“A roommate of mine had our warlock landlord (yes, he called himself a warlock) put a curse on me after I said I didn’t like Nirvana and didn’t want to go to the concert with her. Our relationship soured after that, and within a few days, a series of horrible things happened to me.”

"During this time, my wife had found a gendarme and dragged him over to the souvenir stands. He instantly understood the situation and ordered the lady to move the stands and unlock the gate, which she begrudgingly did, with much harrumphing and snorting. There was a small cheer from the crowd, and I raised my fist a little like Mandela did when he was released from prison. We did not buy any souvenir postcards."

"We were 18, had no cell service, and the camp was already pitched. It was midnight, so it was too late to search for another spot where we might get away from whoever it was, and we were too scared to search for him. We decided to sleep through the night there with two-man watch teams. There were no signs of him for the rest of the night, and we got out of the woods all right the next day. Two days later, two hikers were stabbed and killed by a mentally disturbed man who’d encountered them on a trail near where we were camping. Every now and then, I wonder how close we came to having our cards punched that night by what could have been a knife-wielding murderer."

"To this day, I could describe them to a police sketch artist. I ran to get my parents, and when they came in, obviously, the men were gone. My parents didn't believe me, so I went back to bed and didn't sleep at all. The next day, when I went outside to walk to school, I could see two sets of footprints in the snow going to and from my window, and tire tracks in our yard. My parents told me it was some kids playing a prank, but for a long time after that, I didn't sleep until the sun started to rise. I'd spend my nights staring out my window."

Note: Responses have been edited for length/clarity.