Sunday, July 15, 2012

Sleep Tight

In the fall of 2011, a man hung himself in a bottling factory of a popular over the counter sleep aide company just outside Chicago. The man worked as a quality control manager and had just been laid off to save the company money. In the morning, the cleaning crew found him swaying in the breeze from the air conditioning system with a note in his breast pocket that read “sleep tight.”

Over the next few months a string of strange deaths were associated with areas where the sleep aides from the factory were shipped. Seemingly healthy people had died in their sleep from apparent strangulation. All the victims had severe bruising on their throats. Oddly, police were unable to ascertain how the murderer entered the victim’s home or a possible motive for the murder. Further, vivid reports began coming in from people who had taken the pills but not died.

One lady reported taking the pill and right before she fell asleep she opened her eyes and a bald, middle aged, man wearing a short sleeved white collared shirt was hovering just above her face. She closed her eyes hoping the man would disappear but when she opened her eyes he was there, inches from her face. She even recalls feeling the man’s breathing on her forehead. He then began strangling her. Luckily for her, her husband noticed her gasping for air in her sleep and quickly woke her.

Another man recalls falling asleep after taking the pill. He awoke to the figure of a man swaying in the corner of his room. He turned on the light next to his bed and saw the man with better accuracy. He was a bald, middle aged, man wearing a short sleeved white collared shirt. The bald man then removed the noose from his neck and reportedly floated towards the man attempting to strangle him. Again it was the man’s spouse who woke him. He awoke gasping for air in shear terror.

The FDA did a full investigation and found no evidence of tampering. Even after a recall of the pills and a public awareness campaign warning of possible tampering, the deaths and reports of the bald man didn’t stop. It was only when the company shut down the factory that the deaths and reports decreased. It is unknown how many deaths were the result of the apparent tampering or how many of the pills from the factory are still sitting in cabinets across the country.

  -Credited to Zsimoni

Monday, July 9, 2012

You Are My Sunshine.

The memories I have with my Grandmother are very fond. She used to live with my parents and me when I was about six and stayed with us until I went to college.

She raised me on many wonderful things such as spontaneous trips to the Natural History Museum, how to pick out flowers for ever occasion and even her own mother’s secret recipe for the perfectly fluffy blueberry pancakes.

Every Sunday she would let me sleep in, but I would always wake up when I smelled those pancakes and heard her singing “You are my Sunshine”. She would always come into my room with a short stack and we’d share them before heading off to late-morning service, and then we would spend the day together.

Sunday has always been our day.

So, it’s my first Sunday back home after graduation and I can smell those pancakes and I can hear her singing in her worn and raspy southern accent just faintly.

The only problem is, my Grandmother died two weeks after I left for school.

And her singing is getting closer.

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