The tragic thing about not taking notes on events such as this, is that I can’t seem to place the exact period when this happened. I remember about 95% of all the paranormal things that happen to me, but I remember them without a date to back them up. I can easily remember the 1st one that happened when I was about five years old, and I can remember the most recent one that’s taken place just a few weeks prior to this post. However, everything that’s happened in between is just a random clusterfuck of events. Looking back, it would’ve been better if I had kept a journal on these types of experiences, but…that just seems like it’d be a whole lot of work. This story took place late 2010, if my memory serves me right. 

     It was a strange time for me, my parents were going through their ups and downs, and my mother was currently staying with her mom in Boise, Idaho. I stayed with my dad in our house in Southern California. One night, after my dad had gone to sleep, I decided to bring the guitar into the living room and work on a few songs that I had been writing at the time. For some reason, I always seemed to do my best writing at night. 

    I started to feel a bit tired after about twenty minutes on the couch, and decided to go wake myself up to the best of my ability. I went into the bathroom, and splashed my face with cold water, and as usual, ended up staring at myself in the mirror for a solid five minutes (I clearly have issues.) When I finally got back out to the living room, I went to reach for my pen, when I noticed that there was a tiny black feather positioned perfectly underneath it. 

    This baffled me for one of two reasons. First of all, I distinctly remember placing my pen down on my notebook without seeing a feather. And secondly, I got the most peculiar sense of paranoia when I caught a glimpse of it. I pulled it out, and held it up to the light. When I say this thing was tiny, I mean this thing was FUCKING TINY. It couldn’t have been longer than two inches, and at the widest, it was maybe three centimeters. Hands down, the smallest feather that I have ever seen. 

    I just kind of laughed it off, but decided that I would take a picture with my blackberry and send it to my mother. I knew she’d get a kick out of it, because she was as religious as they come, and would probably go on and on about how it was an angel. My mom decided to call me, and just like I had figured she would, ended up telling me that it was an angel. 

    I distinctively remember telling her that I didn’t think angels had black wings. Thought that would’ve fallen more or less under the demon category, which, was definitely not something I wanted to look into. After about ten minutes of random phone conversation with her, I eventually told her that I was tired and was going to get some sleep. 

   As soon as I hung up the phone, I went into the kitchen to fill up my water bottle. The strangest thing happened to me as I walked through the entryway. It felt as if I had just walked through a force field of some kind. I know it sounds strange, but the best way that I can describe it, is it felt as if I walked through an invisible 2-inch thick coat of jelly. I’m not talking about Smuckers, or anything along those sorts, I’m just referring to texture alone, that’s what it felt like. 

   Immediately after passing through it, I remember getting goosebumps all over my body, and they stayed for a solid minute. As I was filling up my water, my eyes did not look away from that entryway. I went to hang up the phone to charge, and as I passed the microwave I got this strange feeling of fear. The type of fear that freezes you dead in your tracks. I dont know how, but I knew that if I looked over at the entryway one more time, I would catch a glimpse of whatever it was that left that black feather for me. 

   I must’ve stood there staring at the ground for a solid five minutes, before mustering up the courage to look up. I glanced cautiously into the reflection of the microwave, and to my dismay, saw the silhouette of a man. He filled the entire entryway, so I’m guessing he was an upwards of nine to ten feet tall. I then jolted my head in his direction, and nothing was there. 

   I stared at the entrance of the kitchen, and said something along the lines of, “Okay, well..this was great and all, but I think I’m going to go get some sleep.” I then took a deep breath, and ran through the entryway again. You know, that run you did as a kid when you were scared of the dark, so you had to turn off the light as fast as you could, then run like the little pansy you were to hide under your sheets? Yeah, that one. That was me, at 20 years old, running out of my kitchen. Flipping off every light switch as I ran to my bedroom.

   I remember looking back into the darkness, just as I was rounding the hallway to my room. I don’t know why I did this. I think it mainly has to do with me being a fucking idiot, or maybe curiosity. I remember seeing the silhouette still standing there in the entryway of the kitchen. I couldn’t see a face, eyes, or any features whatsoever, but got the creepy feeling that it was looking at me. Luckily, I made it to my room, closed and locked the door, and went on with my night in peace. Well, as peaceful as you can be after experiencing something of that magnitude.

   That was the last time I would have an encounter with black feathers until November of 2011. That, however, is a story for another night. I still don’t know what it was. Research indicates that it could have been any number of things. A warring/guardian angel, a death omen, it could have even been a demon. Quite frankly, either one of those things would have scared me shitless. Jesus himself could show up, and I’d probably cry my eyes out, because I, ladies and gentlemen, am what’s commonly referred to as a pussy. If any of you have similar stories, or questions about mine, feel free to send me an email. Just click on the contact button to the right. As always, thanks for reading, and be sure to tell your friends!

                     Until Next Time,
                     Scott Walker 

      I’ve always had a secret fascination with stories regarding unexplainable paranormal experiences. Especially due to the fact that I have been through quite a few, myself. Although I’ve experienced my fair share of strange happenings, very few of them have been outside of my house, and only one of them have ever taken place while I was with a friend. Well, until 2009, that is. 

      A buddy of mine was going through a pretty harsh divorce, and I was trying to be there for him, now more than ever. He was living at his brothers house, about twenty minutes away from where I lived, so I did my best to go visit as often as I could. One night in particular, we were sitting in his brothers living room. He had told me that he planned to go down to his house, to pick up a few of his belongings, and he asked if I wanted to tag along. Although I was exhausted, I told him that I would definitely be down to go along for the ride. 

      I let him know that I needed to head back to my house to pick up a few things if I’d be staying the night at his brothers, and told him that I’d be back within the hour. He insisted on coming with me, and since he had been drinking pretty heavily that night, I didn’t want to leave him there alone. So we hopped in my car, and headed back to my place. 

      We we’re at my house for no longer than ten minutes. I left the room for a few seconds, and came back to find him sprawled out on my bed, talking on the phone. I wasn’t really paying attention to him, because I was too busy gathering everything that I’d need for the next day. I turned around to find him passed out, with the phone still held to his ear. As funny as this sight was, I didn’t waste much time before waking him up. 

     I helped him into the car, and we started our journey back to his brothers house. I had just turned onto North Loop, a mere twenty seconds from my house. The car was quiet. I was getting a little upset with the car in front of me for going so goddamn slow. As we were getting closer to the gas station, I glanced to my left and noticed a small child running toward the road. He couldn’t have been more than twenty feet in front of the car that I was behind. 

     My heart started beating faster as I saw him begin running across the road. I freaked out, knowing that the car in front of me didn’t have enough time to stop. To my surprise the driver didn’t even attempt to stop, I thought for sure that little boy was going to get hit. That’s when things got interesting.

     I lost sight of the boy as he ran in front of the car, but very quickly regained sight of him…as he passed through the car ahead of me. The car passed entirely through this child, and so did we. I saw him emerge from the rear end of the ahead of me, and completely pass through my windshield. As I glanced up to look in the rear view mirror, I saw nothing. Not a trace of anything that had happened. 

     I was quietly freaking out, trying to understand what had just taken place. I assumed that my friend was doing the same thing, since he didn’t make a peep throughout the entire experience. As freaked out as I was, I was also relieved that finally someone had been through one of these frightening experiences with me! I looked over and said word for word, “Holy fuck. Did you just see that?” Turns out that my buddy had fallen asleep, and missed the entire thing. 

     The crazy thing, is that this ghost runner didn’t skip a beat. He ran from the left side of the road, to the right, without even noticing the two cars heading in his direction. Even when we passed right through him, he didn’t slow down, or look around. He just kept the same running position. I thought it was a bit strange, but by the time we got to my buddies brothers place I had practically forgotten about it. Thinking back now, that is the only friend that I’ve ever experienced anything like this with. The first encounter was at his house, and he was wide awake. Maybe he’s as open to this kind of shit as I am, but that’s a story for another night though.

     If any of you guys have interesting paranormal stories, or even questions about the shit that I post, feel free to send any questions or comments to Scott@TragicallyHilarious.com, I’d love to hear from you.

         Folks, there was a time when, like most young teenage boys, I was fixated on one girl in particular. A girl that I was certain would one day be mine. That girl, my friends, was the one and only Hilary Duff. Now, did I have a plan to win over the heart of this teeny bop sensation? Of course not, why would I? The world would intervene in some divine miracle and she would just mysteriously fall in love with someone she had yet to meet. Typical teenage logic.

         The fact of the matter is I didn’t care if she ended up with me or not. Truth be told, I was content with the constant fantasies, and slapping ham. However, my infatuation with Ms. Duff did lead me to become somewhat obsessive when it came to lining my walls with her memorabilia. If memory serves me correct, I had a poster of her on each one of my walls. As well as an additional smaller poster on the wall closest to my bed. My love for the illustrious Hilary Duff kept growing, until one night that I remember quite well. 

         I was sixteen. I woke up to a man standing at the foot of my bed. The room was dark, but he had a natural luminescence about him. I could make him out perfectly amidst the surrounding darkness. Unlike most of the experiences I have during the night, I was completely calm. I sat there staring at him for what felt like a lifetime of silence, but in all reality couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. During that time, I noticed that his face kept shifting into different people. People that I knew. For those of you that have seen A Scanner Darkly, it’s similar to the suits they wore in that movie, except this shift was only happening to his face. I’ll come back to that later. 

         The first thing he did was glance over at my wall, staring directly at the small Hilary Duff poster I had pinned up. He smiled, then looked back at me, saying “You know that’s got to come down, right?” Now, I don’t know why I responded the way I did, but my reply was word for word, “How do you expect me to do that?” He gave me a look of confusion, followed by another smile, and said “How else would you take it down?” I was stumped. Like most human beings, you’d think I would just pull out the tacks, and voila, problem solved. However, for some reason, this logic escaped me. What I did was tear the post at the edges, leaving tiny bits of the poster on the wall with the tacks. 

        I tossed the poster down on the ground, and looked back at him. He gave a small laugh and said, “Good.” Then he raised his hand to my forehead, and I fell back to sleep. In the morning, the first thought I had was, “Wow, what a strange dream.” I sat up and glanced over at the wall to see that where once I had a poster, now only sat four thumb tacks with tiny bits of poster stuck underneath. I look to the floor to find the poster, exactly where I had tossed it.

       Thinking back later, I realized that the faces that kept appearing on him were the faces of people who were spiritual leaders in my life. The generic bearded Jesus. My Mother. My Pastor. ect. I still have no idea what it was exactly that I saw that day, but I’ve never been more at peace during an experience like this, so I’m guessing it couldn’t have been bad.