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(Fark)   Gather around, Farkers, it's time for Fark's 16th annual spooky story thread. Get into the Halloween spirit and share your true ghost/scary stories. 👻 Farkers who bring up politics get thrown in the dungeon ☠   (fark.com) divider line
    More: Creepy, Figure It Out, Existential quantification, hard time, closest thing, Good thing, lifelong friend, last year, first time  
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1380 clicks; posted to Main » and Discussion » on 31 Oct 2019 at 9:05 PM (1 year ago)   |   Favorite    |   share:  Share on Twitter share via Email Share on Facebook



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2019-10-30 3:28:00 AM  
Here are all the previous spooky story threads from each year since it started: 
2004    2005    2006    2007    2008    2009    2010   2011    2012    2013    2014    2015    2016   2017   2018
 
2019-10-30 3:21:49 PM  
I don't have any spooky stories. All my stories involve sex and granted I'm a scary looking guy but I don't think that's what they want.
 
2019-10-30 3:23:39 PM  
Pass.
Too many wet blanket atheists in here to share my ghost or UFO tales again
 
2019-10-30 3:27:00 PM  
I got a good one.  It's more unnerving than creepy, though.  I'll do it when I get home because I'm about to leave work.
 
2019-10-30 3:31:57 PM  
It's about time!

Goddamn users with their "problems" and software "requirements," still had a chance to look for this regularly...
 
2019-10-30 3:36:50 PM  

mikaloyd: Pass.
Too many wet blanket atheists in here to share my ghost or UFO tales again


Dang.  I bet you've got some good ones.

My sister swears the house my parents lived in when she was in high school (after I left for college) was haunted.  She used to hear footsteps and doors opening on the second floor routinely when nobody else was home.  I didn't year any of it, and never heard this from her until a couple of decades after we moved out.

My kids swear that my 100+ year old house is haunted.  I'm not saying that it is, but some of the things they point to have been on the weird side, like a light that switched itself off when nobody was in the room, strange noices, and once my younger daughter swears they say me walk past a window when I wasn't home.  They came in expecting to find me there, and I showed up a minute or two later coming home from an errand.

The closest thing to an experience I've had was sitting up late at night and hearing someone audibly whisper my name in my ear.  It's easy enough to pass it off as an auditory hallucination from a tired brain, but it sounded real enough for me to turn my head expecting to see someone there.  I've been very happy in the house for 6+ years, so if there are ghosts we seem to get along very well.

My ex-wife had an experience with a Oija board that spelled out "Richie's dead."  Minutes later, the phone rang and her parents learned that her uncle Richie had passed away that same day.
 
2019-10-30 3:42:31 PM  

OneFretAway: Dang.  I bet you've got some good ones.


Good is relative but yeah, weird at least
 
2019-10-30 3:46:04 PM  
Woot, my favorite thread of the year! :)
 
2019-10-30 3:47:54 PM  

Bathia_Mapes: Woot, my favorite thread of the year! :)


Hiya Mapes.  Long time no see.
 
2019-10-30 3:59:41 PM  
I keep wanting to write another one. "Danny Doesn't Live Here Anymore" was a lot of fun to write, and the peoples liked it. You can read it here.

Here's the closest thing to a new Halloween story, if I didn't use it already:

For some reason no one wants to live in that house on 5th Avenue, though it satisfies at least two of the three criteria for desirable real estate: It wins on location and location, convenient to schools, shopping and Downtown and the Capital complex. It falls short on the third point because it's located on a commuter route in an otherwise quiet residential area. That doesn't seem to matter to other houses in the same neighborhood; even the more humble houses were consistently occupied. This Victorian had sat empty for six months without a renter (though not for lack of walk-throughs) when one of my my clients, a property manager, asked me to produce a virtual tour of it for his Web site. The previous tenants had moved out at the end of their lease with no explanation. "We're done here, thanks."

I showed up with my camera gear in the early afternoon, glad I didn't have to use any of my lights. The interior is modern but era-appropriate, as they say in the real estate business. It has high ceilings, blond hardwood floors, ample windows with lots of natural light, and a separate dining room adjoining the living room and kitchen. The back of the kitchen led to the stairs that descended to the basement. The first thing I thought as I surveyed the house was how glad I am I don't have to go down there. With no carpets or furniture, every sound reverberates. Whatever is in the basement kicks and rumbles at its leisure.

I'm just doing the upstairs. I set up my tripod in the living room, and began taking the series of photos that would later be assembled into the virtual tour. A full panorama of a room--all four walls, ceiling, and floor--is made of about 72 individual photos, but I take a lot more than that to be sure no shots are over- or under-exposed. Fortunately, I didn't need to shoot much of the ceiling and floor for most of the tour. It took about half an hour to finish the ground floor.

"I'm glad I don't have to go downstairs" started to be drowned out by "I wish I didn't have to go upstairs." But I did. And what is that sound coming from the basement? How does it move throughout the house so wallelessly?
It's not much: three bedrooms and a bathroom; a bit gloomier and yellower. And I really wish I could leave right now. Which is stupid, it's a house and I have a job to do. Good thing I don't have to do full room panoramas. I set up the tripod in the doorway of the bathroom, then the bedroom at the end of the hall. I hated having my back turned to the rooms behind me. I moved on to the second bedroom, the master. This is where she died, alone and afraid and angry. The bed was over there, and maybe it still is. I finish the shot and move to the third bedroom. I hope I didn't wake anyone up in the other room. I set up, didn't even bother to level the camera head, and shot a dozen or so photos, and hustled downstairs. I didn't even collapse the tripod.

I still have to shoot the entryway, between the base of the stairs and the front door. A full panorama, at least 72 photos, probably more. I level the camera head and start to shoot. I can see through the dining room to the kitchen and the door to the basement, and again I'm glad I don't have to go down there. I wish I could just come back later with the client, make up an excuse to have someone else in this house with me. That would be unprofessional, so I keep shooting. Somehow the basement sounds are starting to come from upstairs: A creak. A click. A sigh. As I'm shooting the stairs, I keep expecting to see a slippered foot descend. I cut every corner possible and shoot until I'm done. I grab my tripod and walk to the car. I'm outside; there are people and cars, and I tend to my equipment and get the Hell out of there.

When I next met with the client I mentioned, in passing, that I think I know why the owner has such a hard time finding tenants. He said "I know. The master bedroom doesn't help, either, does it?"
 
2019-10-30 4:00:21 PM  
I had a weird thing happen to me last year.  My lifelong friend took his own life at the end of June 2018.  No one saw it coming, from the outside he had a great life... good job, wonderful family, usually upbeat and positive, so it was a serious shock to all of us that were close to him and it was heart wrenching to learn he had been hiding his depression from all of us for so long.  It hit me pretty hard, he was pretty close to a brother to me.

A few months after he died I was sitting at the bar of a local dive getting some lunch and chatting with the bartender who I knew pretty well.  She started telling me about how things have gotten weird with her room mate lately and that the gal was wigging out about this new guy the bartender was dating and making all kinds of weird threats about him infringing on their life, including a threat that she would take her own life if things didn't change.  I told her that was all pretty farked up but don't dismiss her threat of suicide.  I opened up to her about my own friend and how difficult it was when he actually did the deed.  It was the first time I talked about it to anyone aside from my buddy's widow, his mom and my own wife.  I got a little emotional talking to the bartender about it.

After lunch I headed to the grocery store to stock up for the week.  I was standing in line waiting to check out and pulled out my phone to see if another of my friends had texted me, since we were chatting about stuff earlier that day.  There was nothing on the phone so I turned it off and put it in the front pocket of my shorts, got through the line and headed back home with the groceries.

I decided to check my phone again before I unloaded the car and the screen was open to Google street view and it showed the picture of my deceased friend's house.  I though, ok, that is weird and closed the app and saw my contacts were open as well, with his contact info displayed.  I had a bit of a WTF moment.  When my phone is off there is no way that could have happened without the screen being unlocked.  I had never butt dialed anyone before (or since) and had my phone in the front pocket of my baggy cargo shorts.  It was a little perplexing.

That night I wrote his widow an email and told her what happened and she wrote back and said, "I don't want to freak you out or anything but go back to Street View and move the camera around the corner so you can see the back of the house."  I did so and there he was on the back deck....  a blurry picture of my friend staring at the Google truck.  The whole thing was kind of creepy but also a little comforting in a strange way, despite the fact I don't really believe in an afterlife.
 
2019-10-30 4:14:10 PM  
I told this story in a thread a couple weeks ago asking why Walmart is so eager to hire more teenagers. I know why and you should all know too, please protect your children.

Here's my story:

Worked for 3 months at a local Walmart when I was 16. That's all it took to crush my young soul.
I go visit the remains when I shop for frozen peas.

That's where they keep the remains of the souls you see.

In the pea section of the freezer.
 
2019-10-30 4:17:32 PM  

Lord of the Highway: I had a weird thing happen to me last year.  My lifelong friend took his own life at the end of June 2018.  No one saw it coming, from the outside he had a great life... good job, wonderful family, usually upbeat and positive, so it was a serious shock to all of us that were close to him and it was heart wrenching to learn he had been hiding his depression from all of us for so long.  It hit me pretty hard, he was pretty close to a brother to me.

A few months after he died I was sitting at the bar of a local dive getting some lunch and chatting with the bartender who I knew pretty well.  She started telling me about how things have gotten weird with her room mate lately and that the gal was wigging out about this new guy the bartender was dating and making all kinds of weird threats about him infringing on their life, including a threat that she would take her own life if things didn't change.  I told her that was all pretty farked up but don't dismiss her threat of suicide.  I opened up to her about my own friend and how difficult it was when he actually did the deed.  It was the first time I talked about it to anyone aside from my buddy's widow, his mom and my own wife.  I got a little emotional talking to the bartender about it.

After lunch I headed to the grocery store to stock up for the week.  I was standing in line waiting to check out and pulled out my phone to see if another of my friends had texted me, since we were chatting about stuff earlier that day.  There was nothing on the phone so I turned it off and put it in the front pocket of my shorts, got through the line and headed back home with the groceries.

I decided to check my phone again before I unloaded the car and the screen was open to Google street view and it showed the picture of my deceased friend's house.  I though, ok, that is weird and closed the app and saw my contacts were open as well, with his contact info displayed.  I had a bit of a WTF moment.  When my phone is off there is no way that could have happened without the screen being unlocked.  I had never butt dialed anyone before (or since) and had my phone in the front pocket of my baggy cargo shorts.  It was a little perplexing.

That night I wrote his widow an email and told her what happened and she wrote back and said, "I don't want to freak you out or anything but go back to Street View and move the camera around the corner so you can see the back of the house."  I did so and there he was on the back deck....  a blurry picture of my friend staring at the Google truck.  The whole thing was kind of creepy but also a little comforting in a strange way, despite the fact I don't really believe in an afterlife.


I'm very sorry you lost your friend, I know the pain.

That is an awesome story thanks for sharing.
 
2019-10-30 4:19:04 PM  

OneFretAway: Bathia_Mapes: Woot, my favorite thread of the year! :)

Hiya Mapes.  Long time no see.


Hiya, OFA!

I still post on TFD from time to time. :)
 
2019-10-30 4:23:34 PM  
So 2 things mods:

1. i think this stretches back a bit further, and i think i started it, and want some name brand recognition on it.

2. I'm to lazy to post, so go check out my story in previous threads
 
2019-10-30 4:37:48 PM  

Bathia_Mapes: OneFretAway: Bathia_Mapes: Woot, my favorite thread of the year! :)

Hiya Mapes.  Long time no see.

Hiya, OFA!

I still post on TFD from time to time. :)


#knucks.  I'm here, but some days more than others and rarely in the evenings, so I miss folks.
 
2019-10-30 5:08:21 PM  
I worked for four years in a haunted school building.  Saw and heard the same things repeatedly for that 4-year period.  I was in there many nights during that time, since I was moderator of many things, including plays, and I only lived a couple of blocks away.

Never said anything until a couple of years in when the new night janitor, a military vet, came to me freaked out because he'd encountered the same thing I'd been seeing.  Smallish person figure that he thought was a kid, just standing there.  He yelled 'What are you still doing here?' after a basketball game late one evening.  Approached ... nothing there.  This happened twice more, then he threw the broom and ran.

Later my best friend saw pretty much the same thing and told me about it.  I'd said nothing previously because I didn't want to seem like a goofball who hallucinated adolescent-sized ghosts.

There must be a lot of pent-up energy stored in school buildings.  I doubt it's anything to do with dead people but maybe one day there will be a better explanation.
 
2019-10-30 5:08:27 PM  

OneFretAway: Bathia_Mapes: OneFretAway: Bathia_Mapes: Woot, my favorite thread of the year! :)

Hiya Mapes.  Long time no see.

Hiya, OFA!

I still post on TFD from time to time. :)

#knucks.  I'm here, but some days more than others and rarely in the evenings, so I miss folks.


:)
 
2019-10-30 5:15:43 PM  

a particular individual: I keep wanting to write another one. "Danny Doesn't Live Here Anymore" was a lot of fun to write, and the peoples liked it. You can read it here.

Here's the closest thing to a new Halloween story, if I didn't use it already:

For some reason no one wants to live in that house on 5th Avenue, though it satisfies at least two of the three criteria for desirable real estate: It wins on location and location, convenient to schools, shopping and Downtown and the Capital complex. It falls short on the third point because it's located on a commuter route in an otherwise quiet residential area. That doesn't seem to matter to other houses in the same neighborhood; even the more humble houses were consistently occupied. This Victorian had sat empty for six months without a renter (though not for lack of walk-throughs) when one of my my clients, a property manager, asked me to produce a virtual tour of it for his Web site. The previous tenants had moved out at the end of their lease with no explanation. "We're done here, thanks."

I showed up with my camera gear in the early afternoon, glad I didn't have to use any of my lights. The interior is modern but era-appropriate, as they say in the real estate business. It has high ceilings, blond hardwood floors, ample windows with lots of natural light, and a separate dining room adjoining the living room and kitchen. The back of the kitchen led to the stairs that descended to the basement. The first thing I thought as I surveyed the house was how glad I am I don't have to go down there. With no carpets or furniture, every sound reverberates. Whatever is in the basement kicks and rumbles at its leisure.

I'm just doing the upstairs. I set up my tripod in the living room, and began taking the series of photos that would later be assembled into the virtual tour. A full panorama of a room--all four walls, ceiling, and floor--is made of about 72 individual photos, but I take a lot more than that to be sure no shots are over- or under-ex ...


Thumbs up!
 
2019-10-30 5:20:17 PM  
Last Podcast on the Left - Who Was Phone?
Youtube cVYTUuYKob8
 
2019-10-30 5:27:25 PM  
My late FIL shows up often, he watches out for my son.
 
2019-10-30 5:47:20 PM  
Calypsocookie: I'm very sorry you lost your friend, I know the pain. That is an awesome story thanks for sharing.

Thank you for the kind words.
 
2019-10-30 5:58:08 PM  
I guess my new favorite though, happened after my mom's best friend died.  She was like a second mom to me-she lives across the street from my parents, their sons grew up with me and my siblings.

She had cancer and she fought it like a champ for twenty years, but two winters ago she died.  Shortly after she died I was in my car leaving work.

Sitting at the intersection at a red light.  It turns green and I move my foot to the gas. You know when your mom throws her arm across you in the car, Luke if she had to hit the brakes or something?  I felt that-an arm across my chest.  But I was driving and I was alone.

So I waited a moment, instead of going through. A car blew through the red light on their side, going about 55 even though the speed limit was 35.

If I had gone when I started to, they would have hit me on the driver's side.  I can't imagine I'd have survived.
 
2019-10-30 6:28:03 PM  

Lord of the Highway: I had a weird thing happen to me last year.  My lifelong friend took his own life at the end of June 2018.  No one saw it coming, from the outside he had a great life... good job, wonderful family, usually upbeat and positive, so it was a serious shock to all of us that were close to him and it was heart wrenching to learn he had been hiding his depression from all of us for so long.  It hit me pretty hard, he was pretty close to a brother to me.

A few months after he died I was sitting at the bar of a local dive getting some lunch and chatting with the bartender who I knew pretty well.  She started telling me about how things have gotten weird with her room mate lately and that the gal was wigging out about this new guy the bartender was dating and making all kinds of weird threats about him infringing on their life, including a threat that she would take her own life if things didn't change.  I told her that was all pretty farked up but don't dismiss her threat of suicide.  I opened up to her about my own friend and how difficult it was when he actually did the deed.  It was the first time I talked about it to anyone aside from my buddy's widow, his mom and my own wife.  I got a little emotional talking to the bartender about it.

After lunch I headed to the grocery store to stock up for the week.  I was standing in line waiting to check out and pulled out my phone to see if another of my friends had texted me, since we were chatting about stuff earlier that day.  There was nothing on the phone so I turned it off and put it in the front pocket of my shorts, got through the line and headed back home with the groceries.

I decided to check my phone again before I unloaded the car and the screen was open to Google street view and it showed the picture of my deceased friend's house.  I though, ok, that is weird and closed the app and saw my contacts were open as well, with his contact info displayed.  I had a bit of a WTF moment.  When my phone is off there is no way ...


Good story. Hair is standing up on end.
 
2019-10-30 6:52:11 PM  
Okay.  A while ago, I was working a double shift at work, so I couldn't leave until my relief showed up at 11pm.  The Boston Celtics were playing the Nets that night in the last game of the last series before the championship, so I asked my supervisor if I could go upstairs to the lunch room which had a TV.  He said sure, just take my Nextel with me.

The lunch room is a raised 25' by 50' room, with a glass wall on my left, going next to a hallway, so I could see anybody approaching from that side, and behind me, you went two steps down into this kitchen which had vending machines, a fridge and two microwaves, I was watching the TV, which faced the front of the building.

I did a patrol after the cleaners left at 8pm, and the last person left at around that time too, so I was alone in the building, it was only three floors and one basement, so if somebody was in there, I could easily and quickly find them.

Around 9pm or so, I start hearing noises in the kitchen behind me.  I hear the fridge open, somebody take something out, the microwave door open and shut, and then 3 beeps and the microwave comes on.  Thinking somebody I missed was still there, I walk over to the kitchen.  There's nobody in there.  The microwave isn't on.  I think; gee, that's kind of weird, and go back to my game.

It happens again, except this time I also hear drawers opening and closing, and metal flatware rattling around in those compartmented trays.  I go running back there.  Nothing, nobody.  I pull open the drawers.  Nothing metal, no trays, it's all plasticware.  This time I run down the hall, and do a quick search of that floor.  Nothing, nobody.

It happens again.  I run back there again, sure it's still going to be nobody, it is nobody.  By this time the game is over(Celtics lost), so I go back downstairs and nervously sit at my desk wondering if that happened or not.  Then, about ten minutes before I leave, I hear the elevator come down to the lower lobby.  There is this person, dressed in tan corderoy pants, black dusty work boots, a light yellow coat, a black scarf and a 1920s style cloth cap pulled over their eyes.  I say "goodnight!", and the person stops, doesn't look at me, then continues out the door.

Now, at this time of night, the door is mag locked, so if you're leaving, the electric eye sees you, and the mag lock releases with this loud CLICK, then the door swings back, and is caught by the magnet and goes CLICK again. 2 clicks.  2.  When this person left, the lock only clicked once.

I didn't even think it was a ghost until months later.  Because it didn't look wavy or faint or shiny, it didn't vanish or fade away, it just walked out of the building.  It looked just like a real person, but it wasn't.
 
2019-10-30 6:53:43 PM  
Correction: glass wall was on my right side when I was facing the TV.
 
2019-10-30 6:59:38 PM  
People that come in here and make fun of anyone who says they've seen a ghost, lived in haunted house, had a paranormal experience, etc. need to understand if this stuff happened to them they wouldn't be so unbelieving. Then again, maybe they would, just because they refuse to believe. People are telling you things that happened to them. If you don't believe them, fine. No need to make fun of them. Just leave the thread. Go read about sports or politics or something.

I've had quite a few experiences. I didn't ask for them. Most of the time they've happened when I wasn't even looking for them to happen. I've told some in past threads. Here's another.

People who say you have nothing to fear from ghosts because they can't touch/hurt you, obviously have never been touched/hurt by a ghost. I've had it happen three times. I'll tell about one of the times now.

The first time I was touched by a ghost was in March 2001, here at The Round House in Fremantle, Western Australia:
Fark user imageView Full Size

From Wikipedia: Built in late 1830 and opened in 1831, it is the oldest building still standing in Western Australia. Intended as a prison, it had eight cells and a jailer's residence, all of which opened onto a central courtyard. The Round House was used for colonial and indigenous prisoners until 1886, when control of the Convict Establishment prison (now Fremantle Prison) was transferred to the colony. After that the Round House was used as a police lockup until 1900. The first person of European descent to be executed in Western Australia was 15-year-old John Gavin. Gavin confessed to the murder of George Pollard and was held in the Round House until he was hanged on 6 April 1844. His body was buried south of the Round House.

So that's its history. I ended up here because I was visiting my friend, who lives in Western Australia, and we took a Fremantle Ghost Tour on a dark and chilly night. This was one of the stops. I was standing by this well in the center of the courtyard when my experience happened:
Fark user imageView Full Size

I was standing alone, no one within 5 feet of me, holding my camcorder bag with my right hand. All of the sudden I felt someone grab my right wrist. Like 2 cold fingers, someone's thumb and index finger, wrapping around it. I jerked my wrist back and looked around freaked out. I tried to rationalize it. Could it be the wind? Wind does not wrap around your wrists, and certainly not just one of your wrists. Plus my hair did not even blow and I have very fine hair that blows around on a windless day just from me walking. I looked down at the outside of the well. I don't see them in this pic, or others on Google images, maybe they were removed, but there were thick round rusted steel hooks embedded in the concrete. Like you would chain someone to. Maybe they chained prisoners around the well when they let them out of their cells? Anyway, my thought was that the ghosts of one of these prisoners must have been sitting with his back against the well, thought the bag I was holding had food in it, and that's why he grabbed the wrist that was holding the bag. He was hungry. Or maybe just curious? Or maybe he was just trying to steal my bag. Who knows. But I know what I felt and it freaked me out.

That was the first time a ghost touched me. The next two times would be more painful. I might tell you about one of those later in the thread.
 
2019-10-30 7:07:43 PM  
This is all true, happened before the 2017 scary story thread, decided to write it down, oh, about 30 minutes ago, so forgive the quality...

And if anyone has any better explanations, I'd love to hear them.


So, two summers ago, it's hot as balls, but my then wife wants to walk the dog and we need stuff at the grocery store. Since I was not at all thrilled at the concept of walking the dog for a third time that day (did I mention that it was hot as balls?), she suggests I drop her off at the end of a street that looks like it should be the beginning of a trail (there are a LOT of trails here) but is closed to vehicle traffic, hit the grocery store, then pick her up where I dropped her off.

Worst case scenario, this road, or trail, or whatever, ends in something impassable and she walks 100 yards to a trail we know. It's not the Dark Ages, we have cell phones, we'll figure it out.

Now, we've been down this road a million times, but, well, it ends with a large gate and some rather excessive, in my opinion, signage. "Do not enter, dead end, road closed," etc.

Cool, I get to hang out in the AC'ed environment of the grocery store for about 30 minutes, then get back into the AC'ed environment of the car to pick her up.

The look on her face when she gets in the car is hard to describe...wonder, confusion, sense of mystery? Maybe all of that, plus something I couldn't put my finger on at the time. Long story made short, she insists I walk this trail with her.

Since it's hot as balls here until nearly Halloween, it's some time before I make good on my "promise." But I do, eventually, keep my word, and we take the dog for a stroll.

Just past the crazy signage is a freshly paved road. Fire hydrants with fresh, glistening orange paint line both sides of what appeared to be a nature trail, but is actually a road in better condition than the ones I'm forced to drive on every day, even just outside my driveway.

It was farking weird. Why is this road, out of all the roads around here, in goddamn perfect condition? Why are there fire hydrants every 20 feet, and why do they look old, but also like they were painted last week?

Whole thing just felt like a dream, the broad strokes were within the realm of reality, but the details were a biatch. It all just felt off...

Turns out, that road used to connect to a road on the other side of the river. Bridge washed out in 1972 during Hurricane Agnes. And that all makes sense, with regard to why the road is there, but not with regard to it's state of maintenance.

I may be paranoid, I started studying Russian during the Cold War and was a Russian linguist in the USMC, but it seems to me that I live next to some sort of "depot" or staging area for the weapons of war in the event of the Cold War turning hot.

The real question, in the unlikely event that I'm right, is: where is the rest of it?
 
2019-10-30 7:14:24 PM  
Other S/Os had mentioned hearing strange stuff during their shifts, the 2nd and 3rd shift people.  One woman hired for 2nd shift refused to work in that building ever again.  However, nobody wrote a report about it, or really talked about it outside of the building.  It wasn't scary, just unnerving, so you just dealt with it and did your job.
 
2019-10-30 7:16:15 PM  
The place I lived in was 125 year old large Victorian style mansion. It had 15 rooms larger than 10x10 and 14 fireplaces. The richest family in the region built it and lived in it for 65 years. It has been many things since then, a communal living house in the 70's, a high end supper club with a cigar/cocaine bar in the 80's. Over the years, at least 1 member of each family that owned it has died in the house.

It is said to be haunted. I live in Chicagoland, and this place was on Ghost Hunter Richard Crowe's list of most paranormally active places in Chicago. I did not know this before I lived there. I lived there alone. I got a superb deal on rent because the owners didn't want to leave it vacant and I took it.

Strange things started happening immediately. Doors would slam, lights would flicker, rooms would be hot or cold for no reason, and I would smell cigar smoke from time to time. From time to time, I would feel what I could only describe as a 'presence' in the room with me. It was usually then that I'd smell cigar smoke.

I decided to start talking to the presence to make sure if it was real that we were cool. Each time I smelled a cigar, I'd have a short conversation out loud with the smoke. "Hey buddy! You know, I don't really dig cigars and the smoke, but I get it, you live here too. Would you mind not blowing it my face though?" Stuff like that. The more I acknowledged it, the faster it went away.

One night I had a bunch of friends over. Two of them were very skittish about my place being haunted. I promised them that I would not do anything to scare them and would ignore the haunting altogether. As the night went on, I smelled cigar smoke lightly a couple times, but didn't acknowledge it or talk to it. The more I ignored it, the stronger it became. I thought maybe whatever or whoever the smoker was, that it was getting irritated. Then, I heard a bloodcurdling scream.

My skittish friend had gone to the bathroom and came out running, screaming and crying. She went straight for the door to leave. Someone else passed the bathroom, waved her hand and said "Who's smoking the cigar!? It reeks!" My skittish friend pushed through our little crown and went outside. We all followed and everyone asked her what happened and she said she smelled thick cigar smoke, like someone had blown it in her face, and in the bathroom mirror, she saw the smoke and a face behind it.

I'd only told one person about the cigar smoke, and he swore to me that he wouldn't use it to torture my skittish friend. He swore up and down afterward that it wasn't him and he didn't know anything about it.

God I miss that place.
 
2019-10-30 7:49:34 PM  
I guess I'll share 2 stories, one from a long time ago and one from just a couple years ago.........

I grew up in Hawai'i and if you spend enough time here you will here stories about the Night Marchers. As the local stories I heard were told, they would mention that the Night Marchers would follow a path that cut across the campus of my high school and cut straight through our high school bandroom. I was in the high school band, as well as a garage band with some friends and we occasionally had access to use the bandroom for our own practices.

So one evening the four of us are in the main room of the bandroom practicing and at various times I kept seeing what seemed like movement in the shadows out of the corner of my eye in a dark back area where the lockers were. There were multiple times I thought I saw something move in the shadows but never saw anything when I turned for a better look, but I dismissed it all as just tricks of the lighting etc.

At some point we decided to pop a cassette tape into the boombox stereo we had so that we could record ourselves and get a rough idea of how we were sounding on the couple songs we were working on. So we recorded a couple takes of both songs and then stop the recorder and rewinded the tape to take a listen.

As we start to listen we can hear background noise on the tape, like we had recorded ourselves playing in a crowded room with people moving about and talking. We started asking each other if someone had said anything while we were playing and we all were certain that we hadn't made any sound other than our instruments and the voice of whoever was singing the song.

So we all realize then that something is not right and we collectively come to a 'nope nope nope' moment and decide it best to just gtfo. Our drummer was part Hawaiian so he was especially spooked about the situation and was most vocal about leaving immediately. We left our instruments set up and locked the doors and left at that point. Our drummer wasn't interested in being anywhere nearby and he took off for home right away (iirc) but the other three of us did keep hanging out a 100 yards away or so in the parking lot for awhile afterwards and we didn't hear or see anything else that night. But we did share bits of information about what we'd heard, including the story of a mutual acquaintance that definitely believed he had encountered Night Marchers in the band room himself.

Still no explanation though of what could have made the noise we heard on that tape. We all heard it and as I mentioned, it sounded like we were playing in a room full of people and it was rather freaky.

My second (and shorter) story is from a couple years ago while visiting the island of Molokai. Mrs. Ride and I were staying at a rustic cottage on the east side of the island and the closest neighbor was at least a couple hundred yards away and definitely not visible. So the first evening there we were just hanging out and drinking and every so often I'd step outside the cottage for a little smoke.

So at some point later in the evening after imbibing for awhile I once again decided to step outside and I went out the front door and stood on the small porch. I didn't turn on any light outside but there was some light coming from inside the cottage. As I was standing there I heard what sounded to me like someone/something walking through the yard. So I'm looking out into the darkness, first to my right where the sound was coming from and then straight ahead and away from the cottage as it moved along, and right on the edge of where the light coming from the house ended and the black darkness began, I see "something" walking across the yard and away from the house. I have no idea what I saw but it was somewhat light in color and looked like it could be the lower legs and feet of a human but I can't see anything above that.

If it was a person (and I don't think it was), the rest of the body was in the dark and was not visible. It might have been an animal but didn't really look right for that. There was also a black and white rooster hanging around the cottage but at that time of night he should've been roosting in a tree and sleeping somewhere, not traipsing through the yard. However, the next day I did discover that this rooster was apparently in the process of dying and wasn't acting normally so perhaps it was shuffling through the yard in the middle of the night because he was sick and dying. This might be the most plausible 'natural' explanation but whatever I saw walking didn't really look like a chicken either. I still have no idea what I saw that night but I know that I saw something.

So anyway this experience did spook me a bit and I pretty much turned around and went back into the house. I did go outside again later and on the second night of our stay, but was wary from that point on. What I did not do was to tell any of this to Mrs. Ride until we had flown back home after our stay there. I decided right away that in this case, what she didn't know was probably best left unknown to her until we were no longer staying there.

/fin
 
2019-10-30 8:23:09 PM  

G-Ride: I guess I'll share 2 stories, one from a long time ago and one from just a couple years ago.........

I grew up in Hawai'i and if you spend enough time here you will here stories about the Night Marchers. As the local stories I heard were told, they would mention that the Night Marchers would follow a path that cut across the campus of my high school and cut straight through our high school bandroom. I was in the high school band, as well as a garage band with some friends and we occasionally had access to use the bandroom for our own practices.

So one evening the four of us are in the main room of the bandroom practicing and at various times I kept seeing what seemed like movement in the shadows out of the corner of my eye in a dark back area where the lockers were. There were multiple times I thought I saw something move in the shadows but never saw anything when I turned for a better look, but I dismissed it all as just tricks of the lighting etc.

At some point we decided to pop a cassette tape into the boombox stereo we had so that we could record ourselves and get a rough idea of how we were sounding on the couple songs we were working on. So we recorded a couple takes of both songs and then stop the recorder and rewinded the tape to take a listen.

As we start to listen we can hear background noise on the tape, like we had recorded ourselves playing in a crowded room with people moving about and talking. We started asking each other if someone had said anything while we were playing and we all were certain that we hadn't made any sound other than our instruments and the voice of whoever was singing the song.

So we all realize then that something is not right and we collectively come to a 'nope nope nope' moment and decide it best to just gtfo. Our drummer was part Hawaiian so he was especially spooked about the situation and was most vocal about leaving immediately. We left our instruments set up and locked the doors and left at that point. Our drummer wasn't interested in being anywhere nearby and he took off for home right away (iirc) but the other three of us did keep hanging out a 100 yards away or so in the parking lot for awhile afterwards and we didn't hear or see anything else that night. But we did share bits of information about what we'd heard, including the story of a mutual acquaintance that definitely believed he had encountered Night Marchers in the band room himself.

Still no explanation though of what could have made the noise we heard on that tape. We all heard it and as I mentioned, it sounded like we were playing in a room full of people and it was rather freaky.

My second (and shorter) story is from a couple years ago while visiting the island of Molokai. Mrs. Ride and I were staying at a rustic cottage on the east side of the island and the closest neighbor was at least a couple hundred yards away and definitely not visible. So the first evening there we were just hanging out and drinking and every so often I'd step outside the cottage for a little smoke.

So at some point later in the evening after imbibing for awhile I once again decided to step outside and I went out the front door and stood on the small porch. I didn't turn on any light outside but there was some light coming from inside the cottage. As I was standing there I heard what sounded to me like someone/something walking through the yard. So I'm looking out into the darkness, first to my right where the sound was coming from and then straight ahead and away from the cottage as it moved along, and right on the edge of where the light coming from the house ended and the black darkness began, I see "something" walking across the yard and away from the house. I have no idea what I saw but it was somewhat light in color and looked like it could be the lower legs and feet of a human but I can't see anything above that.

If it was a person (and I don't think it was), the rest of the body was in the dark and was not visible. It might have been an animal but didn't really look right for that. There was also a black and white rooster hanging around the cottage but at that time of night he should've been roosting in a tree and sleeping somewhere, not traipsing through the yard. However, the next day I did discover that this rooster was apparently in the process of dying and wasn't acting normally so perhaps it was shuffling through the yard in the middle of the night because he was sick and dying. This might be the most plausible 'natural' explanation but whatever I saw walking didn't really look like a chicken either. I still have no idea what I saw that night but I know that I saw something.

So anyway this experience did spook me a bit and I pretty much turned around and went back into the house. I did go outside again later and on the second night of our stay, but was wary from that point on. What I did not do was to tell any of this to Mrs. Ride until we had flown back home after our stay there. I decided right away that in this case, what she didn't know was probably best left unknown to her until we were no longer staying there.

/fin


I read a book about Hawaiian legends and ghost stories. The Night Marcher stories were the best ones.
 
2019-10-30 8:26:21 PM  
It's finally here..!

The best holiday and the best FARK thread o'the year have finally arrived..!!      =)

Wishing a Great, Safe, Spooky All Hallow's Eve to everyone..!!

Bring on the stories..!

(..also, preemptive requests for "Fishy," "Ted the Caver,"  "Dionaea (sp) House," "Desert Ambush," "Turkey Feathers" and I see a particular individual has already covered his awesome "Danny"..}       =)

Here's my annual, non-fictional addition to this wunnerful thread..looking forward to reading everything tonight thru t'morrow..

Have fun, all..!!

===   ===   ===

My annual, obligatory contribution to the thread..

It's not my scariest or strangest experience, believe it or don't..but it has the singular benefit of having been witnessed by multiple, clear-thinking, very respectable (save fer the whole 'home invasion' angle..  =P  ) individuals..

Enjoy..

***   ***   ***

When I was young (9 - 15, roundabouts), my parents would take the family..mom, dad, me, younger brother..camping/cottaging every year at the very end of the season, so as to get better locations at lower rates. Invariably, we'd go with a couple or couples that were friends of the family and it would be a nice group-event weekend or longer.

One particular couple..Dave and Karen..went along every year and my father and Dave were, and are, fast friends.

The year of this story, we were in a cottage on a small lake (about 2 miles in diameter) during a near-perfect autumn in, I think, the Southern Tier/Finger Lakes region of Western New York. It was only my family and Dave and Karen, this year.

One thing that is of importance to relate is that Dave and my father fancy themselves amateur architectural buffs and love looking at vintage/old/historical buildings/houses.

Bear with me here...

Often, camping/cottaging as late in the season as we did, the 'regulars' would already be gone for the season. Summer homes, fishing cottages and the like would be prepped for the winter and locked up for the season..awaiting the return of the owners the following spring.

To my father and his friend, "looking" meant breaking in to fully check the place out. Never did they do damage, or tamper or take anything..they just found the most interesting deserted home, picked the lock or the latch, let themselves in and looked at all the original woodwork or styling or whatever..then lock everything back up, as it was, when they left.

I don't recall how old I was, but this particular year it was apparently decided that my brother and I were old enough to tag along for the house they'd singled out, halfway around the lake.

I remember everything very vividly..from the outside appearance to the door we entered to the whole of the interior. The rear door was locked with a padlock through a bar latch. However, the securing screws for the bar latch were exposed, rather than covered by the bar..three phillips-head screws out and we were in.

We wandered about the ground floor..I recall the place being a bit musty and darkish, but very nice..if cluttered. There were some comic books lying about, which delighted me, so the owner must have had children.

It took a few minutes, but my father noticed something seemed not-quite-right..it took a bit, but it was realized from an almost inaudible background hum that the fridge was still running. Looking inside it revealed about a half-case of unopened Labatt's beer bottles..an indication that the place may *not* be closed for the season, obviously.

Oh, well..the adults think..we're already here, haven't seen any cars or activity the past couple days, and only have the upstairs to look at..may as well finish up..

So we head upstairs..the layout is simple: Stairway goes up one side of the house and tops off at one end of a hallway that traverses the length of the building. It is the only way up or down. Off this hallway, all to the left, are four evenly spaced doors.

We enter the first room. It's empty save for a MASSIVE brass bedframe. No boxspring or mattress, just the frame..and by massive, I mean just that. My father and Dave marveled over the solidity and craftsmanship of the thing. Wide, high head and footboards with corner-posts that only barely fell short of making it a full-blown four-poster bed..and all welded; no screws/nuts/bolts..the thing was either assembled in the room or the room was built around it. There was absolutely no way it was brought, complete, into that room..I doubt it would fit through patio doors iff'n the entire door assembly was taken out in advance to clear more space.

So, they ooh and ahhh over the brasswork a bit more and we move on to the next room..which is totally empty. Move to the third room..which is totally empty. It's becoming clear the family only really uses the ground floor while they stay here.

We're getting ready to move to the last room when there's this sudden, loud crash. First thought in all minds: the owners are back and we're waaaaaay busted.

My father moves to the head of the stairs..looks down..goes down..nothing. Nobody there, nothing obviously out of place (from what was remembered, walking in), nothing. Shrugs all around..head off to room four, with the general feeling of 'let's look at this final room, then get out before we really get caught.'

We enter the final room to find it completely empty..save for a huge, welded brass bedframe.

Father looks at Dave, he looks back, Dave runs out of the room and down the hall. A moment later we hear him cry out and we all run back down the hall to the first room..which is now empty.

I don't actually remember us getting out of the house, but I know it was fast and I know they didn't bother to screw the latch back on. To this day, my father and Dave will both acknowledge the event..but won't talk about it and my brother doesn't recall it at all. As far as best I know, that was the last 'house inspection' that they ever attempted.

Trick or Treat..? For me, I somehow think it ended up being both....
 
2019-10-30 9:06:57 PM  
My Grandparents house was haunted by a ghost that walked up the stairs just enough so that it could check on us while we were in bed. Evidently my Mom had this happen to her when she was a kid too..that ghost was kindly..the ones in the attic, not so much. They liked to raise a ruckus in there. Us kids were home alone while the folks were out with the Grandparents. It was raining outside...anyway, my bro and I were upstairs reading when the attic got noisy. Thumps and bangs and all that. I told it to be quiet. It was..and that's the scary part!

When my Mom and I went to clean out/close the house and put it up for sale, the stair ghost got quite upset, and thumped and bumped around at the base of the stairs. I told her that we were all grown up, and that her service here was over. I don't remember if I thanked her or not..anyway, after that the house was quiet after dark.
 
2019-10-30 9:17:26 PM  
I remember when my relief showed up I said, "nothing to pass on, quiet night, no issues".  Then I got the hell out of there.
 
2019-10-30 11:38:26 PM  

Bathia_Mapes: Woot, my favorite thread of the year! :)


One of mine too! I just hope that for once people will just link to and not post the same damn story they do year after freaking year. And that the non-believers stop posting their 'true stories' that are obviously bullshiat.
 
2019-10-30 11:40:14 PM  

sherpa18: Bathia_Mapes: Woot, my favorite thread of the year! :)

One of mine too! I just hope that for once people will just link to and not post the same damn story they do year after freaking year. And that the non-believers stop posting their 'true stories' that are obviously bullshiat.


*reads thread*

So much for that hope :o(
 
2019-10-31 12:14:31 AM  

a particular individual: I keep wanting to write another one. "Danny Doesn't Live Here Anymore...


You wrote that??

I've had dreams about that story.
 
2019-10-31 12:22:25 AM  

a particular individual: I keep wanting to write another one. "Danny Doesn't Live Here Anymore" was a lot of fun to write, and the peoples liked it. You can read it here.

Here's the closest thing to a new Halloween story, if I didn't use it already:

For some reason no one wants to live in that house on 5th Avenue, though it satisfies at least two of the three criteria for desirable real estate: It wins on location and location, convenient to schools, shopping and Downtown and the Capital complex. It falls short on the third point because it's located on a commuter route in an otherwise quiet residential area. That doesn't seem to matter to other houses in the same neighborhood; even the more humble houses were consistently occupied. This Victorian had sat empty for six months without a renter (though not for lack of walk-throughs) when one of my my clients, a property manager, asked me to produce a virtual tour of it for his Web site. The previous tenants had moved out at the end of their lease with no explanation. "We're done here, thanks."

I showed up with my camera gear in the early afternoon, glad I didn't have to use any of my lights. The interior is modern but era-appropriate, as they say in the real estate business. It has high ceilings, blond hardwood floors, ample windows with lots of natural light, and a separate dining room adjoining the living room and kitchen. The back of the kitchen led to the stairs that descended to the basement. The first thing I thought as I surveyed the house was how glad I am I don't have to go down there. With no carpets or furniture, every sound reverberates. Whatever is in the basement kicks and rumbles at its leisure.

I'm just doing the upstairs. I set up my tripod in the living room, and began taking the series of photos that would later be assembled into the virtual tour. A full panorama of a room--all four walls, ceiling, and floor--is made of about 72 individual photos, but I take a lot more than that to be sure no shots are over- or under-exposed. Fortunately, I didn't need to shoot much of the ceiling and floor for most of the tour. It took about half an hour to finish the ground floor.

"I'm glad I don't have to go downstairs" started to be drowned out by "I wish I didn't have to go upstairs." But I did. And what is that sound coming from the basement? How does it move throughout the house so wallelessly?
It's not much: three bedrooms and a bathroom; a bit gloomier and yellower. And I really wish I could leave right now. Which is stupid, it's a house and I have a job to do. Good thing I don't have to do full room panoramas. I set up the tripod in the doorway of the bathroom, then the bedroom at the end of the hall. I hated having my back turned to the rooms behind me. I moved on to the second bedroom, the master. This is where she died, alone and afraid and angry. The bed was over there, and maybe it still is. I finish the shot and move to the third bedroom. I hope I didn't wake anyone up in the other room. I set up, didn't even bother to level the camera head, and shot a dozen or so photos, and hustled downstairs. I didn't even collapse the tripod.

I still have to shoot the entryway, between the base of the stairs and the front door. A full panorama, at least 72 photos, probably more. I level the camera head and start to shoot. I can see through the dining room to the kitchen and the door to the basement, and again I'm glad I don't have to go down there. I wish I could just come back later with the client, make up an excuse to have someone else in this house with me. That would be unprofessional, so I keep shooting. Somehow the basement sounds are starting to come from upstairs: A creak. A click. A sigh. As I'm shooting the stairs, I keep expecting to see a slippered foot descend. I cut every corner possible and shoot until I'm done. I grab my tripod and walk to the car. I'm outside; there are people and cars, and I tend to my equipment and get the Hell out of there.

When I next met with the client I mentioned, in passing, that I think I know why the owner has such a hard time finding tenants. He said "I know. The master bedroom doesn't help, either, does it?"


Thanks, api, I think I recall this one :)
 
2019-10-31 12:25:43 AM  

granolasteak: a particular individual: I keep wanting to write another one. "Danny Doesn't Live Here Anymore...

You wrote that??

I've had dreams about that story.


Wow. I'm flattered. It went through a lot of rewrites. You could throw Strunk & White at that story, and it'd bounce off.

Keep in mind that it's all true... up to a point. That's the point where it's obviously not true.

I want to write a fictionalization of my childhood in Oklahoma City. I won a CSB thread with my story about the psycho bomber that almost blew up my friend in my back yard.
 
2019-10-31 12:26:40 AM  

ottebx: The place I lived in was 125 year old large Victorian style mansion. It had 15 rooms larger than 10x10 and 14 fireplaces. The richest family in the region built it and lived in it for 65 years. It has been many things since then, a communal living house in the 70's, a high end supper club with a cigar/cocaine bar in the 80's. Over the years, at least 1 member of each family that owned it has died in the house.

It is said to be haunted. I live in Chicagoland, and this place was on Ghost Hunter Richard Crowe's list of most paranormally active places in Chicago. I did not know this before I lived there. I lived there alone. I got a superb deal on rent because the owners didn't want to leave it vacant and I took it.

Strange things started happening immediately. Doors would slam, lights would flicker, rooms would be hot or cold for no reason, and I would smell cigar smoke from time to time. From time to time, I would feel what I could only describe as a 'presence' in the room with me. It was usually then that I'd smell cigar smoke.

I decided to start talking to the presence to make sure if it was real that we were cool. Each time I smelled a cigar, I'd have a short conversation out loud with the smoke. "Hey buddy! You know, I don't really dig cigars and the smoke, but I get it, you live here too. Would you mind not blowing it my face though?" Stuff like that. The more I acknowledged it, the faster it went away.

One night I had a bunch of friends over. Two of them were very skittish about my place being haunted. I promised them that I would not do anything to scare them and would ignore the haunting altogether. As the night went on, I smelled cigar smoke lightly a couple times, but didn't acknowledge it or talk to it. The more I ignored it, the stronger it became. I thought maybe whatever or whoever the smoker was, that it was getting irritated. Then, I heard a bloodcurdling scream.

My skittish friend had gone to the bathroom and came out running, screaming and crying. She went straight for the door to leave. Someone else passed the bathroom, waved her hand and said "Who's smoking the cigar!? It reeks!" My skittish friend pushed through our little crown and went outside. We all followed and everyone asked her what happened and she said she smelled thick cigar smoke, like someone had blown it in her face, and in the bathroom mirror, she saw the smoke and a face behind it.

I'd only told one person about the cigar smoke, and he swore to me that he wouldn't use it to torture my skittish friend. He swore up and down afterward that it wasn't him and he didn't know anything about it.

God I miss that place.


Cool story. Any pics of this fabulous mansion?
 
2019-10-31 12:30:56 AM  

mikaloyd: Pass.
Too many wet blanket atheists in here to share my ghost or UFO tales again


Please don't worry about them. This thread is all about spooky entertainment, and I, for one, would love to hear your stories.
 
2019-10-31 12:35:13 AM  

Lord of the Highway: The whole thing was kind of creepy but also a little comforting in a strange way, despite the fact I don't really believe in an afterlife.


Was he, by chance, an Android developer?  Not much scarier than that.
 
2019-10-31 12:35:40 AM  

mikaloyd: Pass.
Too many wet blanket atheists in here to share my ghost or UFO tales again


He's asleep.
 
2019-10-31 12:38:32 AM  
Fine. I get it. Those sounds of steps behind me as I walk down this dark alley are just the echos of my own feet. That's why they stop when I do and start again when I walk.
But WHY the snickering?!
 
2019-10-31 12:39:08 AM  

Keeve: mikaloyd: Pass.
Too many wet blanket atheists in here to share my ghost or UFO tales again

Please don't worry about them. This thread is all about spooky entertainment, and I, for one, would love to hear your stories.


Agreed. Share away!
 
2019-10-31 12:47:41 AM  

Resident Muslim: Fine. I get it. Those sounds of steps behind me as I walk down this dark alley are just the echos of my own feet. That's why they stop when I do and start again when I walk.
But WHY the snickering?!


They say you walk funny.  *shrugs*
 
2019-10-31 12:50:53 AM  
Walker: Walker: ...I might tell you about one of those later in the thread.

Please do!
 
2019-10-31 12:53:29 AM  

SansNeural: Resident Muslim: Fine. I get it. Those sounds of steps behind me as I walk down this dark alley are just the echos of my own feet. That's why they stop when I do and start again when I walk.
But WHY the snickering?!

They say you walk funny.  *shrugs*


It's all about cohesion, the walk has to match the smell.
 
2019-10-31 12:54:49 AM  

hiredgoonz: This is all true, happened before the 2017 scary story thread, decided to write it down, oh, about 30 minutes ago, so forgive the quality...

And if anyone has any better explanations, I'd love to hear them.


So, two summers ago, it's hot as balls, but my then wife wants to walk the dog and we need stuff at the grocery store. Since I was not at all thrilled at the concept of walking the dog for a third time that day (did I mention that it was hot as balls?), she suggests I drop her off at the end of a street that looks like it should be the beginning of a trail (there are a LOT of trails here) but is closed to vehicle traffic, hit the grocery store, then pick her up where I dropped her off.

Worst case scenario, this road, or trail, or whatever, ends in something impassable and she walks 100 yards to a trail we know. It's not the Dark Ages, we have cell phones, we'll figure it out.

Now, we've been down this road a million times, but, well, it ends with a large gate and some rather excessive, in my opinion, signage. "Do not enter, dead end, road closed," etc.

Cool, I get to hang out in the AC'ed environment of the grocery store for about 30 minutes, then get back into the AC'ed environment of the car to pick her up.

The look on her face when she gets in the car is hard to describe...wonder, confusion, sense of mystery? Maybe all of that, plus something I couldn't put my finger on at the time. Long story made short, she insists I walk this trail with her.

Since it's hot as balls here until nearly Halloween, it's some time before I make good on my "promise." But I do, eventually, keep my word, and we take the dog for a stroll.

Just past the crazy signage is a freshly paved road. Fire hydrants with fresh, glistening orange paint line both sides of what appeared to be a nature trail, but is actually a road in better condition than the ones I'm forced to drive on every day, even just outside my driveway.

It was farking weird. Why is this road, out of all the roads ...


Have you tried looking it up on maps.google.com and go into satellite mode?
 
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