of our house in a rush. The blanket had been used by roommates for their bed where they slept with three dogs. Roommates never bathed their dogs and, based on how long my wife had been looking for the blanket before we found it while moving out, had been using it for a while without washing it.
I’ve washed the blanket on a heavy duty cycle with pre-wash using borax, liquid detergent , fabric softener, and the scent bead things. After drying it according to the tag, it isn’t stinky like when I got it from storage, but if I hold it to my face and smell, the dog scent is still there. Is there anything I can do?

My wife and I will be traveling across the US, and there will be a 3 hour time change forward. How have you handled that with nap/bed times, particularly for kids around ~10 months old? Is it like adults where you just have to push through it and fall asleep at the normal 7:30-8 bedtime, even if it’s 4:30-5 where you’re from?
Thanks for the insight. If you have any other travel tips that’s also appreciated, as well be on a plane for 4 hours.

Like all haunted house stories, this took place right after I moved in. Cliché, right? My wife and I saved up enough money from our rental to finally put down on a house of our own. So we moved in and everything seemed right...at first.
It wasn’t until later that I realized there were warning signs. The seller seemed really anxious to close, and we were offered a much cheaper price than we expected for the space we got. While there was a moment of doubt, we brushed it off as some weird circumstance that ended in a great deal for us.
How could we possibly pass that up?
The strange occurrences were small at first. I would be up late watching TV and swore I heard something. I’d pause the show and make out what sounded like dragging noises. After investigating, I wouldn’t find anything. Even stranger was that no matter where I walked in the house, the noise always sounded the same distance away. When I focused on it, I noticed the particular noise was rhythmic.
Tap, tap...sliiiiiiide.
It was like that every single time. My wife never heard it, it was only me. None of us believe in ghosts, mind you. But as I said before it was a small thing, so I brushed it off.
One night, I woke up in a startle. I listened intently but could hear nothing. I decided to grab a late night snack from the kitchen since I was awake anyway.
Halfway down the hall, I heard something. This time, it sounded like dirt being sifted und. I knelt down and swore that the sound was louder. Before I knew it, I had my ear pressed to the hardwood floor, listening intently.
Schht, schht.....sccchhhhhhh...
I jumped up from the floor. It was that same pattern of noises, but this time it sounded like someone in the dirt. Trying to ignore the chills washing over me, I took a step towards the kitchen when…
…something grabbed my ankle.
I fell forward, almost busting my chin on the floor.
“What the...”
Flipping over, I turned to face my assailant, but there was no one behind me. I brushed it off and chalked it up to poor balance from a sleep-hangover. My wife got a good chuckle out of that one.
After that, the house began to feel.....heavier. It was this weight over me that would come and go. This was accompanied by feeling cold no matter how much we turned up the heat, and this was the middle of the summer. Even stranger, the cold seemed to only be in certain spots, particularly on the floor itself. I liked to walk around barefoot no matter what time of year it was, but it was even too cold for me.
Another night, I woke up again. My ears stood at attention, but couldn’t hear any evidence of what woke me up. I got up just like before, except I never made it to the kitchen.
I only made if halfway down our hall before I suddenly felt a horrible pain in my right leg. I had to limp to keep moving, then my other leg was wracked with a wave of pain. It was so bad I found myself face down on the ground, writhing in agony.
Then I heard it again…that awful succession of noises.
Tap, tap....sliiiiiide.
The sliding sound was coming from the hardwood floor this time, not from underneath. And the sound was getting closer and closer until...
I watched in horror as a hand came around the corner in front of me. It was soon joined by another, and they tugged at the floor. My heart hammered in my chest as a person slowly came into view.
It was a woman with long black hair, her disheveled clothing smeared with dirt and hanging off in shreds. Her mouth was crudely stitched shut. She looked up at me with empty, lost eyes and I instantly felt a lifetime of pain and misery. It took my breath away, and I had to focus on my breathing to keep myself from fainting.
Tap, tap....sliiiiiide.
That awful sound repeated as she grabbed the floor and pulled herself towards me. I was in a terrified trance, eyes locked with her as she slowly closed the distance. I could now see that she dragged herself because her legs were horribly mangled. A low moan emanated from her throat, sending ice through my veins.
Her very presence seemed to drain me, and I couldn’t move no matter how hard I tried. She made this awful gurgling sound as she got within arm’s reach. In seconds, her face was right up to mine. I tried to scream, but couldn’t make any sound.
Then...I woke up.
“AAAAHHhhh!” I shouted as I sprang up in bed.
My wife tried to console me, but it did very little. I’d never had a dream that felt so real before. Shaking, I walked out into the hallway where I had collapsed in my dream. I put a hand on the floor, expecting it to be freezing cold as usual.
But it was warm...
“Honey?” I felt the soft hand of my wife touch my shoulder.
“What’s going on? You look white as a sheet.”
“I’m okay...I just...”
On the floor in front me, I noticed the faint trace of fingernail marks.
“Was that there before?” My wife inquired.
“I’m...I’m not sure.”
“Let’s go back to bed. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow.”
I tried to hold back my stubborn expression, but she still saw it.
“C’mon, you need to rest.”
With an exasperated exhale, I went back to bed with the strange occurrence replaying incessantly in my brain.
In the morning, I told my wife about all the strange experiences. To my shock she actually believed me.
“What do you want to do, then?” She asked.
“Well...I have a theory I want to check out.”
“Theory of what?”
“Well, let’s just say that ghosts exist, and there are certain reasons why they haunt certain places. If that is true then...I think there could be a body in our crawlspace.”
“What, are you crazy?”
“I know how it sounds, but what would it hurt to look?”
“You really think there’s something down there?”
“More someone, but I’m not sure to be honest. Hopefully I can get a confirmation either way it goes.”
That afternoon, I found myself standing at the door to our crawlspace. It felt ridiculous, but so many details pointed to it. The sounds and cold spots were all related to the floor. The ghastly woman’s clothes were smeared with dirt. It was obscure, but it was all I had to go on.
I had to pry the door open with a crowbar, but I managed after a minute or two. A wave of unnatural cold air blasted me, so strong that I had to throw on a coat just to stop from shivering so badly.
I clicked on my flashlight, illuminating the eerie underbelly of our home. The dirt sifted under my feet as I crouch-walked around. After hearing it, it only confirmed what I thought I heard from under the floor.
Expecting to see more, I was almost disappointed that the crawlspace was completely bare. Not believing it entirely, I shined my light around more. The back part of the crawlspace led to concrete and it was there that I noticed one section of the wall looked different than the rest.
Hands quivering, I pushed against the section of concrete and felt it shift under the pressure. It continued to wobble around in place the more I pushed. Holding my flashlight between my teeth, I had to use both hands to pry the piece away from the wall. To my astonishment, it pulled away very easily. It was no coincidence that the section of wall fit the hole exactly, like a puzzle piece.
After leaning the piece of concrete against the wall, I found that the concrete was covering a door with a padlock.
There’s no way anything good is behind this...
Minutes later, I returned to the mysterious door with a pair of bolt cutters. I debated whether or not I’d go in. There was no reason I shouldn’t satisfy my curiosity, because if there wasn’t anything then great, but if there was something terrible, I’d simply have to deal with it. Either way, I had to know.
I clipped the metal bar off the lock and it thudded softly to the dirt floor. Taking in a deep breath, I dared to aim my beam down the opening. The crawlspace extended much further into the house, and I had a good guess where it led. I now had to crawl on my hands and knees as a knot of dread formed in my stomach.
“You always tell people not to do this in movies, why are you doing this now??!” I chastised myself.
I knew all too well how stupid this was but the part of my brain that can’t look away from a car wreck pushed me to carry along regardless.
It was difficult to navigate with the flashlight and crawl. A mild claustrophobia settled in that pushed me along with a sense of urgency. The temperature couldn’t have been any more than a meatlocker. My hands shook despite my thick jacket. Eventually, I came to a dead end.
Is this all?
I stopped for a moment and checked around with my light some more, hoping a more thorough search would bear some fruit. Yet, there was nothing.
Sighing in frustration, I decided that perhaps I was losing my mind and was just having really vivid dreams after all. How could I have been so stupid?
I made it halfway across the hidden area when I felt my legs suddenly give out. They weren’t tired or sore before this. It was as if they stopped working of their own volition. I attempted to cry out, but my mouth felt as if some force held it closed.
Just like a stitched mouth...
One of the few things I could move was my neck and I turned to the side to see...
…a tuft of a blanket?
Due to the narrow space, I must have missed it. I slowly reached for it with all the internal alarms in my body going off at once. Ignoring the warning, I pulled the cloth back to reveal a skeletal hand.
In this moment of revulsion, something turned on my motor skills again as I regained control of my legs, crawling out of there as quickly as I could muster. Heaving, I stumbled out of the crawlspace and instantly felt the rise in temperature. I sat on the porch and stayed there as I called the police and explained the situation.
It turns out that one of the previous owners of the home was a major suspect in the disappearance of a young lady fifteen years ago. There wasn’t enough evidence to conduct a home search so they were never able to find the body. And what they found was something I wish I had never known.
From examining the body, they found that her captor had broken both of her legs so she couldn’t escape and sewn her mouth shut to keep her from screaming. It was hard to tell how long she’d been locked down there before she died, but they hypothesized it was a month or two. The cause of death was unclear. This was clearly enough to pursue the former owner.
When they picked him up, the guy tried to play the ignorance card, pretending as if he didn’t know what house they were referring to. This of course made it even more suspicious.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything concrete enough to tie him to her death...until they searched his current home. Blueprints of the home showed that the crawlspace was supposed to end ten feet where the concrete wall was. No contractors were hired to do any work on the home, so someone had personally busted it up and created the door going further in. The last part of it was the padlock on the door.
When the police searched the man’s home, they found a shoebox full of seemingly innocent keepsakes. Among the keepsakes were some heirlooms, pictures of close family members, and a key. As suspected, the key matched the padlock to the crawlspace door. It was apparently enough to make him crack. It wasn’t long before he confessed to the kidnapping and murder, albeit without a hint of remorse. Turns out the bastard kept the key as a sick trophy.
They even questioned him about other possible victims since this was a trait commonly shared by serial killers. He denied it, but the police couldn’t feel any truth from it. If anything they knew that they solved one case, put a guilty man behind bars, and put a family at peace. Justice was served and he was locked away for the rest of his miserable life. Poetic justice, if you ask me. The poor girl’s parents buried her remains on a family plot.
After all this, we had serious doubts about staying in the home. Knowing something this egregious happened in our home was almost unbearable. I can’t tell you how much we cried when we heard the story of what happened to that poor girl. We were on the brink of selling the house for about a week, but one night changed all that.
I woke up from a dream, one so vivid yet it somehow escaped my thoughts like a fistful of sand. There was a strange feeling in my gut as if something was going to happen.
It was neither good nor bad, just....strange.
After drinking a small glass of milk, I meandered down the hall and stopped in my tracks. A woman stood in front of me, half-transparent with a bluish luminescence. I felt as if I knew her, although I didn’t recognize her appearance at all. She smiled, and I instantly knew who she was. Compared to her previous horrific manifestation, the woman was almost unrecognizable.
Never speaking, she motioned to her legs and I saw that they were in perfect condition. In a mild state of shock, I managed to form a smile. She beamed even wider and ran her fingers across her lips, pointing out her lack of stitches. A blanket of warmth wrapped around me, and I couldn’t resist the salty tears that streamed down my face.
Right before she waved goodbye, a voice spoke within my mind.
"It’s over now. Thank you..."
She faded away, and for the first time since we moved into that house, all hints of the oppressive energy dissipated. That was the last time I ever saw her.
It’s been 30 years now, and we’re still in that house to this day...
May she continue to rest in peace...

Like all haunted house stories, this took place right after I moved in. Cliché, right? My wife and I saved up enough money from our rental to finally put down on a house of our own. So we moved in and everything seemed right...at first.
It wasn’t until later that I realized there were warning signs. The seller seemed really anxious to close, and we were offered a much cheaper price than we expected for the space we got. While there was a moment of doubt, we brushed it off as some weird circumstance that ended in a great deal for us.
How could we possibly pass that up?
The strange occurrences were small at first. I would be up late watching TV and swore I heard something. I’d pause the show and make out what sounded like dragging noises. After investigating, I wouldn’t find anything. Even stranger was that no matter where I walked in the house, the noise always sounded the same distance away. When I focused on it, I noticed the particular noise was rhythmic.
Tap, tap...sliiiiiiide.
It was like that every single time. My wife never heard it, it was only me. None of us believe in ghosts, mind you. But as I said before it was a small thing, so I brushed it off.
One night, I woke up in a startle. I listened intently but could hear nothing. I decided to grab a late night snack from the kitchen since I was awake anyway.
Halfway down the hall, I heard something. This time, it sounded like dirt being sifted und. I knelt down and swore that the sound was louder. Before I knew it, I had my ear pressed to the hardwood floor, listening intently.
Schht, schht.....sccchhhhhhh...
I jumped up from the floor. It was that same pattern of noises, but this time it sounded like someone in the dirt. Trying to ignore the chills washing over me, I took a step towards the kitchen when…
…something grabbed my ankle.
I fell forward, almost busting my chin on the floor.
“What the...”
Flipping over, I turned to face my assailant, but there was no one behind me. I brushed it off and chalked it up to poor balance from a sleep-hangover. My wife got a good chuckle out of that one.
After that, the house began to feel.....heavier. It was this weight over me that would come and go. This was accompanied by feeling cold no matter how much we turned up the heat, and this was the middle of the summer. Even stranger, the cold seemed to only be in certain spots, particularly on the floor itself. I liked to walk around barefoot no matter what time of year it was, but it was even too cold for me.
Another night, I woke up again. My ears stood at attention, but couldn’t hear any evidence of what woke me up. I got up just like before, except I never made it to the kitchen.
I only made if halfway down our hall before I suddenly felt a horrible pain in my right leg. I had to limp to keep moving, then my other leg was wracked with a wave of pain. It was so bad I found myself face down on the ground, writhing in agony.
Then I heard it again…that awful succession of noises.
Tap, tap....sliiiiiide.
The sliding sound was coming from the hardwood floor this time, not from underneath. And the sound was getting closer and closer until...
I watched in horror as a hand came around the corner in front of me. It was soon joined by another, and they tugged at the floor. My heart hammered in my chest as a person slowly came into view.
It was a woman with long black hair, her disheveled clothing smeared with dirt and hanging off in shreds. Her mouth was crudely stitched shut. She looked up at me with empty, lost eyes and I instantly felt a lifetime of pain and misery. It took my breath away, and I had to focus on my breathing to keep myself from fainting.
Tap, tap....sliiiiiide.
That awful sound repeated as she grabbed the floor and pulled herself towards me. I was in a terrified trance, eyes locked with her as she slowly closed the distance. I could now see that she dragged herself because her legs were horribly mangled. A low moan emanated from her throat, sending ice through my veins.
Her very presence seemed to drain me, and I couldn’t move no matter how hard I tried. She made this awful gurgling sound as she got within arm’s reach. In seconds, her face was right up to mine. I tried to scream, but couldn’t make any sound.
Then...I woke up.
“AAAAHHhhh!” I shouted as I sprang up in bed.
My wife tried to console me, but it did very little. I’d never had a dream that felt so real before. Shaking, I walked out into the hallway where I had collapsed in my dream. I put a hand on the floor, expecting it to be freezing cold as usual.
But it was warm...
“Honey?” I felt the soft hand of my wife touch my shoulder.
“What’s going on? You look white as a sheet.”
“I’m okay...I just...”
On the floor in front me, I noticed the faint trace of fingernail marks.
“Was that there before?” My wife inquired.
“I’m...I’m not sure.”
“Let’s go back to bed. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow.”
I tried to hold back my stubborn expression, but she still saw it.
“C’mon, you need to rest.”
With an exasperated exhale, I went back to bed with the strange occurrence replaying incessantly in my brain.
In the morning, I told my wife about all the strange experiences. To my shock she actually believed me.
“What do you want to do, then?” She asked.
“Well...I have a theory I want to check out.”
“Theory of what?”
“Well, let’s just say that ghosts exist, and there are certain reasons why they haunt certain places. If that is true then...I think there could be a body in our crawlspace.”
“What, are you crazy?”
“I know how it sounds, but what would it hurt to look?”
“You really think there’s something down there?”
“More someone, but I’m not sure to be honest. Hopefully I can get a confirmation either way it goes.”
That afternoon, I found myself standing at the door to our crawlspace. It felt ridiculous, but so many details pointed to it. The sounds and cold spots were all related to the floor. The ghastly woman’s clothes were smeared with dirt. It was obscure, but it was all I had to go on.
I had to pry the door open with a crowbar, but I managed after a minute or two. A wave of unnatural cold air blasted me, so strong that I had to throw on a coat just to stop from shivering so badly.
I clicked on my flashlight, illuminating the eerie underbelly of our home. The dirt sifted under my feet as I crouch-walked around. After hearing it, it only confirmed what I thought I heard from under the floor.
Expecting to see more, I was almost disappointed that the crawlspace was completely bare. Not believing it entirely, I shined my light around more. The back part of the crawlspace led to concrete and it was there that I noticed one section of the wall looked different than the rest.
Hands quivering, I pushed against the section of concrete and felt it shift under the pressure. It continued to wobble around in place the more I pushed. Holding my flashlight between my teeth, I had to use both hands to pry the piece away from the wall. To my astonishment, it pulled away very easily. It was no coincidence that the section of wall fit the hole exactly, like a puzzle piece.
After leaning the piece of concrete against the wall, I found that the concrete was covering a door with a padlock.
There’s no way anything good is behind this...
Minutes later, I returned to the mysterious door with a pair of bolt cutters. I debated whether or not I’d go in. There was no reason I shouldn’t satisfy my curiosity, because if there wasn’t anything then great, but if there was something terrible, I’d simply have to deal with it. Either way, I had to know.
I clipped the metal bar off the lock and it thudded softly to the dirt floor. Taking in a deep breath, I dared to aim my beam down the opening. The crawlspace extended much further into the house, and I had a good guess where it led. I now had to crawl on my hands and knees as a knot of dread formed in my stomach.
“You always tell people not to do this in movies, why are you doing this now??!” I chastised myself.
I knew all too well how stupid this was but the part of my brain that can’t look away from a car wreck pushed me to carry along regardless.
It was difficult to navigate with the flashlight and crawl. A mild claustrophobia settled in that pushed me along with a sense of urgency. The temperature couldn’t have been any more than a meatlocker. My hands shook despite my thick jacket. Eventually, I came to a dead end.
Is this all?
I stopped for a moment and checked around with my light some more, hoping a more thorough search would bear some fruit. Yet, there was nothing.
Sighing in frustration, I decided that perhaps I was losing my mind and was just having really vivid dreams after all. How could I have been so stupid?
I made it halfway across the hidden area when I felt my legs suddenly give out. They weren’t tired or sore before this. It was as if they stopped working of their own volition. I attempted to cry out, but my mouth felt as if some force held it closed.
Just like a stitched mouth...
One of the few things I could move was my neck and I turned to the side to see...
…a tuft of a blanket?
Due to the narrow space, I must have missed it. I slowly reached for it with all the internal alarms in my body going off at once. Ignoring the warning, I pulled the cloth back to reveal a skeletal hand.
In this moment of revulsion, something turned on my motor skills again as I regained control of my legs, crawling out of there as quickly as I could muster. Heaving, I stumbled out of the crawlspace and instantly felt the rise in temperature. I sat on the porch and stayed there as I called the police and explained the situation.
It turns out that one of the previous owners of the home was a major suspect in the disappearance of a young lady fifteen years ago. There wasn’t enough evidence to conduct a home search so they were never able to find the body. And what they found was something I wish I had never known.
From examining the body, they found that her captor had broken both of her legs so she couldn’t escape and sewn her mouth shut to keep her from screaming. It was hard to tell how long she’d been locked down there before she died, but they hypothesized it was a month or two. The cause of death was unclear. This was clearly enough to pursue the former owner.
When they picked him up, the guy tried to play the ignorance card, pretending as if he didn’t know what house they were referring to. This of course made it even more suspicious.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything concrete enough to tie him to her death...until they searched his current home. Blueprints of the home showed that the crawlspace was supposed to end ten feet where the concrete wall was. No contractors were hired to do any work on the home, so someone had personally busted it up and created the door going further in. The last part of it was the padlock on the door.
When the police searched the man’s home, they found a shoebox full of seemingly innocent keepsakes. Among the keepsakes were some heirlooms, pictures of close family members, and a key. As suspected, the key matched the padlock to the crawlspace door. It was apparently enough to make him crack. It wasn’t long before he confessed to the kidnapping and murder, albeit without a hint of remorse. Turns out the bastard kept the key as a sick trophy.
They even questioned him about other possible victims since this was a trait commonly shared by serial killers. He denied it, but the police couldn’t feel any truth from it. If anything they knew that they solved one case, put a guilty man behind bars, and put a family at peace. Justice was served and he was locked away for the rest of his miserable life. Poetic justice, if you ask me. The poor girl’s parents buried her remains on a family plot.
After all this, we had serious doubts about staying in the home. Knowing something this egregious happened in our home was almost unbearable. I can’t tell you how much we cried when we heard the story of what happened to that poor girl. We were on the brink of selling the house for about a week, but one night changed all that.
I woke up from a dream, one so vivid yet it somehow escaped my thoughts like a fistful of sand. There was a strange feeling in my gut as if something was going to happen.
It was neither good nor bad, just....strange.
After drinking a small glass of milk, I meandered down the hall and stopped in my tracks. A woman stood in front of me, half-transparent with a bluish luminescence. I felt as if I knew her, although I didn’t recognize her appearance at all. She smiled, and I instantly knew who she was. Compared to her previous horrific manifestation, the woman was almost unrecognizable.
Never speaking, she motioned to her legs and I saw that they were in perfect condition. In a mild state of shock, I managed to form a smile. She beamed even wider and ran her fingers across her lips, pointing out her lack of stitches. A blanket of warmth wrapped around me, and I couldn’t resist the salty tears that streamed down my face.
Right before she waved goodbye, a voice spoke within my mind.
"It’s over now. Thank you..."
She faded away, and for the first time since we moved into that house, all hints of the oppressive energy dissipated. That was the last time I ever saw her.
It’s been 30 years now, and we’re still in that house to this day...
May she continue to rest in peace...

Like all haunted house stories, this took place right after I moved in. Cliché, right? My wife and I saved up enough money from our rental to finally put down on a house of our own. So we moved in and everything seemed right...at first.
It wasn’t until later that I realized there were warning signs. The seller seemed really anxious to close, and we were offered a much cheaper price than we expected for the space we got. While there was a moment of doubt, we brushed it off as some weird circumstance that ended in a great deal for us.
How could we possibly pass that up?
The strange occurrences were small at first. I would be up late watching TV and swore I heard something. I’d pause the show and make out what sounded like dragging noises. After investigating, I wouldn’t find anything. Even stranger was that no matter where I walked in the house, the noise always sounded the same distance away. When I focused on it, I noticed the particular noise was rhythmic.
Tap, tap...sliiiiiiide.
It was like that every single time. My wife never heard it, it was only me. None of us believe in ghosts, mind you. But as I said before it was a small thing, so I brushed it off.
One night, I woke up in a startle. I listened intently but could hear nothing. I decided to grab a late night snack from the kitchen since I was awake anyway.
Halfway down the hall, I heard something. This time, it sounded like dirt being sifted und. I knelt down and swore that the sound was louder. Before I knew it, I had my ear pressed to the hardwood floor, listening intently.
Schht, schht.....sccchhhhhhh...
I jumped up from the floor. It was that same pattern of noises, but this time it sounded like someone in the dirt. Trying to ignore the chills washing over me, I took a step towards the kitchen when…
…something grabbed my ankle.
I fell forward, almost busting my chin on the floor.
“What the...”
Flipping over, I turned to face my assailant, but there was no one behind me. I brushed it off and chalked it up to poor balance from a sleep-hangover. My wife got a good chuckle out of that one.
After that, the house began to feel.....heavier. It was this weight over me that would come and go. This was accompanied by feeling cold no matter how much we turned up the heat, and this was the middle of the summer. Even stranger, the cold seemed to only be in certain spots, particularly on the floor itself. I liked to walk around barefoot no matter what time of year it was, but it was even too cold for me.
Another night, I woke up again. My ears stood at attention, but couldn’t hear any evidence of what woke me up. I got up just like before, except I never made it to the kitchen.
I only made if halfway down our hall before I suddenly felt a horrible pain in my right leg. I had to limp to keep moving, then my other leg was wracked with a wave of pain. It was so bad I found myself face down on the ground, writhing in agony.
Then I heard it again…that awful succession of noises.
Tap, tap....sliiiiiide.
The sliding sound was coming from the hardwood floor this time, not from underneath. And the sound was getting closer and closer until...
I watched in horror as a hand came around the corner in front of me. It was soon joined by another, and they tugged at the floor. My heart hammered in my chest as a person slowly came into view.
It was a woman with long black hair, her disheveled clothing smeared with dirt and hanging off in shreds. Her mouth was crudely stitched shut. She looked up at me with empty, lost eyes and I instantly felt a lifetime of pain and misery. It took my breath away, and I had to focus on my breathing to keep myself from fainting.
Tap, tap....sliiiiiide.
That awful sound repeated as she grabbed the floor and pulled herself towards me. I was in a terrified trance, eyes locked with her as she slowly closed the distance. I could now see that she dragged herself because her legs were horribly mangled. A low moan emanated from her throat, sending ice through my veins.
Her very presence seemed to drain me, and I couldn’t move no matter how hard I tried. She made this awful gurgling sound as she got within arm’s reach. In seconds, her face was right up to mine. I tried to scream, but couldn’t make any sound.
Then...I woke up.
“AAAAHHhhh!” I shouted as I sprang up in bed.
My wife tried to console me, but it did very little. I’d never had a dream that felt so real before. Shaking, I walked out into the hallway where I had collapsed in my dream. I put a hand on the floor, expecting it to be freezing cold as usual.
But it was warm...
“Honey?” I felt the soft hand of my wife touch my shoulder.
“What’s going on? You look white as a sheet.”
“I’m okay...I just...”
On the floor in front me, I noticed the faint trace of fingernail marks.
“Was that there before?” My wife inquired.
“I’m...I’m not sure.”
“Let’s go back to bed. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow.”
I tried to hold back my stubborn expression, but she still saw it.
“C’mon, you need to rest.”
With an exasperated exhale, I went back to bed with the strange occurrence replaying incessantly in my brain.
In the morning, I told my wife about all the strange experiences. To my shock she actually believed me.
“What do you want to do, then?” She asked.
“Well...I have a theory I want to check out.”
“Theory of what?”
“Well, let’s just say that ghosts exist, and there are certain reasons why they haunt certain places. If that is true then...I think there could be a body in our crawlspace.”
“What, are you crazy?”
“I know how it sounds, but what would it hurt to look?”
“You really think there’s something down there?”
“More someone, but I’m not sure to be honest. Hopefully I can get a confirmation either way it goes.”
That afternoon, I found myself standing at the door to our crawlspace. It felt ridiculous, but so many details pointed to it. The sounds and cold spots were all related to the floor. The ghastly woman’s clothes were smeared with dirt. It was obscure, but it was all I had to go on.
I had to pry the door open with a crowbar, but I managed after a minute or two. A wave of unnatural cold air blasted me, so strong that I had to throw on a coat just to stop from shivering so badly.
I clicked on my flashlight, illuminating the eerie underbelly of our home. The dirt sifted under my feet as I crouch-walked around. After hearing it, it only confirmed what I thought I heard from under the floor.
Expecting to see more, I was almost disappointed that the crawlspace was completely bare. Not believing it entirely, I shined my light around more. The back part of the crawlspace led to concrete and it was there that I noticed one section of the wall looked different than the rest.
Hands quivering, I pushed against the section of concrete and felt it shift under the pressure. It continued to wobble around in place the more I pushed. Holding my flashlight between my teeth, I had to use both hands to pry the piece away from the wall. To my astonishment, it pulled away very easily. It was no coincidence that the section of wall fit the hole exactly, like a puzzle piece.
After leaning the piece of concrete against the wall, I found that the concrete was covering a door with a padlock.
There’s no way anything good is behind this...
Minutes later, I returned to the mysterious door with a pair of bolt cutters. I debated whether or not I’d go in. There was no reason I shouldn’t satisfy my curiosity, because if there wasn’t anything then great, but if there was something terrible, I’d simply have to deal with it. Either way, I had to know.
I clipped the metal bar off the lock and it thudded softly to the dirt floor. Taking in a deep breath, I dared to aim my beam down the opening. The crawlspace extended much further into the house, and I had a good guess where it led. I now had to crawl on my hands and knees as a knot of dread formed in my stomach.
“You always tell people not to do this in movies, why are you doing this now??!” I chastised myself.
I knew all too well how stupid this was but the part of my brain that can’t look away from a car wreck pushed me to carry along regardless.
It was difficult to navigate with the flashlight and crawl. A mild claustrophobia settled in that pushed me along with a sense of urgency. The temperature couldn’t have been any more than a meatlocker. My hands shook despite my thick jacket. Eventually, I came to a dead end.
Is this all?
I stopped for a moment and checked around with my light some more, hoping a more thorough search would bear some fruit. Yet, there was nothing.
Sighing in frustration, I decided that perhaps I was losing my mind and was just having really vivid dreams after all. How could I have been so stupid?
I made it halfway across the hidden area when I felt my legs suddenly give out. They weren’t tired or sore before this. It was as if they stopped working of their own volition. I attempted to cry out, but my mouth felt as if some force held it closed.
Just like a stitched mouth...
One of the few things I could move was my neck and I turned to the side to see...
…a tuft of a blanket?
Due to the narrow space, I must have missed it. I slowly reached for it with all the internal alarms in my body going off at once. Ignoring the warning, I pulled the cloth back to reveal a skeletal hand.
In this moment of revulsion, something turned on my motor skills again as I regained control of my legs, crawling out of there as quickly as I could muster. Heaving, I stumbled out of the crawlspace and instantly felt the rise in temperature. I sat on the porch and stayed there as I called the police and explained the situation.
It turns out that one of the previous owners of the home was a major suspect in the disappearance of a young lady fifteen years ago. There wasn’t enough evidence to conduct a home search so they were never able to find the body. And what they found was something I wish I had never known.
From examining the body, they found that her captor had broken both of her legs so she couldn’t escape and sewn her mouth shut to keep her from screaming. It was hard to tell how long she’d been locked down there before she died, but they hypothesized it was a month or two. The cause of death was unclear. This was clearly enough to pursue the former owner.
When they picked him up, the guy tried to play the ignorance card, pretending as if he didn’t know what house they were referring to. This of course made it even more suspicious.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything concrete enough to tie him to her death...until they searched his current home. Blueprints of the home showed that the crawlspace was supposed to end ten feet where the concrete wall was. No contractors were hired to do any work on the home, so someone had personally busted it up and created the door going further in. The last part of it was the padlock on the door.
When the police searched the man’s home, they found a shoebox full of seemingly innocent keepsakes. Among the keepsakes were some heirlooms, pictures of close family members, and a key. As suspected, the key matched the padlock to the crawlspace door. It was apparently enough to make him crack. It wasn’t long before he confessed to the kidnapping and murder, albeit without a hint of remorse. Turns out the bastard kept the key as a sick trophy.
They even questioned him about other possible victims since this was a trait commonly shared by serial killers. He denied it, but the police couldn’t feel any truth from it. If anything they knew that they solved one case, put a guilty man behind bars, and put a family at peace. Justice was served and he was locked away for the rest of his miserable life. Poetic justice, if you ask me. The poor girl’s parents buried her remains on a family plot.
After all this, we had serious doubts about staying in the home. Knowing something this egregious happened in our home was almost unbearable. I can’t tell you how much we cried when we heard the story of what happened to that poor girl. We were on the brink of selling the house for about a week, but one night changed all that.
I woke up from a dream, one so vivid yet it somehow escaped my thoughts like a fistful of sand. There was a strange feeling in my gut as if something was going to happen.
It was neither good nor bad, just....strange.
After drinking a small glass of milk, I meandered down the hall and stopped in my tracks. A woman stood in front of me, half-transparent with a bluish luminescence. I felt as if I knew her, although I didn’t recognize her appearance at all. She smiled, and I instantly knew who she was. Compared to her previous horrific manifestation, the woman was almost unrecognizable.
Never speaking, she motioned to her legs and I saw that they were in perfect condition. In a mild state of shock, I managed to form a smile. She beamed even wider and ran her fingers across her lips, pointing out her lack of stitches. A blanket of warmth wrapped around me, and I couldn’t resist the salty tears that streamed down my face.
Right before she waved goodbye, a voice spoke within my mind.
"It’s over now. Thank you..."
She faded away, and for the first time since we moved into that house, all hints of the oppressive energy dissipated. That was the last time I ever saw her.
It’s been 30 years now, and we’re still in that house to this day...
May she continue to rest in peace...

Hello everyone, not really asking for anything. Just sharing my story of marriage and upcoming divorce.
Me (36m) and my wife (37f) have been together for 13 years now and married for 7. When we began dating, I was fresh out of my first ever real relationship and to be honest, I was just looking for a one night rebound online. I found her and we hung out. It lasted longer than the one night. We dated for a couple weeks. I saw red flags immediately. She had MANY guy friends, they would be at her house with just her most nights drinking and playing beer pong and whatever else. She mentioned to me how right before we started dating, she woke up naked with a guy in her bed and had no idea what happened the night before. Major red flag that I ignored.
Soon after we started dating I tried to break it off. I knew she wasn't right and I didn't want to be with a person who would drink that much and end up in bed with a stranger and no memory. I allowed her to talk me into staying, my fault there. I wasn't firm enough with the decision. A couple weeks after that she was being kicked out of her house and I allowed her to move in with me since she had nowhere else to go. I didn't want to be with her but I felt like I was being the nice guy until she got on her feet. I decided I needed a change (for many reasons) and I planned to move out of state. I gave her the chance to come with me, part of me hoping she would have declined the offer and I would go alone. She accepted and we moved from CA to NV.
We got jobs here and started making things work. I wasn't going to split up with her just after moving out of state with her. And there were pockets of time where things seemed ok and may work out. We both made bad decisions early on (me sexting with randoms online. Her looking through local dicks on Craigslist and reaching out to them) Splitting up eventually was an option for me, then she got pregnant. Again, started feeling like things could work. I dropped the splitting up idea and focused on our son.
Two years later, she's pregnant again. I am so tired at this point with the one kid, graveyard job that lasted 12 hours each night I wasn't thinking about much of anything. Really sleepwalking through my days to be honest. Shortly after our second son was born my mother moved in with us. She was sick and things weren't looking good. Eventually she passed, very slowly and it was quite traumatic overall. I wasn't really thinking of divorce at that point, obviously. We also got married right around this time. Divorce was not something I was planning at the time even though I was unhappy.
A few months after we got married, I caught her cheating with two men from work (that I know of) and I was close to leaving her after that. I made the decision to stay because initially. I figured we can work this out as long as this was the only time. I wasn't perfect, made my bad decisions before so I gave her another chance. Immediately after that she started lying again. Hiding things from me. I considered leaving but I couldn't pull the trigger. There was the kids, me working so damn much that I was barely ever awake, and I felt bad leaving her while she wasn't making much money. So I stayed.
Things never got better. She never stopped lying, or hiding things from me. Then surprise! A global pandemic that caused me to lose my job. At this point we are focused on surviving, divorce far from my mind. Covid cleared up and I got a job without a steady paycheck. She got a promotion and is making plenty of money. I couldn't leave without having a steady paycheck so I stayed again. She has continued to lie, even just last week she blatantly lied to me. She hides things. I cannot trust her.
I sit here, 36 years old, scared shitless of divorcing. Mainly due to the fact I literally have no family besides my kids. I have friends at work, that's about all. The fear of being TRULY alone really scares me. Thanks for reading.

Like all haunted house stories, this took place right after I moved in. Cliché, right? My wife and I saved up enough money from our rental to finally put down on a house of our own. So we moved in and everything seemed right...at first.
It wasn’t until later that I realized there were warning signs. The seller seemed really anxious to close, and we were offered a much cheaper price than we expected for the space we got. While there was a moment of doubt, we brushed it off as some weird circumstance that ended in a great deal for us.
How could we possibly pass that up?
The strange occurrences were small at first. I would be up late watching TV and swore I heard something. I’d pause the show and make out what sounded like dragging noises. After investigating, I wouldn’t find anything. Even stranger was that no matter where I walked in the house, the noise always sounded the same distance away. When I focused on it, I noticed the particular noise was rhythmic.
Tap, tap...sliiiiiiide.
It was like that every single time. My wife never heard it, it was only me. None of us believe in ghosts, mind you. But as I said before it was a small thing, so I brushed it off.
One night, I woke up in a startle. I listened intently but could hear nothing. I decided to grab a late night snack from the kitchen since I was awake anyway.
Halfway down the hall, I heard something. This time, it sounded like dirt being sifted und. I knelt down and swore that the sound was louder. Before I knew it, I had my ear pressed to the hardwood floor, listening intently.
Schht, schht.....sccchhhhhhh...
I jumped up from the floor. It was that same pattern of noises, but this time it sounded like someone in the dirt. Trying to ignore the chills washing over me, I took a step towards the kitchen when…
…something grabbed my ankle.
I fell forward, almost busting my chin on the floor.
“What the...”
Flipping over, I turned to face my assailant, but there was no one behind me. I brushed it off and chalked it up to poor balance from a sleep-hangover. My wife got a good chuckle out of that one.
After that, the house began to feel.....heavier. It was this weight over me that would come and go. This was accompanied by feeling cold no matter how much we turned up the heat, and this was the middle of the sumer. Even stranger, the cold seemed to only be in certain spots, particularly on the floor itself. I liked to walk around barefoot no matter what time of year it was, but it was even too cold for me.
Another night, I woke up again. My ears stood at attention, but couldn’t hear any evidence of what woke me up. I got up just like before, except I never made it to the kitchen.
I only made if halfway down our hall before I suddenly felt a horrible pain in my right leg. I had to limp to keep moving, then my other leg was wracked with a wave of pain. It was so bad I found myself face down on the ground, writhing in agony.
Then I heard it again…that awful succession of noises.
Tap, tap....sliiiiiide.
The sliding sound was coming from the hardwood floor this time, not from underneath. And the sound was getting closer and closer until...
I watched in horror as a hand came around the corner in front of me. It was soon joined by another, and they tugged at the floor. My heart hammered in my chest as a person slowly came into view.
It was a woman with long black hair, her disheveled clothing smeared with dirt and hanging off in shreds. Her mouth was crudely stitched shut. She looked up at me with empty, lost eyes and I instantly felt a lifetime of pain and misery. It took my breath away, and I had to focus on my breathing to keep myself from fainting.
Tap, tap....sliiiiiide.
That awful sound repeated as she grabbed the floor and pulled herself towards me. I was in a terrified trance, eyes locked with her as she slowly closed the distance. I could now see that she dragged herself because her legs were horribly mangled. A low moan emanated from her throat, sending ice through my veins.
Her very presence seemed to drain me, and I couldn’t move no matter how hard I tried. She made this awful gurgling sound as she got within arm’s reach. In seconds, her face was right up to mine. I tried to scream, but couldn’t make any sound.
Then...I woke up.
“AAAAHHhhh!” I shouted as I sprang up in bed.
My wife tried to console me, but it did very little. I’d never had a dream that felt so real before. Shaking, I walked out into the hallway where I had collapsed in my dream. I put a hand on the floor, expecting it to be freezing cold as usual.
But it was warm...
“Honey?” I felt the soft hand of my wife touch my shoulder.
“What’s going on? You look white as a sheet.”
“I’m okay...I just...”
On the floor in front me, I noticed the faint trace of fingernail marks.
“Was that there before?” My wife inquired.
“I’m...I’m not sure.”
“Let’s go back to bed. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow.”
I tried to hold back my stubborn expression, but she still saw it.
“C’mon, you need to rest.”
With an exasperated exhale, I went back to bed with the strange occurrence replaying incessantly in my brain.
In the morning, I told my wife about all the strange experiences. To my shock she actually believed me.
“What do you want to do, then?” She asked.
“Well...I have a theory I want to check out.”
“Theory of what?”
“Well, let’s just say that ghosts exist, and there are certain reasons why they haunt certain places. If that is true then...I think there could be a body in our crawlspace.”
“What, are you crazy?”
“I know how it sounds, but what would it hurt to look?”
“You really think there’s something down there?”
“More someone, but I’m not sure to be honest. Hopefully I can get a confirmation either way it goes.”
That afternoon, I found myself standing at the door to our crawlspace. It felt ridiculous, but so many details pointed to it. The sounds and cold spots were all related to the floor. The ghastly woman’s clothes were smeared with dirt. It was obscure, but it was all I had to go on.
I had to pry the door open with a crowbar, but I managed after a minute or two. A wave of unnatural cold air blasted me, so strong that I had to throw on a coat just to stop from shivering so badly.
I clicked on my flashlight, illuminating the eerie underbelly of our home. The dirt sifted under my feet as I crouch-walked around. After hearing it, it only confirmed what I thought I heard from under the floor.
Expecting to see more, I was almost disappointed that the crawlspace was completely bare. Not believing it entirely, I shined my light around more. The back part of the crawlspace led to concrete and it was there that I noticed one section of the wall looked different than the rest.
Hands quivering, I pushed against the section of concrete and felt it shift under the pressure. It continued to wobble around in place the more I pushed. Holding my flashlight between my teeth, I had to use both hands to pry the piece away from the wall. To my astonishment, it pulled away very easily. It was no coincidence that the section of wall fit the hole exactly, like a puzzle piece.
After leaning the piece of concrete against the wall, I found that the concrete was covering a door with a padlock.
There’s no way anything good is behind this...
Minutes later, I returned to the mysterious door with a pair of bolt cutters. I debated whether or not I’d go in. There was no reason I shouldn’t satisfy my curiosity, because if there wasn’t anything then great, but if there was something terrible, I’d simply have to deal with it. Either way, I had to know.
I clipped the metal bar off the lock and it thudded softly to the dirt floor. Taking in a deep breath, I dared to aim my beam down the opening. The crawlspace extended much further into the house, and I had a good guess where it led. I now had to crawl on my hands and knees as a knot of dread formed in my stomach.
“You always tell people not to do this in movies, why are you doing this now??!” I chastised myself.
I knew all too well how stupid this was but the part of my brain that can’t look away from a car wreck pushed me to carry along regardless.
It was difficult to navigate with the flashlight and crawl. A mild claustrophobia settled in that pushed me along with a sense of urgency. The temperature couldn’t have been any more than a meatlocker. My hands shook despite my thick jacket. Eventually, I came to a dead end.
Is this all?
I stopped for a moment and checked around with my light some more, hoping a more thorough search would bear some fruit. Yet, there was nothing.
Sighing in frustration, I decided that perhaps I was losing my mind and was just having really vivid dreams after all. How could I have been so stupid?
I made it halfway across the hidden area when I felt my legs suddenly give out. They weren’t tired or sore before this. It was as if they stopped working of their own volition. I attempted to cry out, but my mouth felt as if some force held it closed.
Just like a stitched mouth...
One of the few things I could move was my neck and I turned to the side to see...
…a tuft of a blanket?
Due to the narrow space, I must have missed it. I slowly reached for it with all the internal alarms in my body going off at once. Ignoring the warning, I pulled the cloth back to reveal a skeletal hand.
In this moment of revulsion, something turned on my motor skills again as I regained control of my legs, crawling out of there as quickly as I could muster. Heaving, I stumbled out of the crawlspace and instantly felt the rise in temperature. I sat on the porch and stayed there as I called the police and explained the situation.
It turns out that one of the previous owners of the home was a major suspect in the disappearance of a young lady fifteen years ago. There wasn’t enough evidence to conduct a home search so they were never able to find the body. And what they found was something I wish I had never known.
From examining the body, they found that her captor had broken both of her legs so she couldn’t escape and sewn her mouth shut to keep her from screaming. It was hard to tell how long she’d been locked down there before she died, but they hypothesized it was a month or two. The cause of death was unclear. This was clearly enough to pursue the former owner.
When they picked him up, the guy tried to play the ignorance card, pretending as if he didn’t know what house they were referring to. This of course made it even more suspicious.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything concrete enough to tie him to her death...until they searched his current home. Blueprints of the home showed that the crawlspace was supposed to end ten feet where the concrete wall was. No contractors were hired to do any work on the home, so someone had personally busted it up and created the door going further in. The last part of it was the padlock on the door.
When the police searched the man’s home, they found a shoebox full of seemingly innocent keepsakes. Among the keepsakes were some heirlooms, pictures of close family members, and a key. As suspected, the key matched the padlock to the crawlspace door. It was apparently enough to make him crack. It wasn’t long before he confessed to the kidnapping and murder, albeit without a hint of remorse. Turns out the bastard kept the key as a sick trophy.
They even questioned him about other possible victims since this was a trait commonly shared by serial killers. He denied it, but the police couldn’t feel any truth from it. If anything they knew that they solved one case, put a guilty man behind bars, and put a family at peace. Justice was served and he was locked away for the rest of his miserable life. Poetic justice, if you ask me. The poor girl’s parents buried her remains on a family plot.
After all this, we had serious doubts about staying in the home. Knowing something this egregious happened in our home was almost unbearable. I can’t tell you how much we cried when we heard the story of what happened to that poor girl. We were on the brink of selling the house for about a week, but one night changed all that.
I woke up from a dream, one so vivid yet it somehow escaped my thoughts like a fistful of sand. There was a strange feeling in my gut as if something was going to happen.
It was neither good nor bad, just....strange.
After drinking a small glass of milk, I meandered down the hall and stopped in my tracks. A woman stood in front of me, half-transparent with a bluish luminescence. I felt as if I knew her, although I didn’t recognize her appearance at all. She smiled, and I instantly knew who she was. Compared to her previous horrific manifestation, the woman was almost unrecognizable.
Never speaking, she motioned to her legs and I saw that they were in perfect condition. In a mild state of shock, I managed to form a smile. She beamed even wider and ran her fingers across her lips, pointing out her lack of stitches. A blanket of warmth wrapped around me, and I couldn’t resist the salty tears that streamed down my face.
Right before she waved goodbye, a voice spoke within my mind.
"It’s over now. Thank you..."
She faded away, and for the first time since we moved into that house, all hints of the oppressive energy dissipated. That was the last time I ever saw her.
It’s been 30 years now, and we’re still in that house to this day...
May she continue to rest in peace...

I have the original core set that I got right before we moved, so I only opened up and played with my wife once. It was great fun, but we didn’t really have a great table to play on, so it just sat in storage for a while.
We finally got a new dining table 4 years later and now I have room to play!
My wife isn’t too interested in playing, I would mostly just play myself when she’s at her night shift after our daughter goes to bed.
All that being said, I’m looking to finally start expanding. How necessary as a solo player is it to buy the revised set? Mostly just trying to save myself 60$ if possible so I can start spending on new sets instead.
Speaking of which, what set do you guys suggest from there?

I've been NC with my biological family for six years. I don't doubt or regret that decision. Those relationships were abusive and destructive, and I'd rather be alone than reconcile.
But fast forward to today. I'm ending a marriage of seven years. She moved out yesterday. She took our dog, who will be splitting time between my ex and me, but still. My dog doesn't live with me anymore.
I'm so numb. I have friends. I've been dating since the separation, so I know I probably won't be alone forever.
But I just don't know how this ends other than dying alone in a hospital bed. No kids. No wife. No family. Just an old man who focused on his career and read a lot of books in his spare time. I feel dead inside.

Ohio.
3 months ago the oldest of my four daughters told her mother I tried to kill her. Her mother used it to get an ECO. CPS opened an investigation.
This same daughter reported to police two months prior that her mother was going to have her raped and some inappropriate things were happening with mom's boyfriend. No investigation.
The same daughter came to school with (obviously self-inflicted) scratches to her face claiming her mother was throwing rocks at her. This was reported to CPS. No investigation. That was 6 weeks after the ECO and I've had no contact with her.
CPS claims they "substantiated the claims" and put me on a state register of child abusers. Sheriffs have not been returning my calls. My lawyer on the custody matter has gotten nothing but phone-tag from CPS.
There has been not one shred of evidence presented by anyone. I'm twice my daughter's size, if I had done what she claims she'd have been hospitalized.
Contrary to their standard procedure, "no further action is being taken" and no case worker was assigned. I have three younger daughters in my home that thankfully haven't been taken away.
I had an official investigation done into CPS. I've dice been sitting on evidence that proves CPS, or at least someone there, conspired with her to cover up the time she broke our second daughter's arm in front of our first. Not a "maybe they did" - CPS literally told the prosecutor that my daughters arm was never broken.
I've been told it's "suicide" to go after them in court. However, now that I'm on this list, a standoff no longer seems viable. My LSW wife could never go back to her job because I'm on this list. I can no longer adopt or foster, something we've been discussing for years. I can't be involved with the 200-bed foster facility my sister has been working on (I've run other non-profits and was helping her get set up).
I'm at a complete loss for what to do.

The purpose of this post is to point out the false translations of words in the New Testament. These false translations paint sex and fun as something bad.
Before we dive into how antichrists changed the meaning of words, let us first discuss things in a general, Christian, spiritual manner. False Christianity such as Catholicism claims and believes that sex is sin. They view sex as a bad thing. They condemn sex without marriage. They condemn sex when condoms are used or other contraceptives. They condemn sex when it is not for procreation but just for pleasure. They condemn homosexual sex. They condemn masturbation. They condemn sexual pleasure in general. And even though they allow sex in a marriage if it is for procreation, the spirit of their religion views even that as sinful. In short, sex and sexual pleasure is sin to them. It is a sex-is-sin religion.
This accusatory, vile religion is of course not Christian. How is it compatible with the principle of love? People having sex is not against the principle of love. Sex is not an act against love. If people have consensual sex, it is not contrary to 'love your neighbor'. On the contrary, God has made us and given us a sexuality and sex. We can gladly enjoy all the good things God has given us.
In fact, everyone with a conscience and feeling can see how evil and wrong this sex-is-sin religion is. It accuses the sex lovers and gives them a bad conscience. It calls good evil. It is the opposite of 'love your neighbor'. And all that in Jesus' name. As if this cruel sex-is-sin religion was from Jesus.
How did this sex-is-sin religion come about? It was the work of so-called early Christians, such as the 'Church Fathers'. The earliest of those was probably Polycarp of Smyrna who supposedly lived from 69 to 155. Some claim he has seen John the apostle. As we can see, these Church Fathers are not really that early. There is at least two generations between them and the apostles. That does not mean that the sex-is-sin religion did not start really early. It could have very well started somewhat earlier than Polycarp. John said there was already the spirit of antichrist and many antichrists (1 John 2:18, 4:3).
These antichrists twisted and changed the meaning of words. Probably the most prominent word they twisted to establish their sex-is-sin religion is the Greek word porneia. They basically changed it to mean 'fornication' or 'sexual immorality' which means all forms of sex and sexual pleasure except for sex in a marriage for procreation. But that is of course not what porneia means.
The word porneia does not appear often in classical Greek literature. Therefore, its meaning is not easy to establish. It most likely means an illegal trade exchange or a trade exchange involving trickery. Some ancient Greek societies had laws concerning the sale of sexual services. If prostitution was carried out in a way contrary to those laws, it was illegal commerce and it was called porneia, an illegal trade exchange. Note that prostitution in general was not called porneia, just illegal prostitution.
The word porneia was also used for trade exchanges that did not involve sexual services. Esau is called a pornos, someone involved in porneia, in Hebrews 12:16 because he sold his birthright for a single meal to his brother Jacob. When this happened, Esau came from hunting in the field and was exhausted. Jacob took advantage of his situation and charged his birthright for the meal. This is a prime example of porneia, a trade exchange involving trickery.
Dishonest trade practices also appear to be the meaning of porneia in 1 Thessalonians 4:3-6a. It could be translated as follows:
For this is the will of God, your sanctification. That you abstain from dishonest trade practices (porneia). That each of you know how to acquire his goods in sanctification and honor, not in the impulse of covetousness like the Gentiles who do not know God. That no one overreach and defraud his brother in any matter.
Fraudulent trade also appears to be the meaning of porneia in 1 Corinthians 5:1. It could be translated as follows:
It is actually reported that there is fraudulent trade (porneia) among you, and such a fraudulent trade (porneia) as is not even named among the Gentiles—that a man possesses his father’s wife.
Apparently, someone had obtained his father’s wife, probably the stepmother, by trickery. If this means that the stepmother is now the stepson's slave or even his wife, I cannot say.
The word porneia appears also to be used when someone is tricked or bought into idol worship. A primary means to achieve this was food. One can imagen that participants in idol worship ceremonies would obtain sacrificed food during or after the ceremony. Thus one would exchange idol worship for food. This appears to be the meaning of porneia in Acts 15:20 and Revelation 2:14,20. From 1 Corinthians 10:25-29 we know that food sacrificed to idols was a common good, it was even sold on the markets. So it stands to reason that at least some of that food was also obtainable during idol worship or as a reward for it. It was free food, except you had to pay with idol worship for it, so to speak.
From 1 Corinthians 10:20-21 we can infer that also wine was used to incentive idol worship, just like food.
Another means to incentive idol worship appears to have been sex. This appears to be the meaning of porneia in 1 Corinthians 6:13-7:2. It is plausible that sex was part of worship rites at temples for the fertility goddess. It was probably also part at some religious festivals. Wikipedia says cultic prostitution was big in ancient Corinth. So in that case, the trade exchange would be idol worship and some money in exchange for sex.
1 Corinthians 5:9-10 could be translated as follows:
I wrote to you in my letter not to associate with [pornoi (those doing porneia) ]()— not at all meaning the pornoi of this world, be it the greedy, or swindlers, or idolaters, since then you would need to go out of the world.
From this text we can infer some possible meanings of porneia: greed, swindle and idolatry. It shows that Paul was well aware of the different types of porneia.
The bottom line of all this porneia talk is that food, wine and sex are not the negative part of porneia. Idolatry is the negative part. And for non-idolatry porneia it is the greed and swindle. So in no way does porneia mean fornication or sexual immorality. It does not paint sex and sexual pleasure as bad.
There are other words that have been twisted besides porneia. Let us look at the words malakos and arsenokoitai in 1 Corinthians 6:9. These words appear in a cluster of words that comes after the word pornoi (those doing porneia). Since the context is porneia, the meaning of the word malakos can be easily determined using a dictionary. The fitting meaning in this context is those that give in, or yield or are remiss. So this would be those who would give in to the reward for idolatry like food and sex and worship idols in order to get the reward.
The word arsenokoitai is more difficult to determine because it first appears in the New Testament and is not mentioned in the previous ancient Greek literature that has survived. The word could be translated literally as those who bed men. Given that the context is porneia, it likely means women, who have sex with men in order to get from them what they want. They seem to deceive them in order to get goods or in order to get them to worship idols. So these two words describe both parties who participate in a trade exchange involving trickery, that is porneia. Both parties could as well be called pornos (a male doing porneia) or porne (a female doing porneia).
Most bible translations wrongly translate these words as homosexuals, where malakos are the bottoms and arsenokoitai are the tops. There are additional words whose meaning have been twisted to condemn sex and sexual pleasure. Among them are lust, uncleanliness, flesh, worldliness and unholiness.
The Church Fathers use the afore mentioned words in a wrong way or expanded them or changed their meaning entirely. They viciously condemned sexual pleasure and sex that is not for procreation and homosexual sex in their writings. They call sex sin. They even call it satanic. Who in their right mind would call consensual sex satanic? But it is them who are satanic. They are exactly what this word means. They are accusers. They are like the pharisees.
Their sex-is-sin religion is both inhumane and non-human. In portraying sexual pleasure as evil and not meant to be, they are denying a basic human thing that most humans do and are meant to do. And by claiming this was Jesus' teaching, they make Jesus look non-human, too. They indirectly, unconsciously deny that Jesus is a human. Which of course is, what antichrists do (1 John 4:3, 2 John 1:7).
Antichrist means Opposite-Christ. Someone who is and does the opposite of Christ. This is a role the church fathers play very well. They accuse and condemn others. They condemn others for being a human. They condemn basic human needs and joys. Very unlike Jesus.

Hello,
I’m hoping I used the right flair on this post, new to the subreddit, but I’m in desperate need of help. My wife and I recently moved back in with my mother to try to help ourselves financially alongside our almost declawed 9yo female tabby mix. My mom has an almost non-declawed 16yo male tabby mix and a 9yo Bichon/shitzu dog.
We moved our cat in about a month ahead of our move into what would become our upstairs bedroom so she could become accustomed to the space, we brought her litter box, toys, etc. and also used a calming spray to get her to feel comfortable as well. And then at least one or both of us would come over once a day at least (except for a 3-day stretch where we had to go out of town for a funeral) to check in on her, feed her, etc. Mom’s dog and cat would remain curious but did not bother her too much.
About two weeks into her being here, and with us alongside, we started bringing her downstairs to get a little more acclimated but she became growly and hissy at both, and then mom’s cat would occasionally go after her. He isn’t particularly swatting or biting (that we observed) but she was getting intimidated for sure and the dog is non-confrontational, seems mostly our cat is just annoyed at how high energy she is compared to her.
Since we’ve been now moved in entirely for about two weeks now, we cannot get her to willingly come out of the bedroom and mom’s cat will start howling at our bedroom door towards her. When he manages his way in, he will use her litter box and eat her food; and in turn she will hide under a chair we have or the bed. We got a different calming spray for both our room and the stairway to go downstairs that’s meant for preventing blocking and fighting but it continues. He has also managed to corner her into the closet causing loud yelling with both and she begins to lose control of her bladder it seems occasionally when they get into it.
Yesterday, we attempted to move her food dish and litter into the hallway to try and get her to know she can (and should) come out down by herself.
We are at a loss as to how to get them to coexist. Honestly, could care less if they don’t like each other or if they occasionally yelled at each other but the male cat will start howling during the night, she is very clearly severely anxious and not herself whatsoever. My wife, my mom, and I are all besides ourselves and losing sleep even over it. We cannot rehome either obviously. Anyone have any better suggestions?

Our 9mo old B intact-boy is starting to get aggressive and bite. We’re not sure what to do or if we are doing the right things and just need to continue and be patient. We would love to hear your experiences and what you think. Stories and examples below:
Back story: our B never had any aggression growing up and it came suddenly. He was socialized a lot with both dogs, cats, and humans since he was 10 weeks old. Always took to new people and would greet them, adopt them into the pack, watch out for everyone, and cuddle them endlessly. We were very proud to say he was the most social B compared to the stories of these babes being independent.
Possible inciting incident: our neighbor has a Rhodesian Ridgeback, male intact. We all went up and stayed for a weekend together to go hiking and play outside with the dogs. At one point they are both playing in the living room and our B is attacked, shaken like a rag doll, and left with 2 puncture wounds in his neck and some scratches on his ears.
Since that night, he has become more territorial with them. If they are near our door he growls at both that dog and the neighbor. Not blaming him for that, though we don’t want him to behave that way, I can see why he feels tense around them. However! It has become clear that it’s also turning into a pattern that he’s trying to be dominant with those around him including us.
Incidents in order of occurrence happening over a period of 2 weeks:
1) One night that same neighbor and dog popped in for a quick visit- while both myself and B had been sitting in his living room for the last hour with not incident earlier the same evening- however now that they are both, for the first time, in our home, B is incredibly tense and vocally showing his discomfort. They leave. I settle down for the night and give B his bone. He proceeds to take it to a different room which is out of character, usually he’d rather sit next to me or have me hold the bone for him while he chews on it. Because of this discrepancy in behavior, I go check on him and he starts growling at me. I sit down and put my hand on him. Not taking his bone away just gently petting him. He escalates and bites me. He has never done this before. After reprimanding him, Itry again to calm him down. He proceeds to bite again, I take his bone with no problem, but he won’t let me anywhere near him. I pin him down and he settles for a moment, but he never fully submits. After which he bites me again.
My partner isn’t home so it’s just me. I’m crying and upset, but never budge from B’s side. I’m trying to stay in full control, but after this last bit and I’m bleeding, I don’t know what to do. I call my neighbor to come help. Things eventually settle for that evening but B and I are visibly stressed for the next few days, but he has come and cuddled since then and we are “fine”.
2) My BF’s dad & wife come to visit and we are staying in the neighbor’s detached guest room. B is doing fine, but snaps at Dad when they are on the couch. Typically when he’s tired, but they are cool on the patio and when walking.
3) The last few mornings, B growls and tries to nip if he is sitting with my BF on the couch and I try to pet him then tries to also bite my BF.
4) B went on his first pack hike that is about a 5 hour day for him. He was apparently very good, adventurous, and not afraid to test his place in the pack. He’s a very confident pup even with big dogs. After the hike, he’s extremely tired and happy. He joins us for a BBQ on our patio with friends who are all regulars that B knows and loves. Halfway through he growls at one of our female friends and then tries to bite her male friend which meant it was time for bed. He was reprimanded and my BF tried to grab him to put him inside. B was livid and also bit him.
5) My bestie came over for a few nights, both my bf and went out to go fish and my friend was going to finish her morning routine then meet us out there. She agreed to bring B with her, however, when it came time to go outside for the walk, he was growling at her and tried to nip at her when she tried to put on the leash.
His behavior at dog parks is great. He is always playful and has not gotten into fights. He’ll sit before entering and comes obediently when we are ready to leave.
He is currently testing us by not coming when we call him during meal time and try to wait us out so he can eat without doing the dinner routine (come-sit-shake-look at me-go ahead and eat). He has no food aggression. I can take his bowl and I can mess with him while he eats.

• we are not hitting him or pinning him down
• we will get upset, reprimand, and ignore him until he apologies then use positive reinforcement -currently enforcing a no couch rule and he has never slept with us in bed, only sleeps with us when we take a nap on the couch
• I was always able to pet him and play with him even while he was asleep -B allows me to check his teeth, brush him, bathe him, examine his paws or any other body part without complaint

I’m looking for thoughts on what might be happening. How to help de-escalate his aggression when it happens and how to stop it from happening all together.
We know about B’s being sleepy aggressive but I don’t believe this is what’s happening. I would like to keep him intact for a while longer, but I’m not sure if this could be helped by neutering him sooner than later.
Please help your suggestions and support is greatly appreciated. I don’t want us, family, or friends to become afraid of him because he really is the best boy

I am really struggling with some decisions regarding our child. Trying to identify what is best for her and the best path to attain it. I do not want to limit contact between my daughter and my STBXW, at the same time the decisions she making concern me, and I know this is my only opportunity to put them on the record so if she repeats the pattern later it isn’t like it’s the first time.
Apparently, she only exits relationships by starting and establishing a new one and then revealing the affair as a way to end things. She’s done it multiple times in multiple relationships. She didn’t have a child then though. Shes apparently had three affairs in our relationship, all with married men. The last one was the one that seems to have stuck, but since she has a kid now of course establishing the new relationship means her AP and the kid have to get along. So ensues several months of picking our daughter up from school together then trips to the park. Dinner dates with our daughter brought along. Then, when I had to be out of town for work for two nights, the AP coming over to stay at the house. Taking my daughter to school by himself and picking her up from school. Sleeping in my daughter’s bed with my daughter one night.
I have pictures and videos of all of this. I feel like it is beyond horrible. When I tried being straight with her and expressing my concerns about the decisions ahead was making regarding our daughter, she stopped speaking to me for three days. Because she was mad at me.
My lawyer says I should come out of the gate filing for sole custody with the evidence that I have, supervised visitation. I don’t want my daughter to not have contact with her mom. It was already hard enough on her when she disappeared for two months at the beginning of the year. I also know that my STBXW is just all anger and fear. Decisions made out of fear, anger that once grabbed hold of will never be let go for the rest of her life. She’s still mad at dead people for things they had no control over.
I don’t know how much of what I am thinking is my pain at what was done, how much is my concern for my daughter. How much is the overlap between the two. She hasn’t even been served with the separation papers yet, and she and her AP picked my daughter up from school last week together. One of the other parents texted me to ask who the guy was with my wife at pickup.
I am just torn in half right now and do not know what to do.

I 30 years old and I’m living alone in Washington state. It wasn’t always this way, 5 years ago my wife and kids went missing and I know exactly who kidnapped them. The cops told me this person didn’t exist.
5 years ago before my family was kidnapped, we lived a happy life as a small family. Me, my wife, my 5 year old son, and my 2 year old daughter.
I did my normal routine, tucked the kids into bed and then went into me and my wife’s room. When I woke up, all of them were gone without a trace.
1 week after my family disappeared was the first time I saw John Raker, he was standing across the street. I walked over to talk to him. I asked him if he’s seen my family, or if he’s seen any signs. By that time I had the entire police searching everywhere for my family. John said that he hadn’t seen them but he was willing to help find them.
I appreciated John for willing to help me, but the next morning, I got woken up early, around 6:50 or so. I could here the storm cellar door being slammed shut. I got up and peered out the window. It was John Raker. He was in my backyard. I opened my window and yelled out to him. He said he was going down to search near the lake behind my house. I invited him in for a glass of orange juice.We talked for a bit then I asked him why he was looking in the storm cellar. He told me not to go down there, he said it “wasn’t safe.” That night I put a lock on the storm cellar
I hadn’t seen John for couple days after that, until one night, I lurched out of bed when I heard metal clashing outside my window. The time read 2am. He had bolt cutters in his hands, and beside him were grocery bags, months worth of groceries. What stood out most were the diapers and the baby food. He was trying to get into that storm cellar. I sprinted down the stairs, and out the back door. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the door slide open.
“what the fuck John” I yelled
He didn’t speak for about 30 second. He than said “your family needs me, Nick” I tried to shove past him to get into that storm cellar. He than pulled out a dagger out of his coat. He stuck the blade into my mouth.
“If you ever go in there. I’ll kill your entire family” he said. I was gagging, and when he finally pulled that knife out, blood poured of my mouth like a river. I then watched him break the lock and enter the storm cellar with the food. I must have passed out because I woke up the next morning on the lawn. My vision was bright red and blurry. My entire mouth had been gutted. I drove straight to the police station. I told them about John Raker, I told them about my family in the storm cellar. The Officers searched through public records everywhere but never found him. The Police Chief called me in and told me that John Raker doesn't exist.The officers came to my house and searched the storm cellar. My family wasn’t in there, it was just the food from the night before. They offered to park the cruiser outside my house for the night and keep an eye out. That night I saw John Raker about 50 yards down the street from the police cruiser. The next morning when I asked the officer he said he never saw him. How could he not have seen John? The officer said I could give him the call the next time I see John.
I went to bed that night and when I woke up John was standing over my bed dressed in all black.
I yelled at the top of my lungs “GET THE HELL OUT” I yelled so loud that the women jogging by called the police. The officer came over and searched my entire house. John had disappeared again. After that day the entire police department thought I had gone crazy.
Throughout the years, John had terrorized me. I’d see him almost every other day, weather he was across the street, or standing in the backyard. He was always watching. One night while I was shaving in the bathroom, I had a small glimpse of something behind the shower curtain move in the mirrors reflection. At that moment I knew exactly who it was. I wanted to show John I wasn’t afraid of him, so I just walked out of the room, turned the light off, and shut the door. That was a huge mistake. The next morning I woke up and all the knives in the kitchen disappeared.
Every month John would bring food into the storm cellar. What I noticed is he stopped bringing food down there after the 3rd year. He stopped feeding my family.
It’s the 5th year and I hadn’t seen John in over a month. I bought myself a shotgun to protect myself from John.I should’ve bought it way sooner, or was the shotgun there to protect me from myself. You see, the cops were right. John isn’t a real person, but he exists inside of me. I want my family back more than anything, but John, he wants them to suffer, he wants them to starve. John has been feeding them just the right amount of food and water so he can keep them alive. The storm cellar is where me and John would stock up the foods and essentials. The real prize was in the basement. And when I said John stopped feeding them after the 3rd year, it’s because the cashier at the grocery store became suspicious of us.
Every 2 months or so, me and John would stock up. Diapers, baby food, vitamins. This was the type of town where everyone knew each other. Everyone knew my family was kidnapped. The cashier women started doing investigations of her own. I couldn’t take any chances. I stopped going to the grocery store, I stopped feeding my family. And if you were wondering about the knives, the knives were 6 inches deep in the cashiers flesh.
As of now, my son would’ve been 10, and my daughter 7. My beautiful daughter, my wife, my son. All corpses because of John. How can those kids endure such a brutal death? How can I get rid of John for good? I bought a shotgun for a reason.

I was called out for a wellness check with my partner last month. The home was in the middle of an upper middle class neighborhood. Everything was in full bloom. Trees lined the still street and the sidewalks buckled and erupted in several places from tree roots pushing them upwards.
Vibrant lawns everywhere. The only thing aged and weathered in the entire neighborhood were the painted address numbers on the curbs next each driveway.
Lots of money on that side of town.
The house was an old craftsman two storey. Most of the houses were.
All the window shades were pulled and the car that was in the driveway had spiderwebs along the wheels and a thick layer of dust over the windshield.
The landscaper had called in because the owner had not been seen in two weeks.
The owner was an elderly man who lived alone.
After knocking on the door several times, we walked around the house.
The landscaper had only been charged with maintaining the front of the house. The backyard was nothing like the front. The lawn was completely overgrown. The flower beds were full of brilliant colors of flowers. Weeds had started to infest all of the flower beds and were beginning to take over. Several trees were in the yard, shading over half of it. Lots of flies and other insects were buzzing in and out of the shadows. They were so loud.
Right in the middle of the lawn, there was a blue tarp that was staked down on all four corners. A muddy shovel lay next to the tarp.
My partner walked over and pulled up one of the stakes and peeled part of the tarp back. Over a dozen spots of fresh dirt, a small hole, and several areas of newly seeded grass were underneath. He jumped backward and started swatting at his pants legs as he ran over to the patio.
He said he felt them crawling all over his legs.
He started stamping his feet.
I watched the tiny bugs fall off of his legs onto the hot concrete and then skitter and jump as quickly as they could back into the shelter of the thick shady lawn.
We knocked on the back door and found that it was open.
As we walked inside, my partner kept swatting at his legs as I yelled out that we were police just doing a wellness check.
All the lights were off.
The kitchen and the laundry room were perfectly clean and organized with the exception of a thin layer of white dust with thousands of tiny black specks on every surface.
The dust had a faint chemical odor. We realized that it was all over the floor as well. The thousands and thousands of black specks amongst the white dust were tiny dead bugs. They looked like mosquitos without wings. Just like the ones that were on my partner in the backyard.
We turned on every light as we walked through the home. The white powder was spread over every floor, although we couldn’t see any of the bugs if they were present due to the nap of the carpet.
We continued through the home until we found the old man in the bathroom.
There were a variety of smells inside that turned our stomachs and we were fighting back the urge to vomit. When we turned on the lights, we saw the old man naked on the toilet. His head hung down and he wasn’t moving.
There were several bottles of iodine in the wastebasket and a dried out sponge was in the sink that was covered in it. The old man had smeared it over the entirety of his body, and it had stained the porcelain bowl underneath him. His skin was raised around his feet and ankles, and several places on his abdomen were broken out in bites. I put on latex gloves before I would even touch him.
His pulse was very weak.
My partner called in an ambulance.
I turned toward the shower. There was a towel covering something next to the drain.
I opened the glass door. I meant to slowly raise the towel, but as I moved it slightly, several of those small bugs ran across my glove. I reacted suddenly, and the towel was flung against the back wall of the shower. I closed the shower door and smashed the things on my glove.
The towel had been covering a large mass of bugs that began to jump and skitter as they were exposed to the light. Most of them crawled down into the darkness of the drain, while a small few were jumping back and forth against the glass of the shower door.
On the bottom of the shower were the remains of something that looked like a baby. The bugs must have been feeding on it.
My partner and I both began to back out of the bathroom and the old man made a noise.
We both witnessed several patches of skin on the old man that seemed to quiver and move. The thin skin of his temples rose and fell as something underneath was moving.
The old man raised his head, and his breathing increased. He stared at both of us.
“It’s not me.”
Both of us were dumbstruck and had no idea of what to do. Then one of those damn bugs crawled out of the corner of his eye and ran across his face.
I’m not proud. Neither was my partner.
We got the fuck out the house.
We were not going to go back in there unless we were wearing some sort of protective gear. On our way out, I noticed that the thousands of black specks spread out in the white powder in the kitchen were gone, and as we ran past the back lawn, we could both see thousands of the things jumping within the grass.
My partner continued to feel the bugs crawling on him for the rest of our time there despite there being none that I could see.
It’s been several weeks since the incident. The old man died in the hospital; organ failure after severe dehydration. The investigation found that it was a baby in the shower. There was no evidence of trauma present. When the backyard was inspected, the tarp was removed and several more bodies were found that had been buried within the last six months and again, no evidence of trauma was present.
All of the bodies were babies, and all of the DNA testing came back the same for every single one of them.
Identical.
They were all genetically identical to each other and to the old man.
Not a single bug was found that matched our descriptions although a fair amount of excrement was detected in the carpets.
All of this is public record, although it hasn’t been reported, which to say the least, is very unusual.
My partner has been institutionalized by his wife. She found him in his workshed in the middle of the night taking a wire brush to himself, swearing that the bugs were hiding in his skin.

I was called out for a wellness check with my partner last month. The home was in the middle of an upper middle class neighborhood. Everything was in full bloom. Trees lined the still street and the sidewalks buckled and erupted in several places from tree roots pushing them upwards.
Vibrant lawns everywhere. The only thing aged and weathered in the entire neighborhood were the painted address numbers on the curbs next each driveway.
Lots of money on that side of town.
The house was an old craftsman two storey. Most of the houses were.
All the window shades were pulled and the car that was in the driveway had spiderwebs along the wheels and a thick layer of dust over the windshield.
The landscaper had called in because the owner had not been seen in two weeks.
The owner was an elderly man who lived alone.
After knocking on the door several times, we walked around the house.
The landscaper had only been charged with maintaining the front of the house. The backyard was nothing like the front. The lawn was completely overgrown. The flower beds were full of brilliant colors of flowers. Weeds had started to infest all of the flower beds and were beginning to take over. Several trees were in the yard, shading over half of it. Lots of flies and other insects were buzzing in and out of the shadows. They were so loud.
Right in the middle of the lawn, there was a blue tarp that was staked down on all four corners. A muddy shovel lay next to the tarp.
My partner walked over and pulled up one of the stakes and peeled part of the tarp back. Over a dozen spots of fresh dirt, a small hole, and several areas of newly seeded grass were underneath. He jumped backward and started swatting at his pants legs as he ran over to the patio.
He said he felt them crawling all over his legs.
He started stamping his feet.
I watched the tiny bugs fall off of his legs onto the hot concrete and then skitter and jump as quickly as they could back into the shelter of the thick shady lawn.
We knocked on the back door and found that it was open.
As we walked inside, my partner kept swatting at his legs as I yelled out that we were police just doing a wellness check.
All the lights were off.
The kitchen and the laundry room were perfectly clean and organized with the exception of a thin layer of white dust with thousands of tiny black specks on every surface.
The dust had a faint chemical odor. We realized that it was all over the floor as well. The thousands and thousands of black specks amongst the white dust were tiny dead bugs. They looked like mosquitos without wings. Just like the ones that were on my partner in the backyard.
We turned on every light as we walked through the home. The white powder was spread over every floor, although we couldn’t see any of the bugs if they were present due to the nap of the carpet.
We continued through the home until we found the old man in the bathroom.
There were a variety of smells inside that turned our stomachs and we were fighting back the urge to vomit. When we turned on the lights, we saw the old man naked on the toilet. His head hung down and he wasn’t moving.
There were several bottles of iodine in the wastebasket and a dried out sponge was in the sink that was covered in it. The old man had smeared it over the entirety of his body, and it had stained the porcelain bowl underneath him. His skin was raised around his feet and ankles, and several places on his abdomen were broken out in bites. I put on latex gloves before I would even touch him.
His pulse was very weak.
My partner called in an ambulance.
I turned toward the shower. There was a towel covering something next to the drain.
I opened the glass door. I meant to slowly raise the towel, but as I moved it slightly, several of those small bugs ran across my glove. I reacted suddenly, and the towel was flung against the back wall of the shower. I closed the shower door and smashed the things on my glove.
The towel had been covering a large mass of bugs that began to jump and skitter as they were exposed to the light. Most of them crawled down into the darkness of the drain, while a small few were jumping back and forth against the glass of the shower door.
On the bottom of the shower were the remains of something that looked like a baby. The bugs must have been feeding on it.
My partner and I both began to back out of the bathroom and the old man made a noise.
We both witnessed several patches of skin on the old man that seemed to quiver and move. The thin skin of his temples rose and fell as something underneath was moving.
The old man raised his head, and his breathing increased. He stared at both of us.
“It’s not me.”
Both of us were dumbstruck and had no idea of what to do. Then one of those damn bugs crawled out of the corner of his eye and ran across his face.
I’m not proud. Neither was my partner.
We got the fuck out the house.
We were not going to go back in there unless we were wearing some sort of protective gear. On our way out, I noticed that the thousands of black specks spread out in the white powder in the kitchen were gone, and as we ran past the back lawn, we could both see thousands of the things jumping within the grass.
My partner continued to feel the bugs crawling on him for the rest of our time there despite there being none that I could see.
It’s been several weeks since the incident. The old man died in the hospital; organ failure after severe dehydration. The investigation found that it was a baby in the shower. There was no evidence of trauma present. When the backyard was inspected, the tarp was removed and several more bodies were found that had been buried within the last six months and again, no evidence of trauma was present.
All of the bodies were babies, and all of the DNA testing came back the same for every single one of them.
Identical.
They were all genetically identical to each other and to the old man.
Not a single bug was found that matched our descriptions although a fair amount of excrement was detected in the carpets.
All of this is public record, although it hasn’t been reported, which to say the least, is very unusual.
My partner has been institutionalized by his wife. She found him in his workshed in the middle of the night taking a wire brush to himself, swearing that the bugs were hiding in his skin.

Today I had the strangest sleep experience in all my 30+ years.
For context, I’ve had multiple dreams a night, ever since I can remember. Sometimes they are lucid, often controllable, but rarely nightmarish. I usually remember a few of them.
About the experience whilst dreaming:
1: The dream started off pitch black. That has never happened before.
2: I heard a deep english voice above and to the left of me say, “Hey, you okay down there?” followed by something warm and encouraging.
3 (Oddest event): I felt a swooping sensation as if I were being lifted up, similar to a parent lifting a toddler who has fallen while trying to walk. Before this, I had never felt motion in my dreams.
As I was being lifted, it felt like my mind was shifting through different planes, as if it had reached a new level in a game and was upgraded.
4: When I woke up, my vision had changed, as if it had a filter on it, almost like a Picasso or Van Gogh painting. I closed my eyes and opened them again. I could still see my wife sleeping, our bed, and our room, but with the new filter. On the third try, my vision went back to normal, but with a faint shifting haze. It has since settled, but yeah…
Keen to hear your thoughts! Has anyone else experienced something like this?

It’s going to be a long one sorry in advance I just need some outside perspective or I’m going to go insane. Apologies for grammar and all that jazz.
We are headed for divorce after 14 years.
A little about myself 40m 2 kids with her they are 13 and 11. I pay all of the bills and take care of everything while she is a stay at home mom with random spurts of jobs throughout the marriage. We have always had arguments and from past experiences from childhood and relationships I fight to protect my self and drag up past instances. I’m by no means perfect. In personal therapy I worked on past trauma and being better at communication along with stress and anxiety. We talked about a ton of things and worked on them it was good. According to the wife she self diagnosed me as a narcissist and an asshole and says I cause all her stress. Never once did any of the 4 therapists I saw say I was a narcissist.
3 years ago my wife had a affair with one or several of her clients (she was a massage therapist). I’ll never know the entire truth. She becomes a full blown pot smoking alcoholic after I find out about the affair she has also been on depression anxiety meds since she was young. My dumbass figured we could work through it. Independent therapy marriage therapy were done for awhile. We actually got to a good spot with communication and enjoyed each others company. Everything was back to almost normal.
Fast forward to Aug/23 Her brother lost his kids and they were put in an abusive foster home with my wife’s father. so we talked and agreed to talk temporary custody’s of them working towards adoption. This is when it starts to completely fall apart having 4 kids is no walk in the park they are 8 and 3 and full of trauma. The wife and I basically become roommates again no physical contact no time alone nothing. The only time we communicate is to try to parent and we do not agree on parenting styles at all so we argue about every small thing. I voice these feelings to her several times and she says I’m an asshole and attacking her. She balks at my marriage therapy request again and we continue on down the spiral. I voice my feelings in dec/23 that I can’t wrap my head around become financially legally obligated to her brothers kids if we are going to end in divorce after the adoption paperwork is signed. This is the first of 4 times I have voiced this mega concern for me. Fast forward to 2 weeks ago we are in the same spot I send her a big long message from work saying “I can’t do this we need to figure out where we are and where we are heading because at this point we are not communicating at all unless it’s fighting. No physical contact not even hugs we barely sleep in the same room. The next day she has a really bad headache and is life flighted to the big city hospital with a brain bleed / stroke symptoms. I think ok none of this bs matters my wife might die we can get over it. I spend almost every waking moment at the hospital pull my kids out of school take a leave from work,fight with the state to find someone one who can be approved to watch the foster kids. A week later she is home in bed rest everything seems to have calmed down. I hear her on the phone screaming at her mother and I try to console her and she says she is just as mad if not more mad at me and this brain bleed and all her problems are my fault. I tired to kill her with stress. She tells me to go file for divorce because I lied to her telling her I was ready to adopt and now I’m not. And she can heal herself.
All her friends and family keep saying why can’t he just wait for the adoption and then get divorced. I don’t think it’s even remotely a good idea for me to become legally responsible for her brothers kids when we can’t even hold a marriage together. So now she is saying she will try to adopt them on her own because I’m a piece of shit. She has no job the only money she will have is whatever we get from the house sale or I buy her out. She will never forgive me or speak to me again if she is denied the adoption.
I’m affaird I’m going to lose my house and my kids and be living in my truck if she does not try to take that too.
Any help would be appreciated I’m supposed to start calling lawyers tomorrow. For some reason part of me still wants to keep trying I have no idea why.

Our little one was sleep trained from 7-12 months. At 13 months our little one had a febrile seizure and we caved and started letting her sleep in our bed after she would wake up at night. We normally put her down between 7-8 and she wakes up around 11.
My wife doesn’t like any cry it out type method, Ferber or extinction.
The chair method we tried but I don’t think that’s the real problem, I think it’s a pacifier. The baby wakes up without her paci and will cry until we put it back in every time. My wife is going out of town for two weeks soon and I’m thinking about taking the paci out of her bed as I think it might fix some of the sleep problem.
Is not recommended to take the paci away cold turkey and let her cry herself back to sleep to see if this solves our problem or what would be recommend if anyone else was in our situation? We always sit in the room with her while she falls asleep and we let her fall asleep on her own which she always does.
I’m at such a loss right now on how to get back to where we were when she used to sleep through the night and me and my wife could sleep.