We all have that little voice inside of us that tells us what to do and warns us of impending doom. These Redditors listened to their spidey senses and got themselves out of some sticky situations. Keep reading to hear their harrowing tales; they will reaffirm that everyone should indeed trust their gut!
I almost drove through a big patch of tall grass on my dirt bike just for fun, but at the last second hit the brakes and turned around. I didn't know why. The next time I went there, I made a chilling discovery: I found out that there was a 75-foot cliff over a river right behind it that I would have just flown off of at top speed. Because of the scenery, you couldn't tell at all by looking ahead at it. I still don't know what made me stop back then.
I was working in the sales office at an engineering company. I was asked to record the serial numbers off a stack of large steel plates on the shop floor. I had to get someone with crane operating experience to lift the top plate so I could read the one underneath. The guy lifted it directly upwards about six feet. I was just about to lean underneath when I stopped dead: A little voice inside my head said, "Don't do that, mate".
Get him to move the overhead plate to one side". Just as I thought that the clamp holding the plate failed and it fell to the ground right in front of me. It must've weighed about a ton. If it'd fallen on my head, I would have been an instant goner.
My GF met up with a work friend at a bar. This girl was with a guy who gave me seriously bad vibes. He was fake-friendly, but his eyes were crazy; my GF didn't see it. I wasn't having it. I told her I was leaving, and she really needed to come. We fought, I left, and she came running after. The next morning, we found what he'd done, and my blood ran cold. Turns out, out the guy put a knife through someone's chest later that night. I straight-up said, "I told you so. He was crazy".
My boyfriend at the time and I were housesitting for his uncle. My boyfriend was at work, and I was bathing our son before bed. I had the bathroom window very slightly cracked and heard a cough from outside. This house was in a residential neighborhood, so it could have been a neighbor. Then the weirdest thing happened. I suddenly felt anxious and scared. I literally felt a chill go down my spine. Something told me to go make sure the back door was locked.
I left my two-year-old son alone in a towel in the bathroom and ran to the back door. As I placed my hand on the doorknob, locking it, I came face to face with someone through the glass, who had his hand on the outside doorknob. He started pounding on the door and jiggling the doorknob, saying he was looking for someone. I just told him, "No, they're not here".
He kept jiggling the doorknob. I ran to my son and grabbed my cell phone to call for help. I was housesitting, so I had no idea what the address was or where the house phone was. I called emergency services from the bathroom on my cell while hearing loud pounding on the back door. The dispatcher told me to find a house phone, piece of mail, or anything with an address.
I located the house phone and called from that. I have no idea how the authorities got there so quickly, but just as I heard the back door glass break, the guy on the phone told me to cover my son’s head with a blanket and run out the front door into the backseat of the officer’s car. I ran out the front door and saw six or more cruisers, and went straight into the waiting car.
After they cuffed the guy, they asked me if the machete on the back porch belonged to the owners of the house. Had I not trusted my gut that the cough sounded a little too close and to check the back door, he would've walked right into an unlocked house with a 19-year-old female and her young son alone. He had been burglarizing houses and had a backpack full of pilfered goods and was also high.
I was a temp worker at a warehouse. One day, my boss—who had no training on the forklift—told me to climb up on a ladder and move something out of the way. My gut said, "Tell her to turn the forklift off first", so I did. She scoffed and said it was unnecessary, so she got this other guy to move it because I was being "difficult".
I wish I hadn't been so right. She moved the fork up and smashed his fingers against the ceiling, breaking every finger on his hand aside from his thumb.
My first black lab was about ten months old when we went to a local park early one morning to walk the trails. We had just finished a long trail and were resting. I was sitting on a bench when my dog's hair stood up, and he started to growl. When I looked up, I saw a man walking toward me. His eyes didn't look right, and I knew he was high.
When my dog growled, he stopped. He gave a smirky smile and asked if my dog would bite. I told him he definitely would if the guy came any closer. He hesitated for a moment, and then he turned and walked away. To this day, I am certain he meant to harm me. If I hadn't trusted my dog, I hate to think what would have happened.
When I was 10, I was walking to my friend’s house. A van stopped me to ask for directions to the park. A man was driving, and the female passenger was the one who spoke to me. We had been taught in school—and by my parents—that adults should never ask kids for directions. In school, they told us if anyone ever stops you, take a giant step back before running away, so they can't grab you.
So, I took a step back and told them I didn’t know where the park was. The lady said, "I can't hear you; come closer". At that moment, I knew in my gut something was wrong. Out of fear, I almost listened to her, but then the sliding door on the van started to open, and I took off running faster than I'd ever run in my life. I ran all the way to my friend’s house. I told her parents everything, and they called my parents and the authorities.
The authorities came to her house and talked to me. They said that two other kids in our neighborhood reported the same van stopping and trying to talk to them. It was weird because before the van even stopped beside me, I had this sick feeling in my gut. As soon as it started rolling down the street, I knew something bad was about to happen. It was a couple of months before I had the guts to walk to my friend’s house again.
I was always a good kid, and my mom knew all of my friends. I asked to go on a small road trip with a friend during my senior year to see a college, plus go to a party there the friend knew about. My mom agreed. Then, suddenly, before the weekend trip, she just said, "No, I don’t want you to go. It doesn’t feel right". She gave no explanation, so I was confused and furious at her as my friend was leaving.
I knew she was going to have so much fun with cute college boys and touring the campus. She barely made it an hour away and her car was T-boned by a truck, destroying the passenger side where I would have been.
When I was a teen, my mother was dating this "cool" guy. To my mother, he was a catch. He was built and very friendly and charismatic, however, I never liked him. This man just always made my skin crawl and my gut would go crazy when he was around. I would argue with my mother constantly because she would get mad that I didn't comply and I would always keep my siblings away.
I would make sure to be mean and annoying, and just a complete jerk to him and my mom when he was around. He left her after a few months and she blamed me for it. A few months later, his picture was in the local news. When I read the story, my stomach dropped. He was taken into custody for child trafficking. I remember yelling at my mother and pointing my finger at her, telling her I knew he was a bad man! Thanks to me, my siblings weren't his next victims!
My husband and I weren't married at the time, but we had just bought a house and were living the dream. One night, I woke up at about 3 AM and he wasn't in bed. I walked out to the living room to find him on the couch. I asked if he was OK and he said yes; his stomach just hurt and he didn't want to wake me by getting up. Then, he ran to the bathroom to puke.
All the hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I asked him, "Where does your stomach hurt"? As he was doubling over, he told me on his right side. Alarm bells started going off in my head. I told him to get dressed, and that we were going to the ER. He tried to protest, but I MADE him get in the car with a bucket and some electrolytes. It was about a 40-minute drive to the hospital, and we made it about halfway before he made me pull over, and begged for the pain to stop.
I thought he wasn’t going to make it. We got to the ER, and they gave him meds, drew blood, and did an ultrasound. It showed a stone passing, and they said he would be OK in a few hours, but they would follow up with surgery. It didn't sit right with me. They said his white blood count wasn't elevated, but it was. Granted, it was only a little and could be explained by the stone passing.
His pain took three days to go away, and he was still not great even after that. Six days after the ER visit, we had our appointment with the surgery department. She said that the reason it took a hot minute for his pain to go away was actually that the stone was stuck and too big to pass. There was a very slight thickening of his gallbladder, which could suggest a little infection, so better to take the gallbladder out in the next week or so.
I still had an incredibly uneasy feeling. My husband had no fever, no more pain, and no symptoms, but something was WRONG. I don't know how I knew, but I KNEW. The case manager came in and said that they had an opening for surgery the next day. My husband said that he needed a few days to arrange for work, etc., and the case manager said no problem.
When they left to get the schedule, I looked at my husband and told him to do the surgery the next day; I begged him until he caved. The 45-minute laparoscopic surgery turned into four hours of opening him up the old-fashioned way, a gallbladder moments away from bursting, infected on the inside AND the outside, filled with pockets of infection, and dying. Even the bile ducts had pockets of infection.
His surgeon had never seen one so bad, especially not on someone who walked into the hospital feeling FINE on their own two feet that morning. The tests showed it was salmonella. The pathologist in infectious diseases didn't believe the person it came out of was alive and came up to see him in recovery. Had any of the pockets burst, or had the gallbladder itself burst, he would have been septic with salmonella.
The surgeon said that it would have ended his life before they figured out it was salmonella and got the right antibiotic into him. He spent four more days in the hospital, had seven more procedures to put in stents where the bile ducts were because they weren't healing, and four months of a drainage tube sticking out his side. But he's here, and alive today because I just KNEW something was wrong from the start.
A couple of years ago, we had a ton of snow and a delayed spring. When the snow finally started to melt, it was very rapid. So much so that some areas had little creeks forming. My dad and I were on a walk on a trail and stopped to admire a culvert that got torn apart by the newly formed river. A large tree had already fallen down onto the path because the ground had completely eroded at the base.
I was looking at another tree near the riverbank and thought it was likely going to fall in a day or two. "That tree is going to fall too I bet" I told him. I watched it swaying slightly for a moment. Then it stopped swaying, and I just stared at it for a couple seconds. Then I went into full panic mode. I yelled, "Run", and we just ran without looking back while several trees all started coming down in a chain reaction. The tree I was mesmerized by struck right where we were standing.
I was living in Spain with my best friend while we studied Spanish. One evening, we were feeling sluggish and a bit off after eating dinner. We barely made it through half a movie before we looked at each other and discussed whether we were becoming sick, and should just call it an early evening and head to bed. We quickly got ready for bed, feeling sickish.
I was turning off the lights in the living room when I had a lightbulb moment of checking out the gas. We were using a gas stove where you had to turn the gas thingy on and off upon using the stove itself. It turned out the gas was still on after we turned the stove off after cooking. It was leaking gas into the small apartment we lived in the entire evening. If we would have gone to sleep, we would have never woken up again.
I was driving home from a friend’s house in my Mustang late one night. I was getting it down a back road when I heard this loud, "SLOW DOWN NOW" in my head; it was louder than the music I had cranked up. I immediately slowed down to well below the speed limit, and when I came around the next turn, there was a train coming across the unmarked tracks.
There were warning signs about the tracks, and I knew they were there as I had traveled that road many times. However, there were no lights or cross arms, and I had never seen a train on those tracks before. Add that to the fact that there were woods on either side of the road, it would be almost impossible to know if a train was coming at night.
When I was in my late teens/early 20s, I was with a girlfriend at a club. We met some guys who said they were throwing a party. I was driving, so I figured it couldn't hurt to check it out. We got to a hotel room and it was just us two girls with at least four guys. I already felt something bad would happen, but I decided to drink as much of their booze before bugging out.
I remember quite vividly standing at the mini fridge and my friend was sitting on one of the two beds. She was holding a drink and talking about how sloshed she was when these guys started moving in on her like a group of hyenas. I immediately knew we had to get out. I just walked over to her and told her I needed to talk to her outside.
I grabbed her by the wrist and kept walking down the stairs from the hotel door. She fought me the entire time, and I had to scream at her to get in the car. By the time the guys figured out we were leaving, they were at the door of their room, throwing things at my car. I know I saved my friend from a very dangerous situation.
I finished work late. After I get off the bus, I usually walk through an alley that's pitch black. That night, my gut told me, "Take the big detour", so I did. The next morning three bodies were found in that alley. The time of their passing was three minutes after I decided to take the other route. That alley was specifically known for a lot of illicit activities. Unfortunately, the gang members got the wrong people—they were tourists.
I realized in my 39th week of pregnancy that my baby hadn't been moving as much in the past 36 hours. I decided it was best to make sure everything was all right, so we went to the ER. I had preeclampsia, and the baby had the umbilical cord around his neck, swimming in meconium. They put me on magnesium sulfate to bring my blood pressure down and gave me an emergency C-section. My son and I needed a few days to recover, but we're alive and well now. If I had decided to keep waiting, both of us might not have made it.
I was working for an oilfield company, and we were doing some maintenance on a hydraulic pump jack. I had to be lifted in a basket about twenty feet in the air by the crane I was working on to loosen a couple of nuts so we could remove a part. Once I got up there, I took my hard hat off because it was so hot out. I figured, "Hey, what could possibly drop on my head when I'm higher up than anything around me?"
I loosened the first nut and then thought about how mad my mom would be if something happened, so I put my hard hat back on. When I loosened the last nut, the pump jack torpedoed up because the operator hadn't depressurized it like he said he had. This massive nut flew straight up in the air, and before I could figure out what was happening, it landed square on my hard hat.
I've never experienced anything like it. The force made me drop to my knees. The guy operating the crane saw me drop and immediately lowered the basket to the ground. I walked away with a kink in my neck and a huge dent in my hard hat. I often think about what would have happened if I hadn't put it back on.
A couple of weeks into recovering from a fractured hip, I noticed my calf/foot turning red when standing up. A day or so later, it felt like a minor muscle cramp in my calf, and my foot was a little clammy. My mom said I was overthinking it, but I knew something was wrong and went to the ER. I was diagnosed with a DVT, then five days later had a pulmonary embolism.
Had I not gotten it checked out as quickly as I did, the clot could have continued to grow, which would have increased its potential danger. Thankfully, the clot was small, and the damage was minimal all things considered!
I was casually walking home, and then a drop of water fell on my head. My first thought was, "Is it raining"? However, for some reason, my gut was all like, "Run"! So, naturally, I listened to my gut and ran. As I was doing so, a whole air conditioner came crashing down at the exact spot where I was standing.
I had a lot of congestion and a wicked cough for like a week, to the point that my ribs hurt. My doctor thought it was just a sinus infection that was draining into my ears and chest. Finally, my pain started to get worse. I figured it was just muscle soreness from all of the coughing I was doing, but something in my gut said to call for an ambulance.
By the time paramedics got to me a couple of minutes later, I was barely able to breathe. One look at their faces and I knew I was in serious trouble. It turned out that I had an abscess in my lung which had ruptured. The accumulated pus and fluid had collapsed my lung, and I was in the first stages of sepsis.
I was at a party off campus with a very annoying friend of my then-girlfriend. We were waiting for my girlfriend and another of her friends to show up. The guys hosting the party were sketchy-looking and I had a "get a drink and get out" vibe. I was talking to someone I knew from class and I turned around and saw my wife’s friend, who was fine ten minutes prior, stumbling while some dude was walking her to the basement.
I ran over and told him to get off of my girlfriend and I was suddenly surrounded by three guys, telling me to get lost, and they were all partying downstairs. The guy who I was talking to walked over with some of his friends and I took the opportunity to get her out of the party, called my girlfriend, and told her not to go. We met up at the local Waffle House, and we fed her friend, gave her coffee, and got her to her room.
I later found out another girl wasn’t as lucky. The guys held her in the basement for three days. Even worse, they didn’t do a day in prison, because the girl left town and never came back. I always felt guilty about it, although I still don’t know what I could have done differently.
I had planned to have my second child at a birthing center with a midwife. I started to labor at home, and when it was time, we got to the birthing center. After about four hours of true laboring—pushing and all—they asked to check my cervix because I was not making any progress. They told me my cervix wasn’t all the way dilated. I told them it was time to go to a hospital and request a C-section.
They told me it was fine and my cervix would eventually dilate. I insisted, and they prepared my transfer. At the hospital, I told them that I needed a C-section. They assured me I was fine, and as I was pushing, there was talk amongst themselves about how the baby should be here any minute, and there was no way I was getting a C-section. They were horribly wrong.
No less than twenty minutes later, they couldn’t find the baby’s heartbeat and when they did, its heart rate was dropping rapidly, and mine was suddenly spiking to dangerous levels. The rest was a blur. I was pulled onto a bed and wheeled into the OR. The last thing I remember was my husband being pushed out of the OR and me saying just go; I'm going to be okay.
I woke up to my husband holding our beautiful daughter. If I hadn't gone to the hospital and listened to the midwife instead, my daughter and I might have both lost our lives that night.
When I was eight years old, we had a "special" quiz in school. It was worth a small amount of our grade but the rule was that we only got the points if we took it home, showed our parents, had them sign it, and returned it the next day. We lived a 40-minute drive from school and about halfway there, I started panicking and I didn’t know why.
We were between these two semi trucks, a gasoline tanker, and a cement truck. My mom pulled over so we could talk it out, and then I remembered my quiz! We were going to be early, so we sped home, grabbed the quiz, and headed back to school. As we got about two miles past where my mom had pulled off the road to talk to me, we saw that the cement truck had rear-ended the gas tanker, which then exploded.
The charred remains of both trucks, dozens of emergency vehicles of all kinds, and a huge swath of melted asphalt and burnt grass around the road told the story. Our little 1984-made subcompact would have been sandwiched right in the middle. My mom turned to me and said, "You should trust your panic attacks".
My ex and I were snorkeling. We were on holiday and spent most days at the beach snorkeling without incident, but something this day felt...different. We were snorkeling along a rocky area near a drop-off. I had this horrible feeling that we were being watched and felt very uneasy. I signaled my ex to the surface. I told him I felt weird and that we needed to go back to the beach.
He protested because he was having fun, but I was adamant. Lo and behold, we got to the beach, and everyone was standing and pointing to the water. We looked back to see a large bull shark coming close to the shore. Not long after, a helicopter was seen tracking it down the coast. My ex never questioned my intuition again.
My sister and I went to the city for our birthday. We stayed in a hotel downtown, and since we were so close, we decided to walk to the bar. We got there and were having a great time, but it was getting late. The last call rolled around, and I decided to get us one more drink each. A man was at the bar and we made conversation. He said he was alone, so I invited him to our table. I'd regret that decision almost immediately.
When we got to our table, another man was standing there talking to my sister. The men claimed to not know each other, stating that they were from completely different states, but they seemed quite chummy. Also, they were quite insistent that they needed to walk us to our hotel room. It hit me, and I knew something wasn't right.
I asked my sister to come to the bathroom with me, and I informed her that I felt something was off, but she just thought I was overreacting. I told her we couldn't walk, we had to get an Uber or Lyft. The last call came, and the staff told us we needed to leave. I asked them to please give us some time because we were trying to get a ride back to the hotel. For whatever reason, I could not get the Uber or Lyft app to work.
The staff told us they'd ask the guys to leave, and we could wait a few minutes, but then we had to go. My sister still thought nothing was wrong. We went to leave and both men were standing by the doors waiting on us. The staff told us we couldn’t stay any longer, but we could go out the back doors, so we did. But we weren't out of danger yet. We began walking down the alley and got to the sidewalk that would lead us back to our hotel, but we'd have to walk under this sketchy and dimly lit bridge.
My sister said if we ran, we could make it to the hotel. I told her no, because we didn't know where the men were. I spotted a night-shift city worker. We approached him and I explained the situation. We were still trying to get a ride, but it still wasn’t working. As we stood there with the city worker, the two men came walking around the corner together, and they headed straight for us.
The man that I was talking to at the bar got in my face and said, "What's wrong? You didn't want us to walk you"? I already had my pepper spray in hand, aiming. I told him, "Get away from us". He repeated the same questions while he stepped closer. I told him again with my finger on the trigger of the pepper spray and a loud, stern voice to "GET OUT OF MY FACE AND AWAY FROM MY SISTER".
They both walked away while glaring at us. We continued to stand with the city worker while we tried to get a ride, but it still wouldn't work. A group of officers came strolling down the sidewalk. I asked them to walk us, and they did all the way to the hotel. I'm very thankful for them and that I didn't leave my pepper spray. There's no telling what could've happened.
I had a rare day off work and decided to get some Christmas shopping done. It was late November and the mall near me was having some really good sales. But as I was driving there, I started having this weird anxious feeling. The closer I got, the more anxious and uneasy I felt. So, instead of going right to the mall, I stopped at Dunkin Donuts for a drink and snack.
I couldn’t shake the anxiety, so I sat in the parking lot for a bit while I ate and drank. I opened up the news on my phone and the first thing that popped up was a shooting at the mall I was headed to. I went straight home, and did all of my Christmas shopping online that year.
I was in the Army, and working a late night in November; it was maybe past 9 PM. The road I would take back was a back road, which was fine to drive during the day, but there were zero streetlights, so I only had headlights to see the road. It was also a heavily wooded area. I told myself to drive below the speed limit in case a deer might pop out.
Right when I had the instinct, a bear cub ran right across the road. If I had been maintaining speed, I'd have hit the thing. Perhaps the cub would have gotten injured, but where there's a cub, there's bound to be its mother.
My gal pal and I were about 15–16 years old in 1975. We were at a rural county fair in WA State when a well-dressed man in his 30s came up to ask us to help him get his VW out of a ditch about a mile down the road. It didn’t make much sense that a man of that age would ask young girls when male officers and guys older than us were all over.
So, we told him to get lost and went to tell an officer this guy was asking this of us teenagers. When I was 21, I went to work for the same county’s Sheriff’s Department, and I saw that man’s picture posted everywhere. That man was Ted Bundy.
I had my gallbladder removed, and I didn’t feel quite right afterward. I was told I was overreacting to normal pain at the hospital, but I was still uneasy and went to another afterward, against my surgeon’s recommendation. I ended up having an extra bile duct that wasn’t closed and was emptying into my abdomen. I was admitted for a while while they fixed it and then dealt with pancreatic issues that popped up from the damage.
In high school, we had an unhealthy preoccupation with making small explosives from model rocket engine powder. In this case, we used a spent CO2 cartridge packed full of the powder, with a short mortar fuse, stuffed inside a crab trap buoy—a monument to terrible decisions. I held the device as it was lit, intending to throw it, but the fuse burned out.
My friend said, "Maybe we should relight it". I said forget it as I threw it as hard and as far as I possibly could. The styrofoam buoy landed some distance away, bounced once, and exploded with what sounded like a giant blast. There wasn’t a piece of that buoy left larger than a crumb, and the blast radius was wide. If I’d held on to that thing, the best-case scenario is that I wouldn’t have a right hand. Given the proximity to my face, it would likely have been much, much worse.
I had two one-and-a-half-year-old cats as well as a six-month-old. I was giving my three cats supervised outside time. It was just before noon on a sunny day, which was a nice break from the fog we normally had. The cats were chasing butterflies, chattering at birds, eating cat grass, and getting buzzed on the catnip I grew for them. I was relaxing in my patio chair reading a book when suddenly I got the sense that something was amiss.
I looked up from my book and, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a flash of red and dark brown in a blurred reflection on the window of my sunroom. I just knew something was about to happen if I didn't act. I quickly called for my older cats to go inside, which they did.
Then, I looked over to the little one who was rolling around on a patch of warm cement just soaking up all the sun.
I walked over and stood above it when suddenly a red-tailed hawk had just circled around the corner of the house and was coming in hot. The hawk, having realized I moved and was now guarding the kitten, quickly aborted its attempt to snatch up the meal it so desired. Had my gut instinct not alerted me to the danger, my older cats and I would have surely been grieving over a much different story.
In third grade, my class took a late springtime field trip to a famous museum on the East Coast. We all went outside to grab our lunches from the bus and eat on the concrete stairs that led to the entrance of the museum. I wasn't very hungry and finished early. The student-teacher ratio was high, so we weren't well chaperoned.
As others continued to eat their lunch, I decided to look around and kept walking until I found the side of the museum. It led to an empty alley. I looked for no more than two seconds before deciding to turn around. As soon as I did, my eyes met those of a man in his early 30s who was walking toward me. His eyes shifted, and I immediately started running back toward the group, shouting my teacher’s name, who was not even in sight.
The man immediately turned around and speed-walked back into the crowd of passersby on the sidewalk. I believe the man thought I was going to continue into the alley, upon which time he most likely would have attempted to abduct me. He seemed very surprised that I immediately sensed danger. I have little doubt that I would have gone missing if I had decided to continue exploring that alley.
We were coming home from a big trip. Our friends were in one car, my dad in another, and my mom, sisters, and me in the last car. I was 17 and learning how to drive. I was supposed to be driving to get some experience, but my mom decided last minute she would drive. I was a little mad, but she said she had a feeling. We were in our little convoy about to get on the highway when all of a sudden, our friend’s car went flying into the shoulder.
Mom and I were worried they blew a tire. Then suddenly, my dad’s car ran off into the shoulder. Then, we finally saw it: Before my mom and I could question why, a semi-truck was mid-flip and coming right at us. My mom, being the ninja she is, put the car in reverse and started driving BACKWARDS. The truck flipped again and landed on its side and was sliding toward us.
My mom had to slam on the brakes to avoid oncoming traffic. The truck slid to a stop 15 feet away from the car. Our friends and my dad were safe, and they rushed to the truck to help the driver and his wife. The driver had taken the turn too fast. His load got ahead of him, and he lost control. The wife was bleeding from a minor cut on her head, but luckily, no one was seriously hurt.
I started showing symptoms of having serious health problems—passing out, seizures, etc. I went to a neurologist who sent me to one single MRI and deemed the mass in my brain to be "nothing". My gut told me to not trust it, so I went to my doctor and asked for a second opinion. I was sent to a neurosurgeon who put me through a bunch of tests and procedures.
I found out that not only was it a brain tumor, but it was turning into something dangerous. It had the same mutation cells found only in cancer and in the big brain cancer that has a low survival rate. My gut feeling gave me a chance.
I was playing at my friend’s house when all of a sudden, a car pulled up. It was his dad, who was not allowed to see either of his sons and was not in the picture. He asked us, "Do y’all wanna get some ice cream"? I hesitated and said no and that I should ask my dad first. I went home right then. The next day, I didn’t see my friend, or the next day after that. Then the news got out.
The dad abducted both of his sons and took them to Brazil. It took months to get them back, as Brazil wouldn’t extradite them. Once the dad was back in the US, he ended up taking his own life. I didn’t see the oldest son until years later when we were doing driver’s ed together. I don’t know if something would’ve happened to me, but I’m glad I trusted my gut and went home.
I was a teenager and first learning how to drive. I was at an intersection where a lot of accidents happen. For some reason, one day, even though the light turned green, I hesitated for just a bit longer than normal before proceeding into the intersection. Sure enough, about three seconds later, someone going way over the speed limit ran the red light for the intersection.
I'm almost positive I would've been a goner due to being T-boned super hard, as their timing would've been right on target to have collided, head-on, with my driver's side door in my small sedan.
I had just got back home from fishing with the pup all day and realized I needed some stuff to make dinner. I got the dog ready to go again and then thought, "I better just leave you here so you can see Mom when she gets home", and I let him back in the house. Five minutes down the highway, I had a guy pull out in front of me while I was doing 60 mph.
He absolutely demolished my truck. I poked a hole in the windshield with my head, bent the steering column up into the dash with my chest, and broke my knee on the lower dash. My dog would have for sure been ejected; I'm glad he wasn't there!
Years ago, I was in between houses. I had a new place lined up but it wouldn’t be ready for about six weeks. My little sister lived in the area, so I decided to crash on her couch. My ex and I had been broken up for about six months at that point. It was a decently amicable breakup; we were still in the same friend group and got along.
One night my ex called me up crying, saying she had a feeling something bad was going to happen and asked me to please come spend the night with her. So, at like midnight on a weekday, I got in my car and drove over to calm her down and spend the night. The next morning, I drove back over to my little sister's house and found there were cruisers all up and down the street.
Some idiot had gone cruising, randomly blasting at people's houses. My sister was fine; her room was in the back of the house. However, the couch I stayed on backed up against the front wall, right next to the front door. Sure enough, there were three bullet holes in the couch. Knowing how I like to sleep, I think all three of them would have hit me.
Years ago, I had a dealer who would always ask where I lived. The dude was a bit off, so I avoided specifics when replying. One afternoon, my roommate went along with me, and everything went smoothly until we were about to get into the car. Captain Sketch asked him where we lived, and my roommate blurted out the building and apartment number.
About eight hours later, we were watching The X-Files, and the doorknob started to jiggle. Next thing we knew, we were holding the dealer guy and his buddy until they listened for a bit, and we were sure they understood what was going to happen if they tried that again.
My cousin was about to leave a party with two other dudes. He opened the car door, and all of a sudden, he decided against it, and he walked back into the house. The two dudes waited for a beat, then left. On their way home, the driver lost control of the car and crashed head-on into a tree. One lost his life on the spot, and the other at the hospital. The car ended up in three major pieces, none of which look like they could occupy a person.
I used to hate wearing seat belts in the passenger seat. One day I was with my friend helping him with a few errands, and he asked me if I wanted to tag along for a drive. I told him no I didn’t feel like it, but he managed to convince me by saying we won't go too far and we would be back in an hour. I guess because I was feeling off, I wore a seat belt. After ten minutes, my friend got distracted and almost ran over someone and swerved hard. We hit a wall, and I'm pretty sure I would have flown through the windshield if I didn't wear a seatbelt that day.
I was driving on a highway and had a bad feeling about the car next to me. I just felt like they were going to try to merge when I was next to them, even though they gave no indication of doing so and had been driving normally up until that point. A few minutes later, they merged without a signal, but since I was wary of them, I was able to slam on my brakes and avoided being hit.
I was driving on a freeway and an SUV pulling a trailer with a king mattress got on and cut me off to get around a slow car. I instantly had a Final Destination moment flash and backed off. A car got mad that I slowed down and was tailgating me angrily. It was super windy, and I saw the mattress start to flap. I put my hazards on to warn the jerk behind me, but he decided to race fast around me and flip me off.
While flipping me off, the mattress flew up about 30 feet in the air and landed right in the middle of the road. I have a tiny car and would probably be gone if I didn't back off far enough AND I saved the jerk’s life. We both calmly swerved onto the shoulders on both sides since we had enough space to be able to react.
When I lived in Toronto, I was about to cross Dufferin. I'd only looked to my right, not my left. I took a step onto the street when I felt this feeling like I needed to go back onto the sidewalk immediately. I took a step back onto the sidewalk and about a foot off the street. Suddenly, a city bus hurtled past my face at what felt like super speed.
On September 11, 2001, I was almost put on Flight 93. I was flying out of Boston the day before to Los Angeles, but the flight was overbooked. They tried to put me on Flight 93 for the next day—September 11. It would have meant staying at my dad's house for the night, and it was the next direct flight. I've been on that flight route many times between Boston and LAX, but I oddly decided to take a flight to the south that would have connected me to LA.
By the time we got to the airport, we missed the connection and were told to stay the night. At that point, I got into a screaming match with the airline. Something in my chest said if I didn't fly out that night, I'd be trapped. They put me on a flight to Vegas, and it was up to me to get to LAX. I got to Vegas, and caught the last direct flight home to LA. I woke up the next day to a new world. I had 20 voicemail messages on my phone from people worried I perished in the crash.
I was tasked by my mother to get groceries from a shop. It was about three to four blocks down from where I was. About 15 feet near the shop, I saw my best friend's father's vehicle—he was a law enforcement officer. I knew from experience that sometimes bad things happen when the force uses private-owned vehicles, and my gut instinct told me to leave immediately.
I ditched getting the groceries and started walking back home; I heard firing from the distance. Later that day, the local news reported that the very shop I was going to was getting burglarized. Officers intervened, hit four of the five suspects and shrapnel injured three pedestrians.
My first boyfriend and I lived in a medium-ish town in the Midwest, and I was a painfully shy girl. I was head over heels for him. He had a thing for red stilettos, and I wanted to impress him, and bought a pair. He loved them, and I wore them to a lot of places. One particular weekend, we were supposed to go on one of our picnics, but I just wasn’t feeling it; something felt really off.
He was a bit older than me, and I worshiped the ground he walked on, but not that Friday. The more he begged me to go to one of our picnics, the more I refused. My stomach was in knots, and finally, I vomited on our porch, where we were arguing, and he left. Over the next week, people discovered a random red stiletto floating in the river and then a body was fished out. When I learned the truth, I wanted to be sick.
My boyfriend had another girl on the side, and he killed her sometime that weekend. They apparently did the same "picnics" that we did. I could have been in that girl’s place.
I had my younger brother visit me in college. We had somewhat of a party house, so we were all having fun playing drinking games. We all passed out late at night after some rounds. I went to my bedroom and my brother fell asleep on the couch. The rest of the partiers were sleeping on couches, on the floor, and in empty bedrooms. I passed out around 1 AM when all of a sudden I woke up.
It was about 3 AM, and I looked around wondering what woke me up. Usually, I’d turn over, and fall back asleep in seconds, but this felt weird. I was wide awake, looking around my dark room, and something was definitely off. I got up and opened the door, slipping out into the living room to investigate. There was nothing unusual. But I knew there had to be a reason.
I stepped into the living room and saw my brother sleeping on his back on the couch, head cocked up nestled over the arm of the couch. I looked around for a sec; there was nothing odd about the front door and nothing out the windows. Then, mere moments after entering that room, my brother started gurgling, dry heaving, and began to vomit.
I rushed over to him, turning him over onto his side, making sure it was all coming out onto the floor. I shook him awake, cleaned him up, assured him it was fine, and waited for him to fall back asleep. I cleaned up the floor and couch and then proceeded to sit and watch him for the rest of the night. That was the night I trusted my gut, and I’m glad I didn’t go back to bed.
Back in 2010, I was supposed to attend a swimming lesson since it was the first lesson at the institute that day. Also, my mom was supposed to go to work as usual. I, for some reason, got a feeling of dread and decided to laze around the entire day and stayed home. My mom wasn't feeling well, so she didn't go to work either. It was on the 29th of March and we lived in Russia.
Just a couple of hours later, my worried aunt called us to say that there were explosions on the Moscow subway. Two female Islamist radicals blew themselves up along with a lot of people on Park Kultury and Lubyanka stations. The pool I was supposed to be at was at Park Kultury, and I would've arrived there right around the time the devices went off.
My girlfriend and I had returned to our hotel room from a long night out bar hopping, searching for a place to celebrate NYE the next night. My girlfriend was completely trashed. She wanted to take a shower before going to bed, and I sat on the edge of the bed, laid back, and fell asleep. If I’m plastered, once I'm asleep, I will not be waking up for the next four hours minimum, however, this night was different.
I was RIPPED awake out of nowhere with a horrible feeling in my gut. Something was VERY WRONG. I immediately ran to the bathroom, where I saw the tub overflowing and my ex with her lips and nose floating millimeters above the surface of the water in the tub. Her foot and leg had stopped the drain, so I immediately grabbed her up. She was barely conscious; I dried her off and put her to bed. If I hadn't grabbed her up, I'm certain she would have drowned.
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