(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); I guess this story begins way before the actual encounter occurred. I'll be very particular about locations since it's relevant to the story, as you will see. I was having a couple of beers with a friend in Ottawa, when we got on the topic of my moving to Montreal in the next couple of weeks. She asked me "Isn't Montreal kind of a rough city to be moving to?". I looked at her oddly since Montreal, as far as big cities go, is known to be quite tame. Not to mention I'd lived there before. She then proceeded to tell me about a friend of hers working there as a bouncer for a downtown nightclub. I rolled my eyes expecting some kind of urban myth, and of course it was.

Apparently he'd been standing at his post by the entrance when a lady with a stroller walked up to him and said "Have you seen my baby? Isn't he beautiful?" He looked down to see an obviously long dead infant in the stroller. He started to scream at which she started to scream too "HE'S TRYING TO HURT MY BABY!!!" "HE"S GOING TO HURT MY BABY!!!". A do-gooder heard her screams and pinned our bouncer to the wall. "THE BABY'S DEAD!! THE BABY'S DEAD!!" He cried. But, by the time him and the do-gooder turned around, she'd gone.
I was slightly annoyed by my friend's surprising naivety or maybe she was just having me on. Anyhow, the story was completely forgotten by the time I'd moved back to Montreal, and four months or so had passed.

It was midsummer, and I loved riding my bike around town, especially since it was the peak of festival season. I lived in a basement apartment in the Town of Mont-Royal area. I'd been riding my bike all night and into the wee hours of the morning (Montreal is also a 'city that never sleeps'. I'd been wandering the downtown core so the easiest way home was to bike through the Cote-Des-Neiges area to TMR. Since this was a residential area, and maybe 4 in the morning, it was dead quiet. I was biking down this long street of houses (distinct MTL houses known as 'walk-ups' and noticed someone way down the street just coming into view.

I could just make out a figure weaving back and forth down the sidewalk. I slowed my pace in case it was an unruly drunk but, as I approached, I could see that it was a woman wearing a coat, pushing a cart back in forth ahead of her. As I mentioned, it was summer so, the coat seemed a little unusual. I thought that perhaps she had stormed out from some domestic dispute and had just thrown a coat over her nightclothes. I had completely slowed down at this point, and as I approached, I noticed that her attire was an old-fashioned black long coat perhaps early 20th century to late 19th, she was also wearing long laced up boots that seemed from that era. Her hat was a black wide brim from which a veil hung down over her face. The kind of black netted veil you see mourning widows wearing in the movies. She was pushing a stroller. At that moment a bad feeling shot into my gut. I remember the baby lady from the story. My bike was right beside her as she slowly turned turned her head around to look right at me. Her face was white as paper. I've had a lot of experience with stage make-up, and her palour was indeed her own. She had a blank vacant stare from bloodshot eyes lined with pink. She said in a low slow voice that seemed to be from somewhere else, "Ça vaaa?" (which is French for 'how are you?' or 'are you okay?' Every hair on my body was standing on end by this point as I carefully answered "Oui, ca va? Et toi" (I'm fine, and you?). "Ça vaaa..." she slowly turned her head back to look straight ahead, and began to icily shriek curses in an utterly chilling mechanical rant. Believe you me when the rant started I hightailed it out of there. As I made my getaway, I didn't want to but, I had look over my shoulder to see what was in the stroller. I was too far by that point to see. All I could make out was some kind of package in there sort of swinging side to side.

I sped all the way home in utter terror. I had this uncontrollable feeling that at any moment she'd set upon even though she was long gone. Once home I kept all the lights off and stared at the windows (basement apartment remember). Although I knew it was completely irrational I was sure she was coming after me.

I often went down that street after that, in daylight of course, hoping to see her again, and realize it was just some local eccentric or something. Once time had given me enough courage, I started to visit that street even at night. Still nothing. Even though I'd like to think that she was just some nut and nothing more, it's hard to avoid the fact that this particular section of Cote-Des-Neiges is not even a block (in fact, the beginning of the street was just kiddy corner) from the third largest cemetery in North America, Notre Dame des Neiges.

why were you scared bro ??? its not like she can FLEX you out. If she tried something just knock her ass out.... easy as that

---------- Post added at 07:45 PM ---------- Previous post was at 07:40 PM ----------

the rant ??? i read this 2 times its interesting

Never underestimate a story because it may just happen to you....

Wow that's pretty crazy. I'm not one to believe in ghost and apparitions etc. But wow I'm speechless. I've heard many stories of things like that happening around my part of the world and never experienced it myself however if it does I'll keep in mind that as scary as it may be it's harmless to you physically.