Over the years, the internet has seen its fair share of spooky images. From possible Bigfoot sightings to UFOs in the sky to ghosts haunting the windows of old houses, there’s no shortage of creepy photos.
While many of these images are often easily explained, usually just by camera blur or clever Photoshop work, there are some that seem to defy all logic. Take the case of runner Kay Borleis, who discovered something disturbing in a photo she took during her 100-mile run through the Hawaiian rainforest.
In 2019, Kay participated in the Hawaiian Ultra Running Team’s Trail 100-Mile Endurance Run, which involved completing five laps of a 20-mile loop through dense jungle. She was accompanied by her friend Cassie, who acted as a pacemaker and captured moments during her run.
A photo showing Kay walking along a muddy trail took a surprising turn when she later noticed a strange detail in the background. In a post on Reddit, Kay shared: “My Pacer took this photo. Look closely at the figure to the left of my head. We didn’t see anyone pass by and there were no statues on the trail. It’s NOT photoshopped; this is real”.
When you zoom in on the image, you can see a dark figure in tattered clothing who appears to be watching Kay as he runs. However, Kay insisted that no one was there at the time.
She continued: “According to Hawaiian legend, the ghosts of ancient warriors known as Night Marchers roam the island. Described as ‘murderous shadows’, they haunt the land as the spirits of past fighters and heroes”.
Kay continued her research and found that legends say that anyone who looks at the Night Marchers could face a terrible fate. To avoid this, mortals are advised to lie down in submission to show respect, which could potentially spare them harm.
“Luckily we didn’t encounter the Night Marcher”, she said with relief. Have you ever spotted something unexpected in one of your photos? Share your experiences in the comments!
The Saga of My Husband, My Mom, and Rent: A Family Drama
Oh, the pleasures of family dynamics; those complex networks of affection, animosity, and, it seems, rent. What if I told you a small story from the front lines of my own soap opera to start things off?
Imagine this: Dad recently passed away and went to the great beyond, leaving Mom sad and alone. So, of course, I propose that she move in with us, partly out of compassion and partly out of sheer guilt. You know, to socialize with the grandchildren and take in the warmth of family.
Now enter my spouse, who has obviously been attending the “How to Be a Loving Family Man” course. His initial response was a firm no, but after some deft haggling on my part, he reluctantly agreed—but only under one condition. The worst part, get ready: my distraught mother would have to pay the rent.
You did really read correctly. Pay rent. in a home that we currently own and are not renting. Start the crying or laughing. His logic? He replied, grinning in a way that I can only characterize as evil, “Your mother is a leech.” “After she moves in with us, she won’t go.”
His reasoning continued, a train on the loose about to crash down a precipice. She simply doesn’t make sense to utilize anything for free when she will consume our food and electricity. This residence is not a hotel, and she has to know that!
With my blood boiling, I knew something was wrong. The reason for this issue is that I wedded a man who seemed to believe he was the Ritz-Carlton’s management. How daring! Here we are, with equal rights to the house, having both contributed to its acquisition, and he’s enacting capitalist regulations as if we were operating a profit-making Airbnb.
The worst part is that my spouse isn’t a horrible person. Really, no. He and my mother have simply disagreed from the beginning. He told me the truth about how he really felt the night he turned into Mr. Rent Collector. “Ever since I met her, your mother has detested me. She wouldn’t feel at ease living with me right now.
I am therefore torn between my mother, who is in great need of her daughter’s support, and my husband, whom I really love despite his imperfections. I ask you, dear reader, the million-dollar question: What should I do? In true dramatic manner. Shall I rent my mother a room or my husband’s empathy?
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