I think it was 1998 when my family visited my mother’s sister and her kids in North Yorkshire, England for a week. My family lived in Ohio, but my mother’s side of the family was from the UK. It was a fun trip, checking out the local sights and hanging out with my cousins. I was enjoying myself, at least until the Sunday towards the end of the outing.

My entire family is Christian, so we went to the church my aunt and cousins go to that day. What initially struck me about the building the most was the architecture. It was a large Gothic building that looked like it was from medieval times, but according to my mom, was built in the late 1800s. Even as a seven year old kid, I could tell it truly was an impressive building.

Looking back, I don’t remember what the service was about. I just remember sitting around in chapel afterward as my mother and aunt talked with some friends for a while. When I got bored of sitting and waiting, I looked around, examining the architecture. My eyes drifted around the room, but stopped when I spotted the man standing near the altar.

The first thing I noticed about him was how tall and thin he was, almost inhumanly so, but it was too far away to tell for sure. He did tower well over anyone I had ever seen, that’s for sure, but that wasn’t the weirdest thing about him. He was wearing a long black cloak with a hood. I couldn’t see his legs or arms, so the only visible part was his face.

Once again, it was too far away to see in great detail, but it looked like he was wearing a white rag or a veil that obscured everything from below the eyes, which were the only human part of him I could see. His dark eyes stood out against his pale skin, hardly darker than the white veil.

He immediately struck me as odd, even creepy, but it didn’t look like he was doing anything. He was simply standing there, looking around the room, just like I had been. I stared at him for about a minute, examining who had to have been the strangest person I had ever come across.

Then our eyes met.

It was only for a fraction of a second. I lowered the eyes the instant I had seen that we made eye contact, but that brief moment was enough to send me into a state of panic I was not prepared for. For the instant I could see him looking at me, fear struck me to my very core. My entire body got cold. My heart was racing in my chest. I don’t know what it was about it that frightened me so much, but for whatever reason, I was absolutely terrified.

I don’t remember how long I was looking down, scared out of my wits. It could have been ten seconds or two minutes. The entire time, I was sure that he was coming over to do who knew what. I was forced back into reality when I heard my mother say my name. I looked over at her, and she said it was time to leave.

It wasn’t until we were almost out of the room that I dared to look back to where the man was standing.

He was gone.

I never told anybody about what had happened that day, and I tried my best to forget about the whole experience myself. In fact, it wasn’t until very recently that I even thought about the incident for the first time in several years.

I’m in my twenties now, owning my own house and working a full-time job. I was thinking of something to do with my vacation time when it occurred to me that I could visit my cousin in England, who had a wife and family. I Skyped him and we talked a little about things we could do if I went over. He was telling me that we could drive down to see Stonehenge when something tugged at the back of my mind, a repressed memory that was nearly two decades old at point. I tried as nonchalantly as possible to ask him if he went to the same church he went to with his family back then.

His brow furrowed slightly when I asked, as if he suspected something. “No. Why do you ask?”

“Oh…uh, no reason.” I could tell from his facial expression that he wasn’t satisfied with that answer, so my mind scrambled to think of a good lie, since he wouldn’t have believed me if I told him the truth.

“It just…it just kinda creeped me out.”

I started recalling more about the day, and the emotions of that event came flooding back to me. I was so lost in my own thoughts that it took me a good ten seconds to notice that he had said something.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I said, you saw the picture, didn’t you?”

That wasn’t what I was expecting. It seemed so random that it was actually able to snap me back to reality again.

“What picture?”

“The Newby Church photo.”

It occurred to me that that must have been the name of the church, but I was still completely lost.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He gave me a weird look, then just shrugged.

“Whatever. The point is, you won’t have to worry about it.”

We talked for ten more minutes or so, and the moment we wrapped it up and finished the call, I went to Google to look up “Newby church photo.”

I still get chills when I think about what I discovered.

The picture was not hard to find. It was clear right away that the first picture to come up in my search was what he was talking about. I digged a little deeper and got some background for the photo. Apparently, in 1963, a Reverend was taking photos in the church, and something was in the picture of the altar. Although the image could have been replicated with certain methods at that time, its authenticity has never been confirmed nor debunked.

Shown here is the image. Even after what I had experienced, I still don’t know what to think.

Hello, I’m currently stuck in an elevator. It’s been roughly 16 hours now since the elevator stopped and I don’t know what to do anymore. Several times, I have contacted the 24/7 service number printed on the inside of this elevator, but they are no help, neither are my parents nor the police. By posting this, I’m hoping to get some advice or just people to talk to, maybe even an explanation for what’s happening.

I live on the 4th floor of my apartment building and I usually take the elevator to get there. I got home pretty early from my classes today at about 1:00 PM, entered the elevator and as usual, pressed the button to the 4th floor. Everything was normal, expect that between the 3rd and 4th floor, the elevator came to a halt.

Obviously, I was annoyed and called the number of the elevator company that I mentioned above. It’s not the first time I got stuck in this elevator. Two years ago, the same thing happened and after maybe 40 minutes of waiting, an elevator mechanic freed me. Back then, it was no big deal, so I wasn’t really worried about it yesterday. I’m also not afraid of elevators, despite having had recurring nightmares involving them, which thinking about it now is pretty weird.

Over the phone, I told the customer service person my address and he assured me a mechanic will be there within the next 30 to 60 minutes. Luckily for me, the wi-fi signal of my apartment is strong enough to be used from inside the elevator, so I decided to pass the time browsing the internet.

After 1.5 hours of waiting, I got impatient and, to be honest, a little worried. I wondered if they forgot about me or maybe got my address wrong, so I decided to call the same number again. Now this is where things started to get weird… I was speaking to the same person who answered my call earlier (his name is Davies) and told him that no mechanic showed up. However, he insisted that he does not remember my call from 1.5 hours ago and that my case is not stored in his system. He apologized for the inconveniences and again, promised that a mechanic will arrive within an hour.

Another hour passed (it was about 3:30 PM now) and no one arrived. At this point, I started to get furious at the elevator company and called them for a third time. Again, the same person answered, and again, he did not remember me. My heart started racing. Does he have that many customers that he simply doens’t recognize my name or voice, even after the third time? Is he just pretending he can’t remember me and purposely not sending someone for some reason? I demanded to speak to his boss, but he said that he is currently alone in his office. I demanded that he stays on the phone with me until a mechanic arrives, but he told me he cannot do that.

So once more, I waited and once more, no one came. At this point, I’ve been stuck for almost 4 hours. It was time to call 911 because the elevator customer service was useless. Immediately, I recognized the voice of the 911 operator: it was the same person I spoke to during the last 3 phone calls. I thought to myself that this is impossible, that it must just be a man with a similar voice, but nonetheless I was scared. I played it cool and explained my situation, he said he’ll send someone to my location. They never came.

Every minute, I was getting more worried and nervous about the whole situation. How is it possible that no one is helping me? I tried calling my mom, but she won’t answer her phone. I texted and tried to call my friends, but the texts I sent are marked as unread. Emergency services seem to forget or ignore me.

I fell asleep at about 9:00 PM for maybe 3 hours, but I can’t sleep any more. Right now, the clock on my laptop shows 5:21 AM and I’m still in this small, dirty elevator. It’s not even big enough for me to fully stretch my legs. The light is cold and dim. The brown, windowless walls feel suffocating. I stopped using my phone because the battery was getting low (currently at 4%) and now the same thing is happening to my laptop.

There are no noises coming from outside, just complete silence. It seems like no one is in the building. Did no one try to use the elevator since I got stuck? I have no idea, but it seems unlikely. I feel helpless and don’t know what to do. I’m not even sure where I am anymore.